by J. R. Mabry
“So, you’re just taking over?” Mikael said. “Shouldn’t we vote on this?”
“Look, it’s not my fault our bishop died and your ordination got delayed—” Terry snapped.
“This has nothing to do with my ordination!” Mikael slammed the guitar amp on the bench.
Charlie felt the tension in the room rising fast. Terry said nothing. Mikael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he moved to the mirror, affixed a suction cup mic to the back of it, and plugged it into the guitar amplifier. With swift movements, he made adjustments to its controls, plugged it in, and turned it on. Suddenly, the tiny voice yelling complaints in Charlie’s ear was loud enough for all to hear.
“Fucking Mutiny on the Bounty?” Randy’s voice finished.
“What was that?” asked Brian, looking at the mirror.
“I said, is this going to turn into fucking Mutiny on the Bounty? ’Cause if so, I want popcorn.”
“How are you going to get popcorn in there?” Kat asked him.
“I don’t know, set it on the stove?”
She watched in the mirror as Randy picked up a piece of bacon from the kitchen counter and put it in his mouth. A look of wonder came over his face, and he began to shovel in all the bacon that was left.
“Hungry?” asked Brian.
“I had no idea how hungry I was. Am. Ravenous,” Randy said. “Is there any more?”
Brian started moving plates of food to the counter where Randy could get to it, and he tucked into a proper breakfast for the first time in weeks. A squeal of feedback cut through the air, and Mikael adjusted the knob on the amp until it subsided.
“Okay, so if you’re not going to take assignments from me,” Terry said bitterly, “and Dylan won’t make them, who’s going to make them?”
“Can’t Richard do it over the phone?” Kat asked.
“Nope. I really need to be in the room for that,” Richard answered from the iPhone. “Besides, you can’t trust me right now. You don’t know for sure that it’s me talking.”
All eyes gravitated to Susan. She looked around incredulously. “Don’t look at me. I’m not actually a member of the order. I’m not even Catholic.”
Richard’s voice was soothing. “I think Terry has made some good suggestions. Dylan, don’t you think so?”
Dylan nodded.
“He’s nodding!” Mikael called to the speakerphone, “but he still has that wildebeest-in-the-headlights look.”
“We’re going to have to figure this leadership thing out, but for now, let’s go with Terry’s…suggestions.” Richard was reasonable and confident. Everyone sat up a little straighter while he was talking. “Mikael, you’re working at Mitochondrion Music today, right?”
“Yeah, noon to six,” Mikael said.
“Good,” Richard agreed, “someone needs to be pulling in some money. Terry has pastoral visits filling in for the UCC minister this afternoon, and I could really use some help lining up interviews with bishops.”
“Okay,” Terry shrugged.
“Dylan, why don’t you start planning a liturgy for Bishop Tom? Of all of us, you connected with him the most, so that makes sense to me. Brian, do you have time to do some training on working the inner planes for Kat?”
“Sure. But we have a new oblate, too. Charybdis, er, Charlie.”
“You’re shitting me,” Richard’s voice fell.
“Hi, Richard,” Charlie said timidly.
“Hoo boy, okay. Sure, Brian, can you do some training?”
“Aye-aye,” Brian agreed. “And I’ll set Charlie up with a room.”
“I’ve got one lead I can follow up on for episcopal oversight,” Richard said.
“What does ‘episcopal’ mean?” asked Charlie.
“It means anything pertaining to a bishop,” Terry said, sulking a little since Mikael’s slap-down. “An ‘episcopal arrangement’ means we need a bishop to connect us to the apostolic succession; otherwise, we have no mojo.”
“Really? You can’t cast out demons now?”
“To our ever-lovin’ shame,” Dylan finally piped up. “No.”
The phone rang again. “Oh for God’s sake!” Susan shouted. “Will somebody besides me get that, please?”
“I will,” said Mikael, and he moved swiftly to the hall.
“And what about Randy?” asked Kat.
Everyone looked at the mirror. “Yeah, what about me?” Randy asked, loud enough now for everyone to hear him clearly.
“Actually, that’s not such a bad place for him,” Brian said. “He’ll have community because we all meet here. He has access to food since we’re in the kitchen.”
“Wait a minute,” Kat asked. “Where have you been going to the bathroom?”
Randall looked sheepish. “Uh, well, when I was hanging in the bedroom, I went in a pile between your bed and the wall.”
“Ugh,” said Kat. “Didn’t it get noxious in there?”
“You do what you have to do,” Randy said, matter-of-factly.
Brian snapped his fingers. “This,” he said, setting a stew pot with a lid near the stove where Randall could reach it, “is now a chamber pot. When people are out of the room, avail yourself of it. Once a day, I’ll move you into the toilet where you can empty it and rinse it out. Sound okay?”
Randy, red-faced, nodded.
“Be safe out there today, people!” called Richard from the cell phone in full Hill Street Blues mode, and the call ended.
21
Kat and Charlie were waiting for Brian in the chapel. He appeared, wiping his hands on a towel. He opened the lid on a window seat and pulled out three zafus, handing one to each of them. He settled on one and closed his eyes, grounding himself and visibly relaxing. When he opened his eyes again, he smiled. “Let’s start simply,” he said, “with the correspondences between the chakra system and the Kabbalistic Tree of Life.”
“That’s simple?” asked Kat.
“Why are you teaching us?” Charlie said disdainfully. “Aren’t you the cook? You’re not even an order member, are you?”
Kat gasped. “Charlie! You have no idea—”
Brian held up his hand. “It’s okay. I’m a Talmudic scholar, and I’m Jewish. I’m also the housemother here. And I’m your teacher today.” He smiled patiently.
“I know all this stuff already,” Charlie said. “Larch taught us.”
“Good. Then it’ll be easy for you. And a refresher course is always helpful when you’re dealing with…powerful forces,” Brian said firmly.
Charlie sighed and crossed his arms. “This is baby stuff.”
Brian answered in an even tone. “It is foundational material, certainly. But my guess is that you learned it from Larch as an academic discipline. You learned about it. But did you encounter it? Did you work with it?”
Charlie uncrossed his arms. “Well, no…”
“Then this will be a natural next step. The first chakra is Muladhara—it is the root of all of our emotions. All of the involuntary psychological forces that drive us reside here—”
“Like neuroses?” Kat interrupted.
“Exactly—Muladhara is where they live. Our sexuality lives here, too. Passion, right? This chakra is material, chaotic, impure. Which sephirah do you think it corresponds to?”
“Sephirah?” asked Kat.
“Baby stuff.” Charlie rolled his eyes.
“The Jewish mystics mapped the universe using the metaphor of a magnificent tree,” Brian explained. “It’s essentially a Jewish derivative of Gnostic thought that posits a multiplicity of worlds, which are progressively rarefied the higher up you go.”
“So, lower worlds are more material?” Kat asked. “And higher worlds are more…spiritual?”
“Exactly,” said Brian. “The lowest sephirah—the lowest world—the Kabbalistic term for this is Malkuth; it means, ‘kingdom’—it refers to the physical universe. Can you see the connection between Malkuth and Muladhara?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Kat said. “The
y both start with M…”
“That’s a good start,” said Brian, laughing.
“But it’s our passions that unite us to this material plane. Right? The material plane gives us pleasure, and pain, too, of course. But it inspires greed and lust—”
“And love,” Brian added.
“Right. I didn’t mean to demonize it.”
“Lots of people do, but I’m glad you’re seeing the danger in that,” Brian said. “So, why don’t we do a meditation and actually explore the connection?”
Kat noted that at this, Charlie perked up. She realized that the experiential piece must be new for him. She was relieved because she was finding his belligerence tiresome.
“Close your eyes, and bring your attention to your genitals,” Brian began, sitting up straight on his zafu. Kat settled in on hers, closed her eyes, and breathed deep. In her mind’s eye, she pictured her womb and felt a warm sensation deep in her belly.
“Imagine a multicolored spinning disc right there. Imagine that it is expanding—not far, just as far as your belly button.” Kat did as he said and was amazed at how real the image in her mind seemed to her. The warmth in her belly grew hotter and larger. She shifted on her zafu in surprise.
“Can you see it?”
She nodded.
“Good,” Brian said. “Now, bring your awareness inside it. Note carefully what you see.”
In her imagination, Kat moved into the spinning ball of energy. She entered it with the sound of quickly passing flame and found herself underground in a place filled with heat and lit by fire. In the corner, she saw a figure huddled against the wall of what seemed to be a cave. Cautiously, she moved toward the figure and saw that it was a young girl. The figure was shaking beneath a blanket. “Hey,” she said to the figure. “Hey, don’t be afraid.” She pulled back the blanket and saw a much younger version of herself weeping and scrambling in terror.
“No, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” Kat said. “No one is going to hurt you.”
Two words dropped from the girl’s mouth like lead. “Too late.”
Kat jerked back as if she had been slapped. “What happened to you?” she asked.
The girl backed away from her, hugging the wall. “No knowing! No knowing!” she screamed.
Kat followed her, making calming gestures. “What do you mean, ‘no knowing’?”
“The blanket covers you,” she said, cowering beneath it. “If you look under it, you’ll be sorry. No knowing!”
“What could be so bad?” Kat said. “We had a wonderful childhood.”
“You don’t know, then.”
“Don’t know about what?” Kat asked.
“You have forgotten,” the girl said with a sadness that cut at Kat’s heart.
“What have I forgotten?” Kat asked.
“Countless lifetimes of horror,” the girl said and then she pointed behind Kat.
Kat turned around and stood up. Before her stretched countless galaxies. Somehow, she beheld each star, and at the same time, the gossamer web of the whole. Every planet spun within her knowing, every creature, every act.
And it was terrible. Fangs tore into the flesh of a billion beasts, their end to be only prey. Pain ripped through the brains of a billion more, from the slash of claws and the quick jerking snap of the neck. She beheld the fetid corrosion of bacteria, the fall of countless beings to disease and decay, and felt every stab and collapse within her own body. Kat screamed.
Suddenly, Brian was shaking her and talking softly. “Come back, Kat, come back. Tell me what you saw.” She opened her eyes, and after a moment of vertigo she clutched at his shoulders, her right hand cupping the lump of his hunched back, and she loved it. She burst out crying.
“Talk to me, Kat. Talk your way back. Talk to me now!” Brian commanded.
Kat quickly relayed what she had seen, and as she spoke she saw Brian nodding. “Yes, that’s Malkuth, in all of its glory. You see how you used the chakra to gain access to it?”
Kat nodded, still faint. She felt weak, and she continued to clutch at him.
“Susan!” Brian called. In a moment, Susan appeared in the doorway.
“Oh my God,” she said, seeing Kat. “Is she okay?”
“Malkuth shock,” Brian explained. “Can you bring me some ice?”
“Wrapped in a towel?” called Susan, who had already run into the kitchen.
“Yes, please,” answered Brian.
In a moment, Susan reappeared, handing Brian a robin’s-egg-blue towel full of ice. Brian took it and put it on the back of Kat’s neck. “Okay, Kat, listen to me. I want you to move your consciousness away from the Muladhara chakra. I want you to concentrate on the coolness of the ice on your neck. Can you do that?”
Kat nodded and felt less disoriented almost instantly. The fire in her belly had diminished, and she tried not to think about the vision. Quickly, her eyes were focusing normally again, and she could orient herself in space. She was in the chapel. Brian and Susan were there, each of them were touching her and speaking to her soothingly. She felt their love and concern. She felt safe. She straightened up and nodded.
“Okay, that was intense,” she breathed. “So that was baby stuff, huh, Charlie?” She looked over at Charlie, but he did not answer.
“Oh shit,” Brian said. He slapped Charlie. “Charlie, come back, dude. Come back!” Charlie slumped forward and then fell over. Brian caught him and pushed his hair back from his face.
“More ice?” Susan asked, getting ready to run for the kitchen.
Brian scowled. “I don’t think so. He’s rigid—I don’t think this was a Malkuth experience. Put a small potato in the microwave, please, four minutes.”
Susan nodded and ran to the door.
“Ground, dammit!” Brian shouted at Charlie. Frantically, he pulled off Charlie’s shoes and pounded on his feet with his fists.
“Ow!” Charlie screeched.
“Pinch his legs,” Brian commanded. Kat did as she was told.
“What happened to him?” Kat asked.
“I won’t know for sure until I talk to him, but my guess is that he didn’t follow directions,” Brian said, a note of bitterness in his voice. “Too simple for you, you stupid fuck?” he shouted at Charlie. He pounded on his left foot.
“Ow…ah ha ha!” Charlie screamed and sat up. “Stop hitting my feet!”
“Then you come back down now, and you ground yourself!” Brian said. “You get those feet on the ground, and you put some energy into them! Whatever energy you’ve got flowing up here”—he gestured to Charlie’s head—“you force it down to your feet. Do it now! Now, dammit!”
Charlie closed his eyes, apparently concentrating. Kat saw his feet twitch then grow still. Charlie’s breathing slowed, and his eyes snapped open. “I don’t feel good,” he said.
Susan rushed in with the potato, and Brian passed it from hand to hand, weighing its heat. He nodded, apparently having made a decision because he grabbed at Charlie’s belt.
“Hey,” Charlie said. “You’re undressing me.”
“I’m trying to save what’s left of your nervous system, asshole. Raise your hips so I can get your pants down.”
Charlie looked unsure but acquiesced. Brian put the potato in his hand. “Take this, and put it in your underwear. Position it right underneath your scrotum.”
“But it’s hot!”
“Damn right it’s hot. Hopefully, it’ll be hot enough.” Brian watched impatiently as Charlie tried to position the potato. Finally, Brian grabbed at the crotch of Charlie’s jeans and held the lump that was the potato firmly against his perineum.
Discomfort showed on Charlie’s face, but it quickly passed. Within moments, he seemed calmer, and when his eyes opened, he seemed cogent.
“I’m here…” he said with a bit of wonder.
“Yes, HaShem be praised,” Brian said. “What I want to know is, where were you? Because you very clearly did not focus on your Muladhara chakra. What sephir
a did you try to access?”
“Kether,” he said.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Brian said, almost spitting.
“Malkuth is baby stuff.”
“Fuck you,” Brian said. “You could have blown out your whole nervous system.”
“I don’t think so,” Charlie said, feeling at his arms.
“No, because you wouldn’t be talking to me now—you’d be dead.” Brian took the ice pack from Kat’s neck, examined her skin beneath, and patted her shoulder. Then he threw the ice pack against the chapel wall. Pieces of ice flew up and struck the giant patchwork mural of Christ that overlooked their daily prayers. “Sit up.”
Charlie did so, moving his fingers in front of his eyes. “The colors were…pretty,” he said, smiling.
“What’s Kether?” Kat asked.
“It’s the highest sephirah,” Brian answered. “Ideally, we’d work up to that, doing a lot of intensive spiritual and psychological work along the way to prepare you for it. Mr. Reckless here just jumped from the first grade to graduate school without any preparation. He’s lucky he didn’t completely fry his crown chakra.”
Charlie looked around at them with wonder. He pointed at Susan. “You have big boobies.”
Susan raised one eyebrow at Brian.
Charlie pointed at Kat. “You have teeny boobies.”
“Hey!” Kat protested.
“Okay,” Brian said testily, “I think we’ve established that some actual damage was done.”
“No kidding,” Susan said, wrapping her sweater more tightly around her bosoms.
“He’s lost some impulse control, that’s for sure.”
Charlie’s finger pointed at Brian next. “You are sooooo gay.”
22
Richard was surprised that Bishop Clem Parkison was able to see him so quickly. He had only left a message about an hour previously, and now he was in the order’s dilapidated Geo, turning left from Telegraph Avenue onto the 24 on-ramp toward Walnut Creek.
You hate this guy, said the voice in his head. And now you’re going to kiss his ass?
“I don’t hate him,” Richard said, gunning the motor to get up to speed, merging carefully. “I just…intensely dislike him.”