by Young
“Why do earthlings require guidance and knowledge at this juncture?” I queried.
“Young, consider it this way. The Divine force is like a major Nuclear power plant, and you are a beautifully constructed crystal chandelier. If you were to plug directly into the core of the power plant, you’d likely be overwhelmed with energy, and might explode in the process. For those who haven’t yet learned to build their substation to handle the massive energy flow from the power plant, and to filter its energy into their filaments; angels are there to assist. It’s my aphorism that some people have learned through many lifetimes their spiritual lessons on how to connect directly to the divine force without being overwhelmed. These enlightened folks are few and far between as it takes commitment and responsibility between the individual’s soul to adhere to the divine forces. Thus, angels are available to be intermediaries between humans and the divine,” the professor elucidated.
The angelologist continued to press me to reveal my angel experiences, yet I shied away when this question arose. I was afraid to confide my deleterious dreams to this extraordinary man whom I reckoned to be an angel. I wanted to brush away those disturbing nightmares and its dreadful consequences if they became a reality. Though I desired the erudite professor’s opinion, I wanted our discussion to be private, in the absence of Andy and Albert. I was glad to obligate when the angelologist agreed to consult with me confidentially at Safe Haven.
The Beginning of September 2014
My Response to Andy and David (Part One)
Andy, do you remember the time we spent with Dr. Olivier Augustin in Cornwall? You had pressed me to tell you what transpired at the private meeting I had with the angelologist. Although I conveyed my angel visions to the professor at the various Parisian basilicas and Monsieur Alain Dubois imputation that I’m a member of The Angelic Society - The Fog; I omitted to tell you my premonitory dreams, where my guardian angel, Azaziel evinced the disastrous aftermath of our separation.
Since we are on the topic of angelology, I can relate the pernicious events I saw on Azaziel’s visit. After our sojourn to Sissinghurst Court, I had several disconcerting dreams. In one of my dreams; I was looking for you and stumbled into a dimly lit cave. Much like the bathroom in ARGOS, the leather bar in Amsterdam, the cavern reeked of stale acid and rancid urine. A luminescent light appeared before me when I was about to ralph. The brightness transmuted into the shape of a prodigious winged angel before it diminished to a shimmering glow. I recognized the sinewy silhouette to be my guardian angel, Azaziel. He extended his hand to mine. As soon as we touched, the glowing delineation transfigured into you, Andy.
You counseled, “Do not venture into the cave.”
I did not heed your advice and pressed on. You tried to hold me back.
“Venture not into dens of perilous wolves in sheep’s clothing for innocence lost is a hefty price to pay,” you cautioned.
I ran ahead and pulled you with me. As we progressed into the enclosure, I heard distorted groans and moans through the walls of the cliffs. Bleary eyes and hissing sounds followed our footsteps into this eerie territory. The angel extended his wings to shield the parlous hands that reached to grab me.
My guardian angel warned, “Hopelessness and wretchedness lie within these turpitudinous precipices. Do not fall prey to their intemperance for it will annihilate the chastity of your soul.”
I refused to listen but ran toward the ossuary’s core. Azaziel’s outstretched wings fortified my progress as he sped behind. What I saw were deadly serpents coiled around doomed souls to siphon their purity before they were cast to eternal purgatory. It was a horrific sight to behold, yet I pressed forward until my guardian angel heaved me away to safety.
To this day, Azaziel’s words continue to echo in my mind. He had repeatedly said, “Beware of wolves in sheep’s clothing for innocence lost is a hefty price to pay.”
Sleeping to the Top (Chapter Twenty-Six)
“She’s the kind of girl who climbed the ladder of success wrong by wrong.”
Mae West
Second Week of November 1968
Le Royal Mansour Méridien, Casablanca, Morocco
This majestic five-star masterpiece opened in 1952 in the Old Medina of Casablanca and was patronized by Moroccan Royalty and Nobility. During our two-day stay before our entourage proceeded to Marrakech, we rested our tired feet in this social domain.
Penny and Mariam gave a splendid lesbian performance at the Sacred Sex in Sacred Places photography shoot in the old Eglise Sacré-Coeur de Casablanca. This former Art Deco style cathedral was transformed into a cultural center after Morocco’s independence. This venue became the home of artistic happenings and contemporary exhibitions.
Although Prince P and the American model, Anastasie was dating at the time, their busy schedules left them with little time to be together. This bisexual prince and his clandestine lover, Sheik Fahrib were enamored by Ms. Saadoune’s performance. While Fahrib’s veneration for the musicologist was of platonic amity, P’s adoration was of sexual lasciviousness.
For Mariam, she saw this opportunity as an advancement towards the ladder of success. She wasted no time to seduce the already smitten prince while double handling the sheik with their correlation for music. No sooner had her scheme oscillated to her advantage, she discarded her Belgian boyfriend, Boch. Meanwhile, she played the farouche maiden in a sultry guise to perfection as she slithered towards her goals with punctilious precision.
It didn’t take long for the erudite educator, Señor Victor Angel Triqueros to pierce her veil of duplicity, even when her comportment appeared innocently unimpeachable. After my daily tutorial, Victor broached the topic to Andy and me.
The Señor enquired, “What do you make of Mariam?”
“She knows how to butter up to our hosts,” my Valet commented.
“So, Andy, you envisage what is in my mind? I feel sorry for Boch. He should have seen it coming,” my teacher remarked.
“Seen what coming?” I questioned curiously.
The men laughed at my naïveté before Victor expressed, “Young, have you wondered why certain things are considered wrong and others right?”
“Err?” I stretched my head in puzzlement.
He resumed, “Boy, though you are bright, you still have a lot to learn about the ways of the world.”
His statement perked my attention.
“Do enlighten me, sir?” I pressed.
He declared, “I believe that sleeping one’s way to the top is an acceptable advancement stratagem.”
I did not notice our French Moroccan model friend sneak up behind us.
“There are many I know who diminish a person’s career success by attributing it to sexual favors he or she bestows upon their superiors,” an unexpected voice chimed behind my back.
I turned, and there he was.
“Driss! I didn’t know you’re in Casablanca? When did you arrive?” I exclaimed excitedly.
The male model greeted Andy and me with pecks on both cheeks before Andy introduced him to my professor.
“How did you know we’re here?” I questioned.
“I smelled your intoxicating scent and followed,” he joked.
“I thought we were to meet in Marrakech?” my chaperone queried.
“I couldn’t wait to see you guys, so I came here instead. Do continue, don’t let me interrupt your conversation,” Driss twittered enthusiastically.
“I would like to learn more about sleeping one’s way to the top,” the model quipped before he added, “Why is utilizing sex to achieve one’s goals a less legitimate means than strong negotiations or kissing-up skills?”
Victor expressed, “I have no qualms with anyone sleeping their way to the top if he or she can perform their allotted tasks on hand with aplomb.”
“That depends on your definition of ‘performing the allotted tasks on hand with aplomb,’” the handsome model sallied.
I looked at the sardonic men bafflingly,
before my chaperone opined, “Most people have some traits or skills they credit to their career successes; such as intelligence, the gift of the gab, charisma, working hard or working smart. These are perfectly acceptable strategies.
“I think the reason sex is unacceptable is nothing more than a value judgment because an influential person or a group of people deemed it inappropriate. And for eons, many have happily played along with this perception.”
The French Moroccan model commented, “A female friend of mine once postulated that the characteristics of the powerful are thought to be better than the characteristics of the powerless. Whereby logic has nothing to do with it. She cited an example and posed this question, ‘If magically, men could menstruate, and women could not? What would happen?’”
We waited with bated breath for Driss to continue.
“The answer is clear – menstruation would become an enviable, boast-worthy, masculine event. Men would brag about how long and how much. Boys would mark the onset of menses with religious ritual and stag parties,” the model proclaimed humorously.
“My aunt promulgated that men would boast that ‘my cup runneth over’ when menstruating. The reason men construe menstruation as a defect, an inconvenience or a curse is valued judgments. If it had gone the opposite direction, it would be considered a divine revelation. Like some ancient cultures acknowledge menstruation to be living proof of women’s distinction and superiority. After all, it is this blood that shows a woman’s ability to incubate life,” Victor professed.
“I have a friend who had built a stellar career out of befriending his superiors. This skill got him promoted with mind-boggling regularity. It has nothing to do with what he does or how well he does it. He’s aware that people do nice things for people they like and so he works hard at being liked by the right people,” my Valet asserted.
“There are also many who have made themselves a packet by unofficially being the person whose job it is to make the superior look good. Their job titles rarely betray their personal job description, and they quietly do the job while the bigwig takes the public glory. Often ambition and career success are achieved through things that don’t go on their curriculum vitae,” Triqueros imbued.
The handsome model delineated, “Perhaps the objection is a moral issue; along the lines of sex being a pure expression of heartfelt love. As is often the case, the objector has never engaged in premarital sex or had sex for any reason other than for the purpose of procreation and the expression of genuine love for his or her partner.”
“Driss, have you applied this noteworthy skill to your advantage?” Andy inquired jokingly.
We laughed at my guardian’s imputation since the four of us were following the path of our discussion.
Before any of us could comment, my Valet appended “In that case why are the pots calling the kettle black?”
His comment roused further amusement.
The Señor remarked zanily, “I rarely meet men who are explicitly against prostitution. Using sex to get ahead in one’s ambition and career is akin to prostitution. Many people spend hours working a vocation they dislike which they often find morally reprehensible; like selling a product, they do not believe in, to people who don’t need it, in exchange for dineros. Their legs may be firmly closed, but their body and mind are regularly doing something that feels wrong. Yet they do it for the money. Which would you like to be, the pot or the kettle?”
“You have a point, professor,” Andy commented.
“Since it is impossible to prove or disprove, the only problem with this tactic is it can easily tarnish reputations. It riles me that this is often used as a weapon against women. Seldom are men accused of sleeping their way to the top. If they did, they’d probably reframe it as an acceptable strategy,” Driss inferred.
I had kept silent throughout their exchanges.
“Women have a different relationship with sex. Perhaps male subordinates are better off showering them with compliments, chocolates, cosmetics, and fabulous clothing. They’d probably term it the 4Cs of aspiration advancement,” I remarked.
The men burst into another round of hilarity.
“Only you, my darling has the insight to the 4Cs,” my chaperone parried.
“Why are we discussing Mariam’s motives rather than accepting the way she is? Kalf would be a more interesting topic in this sleeping to the top discussion. Don’t you agree?” I commented.
“Sleeping to the top has been adjudged negatively because the general populace deemed it so, but we don’t have to play along with this implication. We can easily reframe this employed stratagem, and not diminish our achievements,” my tutor finalized.
Before our party went our separate ways, Victor and Driss had bonded. The French Moroccan was invited aboard the Sindbad to provide his perspicacity on the mythological jinniya, Aisha Qandisha to Triqueros’ students.
Andy and I were glad to reconnect with our buddy, in and out of bed.
Abri Sûr (Chapter Twenty-Seven)
“When you free your mind, body, and spirit from earthly constraints, the impossible becomes possible.”
Dr. Olivier Augustin
Second Week of July 1968
Abri Sûr (Safe Haven), Cornwall, England
As if I had stepped into a sacred vortex of seraphic aegis, the moment our sedan entered Abri Sûr’s driveway a sanguine élan enveloped my person. To the naked eye, this six-bedroom manor on the grounds of a beautiful estate and filled with priceless antiquities was the home of Professor Olivier Augustin. But, for those in the know, this was a beatified refuge for those seeking reverential equanimity and not just an earthly abode of the angelologist and his altruistic assistant, Emanuel Parris.
Not only was Emanuel Parris good looking, but he was also compassionate. This young man suffered a devastating bicycle accident. He was hit by a speeding vehicle that plummeted into a nearby couloir, killing both the driver and his wife. The doctors attested that Emanuel would never walk again.
An angel visited Parris in the height of his despondency and challenged him to amble off his wheelchair. He improved by leaps and bounds since his angelic encounter. The young man vowed that he would help accident victims back to resplendence.
At Oxford, Emanuel befriended Dr. Augustin. The angelologist invited Parris to lodge at Safe Haven for as long as he wants. Three years had passed since the Parris’ accident, and the lad had become a permanent fixture at the estate. Not only did he become the professor’s assistant, but he also aided the hapless back to normalcy.
After a delicious home-cooked meal, the five of us retired to the drawing room. Our conversation soon gravitated to the topic of angels.
Angels in Islam
I was fascinated by the sheer volume of books in the professor’s study, especially those that dealt in angel mythologies and legends.
I enquired, “Professor, I’ve come across many illustrations of Western angels, but I seldom see Islamic angel iconography. Is there a reason for this?”
Olivier replied earnestly, “Young, angels are often hidden from our perception of Islamic doctrine. These preternatural beings are neither divine nor semi-divine. They are a group of Allah’s created entities who will eventually die.
“Like Biblical angels, Islamic angels do not deliver personal prayers to Allah nor are they objects of worship. Their mission is to carry out the Creator’s commands.”
“Are there fallen angels in the Islamic worldview?” Albert questioned.
“There are no good and evil angels in Islam and Satan is not a fallen angel, but a jinn created by Allah. Angels are created from light. Hence, their graphic and symbolic depictions in Islamic art are rare. In Muslim scriptures these heavenly beings are beautifully winged entities,” the angelologist explained.
Emanuel expressed, “There are a variety of angel hierarchies and orders, depending on their size, status, and merit.”
The professor resumed, “As documented in the Quran, the Prophet Mohammad saw ang
el Jibreel (Gabriel} in his original form, together with other attending angels of Allah’s throne. These throne carrying angels beseeched the Creator to forgive humans of their sins.”
I asked, “Do angels eat, drink or get bored with worshipping Allah?”
The men chuckled before Parris quoted Quran 12:20, “‘They celebrate His praises night and day, nor do they ever slacken.’ And the answer to your other question, Young, angels do not eat or drink.”
“How many angels are there?” Albert inquired inquisitively.
Andy quipped amusingly, “God only knows.”
We burst out in laughter.
Augustin expedited solemnly, “Muslims proclaim that above the Kaaba (the black cube in Mecca) is the Angels sacred heavenly sanctuary - the ‘Much-Frequented House.’ Daily, seventy thousand angels come and go from this domain, only to be followed by different angelic assemblage.”
“Like the Changing of the Guards outside Buckingham Palace?” I sallied.
The men laughed at my comparison before I resumed, “Are the names of Muslim angels, similar to angels in the Judeo-Christian faith?”
“There is no easy answer to your question, Young. Although, Muslims believe in specific angels mentioned in the Bible; like Jibreel (Gabriel) and Mika’eel (Michael). There are others such as Israfeel and Malik (the Guardian of Hell) who are not listed in the Bible.
“You must understand that angels possess great powers bestowed to them by God. They take on different shapes and forms. During the conception of Jesus, Allah sent Jibreel to Mary in the guise of a man; as documented in the Quran 19:17: ‘…Then We sent her Our angel, and he appeared before her as a man in all respects.’
“Angels also visited Abraham in human form. Similarly, angels also manifested as good-looking men to deliver Lot from danger. Angel Jibreel often visited the Prophet Muhammad as his disciples, and as handsome desert Bedouins,” Olivier declared.