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Monday, August 17, 2009

Last Saturday He Died


It was like the air was a solid. Like one of the dreams where you are trying to punch or grab something and your hand can’t move fast enough. Palpable would not be an accurate enough term as it would not provide an explanation for the material and mystical, almost electrical, feeling to the entire milieu.

Men rehearsed their parts in quite corners, the whispered voices coming together to sound like an ancient language in chant to their God. The smell of frankincense and Cyprus oil wafted through the lodge as the small pot of incense carried their prayers for a positive experience to God.

Their uniforms were impeccable, each member caring for the presentation they were each about to play a role in, regardless of if it was a keynote speech for the night, or offering energy from a sideline.

It was time, the candidate had arrived. Hoodwinked in dark black velvet slowly walked to the black room of plaster walls and stone floors, he looked as if he were being lead to his death. The Expert draped in a dark black robe himself, jaunting the candidate from his somber step in darkness. The heartbeat of everyone in the room playing a steady beat to the rising excitement.

He would be warned. If curiosity had brought him there, he should leave, if he found differences among men and could not consider them, he should leave. But, if he truly wanted light and enlightenment with a pure heart he should proceed.

The room was dimly light. A single candle guided his focus when the hood had been removed. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dimly lit room. The skull of a man who he knew not stared back at him. He mustered the courage to touch it and as almost immediately he almost regretted the decision, his hand pulling back, it was real.

He wondered for a minute how this poor soul had ended up an ornament in this darkened chamber of morose décor. The thought flashed it could have been someone who had not heed the warning he was given before he entered. No he thought nobody would ever do something like that, then again, the skull was real.

He turned his attention to the questions in front him, none of them easy, and all at once, the sands of the hourglass seem to fall all too quickly and he wondered if he could answer all the questions. They were not easy and all of them required reflection.

Then he died……

His body was taken by a friend to the preparation room. He was prepared and he traveled in darkness, wondering if he had made the right decisions in life.

His soul, no material attachments to it, no metal to weigh it down, floated in circular succession around the symbol and altar of Deity. He was tried over and over. Did he have freewill? Could he exercise it here? Could he meet the requirements to truly be brought into the light? Then he was forced to recognize just how dismal situation was. He asked for something material, when the material had already been shed, and he realized he was lost, yet he stood firm ready for judgment and honest in his own self assessment, “I have nothing.”

Then it was done, like a dream, returned to the material world with all its trials, trappings, and tribulations. Not alone though, he learned that he friends, were there all of the while, that he was not just among friends, but family. A family of brothers that would support him in his darkest hour, guide him when he feared for himself, and let go when he felt he should walk alone. They were all upon an individual journey, but seemed at the same time to journey together.

What’s that he wondered? Was that a stairwell in the dim light?

1 comment:

Jayray said...

Bro. Porter, I am new to Masonry and have just recently found TSS and your wisdom. You are an amazing writer and I am proud to call you Brother. May I ask where you attend lodge? You mention in your posts drinking wine and discussing politics and religion. In my lodge all of this is, to my knowledge, forbidden.

Jason (High Point 773 F&AM of Ohio)