"Collect some wood for kindling," I said.
"But it's dark."
"There's enough light from the full moon even if it's obscured by clouds. Train your eyes: they were made to see more than you think."
She began doing as I asked, occasionally cursing because she'd scratched herself on a thorn. Almost half an
hour passed, and during that time, we didn't talk. I felt the excitement of knowing that the Mother was close by, the euphoria of being there with that woman who still seemed little more than a child and who trusted me and was keeping me company in the search that sometimes seemed too mad for the human mind.
Athena was still at the stage of answering questions, just as she'd responded to mine that afternoon. I had been like that once, until I allowed myself to be transported completely into the kingdom of mystery, where it was simply a matter of contemplating, celebrating, worshiping, praising, and allowing the gift to manifest itself.
I was watching Athena collecting firewood and I saw the girl I once was, in search of veiled secrets and secret powers. Life had taught me something completely different: the powers were not secret and the secrets had been revealed a long time ago. When I saw that she had gathered enough firewood, I indicated that she should stop.
I myself looked for some larger branches and put them on top of the kindling. So it was in life. In order for the more substantial pieces of wood to catch fire, the kindling must burn first. In order for us to liberate the energy of our strength, our weakness must first have a chance to reveal itself.
In order for us to understand the powers we carry within us and the secrets that have already been revealed, it was first necessary to allow the surface--expectations, fears, appearances--to be burned away. We were entering the peace now settling upon the forest, with the gentle wind, the moonlight behind the clouds, the noises of the animals that sally forth at night to hunt, thus fulfilling the cycle of birth and death of the Mother, and without ever being criticized for following their instincts and their nature.
I lit the fire.
Neither of us felt like saying anything. For what seemed like an eternity, we merely contemplated the dance of the fire, knowing that hundreds of thousands of people, all over the world, would also be sitting by their fireside, regardless of whether they had modern heating systems in their house or not; they did this because they were sitting before a symbol.
It took a great effort to emerge from that trance, which, although it meant nothing specific to me, and did not make me see gods, auras, or ghosts, nonetheless left me in the state of grace I needed to be in. I focused once more on the present, on the young woman by my side, on the ritual I needed to perform.
"How is your student?" I asked.
"Difficult, but if she wasn't, I might not learn what I need to learn."
"And what powers is she developing?"
"She speaks with beings in the parallel world."
"As you converse with Hagia Sofia?"
"No, as you well know, Hagia Sofia is the Mother manifesting herself in me. She speaks with invisible beings."
I knew this, but I wanted to be sure. Athena was more silent than usual. I don't know if she had discussed the events in London with Andrea, but that didn't matter. I got up, opened the bag I had with me, took out a handful of specially chosen herbs, and threw them into the flames.
"The wood has started to speak," said Athena, as if this were something perfectly normal, and that was good, it meant that miracles were now becoming part of her life.
"What is it saying?"
"Nothing at the moment, only noises."
Minutes later, she heard a song coming from the fire.
"Oh, it's wonderful!"
There spoke the little girl, not the wife or mother.
"Stay just as you are. Don't try to concentrate or follow my steps or understand what I'm saying. Relax and feel good. That is sometimes all we can hope for from life."
I knelt down, picked up a red-hot piece of wood, and drew a circle around her, leaving a small opening through which I could enter. I could hear the same music as Athena, and I danced around her, invoking the union of the male fire with the earth, which received it now with arms and legs spread wide, the fire that purified everything, transforming into energy the strength contained in the firewood, in those branches, in those beings, both human and invisible. I danced for as long as the melody from the fire lasted, and I made protective gestures to the child who was sitting, smiling, inside the circle.
When the flames had burned down, I took a little ash and sprinkled it on Athena's head. Then with my feet I erased the circle I'd drawn around her.
"Thank you," she said. "I felt very loved, wanted, protected."
"In difficult moments, remember that feeling."