The Cauldron by Charles Goodwin Chapter 12

The Founding of Chiron




Chapter 12

Temptations And The Esoteric

Sonia paid meticulous attention to the way she dressed and groomed herself that morning. The careful selection of the white satin blouse that highlighted her bras and petticoat. The conservative grey tailored business skirt and jacket. The perfect application of mascara, eye shadow, lipstick. Her nails. Her hair - she confidently admired her reflection several times and from different angles in the mirror, and complimented herself for a job extremely well done.

She looked like a fashion model from Vogue and she well knew it.

She tapped at Paul’s door at precisely 10.15 and gazed up at him with that half admiring, half seductive gleam.

‘Are you ready for your first day at the office,’ she mused as she adjusted his tie and brushed a solitary hair off his left shoulder.

She stepped back and scanned Paul up and down with the possessive approval of a doting mother. ‘Wow, it looks pretty good to me,’ her cat’s eyes sparkled vivaciously, ‘No, not just good, this guy in front of me looks pretty wonderful.’

Paul tried to act unperturbed to camouflage his blushed embarrassment. And Sonia was delighted at the affect she was able to bestow upon his ego.

‘Well, shall we go sir?’

He responded with trained obedience. He felt vulnerable and alone amidst the energies of the damnable castle and Sonia’s company felt safe - well comparatively safe - like a leaky lifeboat in an auric tidal wave.

‘How are you feeling now?’ she asked. ‘You certainly look a lot better.’

‘I feel strangely relaxed. It’s as if I’ve been drained of my life essence. But thankfully the dizziness has gone.’

‘Oh you poor darling. You must have a virus. We’ll take good care of you. I’m sure you’ll feel better once you’ve eaten something.’

‘Perhaps,’ he replied.

They strode across a cobbled courtyard; past a row of peculiar windowless concrete structures and towards a maze of Gothic buildings characterised by demonic faced pointed arches, ribbed vaults and flying buttresses.

Paul glanced to the heavens and devoured the crisp unpolluted air. The sky was clear but the unfriendly shadows from the high walls greedily stole any available morning sunshine.

He attempted to come to grips with his feelings for Sonia.

She has a timely knack of making me feel special. And I damn well fall for it, he thought ruefully. The fact that she’s so stylishly cute and blatantly sexual is irritating - or frustrating.

‘I don’t suppose you would like to share that last thought, Paul?’ chided Sonia as if she understood his thinking.

Paul posed a non-committed grin and ignored her question. ‘So tell me, where are my offices?’

‘Fine, perhaps another time sir. I can wait,’ she replied, and her face became wreathed with vivacity. ‘Oh and our offices are just through this arch, up those steps and through the double oak doors, then down four floors.’

Sonia was already portraying an icy over-protectionism for Paul as she introduced him to the receptionist and computer operator. He noted the obvious rivalry and accepted at least for the time being, Sonia’s feline authority over the other office staff.

‘Your office suites are at the end of this hall on the left - right opposite mine,’ directed Sonia and then elucidated, ‘The girls didn’t like it one bit when I informed them this morning that I was to be their new supervisor. They became real bitchy. I think they fancy you - but then I can understand that!’

‘So who appointed you?’ asked Paul.

Sonia shrugged as she unlocked the office door and switched on the lights. ‘Why Nergal appointed me of course!’

‘And who the hell is Nergal?’

‘Who the hell indeed. Oh you will love Nergal. He’s really fun.’

Paul remained tight lipped.

‘Nergal is a software computer program,’ she finally responded tongue in cheek.

‘A computer program called Nergal! I don’t believe it. What do the words Nergal stand for?’

Sonia laughed. ‘Nergal is a name of a God. Nergal is associated with the planet Mars and vibrates to the energy of the root chakra. He is the pagan God of material power. He controls the energies of attraction that are associated with your animal magnetism, vitality and sex drive.’

‘So this sex God appointed you?’ quipped Paul, unimpressed.

‘No, don’t be silly. This morning I keyed up my work schedule on my computer and there were the instructions. Naturally I was delighted.’ Her eyes changed and became burdened with orchestrated sorrow. ‘Paul, you are looking upset. Aren’t you happy with my appointment?’

Paul didn’t immediately reply. He entered the ornate timbered luxurious offices. A bottle of vintage Dom Perignon in an ice bucket and a vase of fresh flowers were placed in the middle of his rosewood desk. A card with the words ‘Welcome Paul. Love from Sonia.’ in black texta letters stood alongside.

Paul felt his conflicting emotions stirring.

He belatedly answered Sonia and his words were words of tenderness and sorrow.

‘Thank you for being so thoughtful. I’m not used to such kindness.’ His eyes then grew moist. ‘But Sonia, I’m not sure if I even belong here. Or for that matter, if I want to be here.’ He shrugged despondently like a lost little boy, ‘And I haven’t a clue what I’m supposed to do.’

Sonia seized the opportunity. Paul’s vulnerability was a primary challenging target.

‘Paul, I feel it is my destiny to be here unconditionally for you. And I want you to know that I’ll do anything you ask of me.’ Sonia’s words embodied the sweetness of amrit and the sensuality of Venus. She swathed her arms around Paul’s chest and hugged close in tight. ‘In the mean time, be patient with yourself. We can work through your misgivings together... One at a time!’

And her body against Paul’s was warm and fragrant - and sexual.

She felt Paul become aroused.

She pressed her body in tighter and rubbed sensually from side to side. For a brief victorious moment he rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. Sonia smiled contentedly as she ran her fingers through the locks of his hair.

‘Oh Paul, you are so special...and so very lost.’

‘No Sonia, please don’t.’ He abruptly pulled away from temptation and escaped by dropping into his executive chair behind the desk to gain breathing space. He gulped a few mouthfuls of cooling air and shook his lowered head.

Sonia was undaunted. ‘It’s ok Paul, I have learnt to be patient. But remember, I’m here for you when you need me.’

‘I’m sorry. I feel so totally confused.’

‘Paul, you will be a great man, remembered for centuries.’

His voice was incoherent yet his reply was profound. ‘Right now, I feel it’s far more important for me to remember who I am!’

‘I beg your pardon, I didn’t quite catch that.’

‘Oh it was nothing. I was just thinking out loud.’

Paul booted up the computer on his desk. The Gothic letters Nergal interspaced with the words Access denied flashed across the screen. He cursed lividly.

‘Your father has your security codes and your set of keys,’ explained Sonia. ‘Once you enter your code the hand scanner along side the computer will scan your palm and fingerprints allowing access to Nergal.’

‘What information is available from the computer?’

‘Oh that will depend on your encoded security level clearance. Then if you request additional information beyond that level, Nergal will force you to play an entertaining game.’ The smile on Sonia’s face disappeared and for the first time Paul noticed a graveness in her eyes. ‘It is rumoured that the whole project - goals, time frames, methods of operation, projected results - everything - down to the most minuscule detail, has been programmed into Nergal. The information in Nergal is continually updated as new data is collated.’

Paul switched off the computer. Nagging questions weighted his troubled mind. Questions as to what his security level will be. And as a member of the Syndicate, how much information will he be permitted to know? The hallucinatory nightmare had left him with an intuitive gut feeling. A feeling that it would be dangerously unwise not to co-operate with the Syndicate.

He knew he was already in far too deep - fear began to acid etch into his soul.

Sonia interrupted his thoughts. ‘Shall I put the champagne in the refrigerator until later? Bashar will be here shortly.’

‘What... oh yes, thank you,’ he replied. Crystal images of Rebecca accelerated past his dispirited mind.

Sonia left through an adjoining boardroom door that led through to the kitchenette.

And Paul was left alone with his ruminations.

But not for long.

‘Paul Ravenscroft! My spirit brother!’

The booming accented voice startled Paul. He glared up from his desk with a frigid shudder.

‘Your aura portrays heavyhearted negativity. I’ve come to help you celebrate existence!’ The handsome, bearded figure of Bashar stood before Paul grinning - invoking charismatic power and self assured positiveness - and his tone carried a deep mature resonance.

‘Bashar, I didn’t hear you come in,’ said Paul open-eyed.

‘Ah, you see! Our physical senses are so limited. I will teach you how to use your extra -sensory abilities, yes?’

Paul could find no answer. Bashar the mystic adorned in his colourful saffron robes and wooden beads now outlandishly looked the part.

‘Yes, I know what you are thinking. Your aura is so holed. We must correct that also.’ Bashar spoke with a jovial heartiness. ‘I loath wearing suits or underwear. The testicles should not be incarcerated. The Kundalini energy must be allowed to rise unrestricted.’

He let loose an unrestricted laugh from his root chakra. ‘The ancient Celts knew of this, hence the ‘grew-some’ erection joke about the nun who wanted to feel under the Scotsman’s kilt.’

Paul rose to his feet, his face utterly expressionless. He stepped around his desk to greet the lean Romanian.

‘It’s good to see you again Bashar. You look so... so different from when I met you in Amsterdam.’

‘Oh, I’m not so comfortable playing the role of a businessman. Money is only of limited worldly use and has next to no interest to me. But I knew you were not fooled in Amsterdam, yes!’ Bashar’s eyes expanded and blazed excitement.

‘I realised you must have been checking me out. Neither of us really needed to be at the meeting simply for the exchange of documents,’ answered Paul. ‘Do you work for my father?’

‘Definitely not. I work for no one. I am my own master! I advise. I instruct. I offer guidance. I...’ He stopped mid sentence and his elongated nostrils appeared to sniff the ethers. He turned expectantly towards the boardroom door.

And the door opened. Sonia appeared.

‘Bashar, I thought I heard your crazy laugh. How wonderful to see you again.’ Sonia re-entered the room beaming seduction like a Cheshire cat. ‘And what was that about your testicles, sir?’

Bashar eyed Sonia admiringly and bellowed. ‘My little lotus bud!’ Come here and give your guru a hug. I was just explaining to Paul why I wear robes.’

Paul battled his insecurities as he watched Bashar lift Sonia off her feet for the embrace. He noticed her tight skirt lifting - exposing those white thighs. And he noticed her breasts. Breasts that were now squeezed against Bashar’s chest in an intimate closeness. He felt an unmistakable possessiveness for her, yet knew also that such feelings were stupidly irrational.

‘This doe is a beautiful little package. And I expect that you have noticed by now that she has a quick mind too. You agree, yes?’ gleamed Bashar.

‘Yes. Yes she has.’ Paul attempted to respond in a deeper voice to match Bashar’s but only succeeded in sounding foolish.

‘Are your trousers too tight Paul?’ carolled Sonia giggling from Bashar’s arms. ‘Maybe you should wear robes!’

Paul became incensed and exploded with volcanic anger. ‘About as tight as your mouth and manners are loose, I expect!’ he snapped.

The smile on Sonia’s face crashed. The icy glare she delivered to Paul was as barren as an Artic tundra. Bashar released his grip. Maladroit silence prevailed and Paul chose to remain stubbornly unrepentant.

‘Ah, I observe a passionate karmic connection between you both,’ exclaimed Bashar, diplomatically breaking the icy silence. ‘You are wickedly attracted to each other. That is interesting, yes?’

Sonia sulked dolefully to the door. ‘I think I might leave you two alone for a while,’ then added with derision. ‘I’m sure there is lots of important topics that you men will need to discuss.’

‘Where will you be if I need you?’ asked Paul, not really wanting her to leave.

‘If it’s all right with you, I intend moving my personal effects over from the office in my lab. It will only take a couple of hours.’ A measured hint of her seductive glint returned as she added purposefully in front of Bashar, ‘But as I said Paul, I’ll do anything - absolutely anything - you ask of me. So if you do need me, best you let me know, sir.’

‘She seems to have dedicated herself to you. You are a lucky man,’ commented Bashar after Sonia had left the room. ‘Don’t let her upset you. She was after all, only teasing you to solicit your attention.’

‘She knows I am attracted to her. But my feelings are purely physical. She raises angry sexual desires in me. If she doesn’t stop baiting, she’ll learn how frustrated I really am inside.’

‘Ah, tantric expression is good Paul! You have much repressed anxiety and anger against the opposite sex. It is because as a child, you didn’t experience a mother’s nurturing, yes? You need to get rid of these impediments. Use Sonia! Unleash your frustrations upon her. She owes you a karmic debt.’

Paul was bewildered at the directness of Bashar.

‘Why are you giving me this advice?’

‘The Syndicate, with the noticeable exception of your father, engaged my services. I am here to teach you the esoteric and occult arts to self-empowerment. The Syndicate needs you to be dynamic and charismatic for your role. Right now, you wear your phobias and insecurities on your sleeve.’

‘I didn’t realise it was so obvious. I know I have much to learn.’ Paul felt a developing kinship with Bashar and readily accepted him as a teacher. ‘If you like, we’ll sit in there,’ he said gesturing to the boardroom. ‘The leather upholstered armchairs look far more comfortable.’

Bashar nodded and followed Paul into the boardroom and sat down.

‘Would you like a drink? Champagne perhaps?’

‘No thank you. My intoxication is derived from the prana in the universe.’ Bashar’s brow furrowed and the look he then gave to Paul was the empowered look of a sorcerer. ‘So, you are fearful of your father, yes?’

Paul flinched with surprise. ‘Well now that you mention it, I admit he scares me at some level. I feel terribly intimidated in his presence.’

‘Ah, Heinrich is a certainly a most powerful man. Try looking at him between the eyes...’

‘But I can look at him straight in the eyes. That’s not the problem,’ interrupted Paul.

‘I didn’t say in the eyes. I said between the eyes, like this.’ Bashar’s magnetic brown eyes centred upon Paul’s third eye. Paul immediately felt the frustrating disconnection.

‘Now stare back at me the same way. Visualise a clear glass wall between us, which my energy cannot penetrate. Concentrate on my third eye while I talk aggressively to you.’

Paul directed a penetrating gaze to a point a little higher than between Bashar’s eyes. Bashar convincingly acted the role of Paul’s father, bellowing at Paul with condescending undertones.

Paul glared back unperturbed.

‘It works!’ he agreed excitedly with the enthusiasm of a novice. ‘I’ve always been told to look people squarely in the eye.’

‘The eyes are indeed the gateway to the soul. But people will leach your energy and powers if you allow them. Once mastered, this technique is invaluable. Practice it on your father and on anyone else that attempts to intimidate you. You will feel them drain as flat as a dead battery before you.’

‘I certainly will, thank you. What else can you teach me?’ asked Paul awkwardly but with passionate interest.

Bashar responded by laughing at Paul’s childish enthusiasm. ‘Like me Paul, you are an old soul. It is rather the awakening in you of knowledge that you have forgotten, than me teaching you anything new. Accept me as your Guru and by the next meeting of the Syndicate in 5 days you will be well on your way to being an awakened occult master.’

Paul felt overwhelmed by Bashar’s presence and could only nod in adulation.

‘Excellent, then we must proceed without delay. Tonight at 9.30, I will show you a powerful ritual to reverse psychic attacks both from this world and the astrals. It is imperative that first you learn how to harness and control your own power and stop others from psychically vampiring you.’

Paul’s appraising blue eyes lit up excitedly.

‘Sonia can attend also. She will direct you to my meditation and ritual room.’

Paul was visually hesitant.

‘You are not comfortable that she attends, yes?’

Paul felt a compulsion to be honest with Bashar. Bashar’s will seemed to penetrate past his barriers directly into the heart centre.

‘No, I am not comfortable. I happen to love another woman and I don’t trust myself with Sonia. And she angers me. One moment she is telling me how special I am. And the next minute she is jumping into your arms and asking you about your testicles. If she’s trying to impress me, her actions are either dumb or insensitive.’

‘I can understand your anger,’ said Bashar.

Paul continued exasperated. ‘I know I’m not being practical, but if she tries that overfamiliar act again with anyone in front of me - I’ll tell her to stuff off!’

Bashar again responded with empathy. ‘Soon you will look back and see the amusing play of this situation. As you project your love-hate mother complex onto her, she is also acting out her inadequate relationship with her father, onto you. You are not unlike each other and have been together for many lifetimes.’ Bashar paused and then fired pointedly.

‘Tell me, how do you know that you are in love with this other woman?’

‘Rebecca.... I love her. I feel the love blissfully,’ crackled Paul almost offended by the question. ‘She is wonderful...’

Bashar shook his head. His sleek long black hair waved across his shoulders in disagreement. The energy emitting from his eyes led Paul to stumble into uncertainty.

‘Why do you shake your head. Don’t you believe me?’

Bashar elected not to answer directly. Instead he asked, ‘Is Rebecca a ‘doe’ like Sonia, or a horse, or a cow?’

Paul looked incredulous. ‘I beg your pardon. What on earth do you mean?’

‘Hah! Listen clearly Paul,’ instructed Bashar. He settled himself deeper into the padded chair. ‘The eastern mystics have known for centuries that women have cunningly evolved differently. Women are symbolically known as either horses, does, or cows. We mere males are attracted sexually to one of the three, neutral to another and completely negative to the third.’

‘I’ve never heard of what you speak of. What is the difference between the three?’ asked Paul keenly but with scepticism.

‘As a woman matures the distinction is relatively easy to spot,’ explained Bashar. ‘Does are petite and small framed. They possess a natural talent for making their men feel superior and special. And can be most cunning and controlling. They are able to play the little lost girl act for all that it is worth - even to their own sons. Men often feel protective and paternal to their cute feminine does.’

‘That is why you referred to Sonia as a doe.’

‘Yes of course. Sonia is a classic example,’ agreed Bashar, running his manicured nails through the strands of his beard. ‘Does view the horse woman as their main rival.’

‘Then how do you differentiate a horse woman?’ asked Paul, his curiosity now kindled.

‘Horse woman are in vogue in today’s society. At last it is their turn again. For example, in fashion, as newsreaders, movie stars, politicians and so on - they are taller, thicker boned, stronger and carry their weight well. Unlike the does, they either look upon men as their equal or alternatively tend to behave condescendingly towards them.’

Paul began to compare Rebecca to Bashar’s description.

‘In their hearts they seek a partner who is their equal. Unfortunately, horse women often settle for men who are less intelligent or less strong willed. Males often admire the independent horse woman from a safe distance because they are intimidated by their presence.’

Bashar hesitated. His eyes seemed to squint unnaturally at Paul’s aura. Suddenly he fished an intuitive flash out of the etheric stream. ‘Your Rebecca is a ‘horse’ and a little older than you, yes? You worship her like the archetypal Divine mother goddess!’

Paul had to agree. From Bashar’s description, Rebecca was indeed a horse woman.
‘Rebecca is older. And I do perhaps worship her the way you describe. I’m impressed,’ he said, amazed at Bashar’s bizarre abilities. ‘How could you possibly know?’

‘Fine-tune and develop your intuition Paul. You will only ever understand by direct experience.’

‘Will you teach me?’

‘When the time is right, I will give you certain exercises to perform. I will also explain to you the nature of thought. Your abilities will be commensurate with the development work you are prepared to undertake.’

‘Sounds excellent!’ said Paul, expressing enthusiasm through his delighted grin. ‘Cow women! Bashar, you haven’t explained what a ‘cow’ woman is yet.’

‘Ah yes. Cow women last enjoyed their cycle of popularity from the time of the renaissance through to the end of the Victorian era in England. Voluptuous and motherly - safe secure and loyal. They portray the natural mother’s role.’ Bashar’s facial expressions gesticulated flamboyant showmanship as he accented the phrases.

‘Today alas, cow women are forced by society to feel ashamed of their cuddly bodies and are forever dieting in vain to imitate the horses. It is as if the symbolism of motherhood is no longer fashionable or feminine. Still, the cow women tend to marry first and stay married longer. They are never without partners for long because they offer men such loyal security and maternal protection.’

Paul quickly thought of the women he’d been intimately involved with. He realised they were all either horses or does, but none were cows. He’d often wondered how some men could be so attracted to their cow partners. Maybe there was something in what Bashar was saying.

‘Feminists would argue and be infuriated with you for daring to classify women into three categories. Especially based on physical features,’ he quipped.

‘And no doubt those angry with me would be mostly the spirited and independent horses,’ replied Bashar tapping his nose with his finger. ‘The age of feminism was heralded in by the Amazonian horse energy.’

‘Nevertheless, I don’t think they would accept the premise,’ insisted Paul, wondering how Rebecca would react.

‘You are wrong Paul. I explained the difference to one of my students only the other day. Estelle is a ‘horse woman’ with two failed marriages behind her - and would be considered by any standards an attractive and intelligent woman. One of Estelle’s ex-husbands ran off with an adoring doe from his office who allowed him to feel a ‘man’. The other husband ended up marrying a cow woman who availed him of the nurturing he so badly needed. In a flash Estelle understood many of the problems that had tormented her.’

‘You mean she initially chose men who really needed a cow or a doe woman?’ contributed Paul with interest.

‘Exactly. The problem wasn’t her at all. Yet she felt inadequate. She’d even wondered why all the ‘cuddlier’ girls in college married good looking fellows while she remained single and for the most part ignored.’

‘I think I can understand how she must have felt,’ gibed Paul smiling and thinking of Rebecca.

‘Estelle also admitted feeling jealous of the ‘does’ who, to her observations, seemed to scheme and entrap, rather than attract their mates,’ added Bashar.

‘So Estelle understood and related to the three distinctions.’

‘Oh yes. Once she realised the challenges of being a horse woman and that she chose this life, along with her planetary aspects, to speed up her karmic lessons and experiences, she understood.’

Paul’s developing insatiable appetite for spiritual and occult experience seemed to be guiding his consciousness to a new golden dawn of awareness. An expansive awareness gradually awakening to the Divine potential of the human spirit. An awareness that the enigmatic Bashar was now for some obscure reason, encouraging.

‘So what has horses, does, and cows to do with your question about my love for Rebecca?’ asked Paul studiously.

Bashar impetuously glared at Paul with the fiery look of Shiva.

‘When an aspirant is at the point of readiness, as you are now, a Master will use any technique available, to encourage the leap from the nest of complacency and contentment. He will confound, confuse, and shock. To assist an aspirant to soar free from the yoke of ignorance, the Occult Master will use a sledgehammer if necessary, to smash through the barriers of limitation.'
Bashar’s glare turned once more to a hypnotic smile. ‘Ignorance has no beginning but ends at the point of enlightenment. Enlightenment has no ending but begins less than a hair’s breadth from the dissolution of ignorance.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t quite understand your meaning.’

Bashar’s dramatic voice rose in volume but again sounded prophetic. ‘I give you warning Paul. Your higher self has called me into your life at this specific point in your present sojourn. You are close to liberation! Your present mind will disintegrate and become as incredulous as a child’s. Your personality is merely limitation. Beyond this limitation lies totality and unrestricted freedom.’

Paul didn’t dare to verbalise the question being framed in his mind. He didn’t have to. Bashar tuned in to Paul’s frequency and answered without a prompt.

‘Your personality is not real. It’s an illusion!’

Paul gulped.

‘Neither is Rebecca’s personality ‘real’. You have each experienced hundreds of lifetimes as male and female entities - in a wide variety of cultures. In each of these lives you possessed different personalities and varying degrees of intelligence. You have experienced thousands of lovers, children and parents!’ Bashar paused, not to relieve Paul of any feelings of insecure discomfort but rather to empower the deeper meaning of his words.

‘This love you profess so mightily for Rebecca - if it is borne out of the personality’s needs, phobias or planetary compatibilities, then what you feel for her is not love but self satisfying desire. If you still need to love an illusion, fine! But know that this emotional attraction is not cosmic love but simply earthy possessiveness! All these false ideas of love need to be dropped.’

Bashar the mystic knew his vocation well.

Paul’s mind began to spiral into a vortex of ‘death’.

He’d embraced reincarnation at the intellectual level but had previously chosen to ignore all the logical ramifications arising from such a concept.

Even Sonia jumping into the arms of Bashar had made him feel possessive. How on earth was he now to accept the image of ‘Rebecca’ and her hundreds, perhaps thousands of astral male and female lovers - even if occasionally in various lifetimes he had been one of them!

What is the point of such impermanent relationships?

‘I understand,’ soothed Bashar, ‘You think I am cruel for demolishing your sense of self identity, yes?’

‘No... Well as a matter of fact, yes! I feel you are gaining mocking satisfaction from destroying my ego or self worth. You knowingly led me into this.’

‘Aha, a master does everything knowingly,’ replied Bashar firmly. ‘However, by definition, your true unchangeable self cannot be destroyed - even by a master! The real you is far beyond the personality and the false sense of self identity it creates.’

Bashar stared at Paul, smiled thinly, and then cracked another salvo.

‘If Rebecca had chosen to be a cow woman in this life, instead of the horse, would you still love her as passionately?’

‘Of course not. I obviously don’t find cow women sexually attractive.’

‘And if she had chosen to be an uneducated tribal African...’

‘Bashar, I think you’ve made your point potently clear,’ interrupted Paul. His frustrations now giving way to vented anger.

The guru’s immediate response was non-action. He remained utterly silent. As serenely silent as only the Tantric Masters know how.

And Paul felt uneasy in Bashar’s serenity. Disturbingly uneasy - yet he knew that even Bashar’s silent castigation was a lesson.

One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. The dead silence was deafening.

Paul capitulated and felt compelled to speak. His voice was apologetic and sincere and an attempt to impress Bashar. ‘So enlightenment is the point at which ignorance or limitations are finally transcended and the state where the totality of Cosmic Love is experienced.’

The twitch in Bashar’s eyes hinted an approval.

Paul continued, encouraged. ‘Thus the entity known as Paul, the personality pertaining only to this life time, ‘loving’ the equally temporary personality known as Rebecca, is only projected emotional attraction based in partiality and ignorance of self.’

Bashar confirmed his approval by nodding.

An inner part of Paul agreed to what he’d just proclaimed.

Another ego part cried out for blessed mercy.

‘But all this is only relevant if re-incarnation or past lives is real and not just a popular belief system arising out of the fear of death and the desire for immortality,’ he added, without conviction.

‘That is indeed true, but is better left for another lesson, yes?’

Bashar looked distant for a short period as if he was communicating astrally to someone unseen. He turned to Paul and spoke with gentleness. ‘Ah, this lesson is almost over, yes?’

‘Almost over?’

‘Are you now comfortable about Sonia attending tonight’s ritual?’

He’s cunningly brought me right back to where we started, thought Paul.

‘I’m still not sure. Perhaps I should leave it up to her.’

‘Then I am certain Sonia will attend. ‘Does’ do not like to lose control if they can possibly avoid it.’ Bashar’s gentleness became paternally compassionate. He placed his hand on Paul’s shoulder. ‘Paul, I have my motives for Sonia’s attendance. If my hunch proves correct you will see that my reasons are justified.’

Bashar’s energy quietened and became meditative. His words were soft with understanding. ‘The possessive insecurities you felt relating to Sonia are some of the barriers suffocating your totality. Repressing, ignoring or running away from these blocks, as you intended to do, will at best postpone the inevitable. Destroy them; blow them apart with expression and discrimination. Attachments, whether they be to humans, material possessions or to our ego-personalities, bring only misery and mediocrity.’

Paul suddenly laughed. A small window of light opened into his consciousness.

‘Why do I feel that this episode with Sonia was pre-ordained? As if you set up the whole play on purpose.’

Bashar grinned. ‘Ah good Paul, I am pleased. Your intuitive awareness, yes? Recognise and develop that feeling. But also know that all events are orchestrated in the will first.’

Bashar again tapped his nose with his finger. ‘Remember always these two golden rules. Firstly, you are never, ever the ‘victim’ and secondly, coincidences only exist in the state of ignorance.’

Bashar turned away and sat erect. He placed his two palms facing upwards on his knees, his bare feet firmly planted on the floor and closed his eyes.

Paul fidgeted and remained uncomfortably silent.

Within a few minutes, the laden convoy of noisy thoughts grating through Paul’s mind slowed to a peaceful halt. He heard the mystic inhaling and exhaling in long controlled Tantric breaths.

Paul closed his eyes and synchronised his breathing with Bashar’s.

Bashar whispered in a low hypnotic euphony, ‘Keep your eyes closed, relax... relax.... relax... and imagine, there are breath channels in the soles of your feet. Breath in deeply, through the channels, drawing in, all the way up to the top of your head.

Now exhale through the third eye.

Clear the blockages from the third eye with the pranic energy of the breath. See the third eye gradually open. See the astral light shining into your forehead....’

Paul repeated Bashar’s instructions a number of times. Breathing in through the feet, drawing the breath slowly up through the body. Then out through the third eye. The warm energy began to build up in Paul’s forehead. He could see clearly an inner yellow-orange ball of light.

‘Keep pushing the breath out through the third eye. Good, that’s it. Keep breathing in through the feet .... and out. In....and out through the third eye.’

The rhythmic breathing continued without effort. The ball of light continually expanded, flashing like luminous sparklers.

‘Now imagine you are a large electron microscope viewing your own body. See your body, as it really is - a swirling light energy field - at play in a universal ocean of creative vibrating energy. Know that your consciousness is the master of this energy field. See that all matter is energy. Your consciousness is the master.... ’

Bashar’s words were slow and deliberate.

For a few teasing precious seconds Paul felt merged in the universal light energy. He was in a state of deep meditation beyond the illusion of time.

Meditative awareness...

His mind rang like an alarm clock demanding attention.

Paul stretched as he opened his eyes. He turned lethargically to smile at Bashar.

The seat alongside was now empty. He glanced at his watch.

‘That can’t be right - it’s a quarter past one,’ he gasped out loud with disbelief, ‘I’ve been off the planet for over an hour! Bashar who ever you are - you are incredible!’

*

-----000O000-----

*

Copyright 2004 – 2006 © Charles Goodwin. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, storage in a retrieval system or otherwise, without the prior express written permission of Charles Goodwin.

All characters - other than obvious historical figures - in this book 666 The Cauldron are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Prospective publishers with expressions of interest are invited to contact Charles Goodwin at cgoodwin@wealth-creators-club.com *