I had done my homework the previous weekend and arrived at our cafe early, eager to organise my thoughts before John arrived for our Monday get-together.
“Dark out there,” he said, entering behind me and kissing the top of my head in his customary fashion before sitting down. I looked out of the window at the clear blue morning sky. We were having the most amazing autumn, though the summer had been standard issue, British wretched. I shook my head and turned back to look at him, forming the words as I finished the head-turn, only to be struck dumb by what greeted me.
“What is that?” I shrieked, trying hard not to laugh out loud and ruin the peace of Rose’s morning.
“What?” he asked, innocently.
“That bright thing on your head.” I responded, “And don’t tell me it’s dark out there–despite being late October, it could be a summer’s morning!”
But it was too late; I collapsed into a mess of giggles at my idiot uncle sitting opposite me, wearing a lighted head torch and a big grin.
“Desperate to find something that worked,” he glanced apologetically upwards, rolling his eyes. “Best I could do!”
I recovered some self-control. Strangely, the whole of the cafe’s inhabitants were not studying the Monday lunatics, just a few of them.
“It’s quite good, though,” I said. “You are Mr Cyclops, I take it?”
“Ah yes…” he smiled. “And on that basis, it is double dark out there…”
I sat back, sipping my coffee, thoughtfully; just studying him. He was seldom single dimensional and some of his best teaching had, at first, seemed ludicrous.
“So, we’re not on Crete, presumably because we’ve already been there, but we are in the month of Taurus?”
“Not on the island of Crete to be precise.” he said, slightly narrowing his eyes. “And, yes, we are in the sign of Taurus, and rippling with the energy of beginnings from our trip to the Mares of Aries.”
I chewed on that, taking another sip of the still-scalding coffee. “Island? Okay then,” I said. “So being off the island is a good thing, though it was Crete where Heracles successfully tracked down the Bull with the shiny star on its head, helping him ride it out of the maze and across the ocean to the mainland?”
“That’s very good,” John said. “you should carry on…”
“So Heracles had to go somewhere…” I paused, trying to dig for the meaning I had sensed. “Separated!” I blurted into my coffee, nearly spraying the hot liquid off the surface of my cup.
His eyes did that flickery thing. He leaned forward, pushing the moment at me. “Yes,” he said, enthusiastically. “Heracles had to go to Crete to gain a deep understanding of something that it is essential to know the whole of.”
I sat back and drank some more coffee, catching Rose walking past and asking her for another, as I was going to run low with all this frantic thinking. John refused my offer of a second. I took a deep breath and waded in. “So, something, presumably connected with Taurus, had to be learned in finding the Bull and riding it – that’s it – riding it!” I was onto the trail now, I could feel it, and see it in his gleeful eyes.
“What happens when we ride something?” he asked, innocently.
“We master it!” It was a crude description, but it would have to suffice.
“Do we kill it?”
“No,” I replied, “We get the best out of it.”
“So a bull could do a range of things, from pulling a plough to keeping a herd of cows happy?”
Suddenly, it was there before me. “Sex – Taurus, Venus!” I said, laughing. “Heracles went to Crete to learn to master his sexual forces, not suppressing them, but riding them back to higher beings – The Cyclopses.” I had no idea what the plural was and had to improvise.
“And what relationship did the three ‘Cyclopses’ have to him?”
I was struggling. Barely able to suppress his mirth, he reached up and switched his single light on and off, again.
“He, he…” I was practically screaming inside. I knew the answer was literally shining in … in my face.
“He was one…” I whispered. “Having mastered something utterly fundamental to everything, he was able to be accepted in the company of his kind … or at least, of those he could now recognise as his kind.”
“And the single light – sorry eye – in the head of the ‘cyclopses’?” John asked, pressing me while the virile energy of the Spring roared inside my laughing mind.
My voice, when it came, was dreamy. Like I was listening to someone else speak. “Single rather than dual,” I said, “Seeing the higher, causal plane as the more real; seeing that there is a single light – the light of understanding that, alone, illuminates the universe; or, possibly, seeing from a unified Self…” I stopped, timeless and, finally, wordless, staring at the stars in the constellation of Taurus.
“I think that’s plenty enough for now,” he said, gently. “Well done, you…”
I did not hear him get up; did not see Rose change my un-drunk coffee for a fresh one; did not hear him leave. I didn’t even know, until I saw myself reflected in the cafe’s window, that he had put the head torch on me, and left it switched on …
Nine Deadly Sins with Coffee is usually published on Thursdays.
All images and text ©International copyright, The Silent Eye School of Consciousness, 2015.