I dreamed of taking more than the Camino way…
More than James’ way…Up from Santiago de Compostela,
where the Cathedral of Saint James is located, to Rosslyn,
with its motifs in stony grimoires of green men. And I thought:
Was it about James the Great, or the real legend James the Lesser –
James the Just to be exact, so rendered the ignominy of being called Lesser by the Church!
Did the Knights Templar actually hide the secret that the Compostela Church
was actually dedicated to James the Just! Then, I walk in the Tarot of mediaeval Italy;
where the cards fall unceremoniously, in heaps, one on top of the other!
And I draw the Fool, out of the melee: He is swarthy and unkempt; he has
a shadow of a beard, he carries a sack on his back, that’s all he has as his possessions.
And Phoenix his dog barks at his feet, admonishing him for stopping, when there’s work to be done!
The Fool is both laughing aloud and sobbing in silence; he is misunderstood
and mocked at by all and sundry. But he knows he has to get past the blood
of the crabbity Moon and the real devil card of No. 15. To which gate does he head then?
Only to Judgement, where his Goddess awaits him and will crown him back
into the God he actually is? Was he Perceval (the mountain that pierced the valley!)
The gallant Knight who stopped short of asking the question. Why? Because he
wanted the Fisher King’s Kingdom to languish forever in infecundity, and because, he didn’t
want the Fisher King’s wounded thigh to heal! My Dad is certainly not the Fisher King,
and he has more strength in his spine than in his thighs! And the Tarot has a Trump;
and it doesn’t stop at 22. And I am not such an old, antiquated entity for nothing! Ultimate Retribution
and Reward happens out of whose divine all-fairness justifying patronage?
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