Scrying the Aethyrs: 22 – LIN

This is the text of my journal entry for my scrying of the 22rd Aethyr, LIN. See my previous post on scrying the aethyrs for instructions and a description of exactly what the Aethyrs are.

I light a candle and incense, recite the 19th call, and lay down to let the vision arise. I am wearing a blindfold and isolation headphones due to noise in another room, with pink noise playing to block out external sounds.

I am in a black room with concrete walls. It is featureless except for a fluorescent light above the only door. I examine myself, finding that I am well dressed in an outfit I own in real life. I reach to open the door and feel the metal knob cold in my hand.

Pulling the door open, I see an elevated caged walkway leading to another door. To the left, outside the cage, is a brick wall. To the right, below, is an alley. It seems wet, as if it has been storming. It reflects light from the street at its far end. There is a very slight drizzle of rain still falling.

I walk to the door opposite me and open it, revealing a stairwell leading both up and down. I follow it down to street level, noting that it also continues into a basement, and open the door to the alley I saw previously. I walk up its length, avoid bags of garbage which have spilled from a large dumpster. I exit the alley to a city street. To my right is a corner bodega. There are no pedestrians around.

A black car is in front of me, with a man holding an umbrella. He opens the rear passenger door, and I sit on the black leather seats. He gets into the passenger seat, and the driver pulls the car out onto the road. I hear the wipers swiping against the windshield as streetlights pass overhead. “Where are we going?” I ask. “To see the governor”.

The car pulls into a driveway in front of a fancy hotel. The passenger exits, opening the door, and I step out onto a red carpet. Following it up a short set of stairs and into the lobby, I see the front desk and concierge who points me to a restaurant on my left. Following this path, I notice there are others at the tables, but details of most of them are fuzzy to me.

I walk to a table with a plump man in a suit. He is eating a steak and wears a napkin as a bib. He gestures for me to sit. “Are you the governor?”. His reply is wordless, but I recognize his name to be Calzirg, one of the governors of this aethyr. There is a glass of red wine at my seat and a waiter sets a plate of steak with steamed vegetables in front of me.

To my left there are large glass windows. Looking out, I see the street light up with a flash of lightning as rain patters against the glass. In the “real world”, where I lay having this vision, thunder booms loud enough that I hear it through the headphones and noise. It shakes the house, and I hear the windows rattle. I hear the door slam open as one of my dogs, afraid of the thunder, breaks into the room and the bed shakes as he bumps into it while laying down next to me.

Calzirg gestures for me to take a sip of my wine. I raise the glass to my lips and let it flow into my mouth. I can taste it. In “real life” I physically feel the wine in my mouth, and the flavor of it. My physical body swallows and I can feel it splash down my throat. He raises his own glass in a toast and takes a sip himself.

He motions for me to try the steak. I lean forward and smell it. My physical body takes a deep breath, and hidden within the scent of the incense is the aroma of a freshly cooked steak. He cuts a piece of his and I do the same. Taking a bite, I can taste every tiny bit of it in extreme detail. I feel the juices from it squeeze out as I chew and my mouth begins to water.

A scene from The Matrix flashes through my mind. Specifically, when the character Cypher betrays the rest of the characters by making a deal to plug himself back into the machine. He talks about the steak he is eating not being real, but his mind making it seem real. Calzirg suggests I take a look around the room further.

I place my hands on the tablecloth and feel every fiber in the material. I stand and walk to the bar, running my hands across the tops of the stools, feeling the details on the seat. I touch the brass rail in front of the countertop. I run my hands across the polished wood bar and pick up a piece of ice from a discarded glass. The coldness of it provokes goosebumps in my physical body as I touch it to my arm.

I return to my seat at the table with Calzirg. “The nature of this place is… sensations?” I ask. He nods. “Memories?”. He bunches up his face and raises his hand in a gesture to say “sort of, but not really”. “Can I see what your actual form is? Oh, I mean I guess it doesn’t really make sense to ask for a visual that is different than this.” He looks at me and seems to grow slightly taller, sitting up in his chair.

Visually, nothing is different. Yet, from him seems to emanate something that I can only describe as “glory”. I cannot think of a more appropriate word. It is an unconditional quality of his being which he is revealing to me.

“Thank you” I say as he goes back to how he was moments before. “Can you help me have a better understanding of what I should know of this place?”. The restaurant disappears and we are sitting in our two chairs across from each other in a grass field under a brilliant blue sky. The warmth of the sun shines down on us. Around us are golden flowers. I reach my hand down and feel the detail in each individual petal, and breathing deeply I smell their sweet floral scent.

From the chairs we rise into the sky and everything goes black. I see a scene of a man with one hand. He places it in a mirrored box along with his other arm, giving him the illusion that he has two hands. I recognize this as a form of therapy to treat phantom pain from missing limbs. From this, I reinforce an understanding of this as the place from which all experiential sensation arises.

We are back at our table in the restaurant. Calzirg asks if while I’m here I’d like to try anything else. I say “no” and he uses his napkin to wipe his face and stands up. “Before we move on, lets test your luck”. I stand as well and follow him through the restaurant, past the bar, and into a casino. Lights from slot machines flash through a haze of cigarette smoke that I can physically smell.

He motions for me to lead the way and I walk through the rows of devices, picking one with a large red light on its top. I sit down as he fishes a coin out of his pocket and hands it to me. I place it into the machine and reach for the handle. In my palm I can feel the smoothness of the ball on the end of it, except for the slightly textured part where a white 7 is painted on its surface.

Pulling it, the wheels in the machine begin to spin. The first one slams into place: a set of cherries. Moments later, the second one stops. Also cherries. The third one continues spinning. And spinning. And spinning. I look at Calzirg and he looks back at me, seeming to wait for some action on my part. I look back to the machine and think “cherries”. The third wheel jolts into its final resting position. Cherries.

The light on the top of the machine begins flashing. I look down, expecting some sort of coins to spill out, but instead a small slip of paper is ejected. Calzirg snatches it up, pulls me to my feet, and puts it into the breast pocket of my jacket. “This is your golden ticket” he says, pointing toward the caged counter where one would cash in chips, “but you can redeem it later”. He leads me away from the casino.

We are back in the hotel lobby where a grand staircase leads halfway to the next floor, before splitting into two separate sets of stairs. We walk up it, taking the path upward to the right, and end up standing on a balcony overlooking the main floor. Below us people are doing very un-hotel sort of things.

One man that I see is changing a bike tire. A child sits next to a bed playing with a stuffed animal. Another person sits in a bathtub, adjusting the water temperature. From Calzirg, I am given an understanding of people gaining, and reinforcing, memories from specific sensations, which come from this place. And the sensations that these people experience are coming from themselves. They are prompted by the things they think are around them, but the qualia of the sensation is not coming from that object, but from the psyche of the person experiencing it.

We continue walking along the balcony and arrive at a door. Entering it, we are standing in box seats of a large theater. Below, an orchestra finishes tuning and the conductor raises his baton. Beautiful and powerful music fills the expanse of this place. It washes over me and I feel the air vibrating. I clearly hear every instrument and experience the reverberations as it echoes off the walls and back to me.

But within the music is the final lesson of this place: as amazing and beautiful as the music is it carries no emotion with it. Emotion is not part of it. Emotion comes from elsewhere. It is something which is closely associated with sensations, but it is not an inherent part of them.

As the music finishes we turn and leave. I ask Calzirg if there is anything else for me to learn here right now, or if there is anything preventing me from continuing onward. He shakes his head “no”. I thank him for this experience, shake his hand, and exit the hotel as the vision ends.

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