From a dream, or a half-sleep state, the magician awoke in communication with God. God told the magician that he was about to tell him all there was to know about life, the Holy Grail of truth.
However, there was one caveat.
The magician, in writing down these ideas and insights, had to collect all of the world’s knowledge, and the knowledge of the universe, into a book. The Book of Secrets. Then, upon finishing the manuscript, the magician had to bind the book in a sacred ritual, filling each page with divine intent.
Once the book was complete — filled page by page with the secret to life — he had to place it on a bench in the park on the corner of the street. And then walk away.
The Magician protested with God.
“But God, how will I know where the information lands?! How will I know if anyone reads it?! What if but one person finds the book, reads it all, knows the secret to life, and tells not one other soul? What if it falls into the wrong hands, or, worst yet, what if no one sees it?”
God, expecting this response, smiled.
“Ah, but don’t you realise, Magician, that this is the key to life’s greatest secrets. They are waiting to be found, yet the finding is not important. Their discovery may go hidden. It might rain, and the pages become sodden, and the ink bleeds and the message disintegrates into nothing other than a blur.
“Someone may read it and ridicule it. It may become satire, a source of cheap laughs. Others may read it and become enchanted by its content, revering the book as the source, not realising the secrets themselves and embedded in all experience, all of life, and not merely the pages of the book you have so carefully bound.
“Someone may find the book, and without a second glance, throw it away. An animal may pass, chewing it to a thousand pieces, digesting its wisdom as a quick snack and leaving it the next day to nourish the soil.
“But just suppose, Magician, that against all odds, someone may stumble upon the book and immediately feel its gravitational pull. Just suppose this person sees the glow behind its physical form, and becomes mesmerised by its numinosity. Suppose this person reads each page in a trance-like state, transfixed and spellbound.
“Suppose this person receives the message, and then becomes a carrier of this message, not just by repeating each phrase or each passage, but by becoming it.
“Against all of these odds, Magician, would you not say that surrendering to this possible outcome is the greatest form of magic? Would you not say that, without the unfaltering belief that this may be the outcome, against impossible odds, that this is your truest test of your own faith in Magic?”
The Magician, now understanding God’s plan, smiled too.
“Ah, I see,” he replied. “Then I shall get writing straight away! I will listen to what you have to share with me and I shall write all of life’s secrets. I will carefully spell-bind the book, with every cell and fibre of my being, imbuing it with all the magic I can muster.
“And once you have finished telling me all there is to know, God, I will walk to the bench in the park on the corner of the street, I will carefully place the book on that bench, no matter who is around, no matter if it rains or pours or snowfalls, and I shall leave it, turning my back on the book, and walk away, knowing that even if the book is destroyed, even if the ink bleeds and the message is blurred or it is thrown away, that the words themselves are not the message, but a translation of what is already known within.
“And I shall breathe each breath, until the day I die, knowing that against all impossible odds, I will be a carrier of this message, and it’s in the carrying that the magic happens.”
And so, God began to talk to the Magician.
“In the beginning, all was one…”