Out of the fog, there was a wall. It ran all the way through, as far as the eye could see. There was an archway that led through the wall. The cliff behind the Fool was slick rocks covered in damp and slippery moss. Ferns dripped water. Above was only a blanket of mist.
Standing in front of the archway was a sharply-dressed man holding a cup and a wand. He was dressed so well that he almost looked official. Fastened to his breast was a large coin with a flower emblazoned on it. At his side was a sword in a sheath. He was young, very young. He offered what little he knew in the knowledge of the four items he used to create his magic. Not long ago he wasn’t anything but a juggler. Now he was a magician starting his way.
He wanted a pupil, and one just fell out of the clouds and rolled right to his feet: the Fool.
The magician regarded this old man who fell from the sky. He wasn’t from here, that much was obvious, he was from the other side of the mist, from on top of the abyss. He would need a guide.
The cup the magician had in his hand was full of water that slowly dripped down the cliffside, fern to fern and moss to moss and finally to the valley floor where the magician caught it. Some say the cup once held blood or wine, but now it was just the container for condensation from a giant fog bank. Inside, the water smelled musky and earthy, but when drunk, it was satisfying and inspirational.
The Fool drank and felt young. A warmth grew in his heart. He had a song on his lips and a dance in his feet. His soul felt alive. He was aware of the magician standing before him and he felt deep gratitude for the sharp-dressed man’s help.
The Fool could almost make out the summer sun burning through the fog. Despite his joy, he felt a melancholy nostalgia for a lost love eons ago. It was a bittersweet memory that he could recall every step of, from falling in love to having his heart broken to putting up armor against ever being hurt again. He hummed a song the two of them used to sing together. He wanted to fall in love again.
The magician nodded his head enthusiastically at the Fool’s reaction to the goblet’s water. He could see that he was already reaching this man’s soul. This Fool would make a fine pupil. He would be the master and the Fool would be the student. He tried to remember all the lessons his master taught him, but instead all he ended up thinking about was how he would do it differently, even if it wasn’t his truth to begin with.
Next the Magician showed the Fool his wand. It was a crooked piece of weeping willow with one long leaf curling out from the branch. He showed that the wand must be used as an action. The wand should never be still.
A wand isn’t a tool used for introspection or meditation, but in the actual process of moving from point A to point B. Sometimes one can’t imagine going through with an action needed, but the wand gives us that little extra strength. To have a wand is to have a purpose and a place in the world. The wand is a tool to be used in work and in building one’s life.
Anything can be a wand, the Magician said. Any size or shape of wood will work the best. The Fool took the bindle and the bell off of his staff and made infinity signs in the air with the makeshift wand like a fencer with an epee. The Fool thought of spring, and weeping willows bending over canals. It was clear that the wand might have been a little above the Fool’s head, but the Magician still had hope in his pupil. He could see that the Fool knew that the wand was meant for movement.
Next the Magician showed the Fool his large coin, the Pentacle. The Fool knew what this was, and he seemed apprehensive to be around it. This was money, and the Fool was a Fool for a reason: to stay away from money. Couldn’t the Magician see his threadbare clothing? The Magician assured the Fool that these coins below didn’t represent what they represented above. Here, this is just a symbol of successes and lessons learned, he said. This is just the weight we need to stay grounded in the physical world. Yes, these can be used as a means of economics, but here the coin has worth only to the one that earns it.
The Fool seemed unsure about this. He thought about the long winters, shivering and cold. He thought about the snow falling and he could see his breath while he thought about searching for something to eat but not being able to find anything. The metal pentacle just sat heavy in his hands, reminding him of the failures of the society he refused to join.
The Magician was unsure how to save his connection to the Fool. He watched the Fool’s eyes glaze over and a daydream start to torture him. The Magician pulled out his sword. It was wide and short, but had an elaborately decorated hilt. He showed the Fool the polished blade whose surface showed the Fool his own reflection. The Magician said, This is the last resort when facing a challenge. It is mostly to kill challenges. This isn’t a bad thing, though, he added, since life is challenging.
The Fool’s reverie was successfully broken. He took the sword and swung it around and appreciated its weight. There was something so empowering in holding a weapon. He stood at the boundary of summer and winter with the leaves falling all around him and faced the uncertainty of winter after the warm abundance of summer. This sword took the fear from him.
He then noticed the Magician anew, standing there with all these tools. They were heavy and unnecessary, thought the Fool. The Magician was just starting a beard. He was still so young and naive. He rested on the symbolism of these four items like it was the answer to everything, but it was just a start. He hid his youth in an elaborate outfit, with tassels and fur. The Fool thought he should be on his way. He still thanked the Magician for his help and his lessons. I must wander beyond the archway to explore this world, he told the Magician. The answer to everything wasn’t usually the first stop on a journey, after all. Before departing, he asked the Magician for insight into the world he was supposed to travel through.
The Magician sadly obliged. Everything is a lesson, he said. Everything means something. Be careful to rely on what things have meant before without forgetting to think about what they could mean now. Definitions are of the beholder. Symbols change their meanings, even if the change is ever so slight.
You will encounter those that you might think you already know, but listen to what they say and do, the Magician continued. It might be different this time. Everything must progress with time and place, since everything changes. Wisdom comes from understanding what has changed, not what should always be.
Finally, the Magician finished, you should feel fear when you walk through here. This isn’t a place to foretell your future, but to show you what strength and mastery you will need to meet it.
The Fool bowed his head until his nose was inches from the ground, and bid the Magician adieu. Then he traveled through the archway in the wall.
The Magician watched the Fool go with grief and sadness. He should have remembered how his master taught him, instead of re-inventing the wheel. He felt like a failure, losing his first and only pupil – but he then realized that the Fool now knew more than he did before.
