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The Encounter

      I don't know where she came from.
      At last I had fulfilled the dream of a lifetime: I had managed to come to Egypt. My life heretofore had been filled with study, medition and preparation of a sort -- like a scroll unrolling with my personal story, inscribed with my personal program, my own idiosyncratic way of growing, of learning, of becoming. Not in ignorance of this place as an ancient mystical land, I had chosen to arrive unpretentiously, unaided by any "tour group," using minimal accommodations for my simple nightly needs and exploring, exploring, exploring on my own.
      I discovered dusty nooks and crannies usually far beyond the ken of any ordinary tourist: dusty alleys and passageways between walls ancient and modern, often empty but sometimes filled with locals engaged in the activity of being their everyday selves. I discovered places of learning, of a sort, suitable for tourists but where tourists seldom go. I found secret shops filled with seductive curios, artifacts, relics of that special past and present of which the heart sings its most poignant song before that Special Encounter, which song changes to one of love and reverence upon the satisfaction of that desire.
      They spoke English. Well, not exactly many of them, but enough to help me on my way, enough to dispel sufficient of the objective mysteries that arcane appreciation and understanding were not denied to me in these places of the fabulous. It was that particular spicy piquant accented English, spoken with great clearness and emphasis, that seems so typical of those born to tongues of the Arab world. So it was with considerable surprise that one day I found myself discussing my finds and sharing the morning air of a remote side street with a plump, middle-aged woman who visually struck me as one of the tourist type, but with some indefinable difference: her very casual attire was not quite what one would expect on a genuine, dyed-in-the-blood tourist. Perhaps it was more the sort of thing one would wear around the house on a Saturday when one felt like going touring abroad, but didn't quite feel the energy or the flush of wealth and anyway, all those things really needed to get done, so might as well pick away at one or two of them ...
      Obviously, Dot was also an American. Like me, she was taking her time, patently not rushing from here to there trying to "take it all in." Like me, she was looking at the odd things she found with care and intensity, trying to savor their charm, trying to understand their source, their message, their meaning. Like me, she was talking quietly with the shop people, trying to get a flavor of their personality as well, understanding that there was a certain fraternal bond, a certain attachment between the persons behind the counter (or walking around in the shops like their owners) and the many things we had to ourselves in these unknown shops. Like me, she felt no pressure to buy, buy, buy -- to acquire for the purpose of having dominion, to pay for in perpetuation of the ancient game of Tourist Versus Indigenous Hawker. Like me, she seemed well accepted as a Person, as a Human, by the shop people, not as an obnoxious rubber-necker.
      Like me, she enjoyed talking of philosophy, of the Quest, of the Search, of the real meaning of this special land.
      We pursued our related quests together.
      Not all of the discoveries were in shops, sitting discreetly displayed in front of us for sale. Not all of them were arrayed in bazaars being hawked to anyone who would look, nor in museums for viewing only, nor along streets growing and living in their mute way like other green things the world over.
      Beyond my fondest hopes, Egypt opened her ancient heart to me.

      My companion was instrumental in discovering my ultimate Egyptian adventure.
      We were walking along in some out-of-the-way ancient places, some being ruins and others not really so. These were not the ancient places which were carefully prepared and staged for tourist consumption. These were outdoor stone passages, old walls and buildings which had obviously been used in the more recent past, in some cases being refitted for current duty with such accessories as wrought iron gates, fences, whatever. But dusty, often sunlit, deserted, these places stood idle now, unused, far from the interest of either tourist or native.
      Dot told me of experiences she'd had on a couple of occasions in places like this here in Egypt: by happening to be here or there at exactly the right time, she'd found herself included by gesture in a ritual with white-robed figures moving in procession into this or that secret closed room. Amazed and feeling a sense of awe and anticipation, she went in, and found herself involved in impressive proceedings which she found more significant than understandable in any intellectual sense. Grateful and wondering at her chance inclusion, she had emerged with a reverence and appreciation, though she hardly knew concerning what, which had never left her.
      In my own mind I doubted that it was actually chance. Dot was no airhead, and her heart was not the chill, unloving place that I have seen elsewhere.
      She was with me one day when we were in a fairly crowded wide street or plaza amid some rather ancient buildings, when I saw a line of people walking along in single file. What first attracted my attention was the identical attire of all of them, and the perfect line in which they were all walking: they were all dressed in turbans and loose, flowing upper and lower garments not unlike shirts and pants so baggy as to be hanging rather than fitting, everything including belts (actually cordelieres) being the purest, cleanest white. The more I looked, the more their attire suggested robes to me, and yet I couldn't quite convince myself that they really were robes, because I kept seeing their construction as loose shirts and pants. I thought perhaps it was this that enabled them to pass without turning any heads other than ours, but I now doubt it.
      I next noticed that they were carrying a cord of some kind alongside themselves -- indeed, that they were stretched out along it, as if they were attached to it as to a guide line. I was amazed to see the first of the figures, followed by the others, turn gracefully and with dignity a couple of hundred feet further on into a small opening between two walls that everybody else on the street was ignoring for some reason, followed by all the others carrying the cord, which was not white but the natural color of some dark fiber.
      "Look," Dot whispered into my ear, indicating by glance the tail end of the line. I saw that there was a vacant space along the cord sufficient for about two people before its actual tail end was brought up by another of the figures in white. "That's one of the Brotherhoods going into some conclave or ritual meeting. See that blank area of the cord? If we go up ourselves and take hold and join their procession, I think we'll be admitted to join them."
      Something in my solar plexus jumped as I realized she was probably right, so I followed her lead as she went up and took hold of the cord just behind the second-to-last monk, as I'll call him. It occurred to me to suggest that, as a non-Initiate, I should take the very last position on the cord, so mentioned this to the monk in that position. The entire line and the monks on it gracefully came to a stop with not a word said, not a step missed, no jostling or surprise or indecision.
      To my surprise, he not only understood my English, but also replied to me in perfect quaint English. "Art thou prepared to be the Last Stone in the Guardian Wall, like unto a cork in a bottle, sealing the Chamber against all discordant alien influences and making perfect the protection of our Light from the Powers of Darkness?" The reply hit my head and heart with a shocking suddenness, casting an illumination on a perfect battery of questions that I had not been aware of. I immediately realized that this man was second in importance only to the line's Head, being the Outer Guardian of the Chamber in which their ritual was to be held.
      Without a word, but realizing he was perfectly aware of my every thought, I realized my invitation (as Dot's) to join in this ceremony, realized that this inconceivable empty space on their guide line was in fact left in anticipation of our joining them. I was amazed. I further realized that here at last was an Order that lived and functioned in "real time," that could and would encounter unsuspecting aspirants and be ready to enfold them by Initiation on a moment's notice at the proper time as a mere part of their ordinary ritual activity without anything being disrupted or displaced by it. The sense of my not having been initiated struck me intensely and symbolically as I took the vacant place immediately ahead of him. I realized also the symbolism of the fact that Dot was one position ahead of me: although she had not had this particular initiation, she had had two others here in Egypt, and she "had credit" for those, which I did not, which placed her at the end of the line except for me and, of course, the Guardian who protected its trailing end. I became certain that not only did they anticipate our presence, but I had been permitted to take this position by that same Guardian, and no one not invited would have been allowed even to touch the line. Knowledge and understanding rushed in, making my head feel so full of ideas as nearly to burst, and making my heart bound in the intensity of my emotion as I realized the true meaning of this situation.
      Just as gracefully as it had stopped, the line started moving again, along with all the monks attached to it and with Dot and myself following their lead without difficulty. One by one, each monk and his portion of the guide line moved in through the opening between the walls. Dot and I followed in our turn, followed by the last monk, the one who tended the end of the line. Just as he came into the passage, the line again gracefully stopped without confusion or turmoil. Without releasing the end of the cord, this guardian monk swung a gate that I hadn't seen out of the wall, closed and locked it. As he turned to continue the journey, the entire line of monks again swung smoothly into motion.
      I saw that the procession was flowing around a right-angle corner in the passage. A few feet further down the passage led under a projecting roof. One of the monks was standing near a table a little way in, greeting each of the monks with a nod as he passed. Behind him a second monk was winding up the cord on a reel as each monk released it.
      Instinctively Dot and I, in turn, stopped in front of the monk at the table. To each of us he said:
      "We have seen thy coming from afar. A true aspirant are ye, not tested fully yet not untested either. Ye stand in the not yet perfected Light of Grace, limited in Understanding but worthy now of more. Not in ambition come ye before me, for ye have penetrated to the Truth that all Being is Brotherly. Not in curiosity seek ye entry here, but in hunger: for ye realize how vain it were to idle among Treasures for their own sake only. Thy heart affirms to mine ears the song of thy soul, thy readiness to work, to try, to suffer the workings needful of Truth as it keeps its House in Order.
      "I have asked: ye have answered to my satisfaction to this time. Proceed."
      I was amazed by the fact that, although I could tell this monk was talking to Dot before I got there myself, I could not make out a word he said to her, nor did I find myself to be curious or even wondering at the fact: it seemed to assume a normalcy, an expectedness that would have been impossible for me in other circumstances.
      I found myself walking with a dignity unlike my usual demeanor past him, through a portal into a large square chamber in which the other monks were already assembled. My dignity was not stuffy, was not pretentious or formal: it was itself the celebration, the song of a certain ineffable joy, a consciousness in its own right of the moment, of the situation, of the place, which infused my being and guided my willing feet in the proper path without visible instruction.
      Without asking, I discerned the two vacant chairs in the corner of one bank of the seats in this hall along the side-wall to the right of the entrance as we entered, and knew immediately that they were reserved for us and us for them, even without seeing Dot approaching them and selecting one, although I did see her do this and seat herself quietly. I hadn't seen anyone perform the little entry ritual at the side of the room immediately to our left as we entered at the corner, yet I knew somehow they had done so, and found myself making a perfect salutation in a form entirely new to me. The Hierophant seated in the raised chair opposite me at the far side of the room smiled, and I felt an incredible benediction without words pour over me in a flood. I discreetly moved to the chair beside Dot and took my place just as quietly.
      The three monks -- the one winding up the line, the one who had admitted me, and the Outer Guardian -- filed into the room and took their places, the latter in another raised chair behind the place where I had made my salutation. As he entered the room, he pulled another door closed, which I had again not seen, made it fast and thus sealed the chamber.
      The atmosphere of the place suddenly became uncannily tense with a hush of expectation. Majestically the Hierophant rose and extended one robed arm toward us. In that instant I noticed that the monks' attire seemed to have changed from two-piece garments to true robes, still in the purest white.
      In the next instant Dot and I both keenly realized that we should now stand. As we did so, the Hierophant intoned to us: "Newcomers, welcome! Not as strangers do ye join our company, for ye have labored much and thy light has become bright, illuminating many otherwise darkened corners of the world with thine unselfish devotion and love for thy brethren surrounding ye in less fortunate circumstances.
      "Yet not in perfection as yet do ye join us either, for the end of thine initial labors yet eludes thy grasp. Let this be our object lesson for today: It is not what ye have achieved that has earned ye admission here; it is thine intent, thy sincerity, thy genuine labor and commitment. In due course, ye will take thy place in our midst, here or in some other Temple, with that perfection coming to ye as possible on this plane while yet ye tarry here. Yet that truth will remain the essential key to this Chamber, both actual and symbolic, as it will remain the essential key for all future Chambers until Unity -- Union -- Victory becomes the only possible keynote of thy Being.
      "Not for our understandings, but for thine own, ye will now be tested by the Outer Guardian."
      The Outer Guardian rose from his seat opposite the Hierophant. He came first for Dot, escorting her to a point opposite an empty chair in the center of the wall opposite our seats. For just a moment they stood there, and for an instant it seemed that my vision of her was blurred. But she soon appeared clearly again, turned and was escorted back to her seat. As she approached, I could see that she was quite shaken, but still was radiating a strong serenity and calmness from within that was impossible to miss.
      Now it was my turn. Soon I was facing the empty chair against the wall. It seemed to be for several minutes that I stood facing that empty chair. Then it seemed to disappear, leaving a black portal ahead of me. With a touch, the Guardian indicated I should enter. The instant I moved, Guardian, room, monks and all disappeared, and I found myself on a swinging suspension footbridge in a flame-filled place of some kind: other than the flames and the bridge, no surroundings were visible.
      Fear struck at my heart. Terrified, I dared not proceed. But only for an instant: somehow I knew that this experience was illusive if I would accept it so. Something deep within me was calling for courage and perseverance, with the fortitude to challenge the impossible. I took a step forward.
      I then knew I had to take this perilous journey, for in the instant of taking that first step, on the other side I dimly saw a quiet alcove containing a large book lit from an unseen source above. The flames felt hot. I reviewed the fact that I was not afraid to die, so I walked forward directly into them, spurred on by some innate feeling that all would be well. On the second step, the flames ceased to feel hot, though they remained visible; on the third step, they disappeared entirely, along with the footbridge. I found myself on a polished black marble floor approaching the book in the alcove. It was very large, very old, and very impressive.
      As I reached forward to touch it, the entire scene disappeared and I again found myself in the Temple with the monks. My escort touched my arm again in invitation, and we turned and returned to my seat.
      When the Outer Guardian had resumed his seat, the Hierophant rose again and, by his powerful glance, addressed Dot. "Hast thou passed thy test?" he asked in musical tones.
      She nodded, then whispered "Yes." Somehow that whisper resounded with power throughout the room.
      He then turned his attention to me. As I answered similarly, I knew at once that Dot had undergone a very similar experience to mine, that her moment had seemed to her many minutes as had mine, and that she had seen me indistinctly for an instant as I had her. I further knew that this trial, though real, was also and more importantly symbolic of the terrors and difficulties of life and growth, whose ultimate end (at least as seen from where I stood in life) was Realization, as symbolized by the Great Book, attained only through confrontation, struggle and victory over negative, destructive forces.
      But the Hierophant addressed us. "Ye are now one of us. For some time to come, most of thy work will be done in the field; thy memory will sustain ye with the power of our presence, which shall be real all the same, notwithstanding thine unawareness through any other means at present. As trainees and apprentices ye take thy place on probation until ye graduate into Mastership of thine own creation. Thy future among us, as thy past and present, lies entirely in thine own hands."
      The monks began their regular work. We sat in our seats, impressed wonderingly with chanting, visions, compelling psychic presences and forces in action, cleansing, purifying, strengthening, instructing, enfolding us into their midst and yet standing at their feet as well.

      We emerged back into the light of day in a busy Egyptian street. The sun was still shining, the people were still walking back and forth on their various errands, the sky was still blue, the leaves on the trees and flower plants were still green. Yet it was somehow drastically changed. It all had a different feeling for me as Dot accompanied me without a word on my continued quest of the byways and recesses of forgotten realities. I was acutely conscious of a greatly intensified and unconditional love for all creation, despite the turmoil and disharmony found so nearly everywhere. I may still not like many of the things surrounding me, but life -- the world -- can never be the same for me again.
      It's all part of me now.

-- Willy Gommel
August 12, 1990