... this being the story of a wizard, the third part, continued from Darkness and light ... it began in Return of the wizard.
A hairy potter?
I am not sure how a hirsute ceramics maker got mixed up in this, he thinks, but I plan to continue writing down what I know to pass on.
"Wizarding 101," he begins.
His ink drying quicker this time, his quill not dripping so much as he writes.
The light from his curtained window coming in with just a gentle breeze to help drying.
The sky blue, the clouds absent, the cold sconce without torch helping tie back the curtain on his wall.
"Power present everywhere, we must allow it, honoring mystery as we go."
He dabs his quill again in the ink, catching the light from a mirror fragment hanging by his table, thankful not to be hearing the sounds of the world outside again.
"A wizard maintains his power as the basis of his magic.
Wherein lay his attention, therein lies his power.
This includes people, dwellings, possessions, places."
Nodding his head.
"Maintaining a balance within requires a knowledge of one's power.
Where you may want to exert it, or not, how much, and for how long, these become important."
"Earth-bound living requires a 'practical' magic; or, the judicious use of one’s power.
Knowing where it flows allows adjustments to be made.
Gathering it in, or releasing it more, you allow yourself to flow with it."
Pausing to consider his writing, he stands up and looks out his tower window again: his view of the sky was true enough, but looking further down than it was looking back in time, to eons before whatever moment this was, his spell of hiding himself in his tower to blend in with any modern landscape taking effect and working evidently still.
He lets several fragments of hanging mirror catch the light and reflect in his eyes as he sits down.
He lets himself float almost as he does so, like the fragments on their rope and twine.
What day was it when I begin all of this ... let myself die for the first time, casting the containment spell to keep me safe, and the illusion spell upon waking to prevent me from experiencing anything outside?
The light feels as if it is entering him now.
A power in itself.
The ability to dream, to daydream, casting a spell of light and shadow.
Relaxing, closing his eyes, the quill slipping from his hand, he remembers.
Copyright © 2022, Mark Newlon
Mark Newlon, feeling the embrace of the sacred feminine daily!
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