The triad

 

                                                                  Cauda pavonis

Me, Myself and I II

Protagonist:
– Look at how foolish we were. We believed we had already reached the end of this entire cycle, that we would never again leave that state of grace. And yet, everything we lived back then was nothing more than the Cauda Pavonis.

Figurante:
– It was the first time in this life that I could see us dissolving, melting away. Before that, there had always been a black, solid mass covering us, hardly letting us move. It was the very first time that absolutely everything in our lives changed.

Protagonist:
I have learned not to judge you as much as you deserve, especially because I have also messed up. It hasn’t been easy for anyone. But feel honored to hear such words from me. Since we made that pact about trying to fulfill the mission together, I have truly been trying to work as a team—even though I still think I don’t need anyone.
But you were dazzled, thinking you would stay here alone forever, believing that state of illumination was made of you alone. You left me sleeping, and only now do we know that all of that was but the prelude to my return. I must confess: what a glorious return I had. An unforgettable reception, at least that.

Figurante:
Do you realize everything I was feeling back then? Without you, all my sensitivity was laid bare, and I was dealing with everything alone—as if my skin were raw flesh and the whole world kept pouring salt over me. And still, I remained strong.
I had to let you sleep for a while. I was afraid you would ruin all the progress I had made, but it was all necessary. Will you never forgive me for that?

Protagonist:
Your Majesty has grown more humble. I think I am being contaminated by your illness. Strange as it may seem, I know I criticize you, I judge you, I provoke you—but I can understand the purpose of our journey now.
And yet you complain about what you felt without my protection. You had something I never had: unconditional love as your shield. So I don’t believe that the salt thrown upon you hurt that much. Did it?

Figurante:
You are right. All those things happened, and none of them truly hurt: all the injustices, one after another, the rejections, the feeling of being misunderstood. I did not feel real pain, because opposites are the same thing, only differing in degree. It is impossible for one feeling to override the other if they are the same; they merely switch places. So, when those things began to happen, I felt so much love that I could not feel hatred; I felt so much gratitude that I could not feel ingratitude; I felt so much compassion that I could not feel indifference. That is why you are right—I did not feel that much pain, because most of the time I was immersed in the joy of all those events.
In the past, you alone dealt with them. And now, I was facing everything by myself, and I was doing very well. Yet the day came when I realized I could not simply let people trample over me just because I was strong enough to endure the blows. Even though I knew how to live well on the outside, to live here, I realized I would not survive without you. And we needed to survive.
Then things started to grow heavier and heavier, more and more difficult. That was because you were already awakening—rising from a bed of revolt against everything that had been done to us. Rising from the catacombs of injustice, from my exhaustion with others’ lack of understanding, from the fatigue of having to explain and justify who I am, from my foolishness in revealing my gifts to those who would never understand them, from my innocence in expressing myself truthfully, in saying everything I felt and laying bare my vulnerability. So that people would do as Ham once did to his father Noah, after seeing him drunk and naked—telling everyone about it—instead of doing as Shem and Japheth, who walked backward to their father and covered his nakedness.
I know I am not from here, Protagonist—you are the one who is. I managed up to a certain point, but then I began to long for home. I was weary of this world and its inhabitants.
And yet, I knew God was right: we needed to work together, so that neither of us would become overburdened. And in this way, we would be even stronger together.
I carried on, however, afraid you would break the pacts, afraid you were not ready for integration. I feared you would do to me what you had done in the past—drown me almost completely in your sparkling wine. For though I have made many mistakes, I hope you are aware that you too had your failures. In trying to keep us alive, you nearly killed us. So my fear of you was genuine.

Protagonist:
– Fine, fine, I know that. But how long are you going to keep throwing this in my face? Everything I did was so that we could survive here. I may have crossed the line a little, but my intention was always to protect you from the fools who trampled on your head. This time, though, I was committed to doing things differently.

Figurante:
A little over the line? Fine, I will stop speaking of the past. Let’s talk about now. You broke the pact we made with God and got drunk again—not once, but seven times in two weeks. What do you have to say about that, huh?

Protagonist:
Sorry, brother! But I had a very strong justification for doing so.

Figurante:
Tell me, when have you ever not had a very strong justification to back up any of your actions?
You said you would never do it again, that you would accept my help in the background. And yet, you broke the promise and put me completely to sleep seven times. I was afraid you would forget me again, think you could do everything on your own once more—afraid we would repeat the same mistakes, when we could instead be making new ones. God stopped speaking to us.

Protagonist:
You fool! God never abandoned us or stopped speaking to us. But neither did He ever influence our actions. All along, it was we who decided. That was only your delusion, because you do not want to bear the weight and responsibility of choices.
God merely observes us and sometimes narrates our stories. Free will was given to us, and you cannot crucify me like this, expecting me to learn everything at once. After all, every lesson is consolidated through repetition.
And you cannot use God to intimidate me, or to manipulate me. Admit it—it is you who does that!

Figurante:
Fine, then tell me: what were these strong reasons that led you to break the pact with me and put me completely to sleep seven times in two weeks?

Protagonist:
For starters, it wasn’t even seven—because the first time I didn’t even get drunk on that 8% wine. But I admit that was my intention, so I pushed on to the second.
Then yes, that time I must admit you slept so deeply you may even have dreamed, hahaha.
I was doing my work properly, just as we agreed. I was even studying the Bible, and I began to wonder: why could Jesus drink wine, and I could not?
But do you remember when we were in the lab making plant extracts? Do you remember how we drew out their soul—their essence?

We bathed them in solvent; that was the only way to see the complete separation of their states.
To me, you were asleep, just as I was asleep to you. What happened was simply that we were separated for a while. Seems someone missed me and doesn’t want to admit it, choosing instead to complain about being asleep, this and that. You should thank me, because I discovered many things in that state.
It was different from the other times. I confess that before, I only wanted to escape my insipid reality, and I would do anything to achieve such a feat. But you speak to me as if I had fled from rehab. Take it easy, brother. I understand that your fear comes from my excesses in the past—from my escapes and the reasons I escaped.

But understand: while you, in your immense sensitivity, felt no pain when they poured salt on raw flesh, imagine how I felt when it was my turn? For if you are all the love that dwells within us, then I am the lack of it. I am everything we were denied.

I thought I could do everything alone, that I needed nothing and no one—not even you. I had no protection, and yet I wanted to protect you. I was your shield for a long time, wearing my thick skin. But only now do I understand that, even amidst so much salt, you also protected me.
When I pushed you away from me, I was left only with everything I lacked. I began to seek it in others, in drink, or in any other situation that might relieve me of that loneliness, that emptiness, of all that had been denied us since birth.

But when God appeared with His eyes in the peacock’s tail, I could finally understand that everything I sought outside was, in truth, everything I had denied for so long. It was all with you.

 

Protagonist:
Sorrow was a beggar, and I did not want to beg for anything—because when you asked, no one gave. And love, love is not something that should be begged for, please... So I tried to hide from people the fact that I lacked it. To hide my neediness made me feel powerful, as if I needed no one. People respected me because I did not need them.

Figurante:
But in truth, you do not need them. You do not need them to give you what you lack, what was denied to you and should have been given without you ever having to ask. You only need me. All the love you searched for outside, all the mirrors that reflected fragments of me, and even that one mirror that reflected me in full—all of these were only so that you would see me, so that you would see that I never abandoned you, and never will. It was so that you would see that all this love I hold within me is yours.

Protagonist:
With my tears I have washed my spirit, Figurante. Because you finally told me everything I needed to hear. I have been in redemption, because since we stopped fighting and have been trying to live in harmony, establishing agreements, I have been rebuilding myself differently. Oh, I used to say I was wicked, and I may have been at times, in the attempt to protect us. But today I see that I said that also because I wanted people to fear me—perhaps that way I could keep them from throwing more and more salt.

Strangely enough, it was not such a bad strategy, since I think it worked. When they came with their salt, I would say: Hey baby, you can come with your salt and try to throw it on our open flesh, because I have acid, and I will not rest until I see every one of your bones dissolved.
So yes, I know I can do anything to protect us. But deep down I know I am not that bad, even though I wanted everyone to see me that way. Because of my threats and my poses, because of my flaming throne—look!—they stopped.
I could not let them underestimate us for the rest of our lives, think that we had no defense, and therefore that they could set as much fire as they wanted to our house.

Figurante:
Protagonist, you make me laugh with your way of solving things and with your way of expressing them. Yet I must grant you this: this world is inhospitable. And while I left the house open for anyone to enter, we were defenseless.
So build your wall, but do not make it as high as before—to the point that not even those who wished us well could enter, to the point that it grew so tall and suffocating that even I barely fit inside.
This time, build it with gates, and stand sentinel on our watchtowers. I will tell you who is true and who is false. I will tell you what intentions or purposes they bear toward us, since I can see them so clearly. Yet instead of letting myself be overtaken by compassion and leaving our guard down, I will let you decide when the gates should open and when they should close.

Protagonist:
Look at me, surrendering to you—after you have given me the only thing I ever wanted. I think in the past I was more concerned with keeping my standards, my beliefs, my word. It was hard to go back, to admit my mistakes or even to see that I, too, err. But at last I saw that I gained nothing from that—not even from the pride of keeping myself always the same—when every day I kept paying a high price for it.
I no longer feel like the solute left over from distillation, the residue at the bottom of the beaker, utterly separated from you. For as much as I needed to see us apart, I managed to volatilize a little of all that was fixed in me. And I think you managed to fix a little of all that was volatile in you. We are becoming one again.

Figurante:
All right, let’s leave the foolish promises aside for a while. I will not demand anything of you. I realized they make us fear each other—it is as if I were waiting for the moment you would fail, and you were doing the same. We can trust one another. After all, you know you will always have me with you, at any moment, under any circumstance. I will never abandon you—neither in mistakes, nor in triumphs.
I will no longer criticize you, nor judge you. I trust in you and in your choices. We need not fear the past, nor think we will regress. Fear is what hinders progress, the lack of trust in one another.
I give you all the love you need—all the love that was denied you.

Protagonist:
And I give you all the protection you deserve. I guard your vulnerability so that no one may abuse it or take advantage of it.

Figurante:
I love you.

Protagonist:
And now that I have your love, I too can love.