Tree of Evil

The Tree of Evil is the habit, the compulsion, the auto-default, that which we were born with. It is that which tells us to sin against our higher self and our betterment. At the heart of it we have failure and pain. This is the Tiphareth, spelled backwards. Are we on our heads here?

And thus my baptism began, my light into the shadow. My head was submerged, and upon it I saw red snakes; petrified ribbons of victory. No drug strong enough for me.

And then the priest stated: “Do you renounce your will and all that made sense to it?” And then he gave me a taste of the opium as communion, and it smelled like chemicals. It was the gateway to other lives, other things. But my habit was the compulsion I was born with, the chemicals throughout my meridians. My hands trembled and I felt nausea. It was so easy to be stuck but so difficult to say no. Time had stymied me into wanting the same thing, day in, day out. Somewhere I heard an echo of a suicidal man’s song. I was a victim and they strapped me to a table and bled me.

So I discovered that we are in agreement with this plan by default, and that we are coerced into new covenants to overwrite this. Only we can come up with the proper means to free ourselves. And this is the moment at which we invite Life in, and plant our feet down and truly decide to live it and fully exist in it. But that day I decided to follow the Will of Else, the other side of it, to vanish into the depths and into indulge all where I was at the center. No tantrum too loud for me, no tears of self-pity too great or too exaggerated. And once again I encountered the priest.

“Are you without conviction? Are you making others rich with the sweat of your brow?”

“Yes, Lord. Yes, all that is true.”

“Then you have done well. Remember, my son, there is no failure in fear. Only our nature. Our absolute deepest nature.”

His claret words rung and stung. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, desire ached. And it was desire for That Which He Had Not Given Me.