THE PENITENT WIZARD
It is said that there was a powerful wizard who lived in the land of Willowmere. He was considered the most awesome magician in the land and his feats had become legendary. One day he realized that this magic had begun to fail him. Not only did he fail to transform things as desired, but the complete opposite would happen. Gold would turn into tin, water into stone and wine into vinegar. Panic stricken and fearful of his own powers, now gone awry, he began to question everything about his powers. Could it be that his wizard hat had somehow become infected with a distracting disease, or perhaps his wand had splintered and now this fatal flaw had a reverse effect on all his commands?
Where could he turn to unravel this mystery? “Which was it…the hat…or the wand? Which? He kept repeating to himself. Which? — Which? —Ah, yes! That’s it! Of course….WITCH! I will ask the good witch of Willowmere, Witch, Janice, for guidance. Perhaps she can mix a brew to solve this mystery.”
When the wizard approached the witch she advised him that she must first look into her crystal ball to determine why and how this devastating turn of events had occurred. With the two of them huddled over the shimmering sphere, she summoned the para-natural spirits to rise. Suddenly smoke began billowing up from the base. It then began to swirl as though tormented and turned onto a black twisting substance emitting flashes of lightening. Suddenly the thundercloud that had formed burst into a ferocious downpour with a swirling vortex which immediately transformed into a tornado positioning itself in the magnetic center of the sphere. Through this violence, one ray of light beamed down through the funnel and glanced off singular man, feverishly inhaling this miasma, striped of his clothing and shielding his manhood with a charred fig leaf. Then all went still and the man and tempest evaporated leaving the sphere blank and vacuous.
The witch and the wizard stared at each other in horror— the wizard because of ignorance and confusion, the witch because of what the aura foretold. With her anguished face inching closer to the shaken wizard and with a muffled growl she said, “You have violated your powers”. Now in a voice that rattled the air she continued, “Not only have you breached your wizardly pledge, but in doing so you have transgressed against all forces of nature. Within this sphere I see a vengeance brewing amongst the wind, rain and fire. “To violate one or two of these forces would not have, by themselves, laid you low, however to have violated all three is unconscionable. And, from the appearance of the fig leaf, which is not indigenous to the Land of Willowmere, you exercised those powers beyond the people of Willowmere…beyond the zone of restriction.”
Guilt was dripping from the wizard’s face with the same look of shame as seen on the sullen man in the sphere. He beseeched the good witch to intercede on his behalf, offering to do anything to regain his honor. The good witch pondered for a moment and said,” This will not be easy. It will take a special brew and only once before has the confluence of ingredients and the vapors restored a man’s wizardly dignity and that was in the Land of Oz. But, not since then or before has a disgraced wizard regained his honor.”
Flipping through her magical potions book she came to a section where the pages were clean and crisp giving the impression of never having been read or used before, so rare was the occasion. Grousing through the pages she murmured, ‘Since we must satisfy each force of nature that was defiled they will all have to be represented in this brew, but first you must expunge yourself from your guilt and expose the circumstance of this transgression.”
“I know”, whimpered the wizard,” that our powers are not to be used for those living or reared beyond the land of our restriction and to that violation I confess. Further I am aware that we are never to use our magic to advance or own personal wants or desires, but that they are powers to be used for the common good and noble causes. “The wizard then paused and stared at the ground. He took a deep breath and looked up at the witch. She said, “Continue. Reveal what happened.”
“It was a magnificent day” he mused. “I was invited to play a round of golf away from the Land of Willowmere and, I suppose, I was just overwhelmed by the tranquility of my place in nature. Completely immersed in the moment, I realized that after having stroked the ball, it needed more loft to cross a pond…so I summoned a gentle breeze to carry the ball over the hazard, thereby, violating the natural forces of wind. Later while addressing a putt, I noticed the green laden with dew that would alter the roll of the ball so with a wave of my finger I vaporized the moisture to allow my putt to run true. The force of water had now been violated. And last, while facing a searing sun while approaching a green, I divined a cloud to lazily drift by obliterating the rays and hence offended the sun. All of this was done to satisfy my own wants and desires, not to serve others as I was so charged when wizardly powers were bestowed upon me. How selfish to have used my powers for trivial a cause.”
“According to the text, ” murmured the witch, “you have, with that confession, satisfied the first of three steps to reconciliation. We must now create the brew and then find a noble cause. The ingredients called for in the brew are the seething entrails of a wildebeest which will reconcile you with fire and the ovaries of a newt which, like water, allows life to spring forth. To satisfy wind there are three sketches in the book offering you three choices; the bray of a mule, a whinny of a horse or the Bah of an old goat.”
“This is impossible” blurted the flustered wizard” How do you capture those utterances and join them with a brew?” The three sketches in the book began to move and beckon the wizard to choose themselves. The horse reared back on its hind legs showing his power, the mule flapped his ears enough to levitate off the ground and the old goat just smiled. The wizard, not knowing where or how he would capture these sounds, at long last picked the old goat, if for no other reason but that he had a tender spot for …a smile.
“ The good news” blurted the witch, “is that every witch worthy of her broom stick has the wildebeest entrails and newt ovaries in their potions laboratory, so let’s get started with that first.”
Still troubled over how they were going to capture the”Bah”of an old goat, the witch asked the wizard if he had the strength to move the heavy cauldron over to the fire. Waving a dismissive hand he blurted out “Bah..of course I can”.
The witch snapped her head around toward the wizard and said, “What was that you just uttered?”
“I said… of course” repeated the wizard.
’No’, queried the witch, ”Before you said . ‘of course’…The dismissive word you used…You uttered a sound!”
“You mean the ..Bah?”
“Yes, you ‘Old Goat’ that’s it …. the Bah we need”. Then she puzzled, “How do we use it?”
The two of them now huddled over the cauldron added the entails and ovaries to a base broth of still pond water, wild Brussels sprouts, essence of camel dung and livers from an assortment of amphibians. Soon a rolling froth began to form on the top of the brew and still they had no idea of how or when to use the “Bah”. Suddenly like soap bubbles, glistening little orbs began to float up from the simmering brew. The wizard’s eyes then opened widely. He beamed, and having a resurgence of his wizardly guile he realized the last force of nature to be satisfied was wind. He then cautiously breathed a gently “Bah” at the bubble which floated upward …then burst, cascading shinning droplets which alighted on the wizard’s nose.
The witch noticed that although bubbles had continued percolating, the brew itself had stopped frothing which meant the recipe was satisfied and need only now be put to the test.
“How do we test it,” stammered the wizard?”
The guileful witch gave him a curious look and said,” Shall we try it on you first by providing you with a favor of some sort?”
“Oh no,” clamored the wizard, “My powers are not to be used for myself”.
“I see your wisdom is returning already dear wizard, for had you chosen to use it on yourself the mysterious vapors within the bubble would have soured and turned on you. But, as you know there must still be nobility to your cause.”
“Yes of course” replied the wizard. “The one person who I know for sure to be nobility within The Land Of Willowmere is the man who lives up in the Tudor castle on the hill. You know him, “Old King Cole.”
The good witch frowned and said, “You will only know if he is truly noble if, using the crystal ball, you look deep within in him, performing in essence …a “Cole..“enoscopy.”
As the wizard studied the orb he appeared troubled.” I fear I see only nobility in his ranking but otherwise nothing that sets him apart from many others or captures my imagination.”
“Then you must keep searching”, admonished the good witch.
Confused, the wizard observed that the crystal ball went completely dark. He looked quizzically at the witch.
She said, “The crystal ball retires when it prefers we defer to another medium.”
Dusting off a seldom used Ouija board the two placed their hands on the diviner as it guided them to a source to seek further revelations. It stopped on the Keleidoscope . Knowing the diviner to be elusive and whimsical in its offerings, the witch cautioned that the puckish Oiji relished a play on words so—- they began to test their imaginations. It took little work to find the relevance of “Keleidoscope’ and “Kelly—do-scope”….and there was only one Kelly who hailed from the Land Of Willowmere.
And so, as with “Old King Cole”, the scoping for nobility was pursued at the house of Kelly. Here, however was found a pioneer family, with husband and wife working side by side tilling the soil, creating ice rinks, felling the trees and creating stone walls while their children lovingly embraced “The Elf on the Shelf”, a magical character— in a magical family–“like us!” blurted the wizard.
“If it is so divined that my powers should be returned to me,” begged the wizard,” I would use them to shower blessing on this magical household. ”With that, another bubble rose from the now quiet cauldron and as it drifted upward the wizard breathed a quite “Bah” setting it into motion.
The forces of nature were now satisfied, and the cause was noble.
This translucent bubble gently floated across the pond and off to a distance place seeking its true destination. Watching the journey on the, now reactivated crystal ball, the bubble hovered over Abbots Hill Rd. in Newtown. And just as the bubble, filled with good will and blessings, burst, the good witch turned to the wizard and said, “You see, the magic is not in your hat or the wand… When the cause is true —-the magic is in the air.”