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TheurgyMay 15, 2006 With much renumbering of pages, cross-checking of endnotes, and of course gnashing of teeth, I cleaned up the Loathsome One and prepared to send it packing. If the manuscript had had a heart, I would have put a stake through it. As it was, I made elaborate patterns with my fingers while muttering "Detour, no retrace" as if I were rerouting cooties on the elementary school bus. It was barely 1 p.m. The weather looked promising, which is to say it was gray -- amazing how a week of blustery rain changes one's notion of good riding weather. I loaded Loathsome One, the invoice therefor, and Rhodry Malamutt into Uhura Mazda and headed down State Road. Picked up check for just-completed horse-sit: maybe the sky was perceptibly grayer, maybe not, but I couldn't deny the raindrops that started splashing on the windshield as we passed Fred Fisher's farm. When I pulled in at the post office, it was getting serious. Three chats on the porch, another in the queue as I filled out the Express Mail form and wrote a check -- by the time I emerged from the p.o., the rain was pelting down. Cashed check at the bank; Rhodry got two biscuits because the teller felt bad about not putting them in the drive-up canister the first time. Rain rain rain. Cash in wallet made me feel flush, even if most of that cash is coming with me to Wisconsin next week, so I stopped at Back Alley's for a slice of pepperoni pizza and a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie. Rain rain rain rain rain. Rhodry got the crust; I got cookie crumbs all over my lap. Turning the corner from the Edgartown - West Tisbury Road into Barnes Road -- Smokey Bear, by the way, says that the fire risk in the state forest is LOW -- I had a revelation, or an epiphany, or an insight: My tack is getting really grungy. It's seriously overdue for a cleaning. Maybe this rain is a message from the universe that I'm supposed to clean my tack. OK, fine. I decided to clean my tack. Got to the barn, did chores, no one in sight -- rain, rain, rain -- and just as I was about to hunker down to tack-cleaning, the rain stopped, the sky lightened, and the GODDAMN SUN CAME OUT. I'm not kidding. The sky (where it was visible through the clouds) was blue, it wasn't raining, and I could see my shadow. Either the universe had changed its mind or I'd failed to interpret the signs correctly. I was meant to go riding. Allie, Rhodry, and I hit the trail. All of the above recalled to mind a word I learned last year while working on "My Terrorist Eye." The word was "theurgy." It appeared in a novel I was proofreading about Franz Kafka. Obviously it had to do with god, but I didn't know what so I looked it up. According to Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, theurgy is "the art or technique of compelling or persuading a god or beneficent supernatural power to do or refrain from doing something." The English word "theurgy" appeared in 1569, says Merriam-Webster. "Theurgist," it adds, means wonder-worker, magician. The word dates to 1652, the cusp of the Age of Reason. It was love at first sight. I especially loved the idea that long before the English word "theurgy" came along, probably for as long as there have been forces beyond human control, human beings have been sacrificing, studying, scheming, and otherwise attempting to control them. I realized at once that the "war on terror" was a modern manifestation of the theurgist's art. If you want to hire a theurgist to manipulate gods or demons on your behalf, how do you know who is proficient and who just lucky? "Theurgy" survived three drafts of "My Terrorist Eye." I loved it so much it was hard to let it go. Finally I admitted that delightful as it was, it was creating a drag in an otherwise smooth line. Out it went. But it left its traces, even if I'm the only one who perceives them: remove the tea leaves from the pot and strong tea remains. We had a lovely ride. After we got back, a dark cloud moved in and sprinkled a few drops on the barnyard. OK, I get the message. I untacked Allie and let her loose to eat grass. I filled a bucket with water, found the saddle soap, took my bridle apart, and cleaned it.
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