Chapter Five: Not Naked (Part One)

Tales of Corwin

The jets of hot water were exactly what Mark’s sore muscles and joints needed. He closed his eyes and took refuge in the sensation, paying attention to the enjoyment of the hot water, so that he wouldn’t have to think about the tree episode—and also, so that he wouldn’t have to think about the way Sandra’s two-piece bathing suit hugged her curves. Just relax and enjoy the water, he told himself. Vicente’s spa was in the walk-out basement of his home. The basement was finished in pine and equipped as a gym. A weight bench and a rack of dumbbells and free weights occupied one end. An open area in the middle was dedicated to some kind of martial-arts training; there were traditional weapons mounted on the wall. The spa stood at the other end of the room, next to a small bathroom with a corner shower. The whole setup made Mark feel self-conscious about his own slim physique; he was pretty sure he couldn’t press half the weight currently racked up above Vicente’s bench. He’d been relieved to get himself under the water. Ahh, the water. Now that he was in it, he was glad he’d come. “This is perfect,” he said. “Just what I needed. Bless you for thinking of it.” “No problem,” said Sandra. She was seated across from him in the spa, which looked as if it had room for six—or, well, five, if one of them was Vicente. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail, which kept it mostly out of the water. “So now,” she said, “tell me your thoughts about last night’s circle.” “Well.” Mark paused to think for a minute. “You really have a great community. I guess that’s point one: I was impressed with how well they worked together, how they were taking such good care of each other. And I was impressed with your leadership.” “Thanks. They’re wonderful people. But they don’t really take much leading.” “Hmm.” That didn’t sound right. “I can’t tell whether you’re just being modest, or whether you actually don’t value your own skills as a leader. But what I saw last night was leadership—before, during and after the circle. It reminded me of something from the Tao: “When the best leader’s work is done, the people say, ‘We did it ourselves.’” “Okay, so I’m a leader,” she said, rising to rest her arms on the side of the tub. Her arms were tanned, and very smooth. Mark submerged up to his chin, and concentrated on the heat. He went on. “The circle itself reminded me, a little, of a style of Christian gathering I used to participate in sometimes—a Quaker meeting for worship. You know how I said the Correllians were like the Episcopalians of the pagan world? Well, you guys seem more like the Quakers of the pagan world. I mean, my Quaker friends might not recognize your ritual at the beginning and at the end, but I think they would recognize that long part in the middle there, where you all sat together silently until someone felt moved to contribute. I’ve never imagined that style of collective soul-care as a pagan practice. I found it very interesting, intellectually, and very powerful, emotionally.” “Well, that’s not just a style thing,” said Sandra. “I think it’s pretty central to who we are. Our circles welcome each person’s contribution, each person’s agency and creativity. And we experience the magic in the world as playful and spontaneous. It wouldn’t be fitting for our circles to be heavily structured and rehearsed. Like—sorry—like your Sunday morning worship.” “Huh,” said Mark. “I’ve always thought of our worship as comparatively light on ritual. Compared with, like, a Catholic mass?” “Maybe,” she responded. “But still, it’s all planned out in advance. You meet every week on the same day at the same time. The ushers hand out a bulletin that tells people, step by step, exactly what’s going to happen for the next hour. At the service I attended, you all followed the bulletin exactly. I bet if there are any long pauses, people start looking around to see who screwed up.