(I'm using a "day off" to catch up posting diary entries from the summer that never made it here.)
59. Thou dost faint, thou dost fail, thou scribe; cried the desolate Voice; but I have filled thee with a wine whose savour thou knowest not.
The scribe is the human personality, the Ruach level of the recipient. The desolate
Voice (de- + sōlus:
that which comes from the space that is solitary, alone, void of all else) is the Voice in the Silence, the Holy Guardian Angel. Here, near the end of this chapter of Fire, the personality is tiring, falling back from its conscious illumination. Yet the Angel reminds that the ripened time-ripened (i.e.,
aged) intoxicant has already been planted with the aspirant's soul even when he falls back from it consciously.
This is extremely familiar, and comforting in what otherwise might be an hour of self-recrimination. One thing that differs the Knowledge & Conversation from earlier stages of conscious interpenetration of some aspect of the Angel into the mortal psyche is that the link has been made.
It is permanent. The Angel is present and the union is secured. Even when the Adept is sent forth "upon the earth to do his pleasure among the living," the Angel is there, even when the Adept is unmindful, even when no one seems there.
60. It shall avail to make drunken the people of the old gray sphere that rolls in the infinite Far-off; they shall lap the wine as dogs that lap the blood of a beautiful courtesan pierced through by the Spear of a swift rider through the city.
The marks of Adepthood are evident even in such an "off" day in such an "off" person. They contagiously spread, they give a "contact high" to people around the Adept, the spill-over. It is a reminder that the Adept no longer has the leisure to unmindfully interact with others because the Adept is
the Philosopher's Stone, and his or her contact with another, by default, sets in motion a process of transmutation. This is not always a gift, and may be a cruelty to those who have not requested it.