Today, Orison brought a new Guardian to meet me on the mountain, a Power like myself with red wings and a pleasant smile.  “Asa’el, this is Rumael,” he said.  “I thought perhaps that he could help you with some of what you are struggling with.”

Rumael and I bowed to one another.  I could tell that though our rank is the same, he is older than I, and so I greeted him respectfully.  “I am grateful for your assistance.”

“I’m pleased to be a part of your training, Asa’el,” he answered me.  “You certainly have surprised many of us!  But we are very glad to have you.  You are in good hands with Orison, of course, but he suggested that I might be able to offer some new insights in touching the physical world.”

“Rumael has shown a talent at this since he was young,” Orison said, placing one wing behind Rumael.  “He has made great use of his skills in the field, and has saved many lives.”  Rumael ducked his head at the praise.

“Then I know that I will learn much from him,” I said.

Orison left us then, having other tasks to attend to, and Rumael turned slowly on the spot, smiling to himself.  “This is a good place to start,” he said.  “Asa’el, tell me: what do you see when you look around?”

I blinked.  “The mountainside,” I answered.  “It is a cold and wintry day—”

“No,” Rumael stopped me, “you are telling me what you know of this place.  Take a moment and look, and tell me what you see.”

I did as he asked.  The woods seemed emptier than they do in the summertime, the trees seeming further apart.  Dried leaves and branches on the ground wore traceries of frost, except where evergreen branches protected the forest floor.  The branches were all etched with ice, and I could see a small bird’s nest at a fork, vacant now, and also dressed in silver.

It really was beautiful.

Then Rumael was next to me.  “Hold out your hand,” he said, and I did, and he placed a leaf into it.

And I held it.

It was just for a moment, but I truly did.  I cried out in surprise, and the leaf fell through my fingers, and Rumael laughed.  “I have seen this many times,” he explained.  “We tend to depend on our spiritual senses to tell us what we need to know about a place or a person.  We can arrive in a place and feel its essence all at once.  But the lovely thing about physicality is that it forces one to exist in a single moment, to observe things more gradually, or even one at a time.  When we look at the world this way, it becomes easier to interact with it.  Try again.”  He bent and picked up a twig, with an ease that I admired, and held it out to me.

Though I understood what he had told me, it took me a while to be able to put it into practice.  At first I had to focus exclusively on the object I was trying to touch—I can tell you, I can perfectly picture that little forked twig in my mind’s eye, and likely I will be able to for years to come.  But soon enough I could lift even stones and small branches at will, though it tired me to hold them long.

“Do not be dismayed by what you see as weakness,” Rumael told me.  “In quiet moments few of us can lift more than a few pounds.  Of course the heat of fear and anger can give us more strength, but always remember that this is not what we were designed to do.  You are doing well.  Shall we try something different?”

I was eager to do so, and so he brought me to a different place, on the other side of the world where spring is well advanced.  We were standing on a small, quiet beach, the sand pale and gleaming in the evening light, the water rushing up and down the shore. 

Here there was less intricate detail to look at, and so I had to concentrate harder to center myself in the moment.  In time, however, I saw waterbirds dancing ahead of the tide, and glimmering seashells half-buried in the sand, and the tracks of a gull, and the way the waves sometimes left bubbles of foam and sometimes simply darkened the compact sand.  Once I had done this, Rumael showed me how it is different to shift water, and how to dust sand from a shell.

My time with Rumael was not long, but I am exhausted—and exulted.  There is a slowness, a narrowness, to physicality that I was missing.  One must be able to filter out all that the world is saying and see only what is necessary.  It is difficult, but not, as I feared, impossible for me.

I have much to learn still, of course—I know from experience that in crucial moments I may not be able to wait and watch before I act.  But Rumael has consented to continue to help me, and I think I will benefit much from his assistance.

My brother, thank you.  You have encouraged me greatly, and I now have hope that I may be ready to fly at winter’s start.