Shutting the Gate behind him, he got a better grip on the staff that went with him wherever he journeyed, and began walking down the path toward his destination. He had longed for this moment, when his Lord would command him to return Home to help prepare the Feast. Now the good part was beginning. He had been in the city witnessing so long, he almost forgot the smell of rain in the air.  He inhaled deeply and thanked the Mother for Her healing water while noticing the lack of the smell of hot asphalt that so often accompanied the rains in the city. He had long ago stopped equating the stench of sulfur with Sheol and now used common city smells to help identify what part of the Realm he was in.

Although his trek began moments before, he immediately found himself standing at the foot of the hill where his Family dwelt. He didn’t remember crossing the River which twined itself around the mountainside like a single vine of honeysuckle seeking permission to climb.

Normally, he would have tarried at the riverside and basked in the sun with the turtles, but excitement about the Feast compelled him past the path to the river and toward Home.  Laughing out loud, Metatron wondered if he was early or late. He suspected he had arrived before the others once again. His ability to process input and stimuli often confused his Family who mistook his lack of timing for attention issues.  He smiled to himself realizing how far off they were.  You had to be in time-space to be impatient, and he rarely traveled with the dragon anymore preferring to get there his own way which meant he would be there when he was there. He was always reluctant to issue an arrival time.

Metatron rolled over on his bed and wondered if he was asleep or awake and dreaming. The two Realms often overlapped and he had to take the subtle clues from his surroundings to decipher which he was in.  This time though, he was awake and thinking about the next day.  He was going to build a Gate.

Normally he would be excited, as Gate-building was one of his favorite things, and the Gate he was building in the morning was special as it was an entrance to the Garden.  Special not in the fact that it was rare, but this Gate was for his Family.  The Feast would be ready soon, and he wanted a a special welcome for them when they climbed or flew up the Mountain to the Garden as they gathered once again for Supper. His brother had listened earlier to his description of the Gate he was to build and Metatron mentioned that he would have to prune a large Cedar next to the Garden path. He had already talked to Her about it and decided even which two branches would have to be removed.  Only two of the largest lower branches would need to be cut so that he could position the Gate where he wanted, but it was mostly for a perfect view through the trellis enclosure, when if positioned just right, would provide a glimpse into the sun-dappled Pine grove just on the other Side.

Turning again in his bed, Metatron finally drifted of to his rest with a slight vibration that he hadn’t  considered everything concerning the Gate.  Knowing that his Lord would provide Light if needed, he let go of his mortal coil and joined Sandalphon, Uriel, Haniel, and the Others in that place where only angels can play.

True sleep.

It wasn’t a flash or a slow increase of Light, it was just There.

His Realm.

He Remembered as he did every morning. He was in his Vessel on Earth, and today was the day he going to build the New Gate. Pausing to reflect on his dreams, his heart quickened when he realized that he had been alone in the Chambers all night awaiting Haniel; she never appeared, and he believed her Light’s vibration had dimmed for some reason, which would explain why he didn’t meet her, or was it his vibration?

Instant pain and Light flared brilliantly in his Vessel and Spirit. He began gathering Light about his condition. His shoulder wouldn’t move and felt as if a hot coal was embedded in his flesh; there would be no Gate-building today.  It wasn’t meant to be.

Paying attention to the Thread, he looked deeper and saw that there was a reason for his pain. He opened himself up to the Mother and the Father and asked for Illumination.

Like always, he braced himself for the wind of God that brought change and sometimes correction into his life.  Standing in the Field, Metatron observed the green in the vortex of Light before him.  Blending with browns, blues, and other colors that brought forth the Face of the Mother once again, he paused before Her and begged for Light.

A healing tendril of Love reached out and nudged his shoulder and assured him that there was time for correction. She bid him a good day regardless of his mistake , and in only the way a Lady could, She brightened and retreated simultaneously, while leaving him with one last touch of Light and Love, on first his Face, and then his shoulder. The colors muted and the Light of Heaven retreated momentarily while Metatron returned to his Realm. Laughing at the silly arrogance angels can have, he promptly left his abode and went directly to the Cedar that was to be pruned of two branches that day.

Wondering whether he should Greet the animals, he resisted and went straightaway and stood before Her. He asked forgiveness for desiring to cut two branches from Her Being just to please his Eye. Taking in Her beauty with the New Light, he decides the Gate can be moved just a little and the view will be just as pleasing.

He took time to reflect on what he would call the Gate.

Light increased around him, and Enoch Knew the Name.

He smiled at Her, and flexed his already-healed shoulder knowing that it wouldn’t be stressed the next day, there would be no pruning of any Tree.

The Gate…he would Name Hal-lái.