The Valkyries

great affection. “Go back to sleep,” she said.
    Paulo and Chris continued to sit by the fire for another half hour. Then they arranged some of their clothing as pillows, and prepared to sleep. They had thought about purchasing sleeping bags at every large city they had passed through, but they couldn’t bring themselves to shop around. More than anything, they always hoped to find a hotel somewhere. So, when it was necessary to camp out with the Valkyries, they either had to sleep in the car or near the fire. Their hair had already been scorched several times by blowing sparks—but nothing any more serious had happened until now.
    “What did she mean?” Chris asked as they lay there.
    “Nothing important.” He had had a couple of beers, and was sleepy.
    But Chris pressed the matter. She wanted an answer.
    “Everything in life is a ritual,” Paulo said. “For witches as much as for those who have never heard of witchcraft. Both are always trying to perform their rituals to perfection.”
    Chris knew that those on the magical path had their rituals. And she understood, as well, that there were rituals in everyday life—marriages, baptisms, graduations.
    “No, no. I’m not talking about those obvious rituals,” he went on impatiently. He wanted to sleep, but she pretended not to have sensed his irritation. “I’m saying that everything is a ritual. Just as a mass is a great ritual, composed of various parts, the everyday experience of any person is, also.
    “A carefully elaborate ritual that the person tries to perform precisely, because he or she is afraid that—if any part is left out—everything will go wrong. The name of that ritual is
Routine.”
    He decided to sit up. He was groggy because of the beers he had drunk, and if he continued to lie down, he would be unable to complete his explanation.
    “When we are young, we don’t take anything too seriously. But slowly, this set of daily rituals becomes solidified, and takes us over. Once things have begun to go along pretty much as we imagined they would, we don’t dare risk altering the ritual. We like to complain, but we are reassured by the fact that each day is more or less like every other. At least there is no unexpected danger.
    “That way, we are able to avoid any inner or outer growth, except for the kinds that are provided for within the ritual: so many children, such and such a kind of promotion, this and that kind of financial success. When the ritual becomes consolidated, the person becomes a slave.”
    “Does that happen sometimes with those on the path?”
    “Of course. They use the ritual to make contact with the invisible world, to destroy the second mind, and to enter into the Extraordinary. But, for us too, the terrain we conquer becomes familiar. And we feel the need to seek out new territories. But any magus is fearful of changing the ritual. It’s a fear of the unknown, or a fear that other rituals won’t function as well—but it is an irrational fear, a strong one, that never disappears without some help.”
    “And what is the Ritual That Demolishes Rituals?”
    “Since a magus is unable to change their rituals, the Tradition decides to change the magus. It’s a kind of Sacred Theater in which the magus has to play a different character.”
    He lay down again, turned on his side, and pretended to sleep. Chris might ask for further explanations. She might want to know why Valhalla had mentioned hatred.
    Negative emotions were never invoked in the sacred theater. On the contrary, people who participated in that kind of theater tried to work with the good, and to assume characters that were strong, enlightened. That way, they were able to convince themselves that they were better people than they had thought, and—when they believed that—their lives changed.
    To work with negative emotions would mean the same thing. He would wind up convincing himself that he was worse than he had imagined.

Chapter 38
     
    T HEY SPENT THE AFTERNOON OF THE following day exploring Golden Canyon, a series of ravines with tortuous curves and walls about twenty feet high. At the moment that the sun set, while they were doing their channeling exercise, they saw how the place had acquired its name: The brilliant minerals embedded in the rock reflected the rays of the sun, causing the walls to appear to be carved out of gold.
    “Tonight there will be a full moon,” Paulo said.
    They had already seen the full desert moon, and it was