“Life is not a river, it is a bowl; would anyone care to tell this group of would-be novices what that really means?”
Sarah’s face remained passively attentive, long having learned not to betray her delight at the wonder of the world around her, looking quietly at the others in the room; mostly young men, predominantly self-assured and confident boys, wearing their education like the drooping rows of medals and campaign ribbons on the uniforms of old, but un-scarred, soldiers.
One was different, he was smiling at the floor, clearly in an argument with himself and she permitted herself a sympathetic grin; her early childhood taught her to accept that most did not see, in the world around them, the things she did, as she watched his shoulder muscles fight with his arm, a hand shot up over the group.
“It’s a bowl because, no matter how crudely or cheaply constructed, the contents it holds will be sought by all, when they become hungry enough,” the young man looked around the group, and added, “Exodus 25:29”; the reference gave him license to smile even more assuredly, offering himself for the others to gather to and join.
Brother Abbott continued to watch the group; Sarah frowned, not certain if the bearded man had actually introduced himself upon his arrival and, ricochetting her own smile at the first young man, raised her hand, “Life is like a bowl because if we are to reach others, we must overcome the inward slope of the edge of our personal world, ever causing us to slide down to the middle which is the furthest from others and, reaching the highest edge, step away, leaving what we’re certain of behind forever.”
The bearded man at the front of the room, who wore the cowl of his Order like the robes of an exiled king leading his followers through the wilderness, smiled at the floor and said nothing.
The Order of Lilith 