It is deep dark, sometime between midnight and dawn, and I am watching an impressive samurai dressed in exquisite traditional clothing. In an open field, with a sword in each hand, he expertly displays both showmanship and skill.
The swords have elaborate handles, and the blade is made of several different metal layers forged together, with each paper thin layer having a slightly different color. They are spectacular.
Although he is in traditional samurai attire, his nose is pierced with an African porcupine quill, he is styling Pacific conch for earrings, and it is all topped with an outrageous blue Mayan headdress. As I watch his elaborate routine, a remote voice says to me, “You need a master.”
This is when I am noticed by the samurai and he explains the ancient tradition of initiation into patrician cults of secrecy that requires tutelage by an enlightened master. I know his using the word “patrician” is designed to capture my attention and curiosity.
Describing himself, he says, “I am a divine messenger, a revolutionary gangster. How can I support you in living out your destiny?”