*

"Yes, yes, my friend Robert Hawthorn knows where it is."

"Ah, come on, the Holy Grail, get out of town." Conrad Parker said dismissing the idea.

"No, I am not kidding, the answer is all around us. It is woven into the fabric of art, great literature, music, painting... Dan Brown said so in the 'Da Vinci Code.' Look there and there!" Mark Patron pointed to the ornate ceiling at the Palazzo Pitti in Florence Italy. Conrad stared up into what seemed to be a cloud of plaster figures sculpted in relief above the grand ballroom of the once king and Queen of Florence. There was the severed head of Medusa, Dancing nymphs and satyrs, gods and goddesses, deities of all sorts and levels of social status.

"I see only relief's depicting the stories of the Pagans."

"Yes, Perhaps that is all you see. But what is really there? It is the 'Code.' The code to find the grail is woven into almost every piece of great art produced since and before the death of Christ. Where do you think Leonardo Da Vinci got his information? He simply had the intelligence to see it."

"I don't see any code."

"That is because you are looking with your eyes. You must learn to look with your mind."

Conrad scratched the white stubble of his goatee. He was uncertain as to whether his young Italian friend really had something or was he was he pulling his leg.

There was Angelica Divine to consider, however. The third member of this small group of art lovers looked like Venus and she moved like a cloud of mist. She was Swedish and very knowledgeable. She too talked of the hidden code with the same knowing information as Mark Patron, the Italian guide. She pointed here and there, decoding the works with an assurance that astounded Conrad. Conrad considered himself an art historian but this new code was not in any art book that he had ever referenced. In all of his travels he had not come across the strange juxtaposition of thought patterns that he found here in Florence Italy, the birth place of the Italian Renaissance.

After looking at the frescos adjacent to the pushily carpeted ballroom, they walked down a corridor of statuary. Angelica stopped midway and pointed back to a man holding a mask over his face. This piece of marble sculpture looked like a naked satyr holding a mask of a Greek God over his face.

"Now go back and look at the sculpture from another angle." The small troupe retraced their steps and stood beside a contemplative, half clad, philosopher holding a scroll of philosophical writings to his chin. Conrad wrinkled his brow. Certainly that was an accident. A sculptor couldn't have created such an illusion in stone. Angelica looked at Conrad's questioning face and smiled knowingly. "See, that is how the code works. Artists incorporate illusions and symbols into their work to say something sometimes the opposite as to what can easily be read on the surface of their works. A truly great work of art must be decoded. What you see is not what you get!" Angelica next led the small group of art lovers into the first of the grand galleries.

Conrad looked around disinterestedly. Just old pictures surrounded by deep maroon velvet framed by gold moldings. Plush but uninteresting. Conrad fancied himself an art critic, deeply knowledgeable of the past two thousand years of art history. He was particularly proud of his knowledge of Renaissance art. No, nothing, not even a Rubens or a Veronese. He tried to walk quickly through the galleries. He saw Mark his italian guide wander into anteroom with lovely frescos of biblical nature. These meant nothing to Conrad but he decided to follow him there nevertheless. Mark pointed out the Arc of the Covenant and then King David dancing. Ah, at last something I can relate to... "But are not the frescos beautiful?" Inquired Mark.

"Yes, they are." Admitted Conrad. Lets for once get past the idea of celebrity and see the paintings for their content and beauty... Now there is a brave, new Idea! Snorted Conrad to himself. Finally he was opening his inner eyes. Yes indeed paintings are beautiful, and yes, they have something to say.

Angelica was lingering in the outside gallery. "Look at this beautiful Rubens!" She exclaimed pointing at a painting over the door sill. there it was, A most beautiful painting by Peter Paul Rubens, one of Conrad's favorite artists. It was right in front of his eyes and yet he hadn't seen it. Conrad stood there gawking at it with his mouth open. Why hadn't he seen it before? What was he blind? Then something happened to his perception of reality. Or at least the reality that he thought he knew. It was if a veils were dropping like falling water. He was surrounded by all new paintings. Had museum staff had quickly moved all the old paintings out and replaced them with new masterpieces? That is not possible. Veils were dropping before his eyes in succession. It was a most peculiar sensation. How many times he had walked through these galleries and hand not seen, or not heard the voices of the various masters? Was this merely a matter of looking but not seeing or was this phenomena part of slowing down enough to decode hidden information? Could this information be everywhere? Could it even be found in nature, in the smallest most mundane detail for people with the eyes to see it? Conrad was now just learning to see.

That night Mark and Angelica took Conrad to the Cafe Georgone. The supposed hang out of Robert Hawthorn, Knight of the British Empire. Robert entered the cafe at precisely eight o'clock. A martini stirred not shaken was brought to him by a waiter as soon as he entered the cafe. Mark stood and waved Robert over to the table of the party. Robert seemed truly delighted as he suavely glided to the table with his martini in hand.

"Robert, this is Conrad Parker the naive American short story writer of whom I spoke to you earlier."

Conrad looked affronted and said, "What did you say?"

"Oh I am sorry, I introduced you in Italian. You see, us Italians think of you as "Sieb the Tiger."

"Oh," said Conrad thinking he might have just misheard heard the introduction.

Robert smiled warmly and held out his hand in greeting. Conrad held out a hand and offered a strong American handshake. "As I have said," Mark Patron continued, "Robert Hawthorn is the British counterpart to our little group of "informed" Florentine art historians." Soon the foursome was deep in conversation about ancient and contemporary art.

"You see," Said Robert Hawthorn, "There is a dichotomy in Florentine art. It is particularly evident in the Pitti Palace. It was Florence's great Medici King and Queen that were the intellectuals that gave birth Italian Renaissance, or as many refer to it, The Enlightenment. It was they, that patronized the great artists who had access to Jungian concepts of the archetypal ideas that are our heritage from long before the idea of a monotheistic idea of God. It is these ideas that have been considered so heretical that they had to be hidden by codes accessible only those who can see and understand them. The dichotomy, that I am speaking about, that can be found in Florentine art was brought upon by the war between the Church and the Pagans." Robert Hawthorn lowered his voice, the ideas that he was expressing are still considered dangerous knowledge even in the Florence of today. "It was a time, when the Roman Pope was exerting such power as to be found intellectually stifling to the learned people of the day. And of course the King and Queen of Florence were not only learned, they were powerful, powerful enough to defy the Pope.

"When ever the pendulum swings one way or the other, for instance, when ignorance overcomes reason, a polarizing effect takes place and an equally powerful anti-ignorance force comes into play. This is what happened in Florence. The King and Queen cultivated artists and intellectuals to counter the threat of the church, and the Renaissance, or the age of reason was born."

Robert leaned back and sipped on his martini. Conrad was quiet, just trying to digest the information. He had ordered a bottle of red wine, but as for now, his glass remained untouched. Mark Patron leaned back in the plush cushion of the booth in which they were seated and smiled as he watched smoke from his cigarette twist into lazy swirls above their heads.

"Now, the idea of a monotheistic God," Robert continued, "can be counterbalanced by the idea of multiple Gods and Goddesses, hence Paganism. So you see, Paganism is the counterbalance to the Christian oppression that was being thrust upon the people of Italy at the time. That is why you see great clashing of two opposing ideas in Florentine art. I will not go so far as to say that one belief system is better than the other. But I will point out that these are both merely belief systems. Neither is the Truth.

I will go so far as to say, however, the Pagan belief system is more logical. It is simply not as practical as the monotheistic belief system. The Church's belief system lends itself to the political aspirations of men. How easy it is to give or to take away some commodity or advantage when you have an exclusive God that is on the side of who ever pays him the most money, or who gives him the greatest sacrifices. And who determines who's side God is on. Why, the Church of course. There needs to be no logic to any point of view. the Church is a political organization. As such, it can take any stance it desires and if someone should argue, they have God on their side, and they are called heretics. A heretic is still an odious title in any age. So how does one fight against such an all powerful entity, Well, you start a code. A code that only the most informed and intellectual viewer can decipher.

Through this code, information is passed down generation after generation until a time comes when the Truth can be seen and understood by all."

"What is the Truth?" Conrad Parker blurted out. Robert Hawthorn smiled wanly.

"I will tell you this much, Art is a lie that makes us realize the Truth." pausing for emphasis he continued. "I will say that both monotheistic and Pagan belief systems are but art. Neither is the Truth. But for me the Pagan belief system is more compelling. You have a Goddess of beauty, a God of war... A God of Stupidity... How can you explain politicians without a God Of Stupidity...?" Robert said laughing. "Beauty, War, Love, Lust, and Stupidity are opposed ideas yet none of them are right or wrong. They just are. Why not have Gods that personify these virtues and vices? Paganism, is without judgment. Non-judgementalism is a spiritual value. That is something that the Church forgot about along time ago."

Conrad smiled and asked condescendingly, "So, I suppose you are a Pagan?"

Robert Hawthorn smiled, took another sip from his martini, and answered, "No, I would rather believe in Beauty. I would believe in the idea that The Truth is handed down in coded archetype form from the very beginning to the very end of time embedded in a Beauty that is irrefutable. Great art can bring us that.

"Beauty is the greatest religion. The beauty that is inherent in art is the birth place of all religions. Robert Hawthorn took another sip from his martini. His eyes lit up as he realized the truth of the revelation he was about to expound upon. "For the artist, Beauty melded with Truth is the Holy Grail. For the rest of us, Truth is what we are all searching for but will never attain. For Truth itself is unattainable. And as for religion... all of it is dangerous. Truth, like life, is in constant motion. It is self creating and self governing. Religion is static. It is codified."

Angelica could no longer contain herself. "Robert, you think in such black and white terms. Religion is not the evil, dark side of human depravity that you paint. Many good people are deeply religious. Many good things have been accomplished through religion. Anyone who has traveled extensively and has seen life in third world countries realizes that without religion, people would go wild."

"Don't you get it? They are going wild. And they are going wild because of Religion. Every body thinks their particular religion contains the only truth. Truth, at best, is a cultural agreement."

Robert Hawthorn took an expansive gulp from his martini and shook his head sadly. "The intelligent man must realize the transient nature of The Truth or we will... " Here, Robert Hawthorn's eyes watered and he shook his head. "annihilate ourselves as soon as we create the technology... Gentlemen, I must leave you. The Queen has got me on a mission to catch a madman. His name is Goldmember." Robert Hawthorn downed the rest of his martini, rose gracefully, and exited the cafe.

After Robert had left, Conrad turned and said skeptically to Mark, "I thought you said that Robert Hawthorn knew where to find Holy Grail."

"He does! The Holy Grail is not a thing; it is knowledge, it is wisdom, it is beauty. All of these things are intangible but they can be found in Art and Literature. That is what Robert Hawthorn has just told us. The Holy Grail will never be found as a thing, it can only be glimpsed as an idea."

Conrad looked disappointed. He had imagined there was a treasure. Mark Patron explained further, "It is only logical, ask yourself this question: if you find the Holy Grail what are you going to do with it once you have it? If the Holy Grail is a cup, will you sell it for money? Would you drink from it to give yourself eternal life? Anyone that has knowledge of the Holy Grail knows that we always have money to do what we need to do. Any one that has knowledge of the Holy Grail knows that we live forever."

Conrad seemed no longer to listen. He looked at his glass of red wine He tasted it, felt a slight aftertaste remain on his tongue. It tasted like -- like -- like a woman... Mark continued on despite Conrad's lack of attention, "Anyone that has knowledge of the Grail knows that any teachings that do not contain Love, Compassion, Non-judgmentalism, and Non-materialism, are not worth pursing. Even your American Spiritualist; David R. Hawkins has said so. You see, at this very moment in history, we are at a turning point, we are balancing on the edge of a knife. It is the End Of Days. Or at least it is for the Church and perhaps for mankind as well.

"Don't get me wrong, The Church can still be a spiritual compass for some, just as Paganism has remained a spiritual compass for others. But as recent events have shown, the Church is crumbling, and as for the world situation ...

Right now, We are Teetering on a Solution. If peace is arrived at in the Middle East we will have a rebirth. If, however, the war between Israel and the Palestinians escalates, we will enter another 2,000 years of darkness and ignorance. That ignorance could mean the End of Days (At least for man's reign). We do have the technology to wipe out all life on this planet, even Robert Hawthorn knows it although he must by his code to the British Empire he must deny it.

Just then Robert Hawthorn reentered the cafe. He was holding the side of his head.

"What is the matter Robert?" Asked Mark Patron.

"Gold member was lying in wait for me. He cut off my ear."

"Oh my!" everyone exclaimed at once. Angelica ran to him to see if she could help. She got him seated in the booth and wrapped a large italian napkin around his head to stop the bleeding. "Should we get you to a hospital?"

"No, don't worry it will grow back, I am just a character in a short story after all. You needn't concern yourselves."

"Oh." everybody said.

"Yeah, that doggone Gold member cut off my ear then he ran over me with his hum vee." I doing my best to fight off evil, but those Americans have the upper hand with all of their affluence and stupidity." Hawthorn spit out a tooth.

Mark shook his head and continued looking once again at Conrad, "I am an optimist though. I believe that some form of life will live past Man's stupidity."

"Yef Stufidity." chimed in Hawthorn

"And as for the absence of mankind, I see that as no great loss." Mark Patron said. "Mankind has not been a very good steward of this beautiful place." I recently toured your country of America. One day I passed some sportsmen. They were hunting doves. They had shotguns. It was their intent to blow these beautiful winged creatures out of the sky for sport. I have seen the same thing in countries all over the world, Your country is not the only one that supports these lowest of God's creatures -- sportsmen.

"Yef, Sportsmen." Hawthorn said as he spit out another tooth. "Goldmember if a Sportsmen. There if no end to hif efil."

Mark Patron continued ignoring Robert Hawthorn's sad state of debilitating injuries, "The practice of hunting begot sportsmen. I believe it was a direct offshoot of certain backward people's wish to conquer and subvert all of God's creatures to their will. I can assure you that there is not a mouthful of food left after an assault on a dove after it is shot with a shot gun. No, if man annihilates himself I will not cry and neither will God."

"How do you know that God does not care?"

"Because God laughs in the twittering of birds and the scream of the insects. God laughs at our silly human tragedies, but most of all God laughs at the great cosmic soap opera."

"How do you know this?"

"Because I can hear him laughing in the sunlight. Don't you? Are you deaf?"

Conrad recoiled at Mark's last statement but then became thoughtful. He looked over at Robert Hawthorn.

"Robert, your ear has grown back!" said Conrad Parker amazed.

"I told you so." said Robert Hawthorn. "I am a character in literature." In literature anything is possible." He grinned and showed a full set of pearly white teeth. "That is why we must not take any work of literature as the truth. It is, after all, only art."

"You know, Robert, why you lost that ear of yours? It was because you weren't listening." Angelica said huffily. "Don't you realize that art and religion are one. All along we have been talking about the same animal. To eliminate religion from our consciousness we would also have to eliminate art. So much beauty and richness would be lost. Greatness resides in the pursuit of the divine. Religion and Art are the pursuit of beauty, wisdom and the divine. You cannot simply legislate the end of man's desire to transcend."

Robert looked affronted. "But look where it has led us, the evil the hypocrisy!"

"Hypocrisy, and evil come from those human beings who fall short of the quest for the divine. The divine is still there! "To reach higher is what some human beings strive for all of their lives. They are on the quest for the holy grail."

"Well gentlemen, she's done it!" Robert Hawthorn announced. "Angelica has showed us a glimpse of the Holy Grail. I have to defer. It takes a marriage of male and female ideas to present a whole concept in all of it's intricate beauty." With that the forms of Mark Patron, Robert Hawthorn, and Angelica Divine turned into smoke. Conrad Parker was left alone at his table in the Cafe Georgone.

Over the following days Conrad thought about what his friends had said . It had become so very obvious that Dan Brown was right in "The Da Vinci Code." The Grail had been made tangible. As for the truth Conrad realized it could be found in the words of the great teachers, Christ, Buddha, Krishna, and the many others that spoke of Love, Compassion, Non Judgementalism, Non Materialism. It is the truth of beauty, wisdom and the striving toward the divine. The grail to be found in the rich matrix of art, religion, and literature. Now that Conrad could see the code to be found in the great masterpieces of Florentine art in the Palazzo Pitti he began to realize it could be found in every aspect of life. Life is not what is presented on the surface. The observant spiritual seeker can find the hidden code in the most mundane landscape imaginable.

One afternoon Conrad found himself sauntering lazily and in deep thought through the gardens of the Pitti Palace. He came upon a lovely part of the garden that was flanked by two beautiful sculptures at its entrance. One was of a Goddess putting her hand up to her mouth in a gesture to be quiet. Her other hand was to her ear to indicate listening. The message was clear: "When you come to this place, be quiet and listen." Much to Conrad's surprise there sat Angelica on a bench just within the garden confines. She was weeping. Conrad went to her and asked what distressed her so. She looked up at Conrad. She smiled and said, through her tears "It is all too beautiful." Conrad sat beside her and was silent for a long time.

Together they listened in the ancient garden. One day soon, Conrad too would weep when it was time for him to hear.

***