The Devil’s Interval

There was only one rule: don’t open the door. Yet, each individual is damned to break this rule.

Like water, following the path of least resistance, individuals go with the flow, drawn into a current that pushes outward from obstructions upstream. Some leap along the rungs of a ladder making a best guess as how to live. Some follow like lemmings over a cliff. Others feed from the trees of knowledge and life, that once fed the ancestors, tasting the forbidden apple, with a star at its core.

Vocal scribes create the new Books of the Dead. Anguishing to capture the immortal secret essence of their clarion call, they use words to cast a spell on others, that will remain as a parting gift. If the weight of the words of their tell-tale heart are calibrated on the scale that measures how things should be, the fire of spirit may pass through the door along with offerings of ways to optimize life, increase stability and to minimize stresses from the fear of lost possibilities and the unknown. They will burn confidence to experiment, compromise and advance the future. A spirit that does not pass the test is cursed to become scraps thrown to the beast who thrills in ripping it to shreds hoping it will never emerge again.

Individuals intuitively recognize the beast, known as the Diabolus in Musica. The flattened fifth of the devil's tritone leaves an eerie feeling that evokes an expectancy violation. Each era comes to an end. Individuals must cross death's open door. Life and death hold the complex, unresolved and unsettling devil’s interval. Individuals are spit from material to nonmaterial existence, with no definite marked exit.

The haunting truth remains: What passes through the door can spell harmony or dissonance.