This evening I went into the chair of Zerubbabel in Wrexhamian Chapter, ten years after first taking that same chair in my mother Chapter. There is a quiet poetry in that. A full decade turning like a great wheel, and once again I find myself in the same place, but not the same man.

What makes it even more curious is that a few years ago I went into the chair of Wrexhamian Lodge, also ten years after first taking the chair in my mother Lodge. Two cycles, two decades, two returns. I am certain there is some hidden logic in the spirals of the universe that arranges these things. The old masters would say that time moves in circles, not lines, and tonight I felt that truth settle around me like a crimson cloak.

And there was another curiosity. This evening marked the first installation I have ever attended where no representative, not even a temporary stand in, was sent by the Province. I guess it adds weight to the fact that last year I was given a punishment promotion because the new PGM does not like me because I refused to be at his beck and call and be a servant to him when he was the comms guy. Members of the executive have confirmed that is the case, and the fact my installation was shunned by province does further prove it.

Well, while the universe continues to spin on its mysterious spirals, I think I’ve earned a whiskey! a small planetary reward for surviving another turn of the cosmic wheel. A shame I didn’t win the raffle, though; the stars clearly had other plans for my fortune tonight. Still, there’s a certain satisfaction in raising a glass to the symmetry of it all, the decade’s circle, the chair reclaimed, and the quiet laughter of fate echoing somewhere between the constellations and the bar.