[ Speaking of ears: in the physical world, on his bed in the Citadel at Achamoth, Matt's grinning from ear to ear at Abel's guided meditation efforts. ]

I want a drink too, [ he muses. ] Okay, I want a caipirinha, that's what I have. And ... [ He inhales, though it doesn't transfer through their connection. ] Breathing in that sea air ...

Gentle be heaven, gentle be earth, gentle this spacious,
atmosphere.
Gentle be waters as they flow, gentle to us be plants and herbs.
Gentle be signs of coming change, and that which is and is not
done.
Gentle be past and future, yea, let all be gracious unto us.

[ Matt's mental voice settles into a smooth, easy cadence. This truly is one of his favorite prayers, one he's used for years to focus his mind on all kinds of spells. ]

These five sense-organs with the mind as sixth, sharpened by
prayer abiding in my heart,
By which the awful spell was made, even by these be peace to
us.
Favor us Mitra, Varuna, and Vishnu. Gracious
to us be Indra and Brihaspati and Aryaman.
Favor us Mitra, Varuna, Vivasvān, and the Finisher,
Portents on earth and in the air, and planets wandering in
heaven.

[ His recitation isn't totally perfect. He skips over a verse or two, misses the occasional god. But for the most part, the words flow as easily as water. As warm as Caribbean sun. ]

Gracious to us be trembling earth, gracious the flaming meteor
stroke.
Gracious be kine who yield red milk, gracious be earth when
sinking down;
gracious be meteor-stricken constellation, gracious to us be
magic spells and witchcraft--

[ A little smile may be audible at that one. ]

Gracious to us be buried charms, and gracious the meteors and
the portents of the region.
Kind be the Powers who seize the Moon, with Rāhu be Ādityas
kind.
Favor us Death and Cornet, and Rudras with penetrating
might.

[ WHEW! Matt subsides onto his mattress, puffing out a long breath. ]