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Ho had just arrived at the Ascended Masters Club and taken a seat at his preferred bench, when suddenly, on the table in front of him manifested twenty shot glasses, filled to the brim with a bright liquid. Next to the glasses appeared a bottle, its label showing a broadly grinning St. Germain, pointing to something written in ornate calligraphy. The lettering read “Ho-Ly Brother Elixir.”

Ho shook his head and stared at the arrangement in disbelief. He was still caught in his thoughts when Althar came over and joined him, shape-shifting his dragon body to fit on the bench next to Ho. Glancing at the glasses, Althar said, “Let me guess. You’re musing about your first lost love and trying to drown your still unresolved self-worth issues.”

“No,” Ho answered.

“You’re waiting for nineteen friends to join you in testing your first self-distilled schnapps containing fluid light and a hint of star dust?”


“You are celebrating yet another amazing true creation, brought forth in pure joy, being happy like a virgin mother watching her kid endlessly expanding?”

“Not really.”

“You’re taking emergency refuge, rescuing yourself from, from... wait, this smells familiar.” Althar picked up a glass and sniffed the liquid it held. “Holy crap!”

“Getting closer.”

Althar grabbed the bottle and inspected its label. “If this is what I think it is, then why are you making such a sour face?”

“Well,” Ho sighed, reluctant to continue, “I lost a bet. And you know that I usually only bet if I know there is no real chance of losing.”

“Sure. Some say that’s wisdom. Or boredom. Anyway, what was the bet?”

“I bet that it was impossible, even for him, to drag this out over such a long time. I mean, he just started the twentieth series. This means he’s been going at it for twenty years.”

“Yeah, that’s quite impressive. Rephrasing the same few things over and over again. Coming up with new and enticing explanations, yet always saying the same thing. He’s really good at it, isn’t he?”

“See, that’s it. My bet was that after centuries and centuries of preparation it would be quite easy to have a whole group of people ascending. The circumstances were perfect, at least in a sufficient number of countries. No huge wars or famines. No epidemics. Even the churches stopped torturing. In addition, the new technology allowed to them share all kinds of information and connect with people from all over the world.”

“Sure.” Althar was leaning over the table, sniffing at the glasses in pure delight.

“So I said to him, ‘Listen, Holy Brother, the ground is prepared. Tobias said it all in three series. It will take no longer than four years until we have a group ascension. And after that, in five years at most, things will either fall apart or at least get totally stuck in human group dynamics.’”

“Yeah, like they always do.” Althar was still staring at the glasses. “Shouldn’t we try one of these? I mean, it would be a pity if they evaporated in this dry air. The air is dry, don’t you think?”

Ho ignored Althar’s comment and continued. “So we agreed on the bet. The five years went by, we had some occasional ascensions, and you might even call that a group ascension, albeit a small one. Things were going in my favor. But after those five years, he just continued. And continued. And continued!”

Althar was pretending to listen carefully while slowly pulling a glass closer.

“And now, he even predicts a mass ascension. Not just a group, like a dozen or two. No, hundreds, if not thousands.”

Althar nodded his iridescent head. “Actually, I heard his message. And because I agree with him, we should celebrate properly.” He lifted a glass in joyful expectation.

Ho also took a glass and stared into it, apparently inspecting the liquid. “In the grand scheme of things, this is indeed great news and most certainly deserves a celebration. But in the even grander scheme of things, well, I just lost a bet!”

“That’s really bad. So why not see if this potion is a remedy for your bad luck?”

Both raised their glasses and drained the contents.

Althar felt the liquid throughout his whole body. “Ah, what an exquisite taste. Ho, you should definitely bet more often. And lose, of course. I mean, if this is the outcome of a lost bet, then where is the problem?”

Ho, feeling the refreshment induced by the elixir said, “No. Losing bets is not my thing. But maybe I should reinterpret the past and pretend that I only placed the bet so we could enjoy this very moment.”

Althar nodded.

“I could even go so far to say that I took on the bet in utmost compassion for humanity, simply to push him to go on and on.”

Althar raised an eye brow.

“Right?” Ho continued. “And in this interpretation of the past, I didn’t even bet. I just invented a stimulus for the good of all.”

Ho took another glass and drank it. “So, in the grandest scheme of things there was no bet, I did not lose it, and many time-bound humans enjoyed twenty years of spiritual and post-spiritual entertainment.”

“So let’s toast on the flexibility of existence and our birthright to interpret it as we like,” Althar said, grabbing two glasses and emptying them in quick succession.

At that very moment, St. Germain approached the table, a big smile on his face. “Althar, so good that you join the celebration and support your friend Ho through this most memorable night.”

“Ah, the Holy Brother, alias St. Germain himself,” Althar replied, getting up and indicating a bow. Pointing at the bottle he said, “I guess I have underestimated your sense of humor.”

“Most likely. I hope you appreciate it,” St. G. said, returning the bow.

“Sure did. Just using a hyphen to butcher the word holy into Ho-Ly, thereby calling my friend a liar while at the same time referring to your title and making him drink the whole thing – that’s quite impressive. I guess it took you about, oh, let’s see, twenty years to come up with it?”

St. G’s glow shifted ever so slightly from violet to red. Althar continued, “No, considering your sense of humor that would be too fast. I guess you schemed this out during your vacation in the crystal prison. As a pro in the subject matter, I know that crystals are very inspiring. And that would have given you about 100,000 years to come up with the plan, right?”

St. G. stood as if frozen, while Ho sensed where Althar was going with this.

“But it was definitely worth it,” Althar continued. “The elixir compensates for the little pang in my friend’s heart over his lost bet. On the other hand, a won bet should be balanced by a lost bet, don’t you think?”

“You want to challenge me?” St. G. asked, his bristling barely detectible.

“Yeah, I do. You see, I followed your discourses over the years. Quite nice, by the way. But I wondered, ‘When will he talk about the one and only thing of relevance?’ I mean the final letting go.”

“The final letting go? You mean letting go of the belief that separation is real?” Ho interjected.

“Exactly.” Althar grinned.

“Well,” St. G. mumbled, “We are getting there. You know, if you bring this up too early, many will just run off.”

“Really?” Althar said. “Your highly praised high potentials would just escape? So my bet is this. You will need at least five more years before you have the guts to finally talk about it.”

“Challenge accepted!” St. G. roared and left the table.

“That was cool,” Ho said. “Not exactly the elegant Shakespearean style, but it worked.”

“Right, but you know what?” Althar said, scratching his head. After a moment of pondering he continued, “This was way too easy. I suspect that all of this is indeed Shakespearean style and the drama has already been masterfully plotted by our Holy Brother.”

“You mean, it is not us getting him into a bet, but the other way around?”

“That’s what I suspect. By him dragging things out so long, he inspires the rest of us to come up with alternative attempts.”

Ho thought about it. “That’s even cooler. So let’s pretend we did not see through his plan and indeed come up with just another alternative attempt.” He emptied another glass. “How about this: you write about the final letting go, and this might force him to speak about it in less than five years. If he does, you won the bet. If he doesn’t, well, then he was probably right in delaying, but at least the word has already gone out, plus we might get another bottle of the elixir.”

“Challenge accepted,” Althar said. He took another glass, closed his crystalline eyes for a moment, and as they again opened the shot glass transmuted into a beautiful book. “Done!”

“Good,” Ho said. “That looked like hard work. Now let’s relax and enjoy the elixir. Also, I bet that you are not able to create an elixir of this quality out of thin air.”

“You don’t get me that easy,” Althar retorted. “Just so you know, I infused the crystals of St. G’s prison so that he came up with a scheme to lure you into a bet you would lose so that I could enjoy a fine elixir this night, just about, oh, 100,000 years later. Now, who is the real Shakespeare?”

“I guess you just shamelessly reinterpreted existence to make you feel good.”

“Who knows? But I bet you cannot prove me wrong.”

They shared a smile and clinked their crystalline glasses.

Joachim Wolffram has published various post-spiritual books, including the Althar series. For details about available translations and workshops, or to contact him, visit his website or Facebook page at

“Althar – The Final Letting Go” is available in print and as ebook at Amazon here.

The German edition, “Althar – Das Letzte Loslassen,” can be found here.

1 comments on "Ho and the 20 Shot Glasses"

  • Wo on December 29, 2021 3:08 PM said:
    go on ho!

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