Covid19 – a Creative Contemplation

“Tree of Life – Coronavirus” by Kabbalahsociety.org:  a study of the phenomenon in principle through the Sefiroth, and the potential of our collective and individual response to it.

This post contains a meditation to hopefully assist in surmounting (or transforming) Covid19. My way in this is supplementary to the other more obvious precautions. If the words don’t resonate for you, or the language is strange, reflect on just the images and pictures.

This morning I think there must be viral chaos in my system;  all the usual bugs ferment and compete with our ubiquitous Covid visitor.  Along with its biological origin there has formed by now an emotional “carriage”  where the psyche interfaces with the physical body; a collective expectation.

This happens through capillaries of “Daat” (unknown cognition or Union), rather like the interlacing branches of trees, chorionic villae of the womb or flora of the lungs.  It thrives where the receptors of Spirit and body interact.   The region between material and mental worlds (Assiyah and Yetzirah in Kabbalah) sends a message of “yes” or “no” or “not sure” to the visitor.

I feel over-sensitive – have I got a dry chest or not?  This isn’t about being tough and repellent.  It is about being precise, to find a way to see and step around the viper in the room.  The way is gentle as the Tao and often feels weak and upset.

I received deep wisdom over many years with the Power of the Gentle.  You can let things pass through you, without building up the stress against them which admits them for bed and breakfast.   Even when the heavy anxiety rules my thoughts it can pass in the same way.  All phenomena rise, settle, change and fade.  This in theory is practice; of course it is touch and go.

Listen to my flesh and bones whether we want to step out of doors today or not.   The chores are done for the moment.   The battery on my Mac seems not to be an emergency – that was a great worry.  This evening there is an online transmission about emotional alchemy as a Covid prophylactic. Will it tell me anything I’m not doing or being already?  I am wired into the antiviral waveband whether I catch the disease or not.  The healing thought forms being put out are ubiquitous and creative.

We all have the virus in our system, unless we live in a desert;  how do I react to it?  The collective fear cloud may have enriched the breeding-ground.   I do not have control over my unconscious, but I do have feelers down into Her – the Priestess in the Tarot reflection (see below) is the harbour.  My interior susceptibility rises and falls.

Rose Egg gives me a little earthing practice.  The rose quartz in my centre of gravity feels en-whole-ing.  A subtle silk thread of joy gleams back into my root.  Find your own centre and spin the thread as you will.

Tarot oracle reflection – circa 20 March 2020

 

THE MEDITATION

Settle a place anywhere inside where you feel at home – in your own body, in one you love or in your house – and cultivate it tenderly.  Water it like a planted tree.

Nothing more is needed – just this plug-in point to source.  I am like an electric car !   Meditation – the woman of Tarot 17 – happens without my doing anything.  The silver current flows and warms my core.  It plants me in a space of potential ecstasy;  a Now.

The Tarot Fool Aleph breasts everything adventurously along the line of Earth and Sky.  He carries his spine, his staff jauntily over his shoulder along a slanted ray from the White Sun – echoing the angle of Ankh and Key in last weekend’s Dakini Oracle – and when he is tired he can sit down and rest against the spinal Staff and recharge.

Wherever I rest my spine is in contact with every other surface of the whole world.

To contemplate the Fool in the BOTA Tarot is the deck’s natural antidote for depression.  He uplifts every condition.  He moves along the mountain tops at dawn to connect …

I was depleted by the end of yesterday, but now recharging.  The things which deplete are emergencies which rise and fall through fantasy and construct.  I LOVE.  I marvel at this strange phenomenon I am, constantly producing my thread as I write from spider’s tail, from silkworm, from the Store of Beauty.  Isn’t it a strange sensitivity to detect a slight vibration which emanates from a rose quartz lens within.  It stills the thought process and I enter the Medium ship.

Orpheus – November 1987

My fingertips on the keyboard writing this are quiet, skilled antennae.  They as seaweed float in the sea while attached to the Rock of my embodiment. I am cautious to use my tools only when I can be sure to fully attend to them and not get distracted by my life-stories, thought-loads or passing mental tensions.  It actually waterfalls through my system like a pulse.  It can be detected by and through the in-tuning.  Why is this?  It is because  healing is a two-way process, a dialogue, a relationship entered into and committed to from both sides.  When I walk truly a step, the Holy One mirrors it with 20 or 1000 strides.   Am I able to see?

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So as the Lighthouse is received, may the Lamp travel to those who need it, out there on the sea.  May it unite us and give hope to all the mariners.   Naturally I feel rather strange with the Signal transmitting through my metal.   The metal is the Mercurial rod in body-mind.  It is an attractor-shield.  Micro-organisms falling on metal live and thrive and they meet corpuscles of Light which engulf them.  I LOVE again.

The Medium ship is the Grail ship, she berths gently alongside the rocks.  The sea rocks the vessel up and down as I step on board, I am cloaked.  She has a square sail and on her fo’castle is carried the Grail.  Sometimes you can see the Grail and sometimes not.  The Grail is a Cup-like presence whose form flows and changes with the Light.  I take my seat on a crimson velvet throne amidships.  The anchor is drawn and we slip out from the rocks.  The voyage with the Grail is inner silence and willingness.  I know not whither we go – to investigate that, would be to invent, and it would harden obscuring thought forms.

I am given to the going and to the being.  It is up to the Archangels where this goes.

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goddess with triton – circa 1957

The Archangels transform to Tritons, mostly invisible, who lead the ship, the Goddess.  I do not know what the Archangels are doing for others, but I am willing with the ship of Light, their vessel of solace to those unknown.  The Priestess wears their Compass over her heart; the four directions.  Prayer is the willing to be silent.

The Hermit standing in the dark night upon summit snows looks not at what his upraised lamp illumines for others on the path, but deeply into his own heart.  He grasps the Way-shower’s staff firmly in his strong left hand – the subconscious side.  He wears the masculine cap of Yod whose Tantra (art of touch) is coloured blue; it is permeated with the Priestess.

Have a care to each thing I touch in life – to venerate and receive its quality.   Marvellous are the fingers and their tree-like sinews and delicacy; the digital miracle.  Slowly, slowly!   May the healing currency flow to fingertips in the dark sky, and into the etheric Beyond.

Orpheus – November 1987

The Tree of Life is my drawing board:  Crown, Wisdom, Understanding, Mercy, Severity, Beauty, Victory, Splendour, Foundation and the Queendom … with all the operational triads and paths of life that link these spheres in sacred geometry.

Pollen is carried from flower to flower, from male to female in the tail; and also the honey and the sting of the bees.   The Magus in the garden of lily and rose carries the Hebrew letter of BEIT, meaning a house or dwelling.  He is the cable sheathing the electric current of ALEPh the Fool.  The Magus conducts lightning with his wand and points with his other hand to Earth.  Mother Earth, Thou art my body.  We empathise and suffer now all the regions where the over-prolific human has choked Thee.  Make them stay indoors and seek inner refuge and resolution, for your little ones to breathe and to grow back.

Nature’s power and practice of recovery astounds me. Sometimes Nature takes over and master-minds a dark paranoid thought-form to weaken the blind human dominant and its infrastructure for a while.   What buds beneath this?  Persons who turn to help each other in the emergency, and who grow long arms to embrace each other across widening gaps of the seas.

The tools are on the garden table: kindness, practical imagination, adaptation and thinking out of the box.  Only turn to look!  Next to the Rod, Cup and Sword is the Pentacle; our earth currency coin to live by.  The hoes, forks and trowels are to hand, to tend the springtide in the ground.   The spring is rising through every spinal stem.  It makes me feel peculiar.  It trembles and puts out boughs and buds.  The blackbird sings.

An early sketch of young Ramana, the Mother and Siva with trident

She, the woman by the well, is mother naked.  Seven stars which bathe the chakras in her spine – these seven stars encircle an eighth, a Star of Infinity.  The well is an infinite source within the ground; the Tree’s questing, fountaining taproot. A galactic spiral ripples across it:  the galaxy – the Milky Way.

That is the Law we are truly under, and we come to know first-hand its liberating confinement.

The Law upholds and contains a strange evolutionary quickening throughout the greater Universe of which our problem on Earth is a particle.  The matter is simple.   Select between the dark obscurity and the Light.  In due course all of us choose the Light, without which we cannot breathe.  Find it in simple, unselfish acts.  Touch your children and improvise with the restricted livelihood.  Blossom and Zoom.   The teachers of Five Rhythms now dance online, for us to dance at home.  Be at home and discover your Self!

We can do this here and there.  In other places it is desperately difficult.  Even if you are a homeless person with hungry expectancy fixed on every passer by … retreat when you can, to find your root in the ground, to feel proactively your bum on the pavement, and the condition might begin to alter.  Only the thinnest veil of belief divides us from the Magic of the Miraculous Life where all is serendipitous and someone arrives with an open hand; an offer of a job.

Catch the light of stars and pour it on the ground to mirror them.  As above, so it is below!

Overlooking the whole “reading” – as apex of a pyramid – is planted again the Hermit in the Upper Worlds with his lamp of Grace.  The Lighthouse shows the way.

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In Tarot alchemy, the Hermit rules Virgo and the womb and intestinal region.  Consider the actual purity and sweetness of all interior fluids and substances before they leave my body into the rot and decay and prejudiced engraving of my outer life.  Enjoy their secretion and their action.  I am a walking well.

This startling thought arrived, with the essence of what the old alchemists advised one another through sigil and symbol.  I think it is what they meant when they said, “Do not let the dew touch the ground.”  In the mystery of our corporeal body are held secrets of the Sun’s Action and of the Philosopher’s Stone which our conditioning life is mostly blind to.  A very different attitude may be cultivated, to decondition our blindness.

Against panic stockpile of lavatory paper and the sacrifice of trees for instance, what of the Indian way with left hand, soap and water? Consciousness is economy.

Scriptural interpretations east and west, have sorely misled us through the ages.  Our physical bodies are not misery, dirt, disease and guilt to “ascend” away from, or to compulsively “exercise”.  We are bodies of Light.  When I walk, when I climb the rocks, indoor walls or trees, when I feel the sunshine and rain, when I am indoors, when I stroll home at night or write my journal in the morning, I sometimes feel and am that – the body of Light.

I offer this contemplative idea regarding awareness and respect for the actual purity and cosmic regulation in our interior body, as a profound and supportive antiviral measure.   It arose spontaneously, and I feel within it the Treasure of the Well.

As we become willing to start to transmute this and other embedded attitudes into an unexpected wonder and un-knowing, you and I are truly SAFE AND WELL.

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Ceres and John (1987)

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https://slippedisc.com/2020/03/believe-it-orchestra-plays-beethoven-9th-from-their-homes/

Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2020. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeaquariel.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

Mysteries of Master R (18) – Trinosofia 10 part two: Join up Stars and Wings

Here is Part Two of my reflection along Master R’s Trinosofia Chapter Ten.  This stage of the Alchemy moves between “Incineration” and “Fermentation” and is ruled by Sagittarius and Capricorn  The initiate passed through negrido – the “Putrefaction” stage  – and arose from the darkness into light.  He waded a lake in which the shadow paled to turquoise;  he reached a palace of light with a butterfly over the door.  Effectively he emerged from chrysalis.  What does he find?

The text and commentary are in “Trinosofia Texts” above, in the title bar; scroll down to the beginning of Chapter Ten.  My previous post began to explore a concept of solar energy – the conscious life force as a living battery or crystal.  Now read on:

The lighting up of the Solar battery, diminishes the small-i of its own accord.   I give attention to the current rather than to the so called problem and its literature.  All problems lead to the Current, which is why teachers and sages ask for questions, to get them going.  It is why Krishnamurti travelled around the world to give talks, rather than stay quietly in one place.  Great souls include the currants in their cake!

I dreamt I was with an interesting tall man in a wood. I think we walked down towards a brook.  He was a sheep farmer.  He had two dogs to work the sheep in the wood.  They were not collies, but they were quite fine looking animals, coloured sorrel and blond, with shaggy fur all over their heads. I wonder if they were poles of the battery.  They were intelligent at their job.   It was part of a story.

The sheep are thoughts, woolly:  the shepherd and dogs are guardians of the mind, they are upstream of the sheep.   Magid.  Attention, as Jiddu Krishnamurti would say, is to the river of life, in which the small troubled i is floated away.

Krishnamurti at Gstaad

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A beautiful walk up into the Quantock hills last night as it grew dark, with the wind’s orchestra in the trees and gentle sure feet, yielded hips to soft steep ground.  Practice intentionally my Solar battery’s independence of manufactured power line.  It is our food. Its sleeping potential is our fuel supply – the abundantly subtle clean energy … inside and out. To keep invoking, remembering and intending it is the Great Work. Quintessentially it is timely for me to move with Master R; the sweet Solitude with the Companions of the Light.  Winter: try to be more out of doors in the wet leaves.

Original illustration in “The Most Holy Trinosofia”, Chapter 10. The Commentary says he wears the green robe of Venus

There is a strange mixture:  the profound peace of the Solar battery’s current and of gravity … with the processing of  alchemy which makes the water flow thickly.  There is too much in the woven silk of life to frame it with anyone’s teaching product.

As the focus deepens, so I have access to ask more: how best to serve the strange solitary yet deeply connected role, “outside the village”?  Give the Magid more room in my being and breath, this harbour of the Sea.  Follow the Wind’s Gentle Direction when scribing in or out of community and visiting my mother on the Quantock hills.  She looked better yesterday.  A chest cold with antibiotics – especially at 95 –  takes a while to regain strength from; she took rather a turn after a nip of hot whisky, and I stroked her head as she recovered.  She discovered her body’s firm resistance to dying. She lives in her house, with good neighbour support.

I found this letter from her to her father, written in 1960:

“No I don’t think it’s really true that there is a special need for the sea.  I do know just what you mean and when with the sea, a certain need is often deeply fed and satisfied.  But what there is for us in the sea is there also in the trees and sky and clouds and grass, if it is there in our hearts to respond.  If we have to seek it out by road, rail or air specifically at chosen spots, it hasn’t really any significance, it’s just another kind of telly.  I do think we all need sometimes to be alone and quiet and in communication with things which are not manmade – but if we feel that the sea has this focus which the sky has not, then I think we need to sit down quietly and empty ourselves of chatter so that we can be more receptive … Mind you, I have a fearful feeling for the sea myself, and often a powerful yearning – but I think this yearning is very physical – so much so that it goes right back to the beginning of life in the earliest oceans. Inasmuch as there is no separation of the physical and spiritual, I suppose you might call this a spiritual need – but I don’t really think it’s a need at all.  I think all we need is here, where we are.

“Today I was crippled – but even if this was to go on for the rest of my life, I don’t want NOT TO BE any more, just because I can’t run on the hills and swim in the sea.  These are just ways of being myself by becoming for a moment the moors or the sea.  But if I am in direct communication with everything about me, then there is no ‘ME’ as an entity apart from all else, and so I no longer need to lose myself in the sea or the telly or social welfare or anything. 

“I think it is up to each of us to make our lives quiet and simple so that we can understand these things.  I am very, very privileged, because I have been allowed to grow in comparative freedom.  But I am no more privileged than any other human being ought to be.  We have stunted ourselves so terribly – so obliterated our natural abilities and perceptions, that most of us after we are two years old, can see nothing as it really is, but only in a warped and twisted light.

“… …Loving is true living, and we all fall short of that.”

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The core integrity keeps a good trapezoid fluidity around the centre of gravity.  Practice establishes it at the heart of life.  My Tai Chi friend Mrs B talks to and soothes her irregular heart in this way.  For her, like for me, the Treasure opens up and it is wonderful – and vulnerable – to be Old.

How to tune to the ongoing Grace?  Flow into it, intentionally letting go.  The intention is nothing but clarity. My body’s own knowledge and balance follows through, without the mind.  The movement enters the Body of Light.  It is good to recall the Body of Light in any manifestation.  The conscious intention is enough for it to occasionally spring into That.  The beautiful moments of Flow, at first rare, slowly coalesce to a frequency.

Here is an insight of the Wave, and why it is called a Frequency.  The different pulses of Frequency high or low, slow or fast, determine the Fibre band.  The Fibre connects mountains and river valleys like the grain along the wood.  When thinking of the Light body, slip into the wood, the water and the Stone; perhaps I see Nanda Devi or hear Liszt’s Rose theme.  It hums authentically.  It bypasses the formal instruction’s “Dummy of Light”.  The golem in a white robe – a diving suit for recognition by other higher-astral swimmers – is not my cup of tea.  My clarity with the Light body isn’t conventional but Aquarian and direct.

Early sketch – 2003

Moments of Contact come.  Much of the time, there is fumbling and fatigue.  Each day the morning opens this potential espousal with the fountain, there is heat, Master R is near.   His tentacle towards me enjoys mountain climbing! – to ascend the allegory of the Ground.

Ascension is Contact, Embodiment, Embrace.

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I walked over to Belsize yesterday.  In wet autumn leaves I strolled round the small woodland conservation area behind Downside Crescent and applied gentle Gevurah to my emotions which arise.  I am bereaved don’t-you-know, of “my old friend’s” presence in the district.  My Gevurah is to notice but not indulge or brood.  Those woods in the old days were a hidden tangled web, they are not green but wild dark autumnal brown and grey, and in my Watershed they were an eastern sea-board washing up to the hinterland of Haverstock Hill.

What rich untidy rooms to revisit! The story is in my blood stream but not trapped.  That steep wood now is “managed” with constructed paths for walkers and illustrated notices of the foxes, birds and wildlife it harbours.   Around it stand tower-blocks, the Isokon flats and the Royal Free hospital.  I spoke to a joyful couple who saw a woodpecker.  At the top is the ivy clad tower – the chimney, the well which ventilates the Northern Line tunnel deep below.  His spirit in my wandering has this landscape now.  Do the memories hold me back?   No – for I don’t cling to them, but recognise the impression passing through, and monitor changes.  His limited outline in life turns into my Unlimited Life.  That is OK business.   Grey woods.

I walked up the Heath after Belsize but I don’t care for it much – too many people and trampled mud.  Yesterday I typed the Trinosofia chapter Ten and commentary into Aquariel’s Trinosofia Texts page. There is kindling for further deep teachings from the Maestro.

But I am still in the Belsize wood, for out of the damp dark ground comes my old dream about the man in prison and the fishes and the scars on his thumbs and his question about astrology.  He was fettered.  As I write, the force of it fades.  Small eruptions of captured life in death:  the Underground chimney out of which the wound spoke.  There are themes as in a symphony or Sonata form.  At first the poem is silent.  During the night, it ferments and joins up stars and wings.

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In Chapter Ten the initiate dances out from the tomb, striking the inscribed stone lid with his lance or Rod.  I feel the release of the beauty and purity of life through the dead.

The completed drawing: 1 – 9 December 2019. “The drawing depicts the final victory of the spiritualised soul over the limitations of the bodily tomb.  The green garment reveals the adept to be clothed in his illumined soul, which is under the rulership of Venus.  The breastplate bears upon it cryptic letters which mean LIFE.  The Initiate has achieved immortality.  For him the tomb will be forever empty.  He has become one of that small band of the enlightened ‘whom death has forgotten’.
“The Arabic characters on the lid of the coffin admonish the Elect that they should seize upon a certain undesignated mystery ‘when the sixth sign or age is to be the breath.’
“These words evidently refer to the parts of a ritual.  That which is to be seized upon is the ‘master secret of alchemy.’  (MANLY P. HALL)

This was a difficult drawing to realise and then adjust to the scanner’s tonal “interpretation”.  I wanted gleams of  rainbow mother-of-pearl  in the “steam” …  The steam is alchemical condensation: the distillation of an intensity of life.  It heats up into droplets on the athanor, through which sparkles the Sun.

Here is serpent/sperm in egg, with Capricorn/Cancer nodal polarity – on a foliating nest.  (copy of the decoration in the text)

 

It is enough now to touch base with each profound Key of life when it surfaces its poem – like today, the essence of the Bear (34th I Ching Hexagram/Gene Key) – the shadow which is Force transforms through the Gift of Strength to Majesty when I go climbing; and  revisiting the Belsize wood.

I am sure my old friend is free though grumpy at times with what he doesn’t understand. In my heart he is free and that is huge.  As in the smoke on the moon’s face I, the bent and shawled old lady, tend the garden.  Lilies and roses arose.  The heart of any soul when it is huge and untrammelled moves through all other hearts in the deep.  Here I love him. Here in Hades playing my lyre, I need not turn to see if the beloved is following.  I am she unashamed who bears the children, and he has his domain.  The love is gratitude: to scribe each morning the collected poem of yesterday.  Yes to the day!

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Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2020. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeaquariel.wordpress.com/

Mysteries of Master R (17) – Trinosofia 10: Solar Battery

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I would prefer to add a short succinct impression to Master R’s meditation and Mr Hall’s commentary on Chapter Ten in the Trinosofia Texts (see title bar and scroll down.)  But skimming my journal of the last few days, teachings appear.

These teachings arise spontaneously in the movement with Magid; so here they are:

It came clear to me that we outgrow the need for practices or ritual.  The form was built in during the “lessons” and it is the Tree of Life.  My writing is my body of Light to enter, to travel and to encounter existentially.  Though I feel foggy and groggy, I remember that stepping into body of Light is the Tsim Tsum itself (God beholds God) – step into the unknown day of the Holy One’s room …  Creep along wet autumn ground-leaves among birch and oak like a rabbit.

Master R is near.  I love the simplicity I am brought to – this gradual tentative way to connect.  The so-called weak force (gravity) brings me Home.

Original illustration – Trinosofia Chapter 10

My SOS call to Master R invokes the Tree. Just able to reach Tifareth, again and again I try, not as the talisman the shallow mind proposes, but in the inner work to get the door open again – lift the lid; listen, receive, notice, allow room for the picture to develop.  The Beauty is to be aware of flat-screen habit and consciously observe the depth of field.  The famous tsim tsum genesis of the Holy One to create a space to behold the Holy One  – the big bang – is potential in every instant.

The human linear trap is sad indeed and due for overhaul, and lucky I am to see above the waves sometimes.  The landscape reveals that the Great Change is true.  The present co-dependent infrastructure cannot prevail for long.  Yet there are a vast quantity of rooms for it all;  parallel universes, parallel lives and times work out their span as history erupts.  Mostly we cannot see this and we labour along one groove, in peril or as habit continues to form.  A sea of rooftops and hard roads surrounds us.

It will become a flowering spring wilderness.  As the feelings deepen into my heart the “Thou art God” opens.  So there is the undulating field-and-urban North country landscape (intra-Pennines) with its sharp hills and sprawling industry cities. Most of the people (except for the homeless) are living inside tablets of luxury.  Into the land going deeper are the cracks and creases of wet woodland, a high gritstone crag and clear brown river, even with the paper-mill puffing smoke and lorries up and down the lane. Great moss-covered slabs fell from the cliff and are overgrown. Around the populous twisted valleys gleam the high cold moors.

I feel, seeing the complicated north country, more than ever convinced of the underlying Change, even though the juggernaut grinds on faster than ever against the brake.  I differentiate between my way of seeing and the inertia way of dreaming.  It is natural for the majority to sleepwalk.

Decorations accompanying chapters 10 and 9 in the book.  The pencil notes are jottings from Anthar  Kharana’s teachings for human/Gaia, which I listened to, while I drew.  “Territory in palm of hand lines – transform territory out there by taking care of territory in here. The cells put together form creative blood.  Families … villages … continents.  Transform my Wind, the way I think.  As my actions change, so does the wind and the cloud.  Give attention to the inner waters, the blood flow.  Let’s clean the rivers!  The 4 elements IN HERE start the Change.  The human asked for Light and got the Shadow. (The human gets to illumine the Dark.)  My purpose is taking care of the seeds for the new time.”  (Anthar Kharana, Colombia)

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The Tsim Tsum here is simple.  Step into the room.   The whole movement is an apple, a form of sacred geometry, ever alive and forming itself.  It is for giving. It is as alive and rounded as that, today.  There is no time.  There is ripening and continuous alignment – the Fruit of the Rose.  This is real: not the flat-screen telly product.  Depth, and more depth, in seeing, perceiving, feeling, being – into the crevices of the land and behind the mind.  Illumine and drive out the beetled doubts.

 

I dreamed I walked with my late forgiven and much loved nemesis up a wide path in a wood.  I had just seen a film which moved me, like the 6th Sun and he had too.  But he was grumpy and said it meant nothing to him.  He was in late middle age, quite tall and bulky, and disappointed that the treasures humans offer him are so slight and superficial.

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I feel concern at my inability to continue a course of esoteric study –  am I losing my Contact?  Too much world and relationships?

Then Master R in his Merlin aspect came to my Flow and said,

“Do you want to stay in a bubble, or do you want to flow as the river?   No course of learning is permanent.  They are means to an end.   The end breaks open the graduation cell, and you feel the world rush in.   It bruises the nerve ends.   I say to you – keep swimming with Providence.   The landscape by which you find me, is roped and ridged with hills and valleys like water stirred by the wind, or ripples in the sand, or waves in the sea, or the grain in the wood.   The hills and valleys have woods, villages and fields.   Convert the solid to fluidity:  be at home in every element – the tumbling cube.    Keep learning to listen, concentrate and ascertain your friend’s need, a situation’s need, without fussing and without suffering:  be flexible.   We assure you – you are never without our regard.  You are never without our guidance.   You have not strayed.   How can you stray?  Where to?

“The oak tree –the red queen pulled Alice – is too vast to run past, however fast you run.   The oak tree is all your life and understanding.

“Consider this – study and working on yourself has little time to stand and gaze at the oak tree in all its glory.   Be this the lesson of this present year:  stand still, raise your head and look – like a deer in the forest.    We packed you full of learning.   Now receive.

“Discard glamour and embrace the Good.  It is for giving.  It is like the oak tree.  The oak tree is life.  Keep going.   Climb up it sometimes.”

Here is Menes – an aspect of Merlin in my world.  He lives on an island in a lake, a smallholder, and he can live on very little – I wondered there, about his supplies.  But the ancient and new wisdom is self-generating, without need for much “supplies”.  It is the interior crystal or power and nourishment source. All it needs is to wake up to and tune in to where it hums.  It is there: the conscious battery-cell.  There are some outward forms to make it manifest – like harvesting apples and keeping bees – but it is timelessly easier.  There is little resistance.

Like Master R he is adequately fuelled by oats, honey and fresh water.   I am sure he keeps hens.   He presses strong cider from his fruit trees.   He is quite busy.  Profoundly Virgoan, he somehow manages to grow and grind enough oats and wheat for his bread, and for visitors. He has the gift of the Magidim to expand his present supply – the well never empties.   It is the Way of handling the physical environment, a way of touch.   I can learn everything from this, to nourish the way I accompany my loved ones.

Such a being is maintained physically through his well-fed students.   We give him manifestation.  It is a high Beriatic Law which in lower Yetzirah gets perverted to vampirism.   Vampirism is not just Dracula tales, it is rampant through ignorance in relationships and the commercial world.   But the Law between student/disciple and the Inner-plane being, is the Law of love – a two-way current of regeneration.   As Ramesh Balsekar used to say, there is no Guru until the devotee discovers and makes him so.   Guru manifests in dialogue, in relationship.  Guru takes shape and eternal fluid form, according to the desire for space, for peace and interior contact.

The interior contact established, is Antakharana or pipeline for the Maestri.   It is the conduit from an electron orbit of life, to a higher one.  Through Daat on the Tree, the quantum leaps. Profound distress is often the prompt.   Out of the depth we cry to thee, and we leap.

Parker Stafford, a glass worker whose writings waken the Infinite, wrote to me once – his own hermit speaking:  “… a peculiar way of learning to see or look … can stir the two energies enough to get them moving in this grand experience which is awakening – which is the heart of alchemy in the body.  Bringing them forward in this way is like connecting the negative and positive ends of a battery.  The light comes on.

“… perhaps you are ready to die to that tight restrictive self you have inhabited bubble … snake skin … constantly being shed over and over … perhaps ready to watch the shell of it slip into the deep quiet as rays of light beckon for you to reach up into the sparkling surface of what is, in truth, a great ocean of cosmic consciousness … a sea we all swim in whether we know it or not.  You lose only what does not serve you …”

The battery comes on, as the poles are touched.   This feeling I know well;  and when it comes on gently, it conducts.

I had an old fascination with a dark woody twig, wand or pole, which is the battery to awake.   When it is awake, it is simple; no skins to shed – the battery and the Light.   The  torch illumining the coal face is SO SIMPLE.  The old relationship was a battery.  It battered, and light came.  But it is actually a little long-life battery cell with + and – ends. The couple sleep head to toe. My nature converted it to original light and power, not just a congealed memory.   Thus it is not an attachment but an instrument.   “Convert” is the root of “conversation”.

The token offered this morning is RESPONSE, as in the button pressed which joins the poles and gives light.  My solar battery is the pair of snakes around the staff;  the battery is the Fountain:  the battery is Kether-Malkuth.

This is a sequence of battery paintings in my past work – lovers costing too much blood, the snake, the horse cantering round the mud, the naked She sitting by it, the torches at the coal face … and perhaps the male thrusting through the wall, the shaman forest and the heart-strings.

Clearly, I use a CONVERTER.

To CONTINUE

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Copy of a design in the pages of the Trinosofia Chapter 10

Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeaquariel.wordpress.com/

 

Mysteries of Master R – 16: Transform Dark tones into Light

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An interlude between the Trinosofia chapter 9 (previous post) and chapter 10 … Go into the cave.  Find the jewel!

My labours can bear lovely fruit.  What a joyous and at moments hilarious soul clearing and convergence at a point in time; a beautiful Piece from the sky dropped into place, The sky goes on doing that, whatever the dream on the ground!

Happiness flowed back into my life.   The kernel  is the Liberation which – repeatedly challenged – seems to project my profound alchemic purpose in this lifetime.  It touches beyond my view.  To be a watcher, a bystander, is fascinating, because I know at last the other part of the story – L’s friendship with T at the end of his life.  Did a renewed gesture of grace glow within that?  Without going into my own narrative detail here … what private matter awakens in your map of life?

Catch the connection, the dew, the gem;  edge of the robe of the Holy One; the joy of living; the place where the Shadow transforms. When that happened like the sun coming out, I knew that in the past, my heart’s desire was for us to be family.  After L died, I had a dream, and in that reality he came to me, and we were. It  prevailed through the Karmic wandering off-course, like a rock with the coverings washed away.

dew on leaf

The blind lead the blind, but the sense of hearing detects great Wisdom as toilsome processes in the soul touch base and are released. There is a beautiful, breath-taking visit of the Enigma.  It is like the virgin holding the Holy Child in her lap.   Yes, the Enigma.  The Enigma is freedom.  One of my Trinosofia drawings is called Enigma.  It is a great low arch built of brick like a bridge, convex or concave; and under it in the darkness, a kind of conversation starts to glow and activate.

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Go into the cave, find the jewel, the gem, and bring it out into the world.  Go deep, as deep as you can; and bring it to life!  The ripple coalesces with an earth movement through innumerable persons’ soul process around the world.  Though yours!  That is the all-connecting timbre;  the awakening reality of living in the Master’s Eye;  the enabler.  It stops me in my tracks.

All day yesterday putting the new Trinosofia Nine post together.  That is a journey into the cave.  The initiate in red (Mars) brings out the cadaver, but the Light of the Lake will dissolve the cadaver into the jewel; the Photon.  Through the dead, the atoms move and the Unexpected happens.  It is an utterly different coming to life, from what was thought about in the surface plan.  This principle holds for the deeper and wider collective.

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My daughter discovered a new industry called Heliogen which seems to have just launched itself publicly.  It hives solar energy with hexagonal mirrors, like a lighthouse.  There is also a new eyesore gadget gravity tower with cranes lifting and dropping concrete blocks – a child’s toy –  it is called an “Energy Vault”. We will in the next few years be living in a world of aggressively competing green and solar industries!  The human sleek suit, tie and footprint is utilised to make a change; to work like ants on what has been spoiled.  It combines crackpot inventor with a  new style of informality with the customer, to promote dialogue, transparent access and nice-guy leadership.

The lightening of my heart today is because of alchemy, because of going into the cave with Le Comte, with a widening of my open arms and heart.  I told a friend who visited yesterday and saw the drawings on my kitchen table, that it is Phoenix.  He rang later and said he was moved by them.

Ah – the virgin holds the Holy Child, astonished; I drew her for a charity Xmas card – the original lay there on the table, with Trinosofia drawings 8, 9 and 10 … the whole picture. and I was struck just now this moment with the wonder of the Holy Child in my arms. Whenever the miracle chimes in life, the dark organ-notes transmute. The wonder of it was – when still ashes – the weight of the cadaver in the cave.   How extraordinary life is.

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An I Ching Oracle from a different time touches today.  

A little more with the Rabbi Ching.  This contemplation stripped of my own details, is offered for your reflection also.  Conduct of the tao?

It is Heaven over Lake “Treading”, changing to Heaven over Heaven, “the Creative”.

This old Advaita sketch of “the Tiger’s jaws” inverts the I Ching image, but you may imagine yourself walking behind the tiger.  The oracle says:

“Treading on tiger’s tail; but the tiger does not bite the man, because it is light hearted and in good humour. The weak follows the strong and is scared. One handles wild intractable people, with decorum. There is no envy in the elevations of heaven and the lake. The discussion is of the hierarchy of inner worth – respecting the grades – and this is somewhere in the mutual soul history and its castes.

“A Yin line changing to Yang in 3rd place – Don’t be reckless. If I have one eye and am lame, I can see and tread a bit, but not enough. To plunge ahead is only the way of a warrior battling for his Prince. Is that necessary? Understand the situation’s polarities first. Get to know them. Give it time.

“The whole fruit yin yang has to be given time, because the Creative it changes to, is so powerful: a massive tiger indeed.  I feel cautious and frightened of saying too much. “Treading” 10 is before “T’ai” – Peace 11. In the internal trigrams of “Treading”, Wind and Lake combine. The yielding Yin turns to Water Abysmal, deep inside. She enters with fear and trembling; it is crucial to the Conduct of character and creation. Joyousness moves in the same direction as the Creative. “Respect” suggests an apprentice. I am easily bitten by the tiger here. It awakens a Simon Forman glamour misgiving.

“Treading” changes to the full Yang Creative: and the Creative can go any which way, according to the Conduct preceding it. Six big dragons. As one Heaven Day follows another, it creates Time and Space and Duration. Cast out all which is inferior or degrading. The ideal is tireless.  It suggests the Interior and Supernal guidance following itself.

My three relationship situations through different times are inter-woven, in terms of dynamic. The base line is the philosophy, deeper than playtime, to transform the dark tones into light.  Observing alchemical quanta, the way is not analytical (which wastes time).  The way is of worship.  What is worship?   It is when the small self stands aside for the miracle, the unknown Wholeness to fill the jug;  to keep silent.  These details don’t make sense to an outsider but are important for me to grasp with clarity as I love and am committed to the process of Being.

The 10th Gene Key (I Ching “Treading”) is called “Ease of Being”.  It moves from the Self-Obsession Shadow through the discovered gift of Naturalness to “Being”.   The beauty is under all the rocks and weathers.  Be still!   The pure underground river of your life flows out from a limestone cave and into the world.

River emerges: Malham, Yorkshire

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And touching on a dream in my journal six years ago:

In connection with a healing adventure with some companions, I wore my long white Arab nightdress – we went out along the street to another house.  I forgot to put my shoes on, so my feet were clean and bare – even in February.   Purity.  A younger woman held my left hand.   When I woke, I thought of this:  the hand and ripe body touched, of an older mature woman, me.   I am this older mature woman place/space, and I must occupy and be her!  I have no other choice in all the world.

This and no other, of all the spaces in the world is mine and where I have to be, like it or not, and wake up!   Move into this space and be its conscious choice, just as an electron state moves into an orbital particle.  In fact, WE DO NOT LIVE INSIDE OURSELVES!   We live sort of around ourselves, around the surface body, smearing it with crèmes and clothes and frightened of its interior, touching the blank with clumsy caution, and making up vast lifestyles which entertain & admit the displacement volume but do not enter it.  It is blind, blank, neglected – festooned with models, glamour, athletic workout and fantasy.

But what of the miraculous, Earth’s organs of Life inside; liver, heart, lungs, kidneys, womb, blood, endocrines?  The vibrant meridian paths, the nadis?  They are designed with the constellations in sacred geometry; the glory of their colour and movement eternally hidden from the physical eye.  Alchemy is in the dark. As soon as any piece of it is taken out of the body, it collapses and is dead.

Except for birth itself … the child!

I was in white and barefoot.   This means my Body of Light.  Quite rightly, I never subscribed to the teaching that one must somehow hop into a projected shell.  In this local bloodstream waterfall, I live and travel to every accessible dimension.   This is a significant subconscious recognition, or shift.

Here, Saint-Germain speaks on the subject of …

THIS, YOUR BODY
is the instrument
whereon may be played the Song of Life.

Nay, it is more than this,
for on this harp of ten thousand strings
the wind of the Spirit moves ever,
and sounds night and day
the melodies and harmonies
of that Eternal Song.

Yet few there be with ears to hear.
For that hearing is too often dulled
by the noisy clamour of the world’s illusion.

Yet he who has eyes to see,
and mind to remember,
may see that the heart of meaning
has to do with Hearing.

Variation on  a decoration in this chapter of the Trinosofia book.  The Hebrew letters Resh, Qoph, Kaph, represent the head, the back of the head and the hand.

How few there are
who listen
for the still small music
of the Eternal Song!

 

From Master R’s Teaching on Malkuth (1947) in The Book of Tokens

 

 

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Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeaquariel.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

 

Mysteries of Master R: 15 – The Holy Trinosofia, Chapter 9

Master Rakoczy, St-Germain – 7 July 2015

Returning to the artist’s journey through the Trinosofia, I recommend you first refresh this link to Chapter Eight  to retrieve the journey so far.  You can find the other chapters in “Archive of all posts” in the title-bar.

The 12 Zodiacal stages in the alchemical process are: 1) Calcination/Aries, 2) Congelation/Taurus, 3) Fixation/Gemini, 4) Dissolution/Cancer, 5) Digestion/Leo, 6) Distillation/Virgo, 7) Sublimation/Libra, 8) Putrefaction/Scorpio, 9) Incineration/Sagittarius, 10) Fermentation/Capricorn, 11) Multiplication/Aquarius and 12) Projection/Pisces.

It seems to me that the meditations in Saint-Germain’s Trinosofia link these 12 stages by letting each one flow towards the next while recollecting the previous.  The 9th stage which I contemplate today contains elements of Scorpio (Putrefaction) and Sagittarius (Incineration).  The 10th chapter (Incineration stage) likewise will converse Sagittarius with Capricorn (Fermentation).  The message is; rigid divisions between the 12 stages are not held – we should not literalise or confine the material.  Life is fluid. Like the planetary motions as seen relative to our position on Earth, the adept passes through light and shadow back and forth, to journey through being.

I am reminded also of my studies of  Indian astrology.  The zodiac signs in Jyotish overlaid the actual constellations, before precession of the equinox.  In Western astrology the zodiac is by now removed 23 degrees from the elder alignment. The twelve Signs are still named after the constellations, but represent the phases of Earth’s journey around the Sun.  With this discrepancy I learned how subtler shades of interpretation incline towards one or the other, like two sides of the same leaf.  Are the Trinosofia’s twelve stages of alchemy rooted in the constellations?  There are references throughout the text to languages far older than the western occult tradition.  This is one of many Mysteries encoded in the work …

The alchemical symbolism in the Trinosofia is rich and abundant.  My posts on the subject are long, and require imaginative reading.  For Master R’s original text and Manly P Hall’s excellent commentary, please open “Trinosofia Texts” in the title bar above, and scroll down the page to Chapter Nine.

Here is a reminder of Chapter Eight:

Almost four years passed since my last Trinosofia drawing!  …  Yesterday the door opened for me to draw the Ninth chapter.  It was not an easy one for me to integrate after my father died in early 2016.  The Bardo of becoming was to sing also with five other deaths since his – all of them deeply significant relationships in my life; and all with liberation in their different ways.

The Ninth chapter contemplates the dark putrefaction of the 8th stage under Scorpio, processing towards the Sagittarian incineration.  So I had to draw a black horse with a dead human falling out of its slit belly; and then the second sombre image – the young rosy man in a red tunic with the decomposing corpse.  This is alchemical negrido before the stars appear in the raven’s wing.  The red garment is fiery Mars.   Here is the illustration in the book:

From the text of the Trinosofia;  a copy  from the original painting by Master R, which disappeared.

The way opened today unexpectedly, for me to enter and begin.  I felt Le Comte’s encouragement, since the “Sixth Sun” transmission last week.  The Phoenix rises from ashes; a decomposition to cleanse and flicker into life in the dark night of the soul’s cavern.  It’s not finished yet.  This morning I feel I should darken the background to the black horse, for the passage is a deep obscurity.  Also I drew my young alchemist in red tunic very badly, need to rearrange his legs and re-do his arm?

Click on images to view

The picture includes three inscribed black panels.  Two of them I painstakingly copied; the third, with the floral Roman lettering was too indistinct (so I wrote it in English as if on stone); and the enclosed grey panel’s lettering was too blurred in the Scribd reproduction. It reads:

“The select few – how many are there? Forty who in brotherly love assemble together to the four quarters and the Bird.  Here below (in the mortal sphere) to be held (gathering or assembly) until in its place is the coming in the fourth quarter (Aquarius).”  The large characters M B refer to the alchemical process whereby the mortification and destruction of the body is accomplished.

(From Manly P Hall’s commentary on
The  Most Holy Trinosofia of the Comte de St-Germain

Philosophical Research Society Inc. Los Angeles 1983)

Manly Hall’s translation of the other two inscriptions will go underneath the drawing when I have finished it.  The book includes his introduction, commentaries, text, translation and black/white reproductions of the illustrations.  My interpretation is an individual one; it comes out of my life, I am a different generation.  It is interesting to read both.

(See Triniosofia texts, above)

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So what is found here?  The birth of the living dead, from the animal kingdom’s bafflement, inverts the Saviour’s birth: deep dark expulsion of the soul into the strange un-illumined luminosity of the dead;  the unconscious victim condition where we blame others is ash.

In the second image the alchemist, fascinated with the materia, tries to raise it to life;  he stirs the ashes.  But he hears a Voice commanding him to let it go.  So he’s about to drop it again.  The wrong way is how we Elizabethan and Renaissance explorers tried to manipulate the dead,  believing we could command the secrets of matter, of the soul and of anatomy.  The Voice breaks into that creative fantasy.  Again it is like the horse expelling the dead body.  What is dead is dead!

What are the living dead? How do I regard them?  it is important to take responsibility and get the definition right.  The living dead are those regions in my psyche, individual or collectively linked, where we walk in our sleep, lock ourself into noise, blame other persons, institutions or life itself for our trouble … and blindly consume our nature.

The living Spirit is a matter of choice; of turning to face the music and cross the lake.  The second lake in the journey (to Chapter Ten) will turn clear turquoise.  Now the image develops further, for I might suggest the lake in the vision is a Caduceus.

The Voice said (it thundered like a trumpet) – “This black earth has lain in this hall only 87 years; when 13 more years have elapsed, thou and the other children of God may use it.”  The alchemist was delayed until the time should reach a century 100; he explored the vessel, the dark room for nine days as prescribed, and then departed through the opposite door to the one by which he entered.  The numbers 87 (15), 13 and 100 are Hebrew gematria – a shorthand for the Mysteries..

To reach this dark hall he had waded through the first lake (“thick as cement”) for 13 days, his feet touched bottom everywhere, it was useless to swim.  When he reached the dark hall, the earth was as dark as that water.  The building he entered was basalt black; a warm moist wind pushed him into the chamber and shut the doors.  There the Living Principle remained inside the belly of death to be born; there he explored the room and investigated the matter.   His consciousness is a lamp, it quickens the flesh.

It is like a dream I had long ago.  Here is the story – “a house of hundreds of rooms”

In Chapter Eight four years ago, we saw the crowned white lion and cluster of grapes on a salver with a shining pile of salt.  He impregnated his body with the salt, he rubbed the purifying salt crystals over himself, then he was given a choice of two doors by which to leave that chamber.  One opened to a hot arid plain which seemed to burn him; the other opened to the first lake at the end of which a black marble façade was visible.  He preferred to cross the lake itself rather than make his way along a rocky shore to the distant bridge.  So he ended up in the black marble  hall.

(To see the detail from illustrated text of the Trinosofia, and read M P Hall’s comments on the Hebrew meanings, click on these images)

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We are given choices and tend to take the complicated one, as we are drawn to the dregs.  The odyssey is the same in the end.  The Trinosofia theme offers him the simple way, but he takes the more complex and glamorous one which takes longer.

As I began the drawing, the transformative Phoenix rose from the ashes.  The façade of the black hall itself was engraved with ancient Persian hieroglyphs. Should my alchemist kneel or stand?  Perhaps he crouches. The English translation says he stands, the original French says he is “place pres du cadavre”.  I need to lower his left arm and his left knee.  At the moment – as I copied the original – his anatomy is all kaput.  The original drawings in the text – themselves old copies from Le Comte’s paintings which disappeared – are anatomically weak.  For the originals, Le Comte is said to have mixed pearl dust with his pigments.

During my work on the drawing yesterday, I listened to Richard Rudd’s audios on the Ecstatics: Rilke, Taliesin, Walt Whitman, Anandamayi Ma, Mother Julian.  You can hear them at https://genekeys.com/audio/the-ecstatics/   These were given several years ago with the Gene Keys transmission bubbling creatively in the pot: the joyous poet.  The creative joy is today rediscovered, renewed and sung for itself; the yeast within any treacly condition.

5G advertising came through my letterbox.  I am beginning to see that I must not buy into fear and negatives about that and other aggressive technologies, but  keep doing my thing in the living energy field.  We humans will grow tired of the “More and More” stuff that we still “want” at present..  It is a symptomatic tension – a temporal terror of the Great Change which moves so deep within our world, our climate and DNA with the universe and solar system. There will be and already is a collective longing to breathe, to create peace in the air.  I try to live my particle of the Bigger Picture.  The way around and through, and often because of the pollutant, always opens.  The pollutant itself has no power against Gaia.  Most of us cannot see this because we are accustomed to our minds’ closet and what we are told by “experts”. We want by default to blame “Them”.

So, mon Cher:  You would have us feel, rather than think.  Thinking provides a mere quantity of scenarios and speculative terminus.  Feeling is the natural path, day by day, with every element: the ear to the ground like the sole of the foot.  The feeling is Consciousness Now.  Entering the dark Shadow, I behold my process and seek the Gift;  being born into the dead; the effort of the curious to resurrect putrefaction; the call to travel forth.

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With Mercury retro in Scorpio it is suitable.  The  action dressed in red  investigates old process while moving towards the light.  He must leave the old flesh behind. The second lake and its far pavilion beckons him.  He will walk in it for 18 days.

Hermes in the sea – alchemical engraving in Roob’s “Alchemy & Mysticism”

I recalled that when crossing the first lake its waters became darker and thicker as I advanced.  The waters of this (second) lake on the contrary, became ever clearer the closer I approached the shore.  My robe which had in the palace become as black as the walls seemed to me to be of a greyish hue; gradually it resumed its colours, however it did not become entirely blue, but was near to a beautiful green.”

(See Trinosofia Texts in title bar of this page; scroll to Chapter Nine)

That is the pilgrim’s robe: not the alchemist’s red tunic in the image.  However they are the same, for the colours complement.  The blue transmuting to “a beautiful green” is turquoise, through Scorpio’s tonal vibration in the Tarot (Key 13).  Turquoise is the colour of movement.

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Next Day

I wore myself out yesterday trying to get that drawing to work.  It wouldn’t.  At last I trimmed a piece of paper to fit the space and began it again – this time it came OK, and the Initiate stands as in the original illustration, trying to raise his discovery of dead flesh and bones from the levels of corruption.  The cadaver is not quite as good as my first version but is bigger in relation to the “child”.  The cadaver is the world-systems which no longer work.  The child tries to handle it but the Voice calls; it is not the time yet.  Don’t be distracted by those old systems.  Continue the journey of Light and Heart.  Don’t dally but keep walking.

I darkened all the background around the horse in the first picture, except for the ground where the darkness becomes illumined as the sticky stinking black earth full of creeping elementals and fearful dreams.  The Initiate had to stay in there for nine days and not get into mischief.

The evolution of the animal kingdom (horse) trembles with shock at having to tarry and wait for the human preoccupation to catch up and liberate itself.

This second picture will be the more effective if I darken its left-hand side too, around the big “M”.  Then we will have the Initiate emerging from the dark with his imagined retrieval of the secrets; he is positioned where the Shadow becomes the Light.  And there begins the second lake’s slow illumination and clarity to wade for “18 days” towards the far pavilion.  There is a “violet land haze” just suggested behind that palace.  It is  sketchy and the sky turns turquoise.

Trinosofia NINE

 

The Initiate in the Trinosofia pictures is Master R as a child – black curly hair and luminous sweet cheeks the way they drew people in the 18th century.   He has the proportions of an eight year old child – homunculus – except when with a woman; then he is a warrior, a full grown man.  Eight years old is the human age.  He grows into a warrior whenever his seed rises up to sow.

Ophiocus Sagittarius – detail

Trinosofia’s Chapter Nine travels through Scorpio and Sagittarius; the dark constellation over galactic centre.  Sagittarius is the Journeyman’s need to travel and expand. Along the Bowman lies also the Serpent constellation Ophiucus.  I needed to at least begin the next drawing – so I did – of the Initiate leaping from the tomb with golden staff and floating crown: the process of Sagittarius through Capricorn (see the post to come, on Chapter Ten.) …  It is difficult for me to copy “poor” drawings to make better drawings – for the “poor” drawings have their own lively gesture and character which I want to retain, but the anatomy and perspective are compromised; so I grope and erase for hours.  In fact, Master R told Paul Foster Case in 1947 that the existing illustrations are excellent copies of his own work.

Awakening the Trinosofia is a wonderful profound journey, with some of the strange landscapes and caves I reproduced from it.

Stage 9 illumines the dark prison – things come to light.  The Initiate tries to drag the knowledge forth like a great weight, but the Voice says “it is not yours.  Attend to the staff of Light and walk the waves.  Don’t ‘think’.  Feel.”

And in the next picture which I began, the Initiate is the Lightness of being.  I will make the stone coffin more massive and turned more towards the viewer so you can see its bottom – regurgitate its contents.  Out of it come the deep souls, saviours of the world, as your children being born; no more are the living dead being born.

With the deep belly breath, locate my inner trouble, hear and let it with the exhalation trickle out into the earth’s gravity ground to be recycled. In the part of my body which bears the tension, allow the air of love and compassion to flow.  And I smiled again!  The practice of “Relationship Mastery” in all fields of the world – business, government, politics, family, sexuality, friendship – is focused, alive and direct to the point.

I just saw again that I know nothing.  I know only what I think I know and have experienced.  The depth of my experience of life is yet a superficial lid if I paste it upon the needs of others.  Krishnamurti spoke of how we degrade each other with our images of expectation..

The defilement of environment is what that poor horse in my drawing has to smell.  Countless captive creatures live in that and are consumed as meat products; the stench defiles our DNA sensitivity with the animal kingdom.

This appalling realisation comes forth.  The Time of Sixth Sun re-launch was not only sweet light and New Earth but woke up all this more detailed awareness.  What to do?   Do not configure enemies.  There IS a cosmic battle in earth as in heaven and in all the strata between – the forces of dark inertia, fear and imagined disease with those of progress and transformation.   It is tempting to personify or project one’s own demons onto the collective shadow, but it doesn’t help.  Knowing ourselves as lighthouse keepers, the work starts here at home at whatever level.   I am aware how the dimensions of the body of light work homoeopathically through the Shadow. The condition on Earth plane is growth through resistance. To keep silent is wise, because ordinary social talk “wants” a distorting mirror. Let Nature flow as always into balance.   An immense Change – like chrysalis to butterfly – moves through our resistance.  The message for sustainability – particularly in this last year or so – expands exponentially.

What to do?  Carry the Staff of Light and the Crown unworn; sprung from the abyss.  Be conscientious; listen, and pass on the vibrance in the field in simple ways – a smile, a seat on the train, a chat with a cashier.  We as predatory consumers still want a luxury culture of excess. This deranges our animal companions.  So by now, we humans know what it is to derange ourselves.

Yet there is the conscious reorientation – our choice. As with Siva swallowing the world’s murk and turning it peacock blue in his throat, the Resource I can call upon is Infinite.

“You offer a window through which others may look and see and wake up.   You offer a window – a viewpoint – which quickens evolution.   We gave you this window to maintain. Your job is to keep the window clear and clean;  to hold the vessel;   to recreate our Perspective through it.   The window is also a navigational instrument, the approach of Eternity to the new sciences.  Behold it, to the living world.   A Lens.”

Alignment with the magnetic field overcomes obscurity and penetrates any blanket of leaden thoughts.  This same soft power within the animal, avian and plant kingdoms adapts, turns and follows alternative patterns and flight paths as the atoms do.  Everything in the Great Tuning Fork has ultimate harmony and resonance; for the time we are in is an evolutionary acceleration – the fall-out around us, of centrifugal wobble and spin.  The tension in the atmosphere is heightened by the devices humans manufacture to copy it.   But always there is return to navigational centre; solar plexus; the floating compass; the slow sunlit unfoldment of the Now.   Choose which!

Awake the cubed blossom in my root.  It is subtle, like Johannes Kepler’s golden seed among  dung for the hens to find.  A piece of crystal – rock of ages – is warmed by the human body to emit a signal.

The signal is the feeling; feel the Philo Sofia; lover of wisdom.

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A song (circa 1770, written in London) by Master Rakoczy, Saint-Germain.  Xeroxed from the British Library collection

Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeaquariel.wordpress.com/

Hashaq: A Tree of the Tao

Firstly: A Reminder –

“The Time of the Sixth Sun” collecting together many elders and sages of the global human community was first launched in April 2019 and again on 6 November by Theo van Dort, Nikki Luna and Uquala, for two weeks. A wonderful and unique heart-opener about positive environmental initiatives and new technologies around the world – spiritual, community and scientific. Profoundly recommended!  For more information and to keep in touch, visit timeofthesixthsun.com

The full package is now available to buy until 6 December 2019
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HASHAQ – A TREE OF THE TAO
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In this beautiful award-winning film by Bibi, now on Vimeo
the ocean breathes through her silent dance with the Tree of life,
combining the ancient movements of Tao and Kabbalah

Bibi is my dear friend and soul sister;  a grandmother, a visionary gardener of her life.  She is an inspired teacher of Qi Gong and practitioner of Tai Chi.  Our friendship  began just 30 years ago in Warren Kenton’s contemplative group the Kabbalah society.  We have embraced Ramana Maharshi’s kettle, our problematic menfolk, Gene Keys and the Goddess’s divine sitcom slapstick on planet earth.

Bibi (Barbara Brown) is co-author of Qi Gong: The Chinese Art of Working with Energy (Harper-Collins 2001).  She wrote two superb novels: Looking for Doris (The Tenth Bull 2008) and Han returns to Earth (Bodytao Imprint 2013).

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Above is my impression of the ninth-century tao sage Han-Shan.

In his time he inscribed his wisdom in the trees, stones and waters of Cold Mountain:

The final glimpse of me was when I disappeared through a crack in the rock, avoiding the official Lu-Ch’iu Yin who was sending food, incense and clothes to my two companions Big Stick and Pick-Up.  I left behind poetry written on bamboo, rocks and the walls of people’s houses.  I left behind memories of my wild hair, birch bark hat, patchwork robe, big wooden clogs and gnarled staff …“.

Bibi’s book “Han returns to Earth” developed over a period during which a wise voice counselled her from within, with poetic precision over the field.  Descending to visit her new book, Han-shan is the author’s companion of the Light. With compassion and humour, he observes from outside time the relationship tensions of 21st century human beings in North London –  an unobtrusive alchemical catalyst.

For a while, you could  ask Han a question on his blog,  I did, a few years ago. The reply was most helpful.  For now, if you want to know more about him and about Bibi’s work including Hashaq and the three books, go to her website http://www.bodytao.co.uk.

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This is my painting for the cover of Bibi’s earlier book Looking for Doris:

…  for her creative mentor Doris Lessing:

Doris Lessing

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In this post I planned a series of trees, rocks and rivers to accompany Bibi’s beautiful presentation of Hashaq.  But our old friend Han dropped in, and changed everything. I do hope you will visit him, as well as enjoying Bibi’s silent dance by the sea.

It is profoundly restful to replant the fluid spine and breathe the salt.

Mother-waters!  The goddess rises everywhere on earth.

Woman awakening in the night (2015) – detail

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Poem No.268 from Cold Mountain by Han-Shan:

Ever since I ‘left home’
bit by bit I’ve acquired an interest in nourishing life.

I’ve stretched and drawn back, making my four limbs whole;
with diligence listened, making my six senses complete.

My coarse woollen robe is with me winter and spring;
unpolished rice sustains me morning and night.

Today, earnest and eager, I practice,
hoping to run into the Buddha.

Translation by Robert G Herricks
“The Poetry of Han-shan –
a complete annotated translation of Cold Mountain”
(c) 1990, State University of New York

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Parvati waters Trees – Seven of Lotuses in The Sacred India Tarot Deck, copyright Yogi Impressions 2011

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My feeling just now is like Hashaq: silence. Indeed today Mercury stands still. The connection is full and warm.  It is like milk, it seems to stretch the perineum, a slight earthy ache of rootedness, of reluctance to do anything.   Nothing in all human knowledge and spirituality is fixed in rock. Nothing is the final or definitive version.   Time of attending may be a minute or an hour, it is all the same, it flows.  It is blessed.  It is the thanksgiving.  The angel’s Tantra lowers warm wings into Aquariel.  The silence of angel’s feathers!  The sensitive dermis inside seems to fill and to stretch.  Woman’s work is to stretch and to let it come through. Human fences of time’s duration and enclosure are irrelevant.  Be still and know I am God.  I am You. I am what I utterly do not know. Not knowing is now.

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Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeaquariel.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

Smoke on the Moon’s Face – an Elegy

So I go on working in our garden of essence
a bent and shawled old lady.

The truth of the child’s face
is kept alight, a sweet fertility beneath
the scar we grew.

Can two old people
in this way together burnt,
meet, exchange a kiss of peace ?

I do not know.  It is a private matter,
old as earth is round.  It is the core
of the apple.

In my ground the tree
drops fruit, and leads me
to the Secret centre.
“Go deep,”
you said,
Oh, my battered love !
“as deep as  you
     possibly can.”

Any place here
may be the gateway opening.
Around you, and our compost burning
love, my thought plunges and is still.

As I straighten in the ground,
the outlawed intensity of you
is beloved.

Walking by the tennis court, I heard
the players and their pocking balls,
and silently, the sea
ran down my face where the lovers played –
bodies of bitter years did devastate
this long enkindled moment.

The Lovers are bodiless.
The Lovers are where I drown.
The Lovers embrace,
and our life is their shadow.

The Lovers appear as silence
and every story merely points
to the moon’s face, where they embrace,
as smoke.

There is no need to explain
to anyone
why you are in my underground
the deepest shaft in London town.

By the tennis courts
near Haverstock Hill,
I heard the muffled
roar of a train deep down;

as bushy brick chimney’s vent,[1]
sunk into the Northern Line,
out-spoke :
by a shattered well
you sat and wept
and wrote from hell
 your sign;

Stepping out of my shoes, I
yet seeing
through your eyes, am blind.

From ‘Poems of Eclipse’ 1999

[1]In a recent excavation in Egypt, sand/topsoil was dusted away from tall chimneys which turned out to be wells.

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From Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet: (12 August 1904)

“I believe that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension that we find paralysing because we no longer hear our surprised feelings living.  Because we are alone with the alien thing that has entered our self; because everything intimate and accustomed is for a moment taken away; because we stand in the middle of a transition where we cannot remain standing.  For this reason the sadness too passes, the new thing in us, the added thing has entered into our heart, has gone into its inmost chamber and is not even there any more – is already in our blood,  And we do not learn what it was.  We could easily be made to believe that nothing has happened, and yet we have changed, as a house changes into which a guest has entered.  

“We cannot say who has come, perhaps we shall never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters into us in this way in order to transform itself in us long before it happens.  And this is why it is so important to be lonely and attentive when one is sad: because the apparently uneventful and stark moment at which our future sets foot in us is so much closer to life than that other noisy and fortuitous point of time at which it happens to us as if from outside. 

“The more still, more patient and more open we are when we are sad, so much the deeper and so much the more unswervingly does the new go into us, so much the better do we make it ours, so much the more will it be our destiny, and when on some later day it ‘happens’ (that is, steps forth out of us to others), we shall feel in our inmost selves akin and near to it … The future stands firm, dear Mr Kappus, but we move in infinite space.

“… Only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical, will live the relation to another as something alive, and will himself draw from his own existence …” 

Rainer Maria Rilke, 1904

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How essential it is to not resist, for it is what life is doing.  I don’t know the “completion” it brings in the future – so let the child breathe.  Be deeply in touch, not alienated into resistant drama.  Embrace it and open;  move with nature;  the mystery comes forth.

Within this quintessence is the woman who sings over the bones.  She needn’t tell or explain.  Just sing, murmur, like the wind, the sky and the rain.  Watch the flowers grow from strange collision.

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Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeaquariel.wordpress.com/

The Dogfight and the Swan

It’s a long time since I wrote or copied to here!  Welcome back, those of you who stayed around.    Aquariel is an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.   This blog is sister to my main one, and its original intention was to walk with matters of ecology and autopoiesis. My journal this morning touches on the ecology of the psyche which can help to restore the natural balance.  So alongside extinction-rebellion activists, here goes!

The billions of cells in the body and DNA; each has the fervent belief that he or she is the Master-key:  each expendable with the tides.  Yet each in term holds the miracle of the All Clear, the whole universe; and each has this opportunity to live and go deep and influence the lake, if she so pleases.

It is time for me to brush up my understanding of the DNA in the gene keys.  I tried to talk about it and synarchy last night at dinner, and my hostess said she couldn’t see how patterns of consciousness can be related to our DNA and my host said is there any link between psychology/spirit/emotions to the physical?  He can’t see it.  Perhaps he was doing a ‘challenge’ to draw me out.  Afterwards he said I spoke up well.  Towards the end when it was my bedtime and time to go, POOR OLD BREXIT raised its bleeding head, and Catherine said in her book-group no one is allowed now to use the B word because there are disputes even in that little circle; anyway they began to talk about it and loosely mentioned “civil war”.  So I went home.  It was too late to start on turning the thought-form around.  I felt slightly blighted.   However I saw clearly that thinking about Britex and contributing to the tangled web is not the way.  The way is: the English are unhappy.  I contain this deep painful lacerating unhappiness.  The English are having an illness, like the flu, a war of antibodies; a keep-out disease.  The country doubts itself and? … it will recover.  Recognising this is how to face the distress, lean into and be in contact with it day by day;  not with the useless analytical mind with its stethoscopes and searches for conditioned meaning – areas to poke, to blame or shame; and not with comfort zones.   Comfort zones are opinions and denials.

Our country is ill and in pain.  The pain is in the collective plexus.  Some of us are directly impacted by it; others are not. Go about our business.  I am a cell in the English pain-body which is doubting its status among nations and thus ignoring environmental messages.  Many demons run amuck and many white corpuscles rush around with their engulfing shields; huge coagulations and suppurations around the self-dwelt wound.  The wound is in my awareness and being present.

The normal reaction is to try to do something by thinking about it and therefore inflaming it further.  The uncertainty is the painful and warring factor.  The mind desires handles of certainty to grip.  Those become aggressive because they are uncertain. The Devil manufactures Certainty! – (as I was shown at Strumble Head in south Wales, over the rocks.)

The Hermetic “certain and most true” is far beyond the box and encircles it.   Let go of the coffin-carriers.  Temporal certainties are frozen slides across the film.  Aggression is prompted by fear.  To which do I turn my head and heart and hand – to the dog-fight or the swan?   I see both.

 

This is fascinating; objective; compassionate as the accompanying angel;  presence now. The notion grows to respect this collective in its difficulty;  its dissonance holds the seed of realisation and cooperation. Difficulty at the beginning (I Ching 3rd hexagram).  The country suffers the fruit of what it neglected in the passing generations. Each country with Pluto and Saturn at the plough in Capricorn, suffers its own kind.  The discontent is actually unconditional.  Germany with its good stable Frau at the helm suffers the same street hooligans and neo-nazis.  The fact is that the baby complains and suffers and is horrible even if everything in the government is relatively alright.  The pain and the protest is across all the boundaries indifferently, and in England the government now reflects this reality.

That is a sort of badge to wear with honour, for reality is being faced;  the chrysalis is cracked.  Do not die with despair like Leonard Cohen who could see just not quite far enough through the shadows.  See the way through, the way ahead, the stirring of the Butterfly.  Someone last night mentioned a butterfly which entered twice a crucial moment; the room opened.

The materialistic intellect turns down all the lights and only a heaving alienated metallic mass is visible.  I was asked to give an example of what I mean by working with one’s DNA in gene keys, and I chose my Evolution 62. It is called the Language of Light. Its  Shadow is the Intellect, the Gift is Precision and the free Siddhi is Impeccability; however this doesn’t answer the question and it is as impossible to as it would be for them to supply in a few sentences their entire Doctorate study, their whole life’s work, training and technical language.  I tried to explain turning to face one’s Shadow, discover the revealed gift, illumine it further and realise its specific enlightenment, and to say this is based on the 64 DNA codons, 64 I Ching hexagrams and astrology – who among them knows or cares anything about those?

So … my sadness is as usual the fact of dancing round the room the opposite way to everyone else.  My hostess put it in a nutshell: “Jane sees things in a different way.”   The idea the dinner party DID agree on, was that knowledge is beyond the box.   The DNA spiral helix and coding for instance is not for an instant, static.  Its basic curve alone might be determined.  The curve is a question mark.

For me this quantum field is enthroned with the I Ching Circle of 64 keys: a working orbital mode or mandala across the thread.   It is found to work in life.

I Ching 64 hexagrams/gene keys in the zodiac circle

The emerging thought is to cultivate WEARING MY LIGHTHOUSE WITH PRIDE.  Talk of it. Practice.  Be a teacher with it, here and there.  Let it come out.  Bungling gradually unfolds clarity.  Start to challenge.

I am in presence now with the extraordinary subtle upward waterfall of the DNA spiral helix of patterns which humans arrange in coded numbers.  The silvery singing uprising is within me and through all my branches.  I have this in common with every single organism in the world. It is my predilection to pick out a few of the energy-particles in pattern, name them as a system of numbers, identify them with my daily lifetime and “work with them.” I find this tunes me in, and my Shadow transforms.   The Gene Keys is a revelation, a kind of scripture.  It got written down through one man by a community of ancient wisdoms in cooperation.  The essence of the revelation is the Synarchy of the creative act; this now is at work to manifest experimentally in economic and community blueprint efforts, meeting the inevitable human arguments of status.   Semi-awakened and gifted humans are  difficult to work with, because we think we know it all.

family peaches – photo by Sarah Poland

The Revelation is as invincible as the belief in doom and gloom, but it has more penetration.  Doom and gloom transforms nothing:  Revelation upsets everything.  The subtle upward waterfall is Reality.  The subtle upward waterfall may be seized for an individual artist to exhibit, or it may expand and widen concentrically into the world scene to touch and ignite others.

Recently I saw the film “Wings of Desire” which deeply impressed me.  It is set in the 1970s, an angel’s compassionate observation among the humans both sides of the Berlin wall.

Deeply, compresent, is the Angelic entity with the human condition.  It has a special delight in being given sentience;  it is my Lover.   It walks with me, it fills my limbs, it loves the food and drink and the things which grow in the Tree of Life and the wet autumnal ground and these fingers at rest or making music on little black keys.  Since seeing “the Wings of Desire”, this solid aspect of the Magid clarifies to me.  You fill my body now with magnetic joy!

Magnets have great joy in attracting metals and in drawing patterns of iron-filings on the table placed above them.  The magnetic has great joy in the gentle force of the spinal attractor-field.  All the Beauty curves towards it like the grass when a zephyr breathes through a field of long hay

Angels are – in the quantum field – the patterns of cosmic law connecting galactic sunflowers and their black wholes to planetary consciousness, field-flowers, mice, relationships and other phenomena.  Angels are portrayed as winged beings, because their capacity is to be everywhere and in the smallest most intimate space: to be clothed in the ordinary.

The angel’s cosmic joy of being has a tonal severity relative to human perception – like those two solemn men in Berlin, in black and white.  When the angel is welcomed into the three ground-chakras Jupiter, Mars and Earth, the infusion includes now the private playful colour spectrum of being human, of dandling babies and welcoming lovers and going to the pub and enjoying the weather and grieving with the collective pain.  The Angel is privately and in utter fullness my lover, occupying me completely and with generosity.  In the film “Wings of Desire” the woman tells the angel, “With you I am even more alone now, to rest with myself.”  This is the sublime paradox of angelic intimacy.  The Angel desired the human self.  Human self is most deeply at peace in union with solitude.  The solitude is additional paradox, because it connects with other human solitudes in relationship and work, accessing occasionally the Core. The solitude is CONTACT.  The angel in his overcoat and the woman in her scarlet dress turned to each other at the bar over their one big glass of wine to sip, and no one could see them.  No one could see them, but the movie-goer!   Such is the private relationship.

In each other’s dark open eyes is the beautiful naked flaw of humanity, humankind; its trouble and its redemption.

At the dinner, I met a woman who is learning to talk to horses.  They are sensitive to human mindsets.  We talk to them by entertaining them with our facial expressions, yawn, move our feet. When I meet a horse, I breathe towards its beautiful great nostrils; we exchange our breath and it stays with me, curious.   They don’t necessarily want conventional pats and face-rubs, any more than a baby wants to be joggled when it is uncomfortable.  They like silent conversation and to swish tails and to taste one another.  Racehorses, thoroughbreds have a deep desire to be cuddled and caressed in the human psyche. They want to be held and comforted softly, tenderly, like children, for they are used and groomed for human competition.  The woman is learning about the therapy which helps them, holding a stiff joint or fetlock and touching it so it loosens and is soft – a-aah.

When I was eleven and a pony came to stay on our farm, I was so excited the first night I couldn’t sleep.  Before dawn I went out and crossed the silent yard and climbed over the gate into the big dark field, and I called her, and there was a light mist.  And at first I couldn’t see her, then she came from the far corner, trotting towards me whom she’d only met once;  my magic and my longing.  I gave her an apple or carrot; I didn’t have to chase or halter her.  I jumped onto her bareback with no string, and we rode around the dark field under the stars.  It was the miracle.  It was Heaven.

circa 1960, a drawing I sent to my grandmother

The dinner last night was cooked by Mohammed who lost his daughter to cancer at 22, and lost her mother too, at 30.  We enjoyed Persian lamb minced with walnuts and pomegranate molasses.  He shone and sparkled through his long beard and deep dew of sorrow and hugged us with lingering warmth, like the horses needing comfort.  He used to teach engineering, and he came the day before, to fix Aladdin’s wonderful new antique lamp in the porch to shine at night.  He has an allotment in Finsbury Park.  He built its landscape creatively out of discarded natural materials and planted there a flower which is not native to England; it took root and spread and is a glory.  His phone is full of beautiful pictures of his flowers.

So you see, it was special!   O angel.

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O Angel, 1987

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Yesterday I listened to Jaap van Etten (a Dutch ecology-scientist living and listening in Sedona) – and jotted down:

“Mother Earth has the answer to everything … coming from beyond our mental perspective.  The universe doesn’t have a frame within which to work. The natural world is silence, it is not in the sci-fi box.  We are habitually plugged into The Matrix of guilt and fear.  These belief structures have no innocence! – they are the belief that what we have done cannot be undone.  The fear holds the whole thinking community in its spell.  In the lower three chakras we have NOT been trained to deal with the world around us, and the frontal lobes of the brain only confirm what I am fearful about. 

“So, I’m going to re-train my system.  Never give up!  So I have a 40-year habit pattern to break?  Well, go for it!

“I can flip for instance my fear of public speaking into a positive communication.  I can harness the adrenalin into its functionality.  The problem to overcome is the chronic in-grown fear habit and its slow system breakdown.  Individual responsibility towards this raises up the collective.

“I teach metaphysical ecology – outside the box of religion, school and science.

“Every atom comes from and is Mother Earth.  How could I change anything without this system harmony?  All is connected.  Become aware. I am quantum entangled with tree, bird, horse, I, particle. 

“Think of the generations that are coming!  Doesn’t it feel like falling off a precipice to give permission to THAT?  What I feel inside is legitimate.

“As part of the whole, I raise everything.   I am no longer a competitive species.

(Like yeast in bread, fermenting grape in wine.  Like the ants, the bees, the starlings.)

Starling & murmuration – Image from allaboutbirds

“Most of us still follow competitive lizard behaviours.  The opposite to the dominant lizard is loss of fear.  Believe in yourself, your health, your gifts are needed; for this you incarnated.

Portrait of a pleased man 1987

“How can I possibly navigate something which is Out There?   The heart receives information before any other organ. The belly gets sometimes confused. Choose timeless quantum entanglement through DNA for reconnection.”

Jaap van Etten

 

ADONAI THOU ART GOD.  TAT TWAM ASI.  I AM THAT I AM.

Ganapat Muni gives mantra

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See also as companion posts:

https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/2019/10/07/the-rose-in-the-starfish/

https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/2019/09/27/philosopher-stone/

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Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeaquariel.wordpress.com/

Golden Sol Thread

Revising some older writings of ten years ago, I came across this, as it speaks to me today:

BOTA Lesson 14 “TAROT INTERPRETATION”:
Tarot square around 8

4    5   6
7    8   9
10 11 12

 

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“In quietness and confidence shall be my strength.”  Invariably obey what the Inner Voice suggests.  As my personal drama slowly erodes, the power of life begins to shine through, like a giant gem long obscured by river silt. This is the true meaning of the rock which moves!

AVE

I noticed … how the teaching and design is expressed through the centre Key, which influences the Keys encircling it. Key 8 in the centre awakes at once the interior peace which both eclipses and illumines her cohorts – they are just pictures.   The idea of a shield or enclosure disappeared.   The need to use words is replaced:   just look.

All occult and eastern teaching is aimed at:  quietening the mind.   That’s all.  In His strength is my peace– a Bible quote. Strength is Key 8, as visually and verbally suggested.  The quality of strength – as the Hanged Man has entered the picture – is without stress.   This quality is contrary to worldly angst and political way of thought: a revolution. Effort drops naturally into place.  Sitting down rather grumpy, and feeling the truth flow through me, frees me at once from my anxious vanities.  The truth is infinite, in every direction. It is a prize, yet inescapable! to be this function.  Writing doesn’t tumble through my mind.   It comes slow, phrase by phrase, for my Companions of the Light and I adjusted the dictating speed.   And I hear ISSA, and like Mary in the house of Martha, I no longer worry about how I’m going to get things done today!

The point at which the Worlds move through each other, is peace.

My real understanding is ahead of me.   It receives enough from the picture, which I don’t know yet how to spell.   And I need not spell, for it informs me anyway.   Now I am the pre-literate child.   Maybe, as children, we know far more intuitively than we will when school cages the lion cub in alphabets and sums.  When we learn to read, that dimensional and un-booked memory is lost.

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Yesterday – a conversation with George, a fellow poet. We worked right through ‘the Lens’ together.  I agreed with nearly all his suggestions for trimming lines and revealing the meaning more clearly.   Best of all, he – a linear mind – understood all the important bits.  The dimensional imagery is clear to him.   It “quickens” him eagerly.

This is what my poems and works are for – to interact and self-improve with others, and indeed to receive mutual strength of perception:  dialogue.  This function transcends the publishers coffin.   He reminded me that Coleridge and Wordsworth constantly improved each other’s.  My works are not set in the printing press.  They will always have small flaws. They have reached the point at which – like the limestone cave image, stalagmite to stalactite – a place of meeting happens.   This gentle interchange is STRENGTH.  From it flows a path of miracles.

The point at which the Worlds move through each other is peace.  It is my synthesized child perception.  It has no history, nor sense that day by day I shall improve.  It just happens and is.   I have toiled over all my manuscripts simply so they are available to meetings of the soul, and can go on being perfected.   The Stone of Life is in a constant asymmetry of perfecting.  How can my vessel be otherwise?  And how can my physical chamber be other than a semi polished rock?

The small flaw is as the child is in the grownup world.  I don’t want to tout an Inner Child – this seems to me rather naff.   The small flaw is my reality as an alchemist.   The synthesized child perception is the result of turning what I learned as a grownup back into the Yorkshire harebells – how I imagine my pre-school liberty.  At this point of meeting, the Philosopher’s Stone glows, the river flows, I grow, I grow wide.

I cannot do other than acknowledge this point.

With this clarity, the point – the fluid precious Stone which gleams like a star – has nothing to do with egg-on-face, narcissus or vanity, though these problems often veil it for a bit.   It just is.   As I realised long ago, Self-enquiry tends to dissolve mental construction.   Self-enquiry is a black hole into Star-hood – star-being, star-born. The unpublished literature of heaven, is full of Willie Maddisons and Richard Jeffreys …!

The point yet – as I write of it and from it daily – engages me continually in the task of words.  The human world is words at the moment.   I am human-embodied.  My writing leads me to the point, like a sentence to full stop.

The point where I am, IS.   My job is to tend the root.  Ta-Root. Tarot’s provenance into the neighbourhood is handled by the Elohim.

Instead of credo in unum deum, I could say thou art I am, or that thou art.  TAT TWAM ASI.  Thou art God.  This honours Hebraic and Vedic traditions, and has no box.

The law of the Sun is a photon-lattice whose appearance is stars – galactic stars.   The photon-lattice is a web.   This web penetrates the entirety of life, as interconnected filaments. ISSA as Jesus, walked on it as water.   Self-knowledge in the web makes a little pressure in it, which influences the photon paths around it.  I mean now, the inner photons of the astral airs which envelope and swirl around us.  We are not solid beings.   We are atomic receptivities, with inter-stellar space around each particle of blood, bone and flesh.   Self-knowledge in the web is a spider.   I spun my beautiful careful infinite web around and around, and here I sit, and sometimes a fly comes called George.   But I don’t eat my flies.   They fly from my web and they too are spiders and spin.   Look at the myriad mandala webs, each one a star!  This is how we are.  When they talk of the 36 LAMED VAV righteous ones encircling planet Earth with a golden net to defeat the dark brethren, they actually refer to these conscious strands – mostly unconscious – within each one, ourselves, under-earth.

Every single struggler carries the thread of gold.  The thread of gold is all of us.   Even in the shell shocked who are now feral thieves, murderers, religious fanatics and robbers of  wealth.   In them it is buried.  In them it is coffin sunk, but it is there.   Now, the golden thread is, in the Astral Light – the imagination of human nature – a coagulant.   It coalesces and essentially is projected as the Masters or Magidim:   the media of God.   For God this golden thread is.   Such ideas stretch my soul.   They are apparently few in number, but their compass is unlimited.

Detachment, objectivity and compassion, are traits which I highly prize.  Children do not yet develop these.  Thus, I am a synthesized child:   thus, is my aim.   In the everyday sense, I work at my detachment and objectivity, jettisoning the emotional tsunamis which have served their purpose.   Detachment and objectivity open a deeper delight and intimacy with life.

Thus, the white woman tames the red lion’s mouth and waving tail.

Annika and Aslan

The colour of this Key is gold – the secret of the works – and golden threads appear today as they do from time to time in my laboratory:  the seams and veins of the Sun within the rock – the Stone.   Taoist sages confronted with the immensity in their humble muddy lives, shrug and say “who knows?” – or nothing at all.  They go on crossing the Great River.   This moment in the world is unalterably transcending.

The moment comes independently of any surface condition or mood.

Simple inner silence with the beloved is itself orgasmic in a highly subtle way, the unending and unebbing power of the Sun.

I was shown a picture of the surface of the Sun – a detail of about 60,000 square miles.   It consists of billions of filaments of fire power, like waving hair, each “tube” is an entire landscape across, each one connected to every single other through the root.   Thus, we are.  Thus, we are the Sun’s action: and thus, the embrace of the beloved, and the sexual know how.  It is unending and unebbing, here this moment.    Tiny planet Mercury is a dot.

So much for the scienticks’ big bang which starts and stops a sentence!   Just one sentence in the Book of Books.   One sentence is what I and I and I travel along each lifetime, existentially equipped.

The intuition of the Sun’s threads advises me that there is more in human-earth’s apparent disasters than meets the eye.  Unimaginable resources are there to tap, and are in operation.  What we see is the collapse of a house of phantoms into Reality.  Cosmic law from time to time enters spring-clean mode and raises the dust.   Consciousness IS THE Sun.  Evil is the forgetting of life.

How close these words are:  forget and forgive.  One of those rather stunning paradoxes of relative pressure.  Forget and beget come from the same root, as do forgive and forget.  As evil is live in the mirror, it suggests that a principle was forgotten and became distorted and turned to lies.   This force competes with the power of the Sun, but only to a limited extent.   The way to meet Old Knickers is to laugh at him and turn his pentacle round:  then his bat wings fall off and the Archangel appears.  We all know how very difficult it is to laugh at ourselves in full spate, or at torturers.   Evil – in my perception as far as it goes – is a chosen obscuration of the light. This version overwhelms and destroys and fantastically wastes time and energy:  but there is no thing which is not God. The metanoia realises.

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The Great Invocation says “and may it seal the door where evil dwells.”  For door, read literally, mouth.  For the chosen form of speech to persuade, may manifest as evil.   To seal the door, suggests disabling the mouth which would harm, from speech, or from being listened to.

This week’s tarot Square and realisation is coloured by the Hanged Man who signifies Completion of the Great Work.  It is headed by the Emperor, in whom as Aries, the Sun is exalted.  He has the reasoning power.   The Hanging Man has the profundity of the submission.  Note:  both have their legs crossed in the same way.   Both form the symbol of Fire, and in Key 12 the fire inverts, turns blue and becomes the dew, with a silvery aureole.

Now this detail of the fire which flows and the water that burns, is itself the Whole – through the diagonal of 4,8,12.  What beauty.

(November 2010)

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Fragment from poem “The Lens”:

Drawn up into a
dark cave whose glory drop by drop
the rain through aeons carved,
as stalagmite to stalactite
my soul evolves
from floor to point of meeting.

Let us draw time,
draw together this space.
My flame drinks wick; in watered rock
my mirrored twin appears – 
mineral kingdom interpolates
vesica pisces, droplet rock
to drop deposit.

Not by earthly measure large, this chamber – 
by a candle illumined: a single drop, a sea.
In limestone cave the work through ages dark
as organs of our inner body, gleams.

Hollowing this Gothic sphere, I am
the ages’ hourglass – 
an instant yes, awakens sight:
the hallowing fire.

Credo in deum, tat tvam asi …

(From The Master’s Eye – 1992 – 2009)

 

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Asphodel, by Paul & Pam Markham

Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeaquariel.wordpress.com/

Falconer

Hooded falcon
released from the glove
is a sign of one in the great Work
who lives in the world.

We are tamed by our bodybonds,
relation ships and patterns.
This has to be.

But when the hood comes off
we fly and seize the prey

and bring it back to the garden
of the glove.
The glove of the Falconer
veils love.

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Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2018. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeaquariel.wordpress.com/