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