It is more than two months since I began the Master R series here. A lot of things were going on, in my primary blog: watching Krishnamurti, and concluding the Lotuses in the Sacred India Tarot Archive … and daily life in the pot.
Meanwhile Mr Master R cooks his precious stones; to invoke him is for me a threshold. Getting out old journals, I find a mass of writings on my alchemical discoveries with him, a decade ago. What to begin with? My notes are dense with theme and symbol. I shall start here with a few little poems I found, and with a thought on mantric sound.
It is rather a ragbag – perhaps to scan “musically”, with the right brain rather than the left, is best. Feelings, architecture and images which touch the soul before speech, are ancient music in our bones. At that time, Serapis Bey, the Egyptian Master, was an additional inspiration, so I quote from him here. The Maestri are one voice with many resonances.
On “Awakening” …
In medieval tapestry
a saint is preaching to gentle, plump lions
with worried dark eyes
to blink the sleep from themselves.
Spear tip probes
golden sun’s heart
through silver body,
released from the glove
is a sign of one in the Great Work
who lives in the world.
We are tamed|
by our bodybonds,
relationships and patterns.
It has to be.
But when the hood comes off
we fly and seize the prey
and bring it back to the garden, to the glove.
The glove of the Falconer veils love.
If I have ears to hear,
like the Stars brought close to the eyes,
On Master R’s Sonnet – (see the two previous posts)
With embryo in womb,
yeast and grain in the vine,
the Eternal alone calls the Soul;
the world knows nothing.
(The door is TAV, and in it flowers the Rose. Saturn is the root and door by which I give birth, parturition of the seed itself, all in one. As the Soul makes house “aux flancs d’une mere”, so in damp dark soil does pip to a grain grow bread in the vineyard. Saturn is the root, and Venus in the throat its calyx or flowering point.)
On the Magid
When Your consciousness
flowers down into mine,
I am Your destiny;
may You live for ever.
On the Sacred Labyrinth
Truth must be embodied and lived. The Hebrew letter TETH – or is it TES? is a snake’s head and neck uplifted from the coil around itself (triple cross) – like the ancient diagram for seed labyrinth oscillation. The great secret is to lift up the Cross, to raise the level from the plane to the Point or apex of pyramid. Everything from and as the Point is equal – equal armed Cross. See and experience the labyrinth not only as a plane, but as a dome, a vault, three-dimensionally.
“September 2003 – The other day I went on the Heath and visited the Governor Tree (it fell in the October storm of 1987.) He has enjoyed a restful horizontal burden of summer leaf, and increments of holly. On the shrine place near him, I found they are still leaving fresh offerings, and they left a poem there – whether to the Governor who stood so tall, or whoever … “
Farewell to Reuben
A grey metallic bird
will take me in its wings and carry me away
from you who has become
a butterfly in moonlight –
whilst flitting between each delight
tasting each flower
you lost the rose.
September 2003: Notes on Alchemy – The Hebrew letters RVGZ spell the Vibration of Archangel Mahael. The word is “wrath”, but actually means vibration. This resonates with Indian RAJAS, the desire nature, or red dragon. Alchemy works in the microcosm; the same Law operates macrocosmically. The Savage Dragon in the astral plane eats its own poisonous tail around into the Letter SAMECH, the Great Medicine of the avenging Archangel.
This morning, I glimpsed inwardly an angelic being with rainbow feathered robes – could be HERU, of tarot, or the Rainbow of Mahael. WATCH the angel of this power of incineration. Watch the Law, the balance of Jupiter and Mars.
To have an AIM means the courage equal to the aim iam. The Sagittarian Arrow is aimed into the rainbow, and turns into the circular Hebrew letter SAMECH (whose symbol is a tentpeg).
Courage is equality of the terrain in all things, don’t fuss, get on with it. Courage doesn’t talk or think or worry; it acts, quietly and steadfastly. The Great Tent or Tabernacle is held down by tentpegs. Whenever a tentpeg comes to hand, you use it. You draw a Pyramid, a house with joy, and see it constantly.
“Various events in the field of personal experience are found to be not only reflections of the One Identity, but also direct operations of that One Identity itself. Plainer than this we do not know how to write.”
Paul Foster Case
ADAM is our matter, and Eve, divided from him, the subtle from the gross to reflect and reunite, is the Soul. Eve is the High Priestess, the mirror, fertilised by the Magus in his garden. His white stalk enters her dark ground, and roses grow, and lilies.
“Subconscousness is the channel through which we receive instruction from above.”
Now the INNER SOUND begins to polish a facet which shines as AEOL – seed syllable of Elder Brother’s own dispeller of darkness. It is not easy to say ORONTA or AEOL out loud; they ripen greenly still, hidden within the pearl under tongue’s tip, and in the root breath behind my back. SOHAM, and OM TAT SAT and OM NAMAH SIVAYAH easily come out, they are known in the breath. Chant them, he says, use them. You can keep them right under your breath, under your tongue. But gradually my pearl condenses and clears.
We are not given these. We mine and find them in the mountains. They are our deepest star-being. They have a river sound. This is why AEOL is also AEON, and that describes what I am. I AM as AEON … the way God knows and calls me. AM and OM … A and O are sufficient to roll like marbles and play with, they are holy, wholly sound. “LO?”, he suggests also, and “E?”, and “LA?” … the Elohim. “HALLO” is even another! And “HALO”, which in hungarian háló, means “a net”.
You see, you don’t just select or adopt one, for “Hod” – the mind, in the Tree of Life – goes shopping in the conditions of the “world that feeds on the absence of clarity”. You find. It finds your string, and it draws the bow and it sounds. I wish Mr X could be happy. This just slipped in, remembering his love of clarity, and his exile, walking in mud.
My true wishes are not: “Please God wave your wand” but to be able to act. Else why am I fished by the Pyramid itself? The plan for Mr X to be at least happier, remains on its shelf, because the prevous attempts and outlines screwed up each time. It is impossible for countless souls to be happier than they at present are, because it is not yet their time to change. A far more useful attitude is “respect … without cleverness, their unhappiness”.
Some stones for polishing …
A and O are primordial in tarot, rota, torah, look up at the unimaginably distant stars, into that Swan flying along the Milky Way, and see if they somehow sing. You play with your marble, your sense of being, until it rolling, makes a sound, a music. OK. Let it roll. “You are souls masquerading as humans. Which one in your acquaintance do you dislike the most? Herein lies a key and therein lies the treasure.”
ASK AGAIN AND AGAIN … “What do You call me? What am I?” Be assured, that seed is known in these deeps. Roll out the ones, the little polished stones I like, and listen for which one answeringly chimes.
I see no mission to accomplish, for nothing stands in the way however long I live; already I ascend and am gathered, as are my cinematic concerns day by day. My Cross is the inner architecture of the Pyramid itself; its apex the rose. He rose from the dead. From the base line, the point arose. The geometry is naked.
“I am that part of you which seeks to hear the voice of God and truly listens for it. So I invite you to enter the vaccuum of silence as you can, when you can. And there go deep, go deep, go deep and seek to know what is your own sacred sound … find it, polish it, use it …”
I do not need to repeat in what manner this instruction is familiar to me, and what it awakened in this life. I light a candle to that one in the night. I let it burn gently in my soul, for his destiny. “Go deep, deep as you possibly can … and then return and record what you found …” Even if said unconsciously, it spoke directly from the inner Teacher, the thread snagged and was recognised. It is this Unity of things in life that stretched beyond the clothes on the washing line. It lifts from the line, the cosmic point, timelessly, rich beyond all nourishment … and the fish is hooked. “Clarity in issues is the lesson of the night.” I spelled the Egyptian word for Sun wrong, it is not AMUN RA, it is AMON RA! you see, again – and this sound is at present favourite.
The Practice: “Go to the centre of your own skull and see there the sun, the sun, the sun and allow your fears to melt as snow and merge with that inner sun, that great glowing endless being. This is a practice, a discipline if you will – perhaps one of the greatest you can perform consistently.”
And do this specially whenever over-wrought about the world, or when the dragon’s dying tail lashes despair. Do it when AFRAID.
Aquariel – an angel of the waters and of the air through the woods of life.
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