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/