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.
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.
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.
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.
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/