Tarot Keys 8 & 1 & 9

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I did a Tarot reading last week by cutting my deck of 22 Major Arcana three times three, then turning over the top card of each pile.  This orderly picture was not what I expected to see, because I’d caught a bad cold and was all over the place; so I studied it carefully to find its higher message or ‘music’.  The first or centre one means Tifareth, with the Tree’s feminine and masculine pillars to the left and right.  Here is my reflection:

Key 1, the Magician (Mercury) wears a casual red mantle (Mars) over the inner robe which is white, and he gardens roses and lilies.  He conducts the force down from heaven to earth.  To his left are the tools – wand, cup, sword, pentacle – J H V H.  Above his head swirls the symbol of infinity.  If Amnesty is a kind of I-am-nesty, he is the One-nesty: an ‘intelligence of transparency’.  A turquoise snake girdles his waist to remind me of Key 13, the Reaper of life’s cycles.  Serpent symbolism is cyclic and regenerates itself. The circle round his waist and 8 over his head, combine pleasingly;  that which appears to be bounded (circle) is infinite inside.  Be planted in your garden.

The Keys – Hermit and Soul Strength – to each side of the Magus indicate what he is doing just now.  All three – representing the Kingdoms, animal, plant and mineral – gaze downward.  The Hermit stands on a snowy mountain top like a lighthouse keeper.  The Magus grows roses and lilies in the garden, while Mistress Soul Strength tames her alchemical Red Lion.  The Lion is our vital force, the Magus is our conscious self and the Hermit is All-Consciousness.

The woman with the Lion is a female magus – a lemniscate swirls above the flowers in her hair.  She wears the Magus’s shining white robe:  the loose red mantle of Mars is now the power of her Hermetic Lion whom she tames by opening his mouth for him to roar TUNEFULLY.  Binding him to her belly with a wreath of Magus roses, she is the higher Self/subconscious relationship.  Giving birth through the lion’s mouth, she is particular with the offspring she lets out.  She contains that power, like a breeze tossing birds on hilltop or green meadow.  Behind them is a wide open landscape for long walks, and in the distance rises the Hermit’s mountain; the lion frisks his tail.  The buttercup-yellow sky and background is (in Tarot) the colour of our sun or SOL.

Alchemy is called ‘the Sun’s work’.  It moves through and transforms our bodies, with what we eat, and pushes daffodil, buttercup and primrose through the ground.  Within the mountain the hidden veins of gold are ‘congealed sunlight’.

Annika and Aslan

The Hermit is ship’s mast, lighthouse column, SOLitude.  The staff he holds is himself: the rod with which our Magus brings down the light.  The Hermit IS ‘be still and know’.  His cloak the colour of grey rocks conceals pure light.  The lamp refracts and directs the beam.  In the dark, where the other two are in full sunlight, he is the maker of Light.  Light emerges through darkness.

The Hermit’s sign is Virgo.  (Magus is Mercury and the sign of Strength is the Sun’s own – Leo).  Virgo rules the dark labyrinth through which we process solar atoms into the blood stream.  He is seeing right down into his own digestive process, and he wears a YOD cap whose colour has feminine sensitivity – blue, like the priestess.  His hebrew letter YOD is the tenth:  it carries the same meaning as linga in Sanskrit – the phallus as a kindler of light.

Contemplate these three Keys, two of them sunlight, one of them night.  The edge of the Hermit’s key is Venusian green flecked with sunlight, like early leaves in spring.  Darkness generates that power of Light.  Any condition might be brought to realise so.

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Alchemists call our gut the Black Dragon.  Solar atoms (golden yellow) are diffused through its walls into the bloodstream by means of lacteals called chyle, the virgin’s milk.  Red and white ‘soldiers’ (blood cells or corpuscles) then travel to the various cities and castles (organs) around the body where they are required. The old alchemical engravings  are filled with these ideas.  We may value also the interior splendour of our bodies: the hidden rainbow hues, the cosmic integrity and balance of each organ, vessel, enzyme and cellular memory in its place, the solar pulse and flow of life.   Virgo keeps the SECRET things in order, like a secretary.  The Hermit’s cap is phallic and feminine. YOD the smallest letter in the Hebrew alphabet, is spermatic, a tiny fish: the seed of all the other letters.   Reflect on the fluid mystery of masculinity and the androgyne; they put the king and queen to bed together in the Hermetica.

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Conditions (and bad colds) pass, along with the idea of standing still in the flowery meadow;  another temporary adjustment to the tides of tempo:  a fruitful opportunity.  In the darkest part of the body is confected the light of life. Life is something to live slowly, because no matter where or how I am, it is full with light, sound, space and sensation. This open tempo prevails, even within an accelerated human topsoil.  I only have to stop and see and be it, and not be in a hurry.  It produces an almost imperceptible yet delectable manna from heaven.

Leo, Mercury, Virgo;  let these three add up to 18 which is 9, which always reduces to itself.   8    +      1     =     9

Astrologically, Key 1 is ‘Mercury’ wearing a red mantle of Mars – nowadays Mars is chugging along in Gemini, the sign ruled by Mercury.  Mercury changed direction last week in Aries (ruled by Mars).  It is now going Direct.  Mercury and Mars are in each other’s signs –  in mutual reception.  So is it surprising to see their clarity in the oracle?  What did surprise me was my transparency, because I felt blurred.  I think I had asked, ‘what’s this about?  What should I do?”

My ascendant (physical vehicle) is on the cusp Leo-Virgo;  here, Mercury stands between them on the cusp, in beautiful white, red and gold;  the signifier.  Mercury is the mental body, and its vitality; Mars the physical body and its regulation.   The Inner Plane or oracle reflects and advises the outer, and brings peace.  Make way for the Higher Hermetic Mercury.  He wears the Mars garment casually and he adapts the situation.  The Higher Hermetic Mercury is a healing staff:  Egyptian ankh, the Caduceus.

I find in my soul, a caduceus.  It is made from ebony or yew, and it has subtle powers of alignment.

The mental body  (Hermetic Mercury) is the template from birth for our volatile physical body.  From its constancy come needful repairs and healing to physical tissues; but that depends on what we identify with.  Many healers call upon the subtle template to assist them with repairs to the physical.  Jesus did, without even thinking of it.

Yeshua, loaves and fishes

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The highest Mercurial operation in Tarot is in key 6 the Lovers, whose sign is Gemini.  Mercurius within their reciprocal space sets everything in its place, like a table laid for God.

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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 2012-2016. 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/

 

Discoveries in Tarot and the Garden 2011 – Part Two

Karmic shape

I am dipping back into an old diary – see previous post.

22 May 2011 – Pentacle:  Dark Pennies and Victory Falls

AVE.  Some strong spiritual leaders of humanity “clothe their higher bodies with physical matter, by stepping down the vibratory rate of their personal vehicles. The greater number are men and women who came into earth-life in the usual way” through the birth canal.

(Quotation from Paul Foster Case)

Every one of us has the unfolding, dormant or active potential of master of humanity: magister.   Ramana and other sages relate to this, in each soul they see. The “grade” is omnipresent, for it is our true Self, and it is mostly unnoticed.

It is a remarkable thing to creep into the embodied arena through that tiny little door and fall into the storms, milk and wiped slate of babyhood.   Our deepest privacy is what we no longer remember, because our memory’s data base rests on learning to read. Before literacy, there is usually an awakening contact with the tribe of past lives, their fruition in this one – the magic of childhood.

The magi move with ease, when their bodies have grown up through the dramas of puberty and infancy.  Hold this impression:   the magister in me through a string of births: the oak inside the acorn: the presence of the magister in every time and place, is a lode star:   I keep returning to talk about it.

Warren & Ibn Gabirol

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My writing in the mornings consists of: spiritual contact, study and psychology – the daily application –  for instance, tales of the garden at Alum Way reflect for me in their textures and patterns of leaves, the contact of the deep. They do, because there is love going on there – enough to much amuse the magister: enough to ground the settlement: enough to reflect the law.   Human love is a servant to the transpersonal.   Instinctively, it makes me work hard and develops my dedication.

Yesterday I sowed the first grass seeds along the edge of the garden where the rubbish dump used to be – I knelt and stroked them into the earth. The man came along at that moment and teased.   In the evening we watch Grand Designs, following persons who build their dream mansions, and all the problems of construction, relationship and planning – a roof which turns out to be too high, etc.   And look at me!   My Grand Design in reverse, removed a mountain, and I end up not high on the roof but hands and knees on the ground, like this – smile.

RAMANA

Ramana used to say, when you dig a well, or realise your Self, all you do is remove what isn’t there.   All that stuff blocking it is space. For much of my life I fantasised Capricornly about building or creating some big thing bare handedly – it turns out to be this space, and it gives me confidence at various levels. Only with our hands touching earth do we realise the heavenly motions.

Yesterday I also painted both gates green – a brighter park-bench Venus green which the man bought and finds more cheerful: his instinctive signal to the Zombies (neighbours) – my green is bigger than yours – and re-organised the back “subconscious” wild garden, moved the tip-rubbish to the other side of its entrance, sorted out the woodpile/long lovely privet poles for fencing, and raked up the man’s grass trimmings.   The Zombies were busy trimming the elderflower tree by the street – they have plans for their little front garden; with their fear of the man, they use their back garden less.   I do not have the social skill to speak to them at present, but I enjoyed the feeling of them working near me: the Meerkat – who has turned blonde – sweeping up leaf-litter by the bins.   The man’s way with the Zombies is now quite sensible – keep distance: aloof courtesy.

Now yesterday – my insights from the garden clearance begin to dew – I jotted that it doesn’t matter to be wrong or mistaken. The magi too are constantly adjusting focus: like one who draws. The fixed fear of making mistakes is egotistic.

I saw when dozing the other day, an image of the Victoria Falls – there are pictures of them in Prof Cox’s universe book, a magical place of rainbows falling (of course) on himself – the fast moving flood tosses turbulent white.   On the brink, bushy islands or trees part the vast spill. I saw this too from a distance, like teeth and gaps, or silhouettes, and imagined myself caught on one of those tree-clumps between the thundering waters: identifying.   I flit like a butterfly by an abyss – cliffs of fall.   The subconscious distils to me the image.   The dark places where the trees cling to rock, along the wide white bite of the falls, shocked and awoke me.   Jung says “unconscious” material floats to the surface and shocks the dreamer.

Similarly: the patches of the finite – vibrant bodylife, and its moods and dreaming cityscapes – are pasted on the infinite. They – the silhouettes – are on a plane merged with the grey Infinite, yet distinct, like threads of oil on water. For some reason the silhouette being not tilted but resting in the plane, pleases me.

I swim in your silhouette, your shadow on the grass – a little pool.   Circles – pennies – of the soul that can lie a little overlapping one another as vesica pisces without invasion, are a  tender discovery. I don’t think it is possible in a relationship’s early stages to venture this, because too many karmic defences and compulsions are being processed.   In the early stages there is infatuation and quite a lot of psychic rape.

daisies shadow

Lay the coins – the shadow discs of the soul – together, move their edges over one another, then back.   The fish where circles overlap, is a fluid oval, and from it the Angel or the Child rises.   Relationship – as spiritual practice – is a field where the shadow discs quiver together like leaves in the breeze.   It is whimsical or it is conscious. The clean parting is as important as the merging.   That is why the Lovers’ hebrew emblem is ZAIN the sword whose tip parts the ways. It applies to partnership and to the binary relationship within my self.

(“And” is VAV, the Hierophant. This is because the hebrew letter VAV means a hook or nail – something that joins things together or bridges souls – and even signifies the grammatical conjunction “and”.)

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The shadow discs lie in the field, deep blue with night. One may look into the other, and empathise, withdraw, empathise. To speak is not necessary.   They throb.

Yesterday was not really optimum for planting grass, with the Moon in last quarter.   However my incentive to carry through, was strong  – the Moon in Capricorn, and Mercury, Venus and Mars in Taurus.   21 May, my daughter’s birthday, is also for me, a moment of the Magi;   they reveal their face.   The gardens – all earth, with some timber piles, a few new shrubs and garlanded with trees – are a beauteous space in readiness, an invitation.   This week is also the man and my 5th anniversary.   There is a curious and welcome spiritual relaxation – take it or leave it – with things.   Removal of anxiety is truth.

But see:   keep clearing:   pause in the inward turned writing, which is on a daily base repetitive, and be silent;   hear and see.   The world was rumoured to come to an end, yesterday.

The gardens are a lens, responding also to my meetings with Jung and Master R at a plain round table in a secret garden by a hedge.   At Alum Way, I am busy in the garden:   here at home I see and rest in it.

bota empress and lovers

Thus the coins overlap and part.  They are pentacles.  The pentacle is a yantra of the bare soft earth, that I tread level in a circle with my feet, for planting.  Pentacles are stars, five-petal flowers, and seals of Solomon;   pentacles are magic rings.  My ideas of circles of grass in squares of ground should not be applied too literally.   The magic gestures are in my writing:   the material and the plans are his.  I watered everything yestereve copiously with Marion’s hose:   but it rained a little anyway, in the night, and now the wind sings in a bright sky with leaves.

The rainbow waters of Victory descend through my flute.   This is Fall – the endless falling of the Light.   Light loves gravity.   Light is also gravity – curved as space around the spheres.   Gravity is endless and everywhere – the falling.   In some parts among the stars, it condenses locally and vorticises to black holes – the birth of stars. Black holes are old collapsed stars.   Their singular rebirth shines through the other side of the spangled cloth.   Stars are infinite, even though they die.   I am infinite, even though I die.   I see above the clouds:   my face is every where.   Is gravity the speed of light?

The lesson of the brown pennies lying in the field, is when I see into your dark with you; I rest with your reality; it is a mystery how we touch.

In the day, the sparkle in your face breaks mine in a smile: your eyes as bright and dark as a child; your bravery in the battle field: your cock and your crisp wit like toast:   your deep voice and will power in your chest and throat: your brown impulsive hands: your flaws: your broken teeth and smokers cough: your unfettered expression of your vulnerability: your emotional zest.

It is wise to keep distinct, my depth perceptions and the surface pools.   They marry and entwine in time – it is the hourglass of the stars.   Where I live as a membrane or sounding board, it is unwise to define too much. The circles on the water expand, contract, change shape to rods and amoebic globes, disappear and reform;   the five mobile islands where Hokhmah dips his hand.

VALE

Point, line, solid

Ah! a thought while blowing out the candle:   my present drift away from esoteric groups and ritual is because I am being assisted by the nature Devas whom I honour in the garden.   I’m glad to be reminded of the Devas.   This clarifies much, and puts the adventure in context.   The Devas spell out things of life very clearly, and dispel hobnobbing.

oak

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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 2012-2015. 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/