B.O.T.A. Tarot Keys – Polish the Gem

lily in field & tower Rosicrucean Emblem 7

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Tarot is a visual and contemplative language:  the 22 Tarot Keys/letters of the Hebrew alphabet are living, sacred numbers.  Among various other meanings, the number 13 in Tarot spells the Hebrew noun EChD, Unity (1,7,4);  and also AHBH, Love (1,5,2,5).  On the long journey through life, the old concept of “me first” is slowly reduced through alchemy to “the chaos of the Radiant Darkness.”

What is this radiant darkness?  Old alchemists called it the raven’s wing, in which they saw the constellations, as on a starling’s breast.  For instance, when I “allow, accept and embrace” my shadows, I begin to fall apart.  I perceive within them, the unfolding light.

I feel something of this transition and its effects as I am guided nowadays to ‘be more for others’ – which is physically tiring and time-consuming.  The Great Work enters the world with commitment, confusion and love.

Alchemically, the new conception is Key 19 the Children of the Sun, whose neighbour on the Cube of Space is Key 13, Death.  On the Cube of Space, Death holds the southwest corner edge between the Children of the Sun (south) and the Wheel of Fortune (west).  Death (ruled by the scorpio force) suggests movement, transition, regeneration.  Without the harvest, the death of the old, nothing new can grow.

Cube of Space map cube of space

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For more on the Cube of Space, visit the Builders of the Adytum, http://www.bota.org

Each event is a point on the circumference of a sphere or wheel, continuous with all preceding and with all which follows. “All space is full of the presence of the One Thing” (Paul Foster Case).  The universe in all dimensions, is a seamless robe – the One Thing’s holographic extension through the detail of time and space.

The sum of numbers 0 +1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+10 is 55, which reduces to 1.  The sum of 0 – 13 is 91, and the sum of 0 – 19 is 136: the digits, 91 and 136 reduce by addition, to 1.  The series 1,4,7,10,13,16,19 are all numbers which reduce by theosophical addition, to 1.  For this reason, they are called “Monad numbers”.

When you or I discover for ourselves that the power of the One Thing fills all time and space, the nightmare of personal separateness is destroyed and the world is changed.  Change starts from the heart’s cave, and radiates onward with a subtle “domino” effect.  The turning wheel (Key 10), the lightning flash of awakening (Key 16) and the reaper (Key 13) symbolise the One Thing in process: it moves.

 

Tarot keys 1, 4,7,10,13,16,19, are the MONAD. Then study the Magus, Tarot Key One.  He isn’t “doing anything.”  He concentrates, and at the same time receives.  The intelligence of Transparency flows down through him into the garden:  the roses, the lilies and tools on the table of life.

bota key 1 Magician

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I got some flavour while writing of the ONE THING, of a feeling which is gentle, it is neither conventional nor much noticed by social radar.

The other day, I listened to my friend tell his disabled beloved, that the love and power of God is a dimension flowing through him to her, and into the struggle she has to face. All of it is worthwhile, in their life. The acceptance sets him apart from the mainstream.  Each thing he does for her, takes care.

lily in earth Rosicrucean Emblem 7 -

The inner truth permeates all things, and at the same time it is set apart, like a lily planted in a garden pot in a field.

bota lovers 6

 

In the Lovers, Tarot Key Six, each fact of life is illumined and discerned.  The symbol is Hebrew letter ZAIN, the blade of a sword which “parts the waves”.

Unity is not soup. Unity is the unique nature of each phenomenon clear and distinct as the One. The One is all – the All-one.  The seed to be fertile, is parted:  it divides into two.

I am polishing life-given opportunities, which are gems. To polish each gem which life presents, is to serve the whole. Regard each phenomenon and feeling – including the blackness of the raven’s wing – in this way!

 

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And … who is doing the polishing?

Ring on table Emblem Roscicrucean Emblem 9

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The Mystery of Master R – Part 4: a Jewel

Here is an unexpected and unplanned post today, touching on Master R in the series.

master R oval

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map of the interior cube of space, whose outer faces and corner edges add up to the 22 Tarot Keys.  The Emperor's path (vision) is the background north-east corner edge.

map of the interior cube of space, whose outer faces and corner edges add up to the 22 Tarot Keys. The Emperor’s path (vision) is the background north-east corner edge.

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So!  The Emperor, north east corner edge of the Cube of Space, heralds and opens up the hidden interior diagonals.  His path on the Tree of Life joins Hokhmah Wisdom to Tifareth, the beauty of the Self as consciousness.  The life force, Hokhmah, unites with the creative power to generate images – Tifareth;  and the Tarot Key for this is 4 – the Emperor.

Ez haim - tree of life

The imaging through ALL the senses, not just visual, is generated by the Ruach, the life-breath in Tifareth.

Interior temple

Interior temple

It is the conscious, vital energy of my tide of life.  The principle in the root of the breath, produces mental images.  Why not make observing this, my hobby?  Why not watch the waves?

Maths and musical notes are images.  Imaging is the transfer of  a correspondence of any kind.  Some souls have an old faculty to materialise an image with no development in time and creation:  it is as if ready-made.   Mediums do it via psychic ectoplasm – a condensation – but few of them understand the process.

Jesus by galilee

The miracle of the Loaves and the Fishes with Jeshua – he is at a distance, his back to the crowd, here –  fed a multitude.  Peter walked on the Galilean Sea towards his faith in the Master, like a toddling child.

Permanent precious stones or tokens are produced  – like this one I have here ;  I witnessed it come forth from a medium.   I showed it later to an alchemy teacher, who told me that one day it will de-materialize, it will be re-absorbed; but it hasn’t yet.

1 stone on wood

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It was given to me in 2004 with a message from the medium, about skin-tissue repair/collagen and advice to attend to my love-life.  (Done, I guess.)

It nests between the lovers in a yabyum statuette in my room.  It is transparent, an almost eggish shape, cut in irregular pentagons:  it has a faint yellowy orange tinge, it catches and throws back light, like a drop of water, and I love it.   Of all the weird wacky bright sharp stones and crystals, huge and small, which the medium produced on that peculiar day in early 2004, this one is the best.  It was offered to me when all the showy ones had been given out, like I was the last, and must pick up what is left.   I love it.  The stone of the Philosophers, takes into itself all feelings and shines like a drop of dew.

yab yum

yab yum

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Who cut and carved my stone?   For sure, the medium didn’t put it in his mouth.   It came out.  It was regurgitated with all the other stones and jewels, after his mouth was un-taped.  There was no spittle, as he heaved and brought them forth.   They dropped out into a towel on his lap – bright sharp gems, many of them rather glossy.

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Someone’s thought, somewhere cut and carved this little pebble, for it to pass through the subtle planes – which are transparencies – and find its home with me – my one token from that seminar in Montreal.   Master R teased me with alternative versions of Saint-Germain (his alter ego), but the fact remains:  he is a jeweller, a Master of materialization through the planes, from subtle to gross and back, time with space, as in sub particle physics;  the  dense:  the diffusion:  solve et coagula:  the Heisenberg principle of position or motion:  the cool adept –  O cool traveller.

A faceted pebble receives and reflects back Light, quiet and still.

It is a wonderful lesson for me, to see the material and its dematerialization back and forth.  I understood that nothing in our physical world and state of affairs has more permanence than a cloud.   The Master – the adept – travels between the planes.

I love my stone because it hasn’t an atom of pretentiousness.  It is irregular, and cannot be set or exploited.  It is not even regarded as valuable.  It is a drop of the sea.  It is I AM.

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Arcanum 4 - The emperor

Arcanum 4 – The emperor

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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 2012-2013. 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/

Ursa Major Solstice

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red horse & rainbow 2008

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At my cher ami’s house, I enjoy reading the paper, and in the Daily Mail was an article by Ken the Corrie star, who happens to be a Druid – about 12.12.12 last week, and how everything is going to start getting a little better from now on.   That in itself is a polar flip-flop!  Ramesh and his students used to discuss the Flip-Flop of the Understanding – the backfiring and re-start:  the inversion.

cosmic consciousness

cosmic consciousness

All alchemical experience suffers some psychological inversion – the crossing over of left and right brain to see and interpret;  the ventricles of the heart;  the rocking of the boat.  Hold too tight to one side, at your peril.   The psyche must be sweet and supple to duck the swinging boom.   Illumination – then dark night of the soul.   Then Light again.   Day and night …

A polar bear
jumps in the air and
lands the other way round.

Ursa Major - "I'm sitting on top of the Word" - clapton/cream

Ursa Major – “I’m sitting on top of the Word” – clapton/cream

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I went in my cher ami’s garden yesterday.     It is all bubbled over with wet brown leaves and little things growing.  The Buddha whose photo among the flowers and ivy has glorified my Sacred India Tarot posts, sits forlorn and grey next to the white dead litter of the nasturtiums – all fallen by frost, from the bamboo which is left quite bare.  We salvaged the garden a couple years ago, from jungle and a decade of rubbish tip.  We cleared all that away, by hand and reached the ground.  It is a green oasis in the woods near Henly’s Corner, and a redbreast robin dances.

red horse dream 1986

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My magnetic treasure for Today is a compass. It continues to educate me and show me my direction.  No direction is sure without the necessary pain of life to prove it and keep it shining in every sinew, bone and feeling.   That little miracle shining in its fluid, points always to the north and soothes my feathers to be a seal.  Value what “Mr V” left me, and what I work with, to this day.  The current which passes between souls is far more significant than the charade of their transgressions.

The Compass in its circular frame is a little steering wheel, left and right, subconscious and self conscious, with the centre remaining steady:  the Tree.   Navigation by the stars.

So descend with it through my House, the memory of the stars;  the vast Night within the passing day-cloth:  the starling’s breast.

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Second birth - breaking through the caul of life into the Laws of Creation: an old Kabbalist engraving

Second birth – breaking through the caul of life into the Laws of Creation: an old Kabbalist engraving

A Kabbalist meditation last Monday – I go out into the night.   There is a village nearby.  Some houses are built on rock and others on sand.  There is a body of water not far off, for the place is a shallow valley, with stands of trees.   It is night, so I don’t see much, except the lamp light, and the mystery of the unlit fields as I cross them to the higher place.  The higher place is a scarp overlooking the scene, and its old pathways.  Look up:  the sky of stars again.   Look toward my distant house:  one light in it, a star.   I know that star, even among other stars scattered around it.   I know my lode star, my Compass in the night.  Merry Yuletide!

Arunachala Self enquiry

Arunachala Self enquiry

I wake this morning with deep peace, the stretch of the sea.  It is said that we glide along the tipping point of an alignment of immense galactic vortices as a wheel of time completes, and a new-born spiral curve arises like a swan.  I had guests last night.  They said we are receiving more magnetic influences from galactic centre (dark, because unknown)  than from our native Sun, at the moment.  This is due to the alignment resonance, which just begins to educate us.  In Kabbalah it suggests we are getting more from Daat, than from Tifareth on the Tree.   It is powerful stuff.

That is why humanity finds itself so hard to deal with.  In this space of time, we learn to align, but during this process there is alienation, dis-ease, social and family breakdown,  and the obsession with astral demons and with petty regulations.   The immune shield of earth and human is confused and compromised. There is ecological fracture and climate change.  There are gun psychoses, and civil wars.

The vast turgid current IS the Light – even a black hole is nothing but the light, the birth of a star from an old collapse –  but its impact on our imagination is at first turbulent and dark.  The shadows are our projection in front of Daat.   It is said that the Maggidim, the Companions of the Light, are closer nowadays to our physical plane than they have ever been – it is all in the way they nudge and touch us inwardly.  The Companions of the Light never tell us what to do;  they reveal principles, the way things work, so we decide for ourselves.  As we calm down about it,  life flows on, as the tension drops away.   Most things we fear are manufactured by muscular tension.

The disturbances of humanity and climate during these decades are inevitable;  they are pains of growth at tipping point.   It takes dedication to keep remembering Tifareth – the native Heart consciousness right here – as well as Daat, the unknown cognition, the Union of all things.

With Dubi on a cornish beach - ja 2008

The other night, I saw in a brief vision as I crested a hill, a landscape with a boil of smoky black clouds, with the light churning through them, as the morning broke.  It grew lighter, rising up, an immense dynamism.  In everything, through Him, with Him, in Him  is the light;  and “He” is Gaia, She, and all our children.   I was walking in Taunton (my teenage years) towards school, Bishop Fox’s, with my cher ami’s white dog Dubi;   like The Fool, Key Zero – the Alchemist of the Tarot.

This post is written in a hurry, as there are things to do today, besides sit and listen.   I shall probably add to it.

dervish

dervish

xmas card text - Version 2

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Wishing you merry Christmas, a warm Yule log, and many beautiful dawns in 2013 and in all the years to come.   With Love … and Gayatri Mantra.   A fellow Capricorn just came to the door;  and he is singing it!

om bhur bhuvaha swaha
tat savitur varenyam
bhargho devasya dhimahi
dhiho yonaha prachodayat

“Let us meditate on the divine light that represents God, and may our thoughts be inspired by that divine light.”

Maha Maya time

Paul sat there singing it, while I swirled my skirts and danced.  He is wearing this …

with this on the other side:

Maya time reverse

… and in my kitchen there is this:

sphere compass crystal lamp

sphere compass crystal lamp

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and this is my Xmas card of little drops of Time like rain …

PaulDrops of Time on water

… from Paul.

For elevenses, we went in my room, lit a candle, opened the Tree of Life, celebrated our beloved dead ones, who are very much alive;  chuckled, and sat still.   The world obligingly ended.  The room filled with a feeling presence so white and quiet, the mind couldn’t move.  She stood still and received …

O happy Day.

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11. rose

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

Link to my primary blog, because of similar theme at present:

janeadamsart

janeadamsart

COPYRIGHT – All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. 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/ 

Heart Drop, the Lineage Tree and Time

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This post begins with two oracles or “moments” in early December, for the Solstice.  The three cards are “present”/centre, “past”/left and “future”/right.

 It is also “sewn together” with my recent posts Sacred India Tarot Buddha 8,9.10 of Pentacles, Today is a Special Day and Bardo – a Buddha Atom Awakes on my primary blog. Here are the writings and reflections from my journal, behind them.

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Tarot oracle 3 December 2012

Tarot oracle 3 December 2012

12.21.6 is the pure hexagonal movement of the Seal of Solomon, my universal heart key.  The 6 is half of 12, i.e. the date.  Add the three numbers, they are 12

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Seal of Solomon Cubed

Seal of Solomon Cubed

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Secret Dakini Oracle, 7 December 2012

Secret Dakini Oracle, 7 December 2012

The Heart Drop and the Lineage Tree fulfil the beauty.  The Heart Drop is a landscape of silver rippled sand, a buddhist stupa and a ruby.  It is in the tantra vajrayana tradition. The mind stops and enters yabyum.  The Rainbow Buddha is in the Tree of Life.  And Time’s wheel strikes the moment.

Oracle of solstice.  Ora, oasis of solstice.  This is profoundly real, striking the ora, hour, the moment through the clock’s face in the Real Aquarius.

Alignment flows the ease of being.   The force is imperceptibly vast, like gravity.  It seems likely that  forces arraigned against it, suffer an increased violence and implosion.  The core through evolutionary crossroads, is uncompromising.  The root of the uncompromised, is … to Align.  Turn.  Submission. The Merciful.  There are stars at night in the sands.  The resistance is the old tribal vendettas and their murderous sentiment, brother against brother, civil war, humanquake.

What about the true Islam, invisible behind the televised tension?   I … am.

View the present crisis historically, as a fence, a hurdle of an old world with the new.   Solar atoms pass through it, like the current through the Buddha’s enlightenment.

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13 December – in Nether Stowey, Somerset

My mother drew my attention to 12.12.12 yesterday, being absolutely unique and unrepeatable, as there is no 13th month.   So I did a piece on my blog about this – with some difficulty as the signal/internet dongle here comes and goes.   Discovered it is strong in the morning, and gradually deteriorates.

With my cher ami, I have decided to stop trying to get things right, and certainly not to worry when I don’t.  That just gives power to him and makes a loop, which he doesn’t want either.   Nobody can be exactly right with another person.  It’s just a fantasy, and a deconstructive one.   This is a good realization.  I always tried too hard and got entangled.   Human beings are not “right”.  We are just the way we are.

It is very cold in Nether Stowey, and I am having a good time with my parents, both nearly 90.   Ah well now, a morning moment … the quiet.  Lord thou art God – the Rose:  the infinite moment inside the beautiful 12.12.12:  my Tarot oracle 12.21.6  –   Hanging Man inverts the World-way, and becomes the mutual understanding of the Lovers.

I am looking through the window, a skylight in a roof.   I will not give power any more to other peoples’ opinions and closed houses.   I accept them as they are, alongside the way I am.

I played some Bach on the piano, and I begin to remember Vera Moore a little.  What she gave to notes and music lessons, was love, of a specially irresistible kind.  I felt her loving presence, transcending every mess of humanity, in the muse;  her voice, her laughter, her authority, her magnetic sparkle.

This moment is her receptacle.   A sort of painting of her is inside me.   I don’t know if it will happen.  The moment of settlement is complete in itself, and all-extending.

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Quantock Oak

Quantock Oak

14/15 December – The Ravening Curiosity

The devas are joyful, come what may.

When I was in the Quantocks above Nether Stowey, I moved at a fast lope down Bincombe because it was very cold.   Through the soft brown autumnal drift of crisp leaves, my hips, knees and ankles danced loosely.   All the small oaken witches danced.  I became suddenly the silence.   The silence of the wood sings in the blood and the bones.  It is utterly quiet in the valley, as the descending waters begin to flow in their leafy bed.  Further down, they arise through the ground, they sing and sound.   Water is a miracle, the movement of the Stone, water of life.

the waters

I’m reading a book Into the Land of the Snows.  It is by Ellis Nelson.  It describes in one mountain scene, the exposure of a dead human to vultures – a Sky burial.  The organs are taken out, the bones crushed and mixed with meal to make the feast clean, complete and appetizing.  Life is renewed in death – another human gift.   After reading this, I felt the iron piercing cold of the Himalaya, and the strange bastrikas which generate heat and keep the monks warm up there;  and there came over me that purity – far from the ravening curiosity of the mind.   In the stillness I see the shallow, ravening curiosity of the mind, for what it is;  the trouble we all share and subscribe to.   I am stepped just aside a little.  I become the enigma of rocks, of valleys. Round yellow disks of the Sun – chakras – are placed on sensitive parts of the earth – my body.

Ramana’s presence bestowed peace – the felling of the curiosity.  Buddha’s presence bestowed that same vital, ringing peace.  Both carried their great quest through death’s door.   It is night.  I am back in London now.   I am in bed and I hear the sounds of feet in the street and a distant fox yelping, as pulses without time.   Solstice draws near – a solstice which tenders an infinite silent Life, the polar axis, a simplicity of being.   There is an alteration in our composition.

The opportunity – in the atomic core of sinew, blood and bone – steps aside from the ravening curiosity which suddenly, subtly, is viewed objectively.   The everyday mind is a ravening curiosity – my human curse and cross.  As soon as it is seen, it is no longer so.  Or it remains, out of habit, but compassion permeates it.   Let it be.  It seems to slough, like an old snake skin.

Dancer

Dancer

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The Buddha in Sacred India Tarot  Disks 8, 9, 10:  the teaching and the maha Samadhi and the Bardo – see my other blog.   It is all linked, like the trees in the wood.

Buddha and Ramana, and all great sages, gathered crowds of devotees to their death.  Maybe Jesus had witnesses other than the gospel scribes, who watched him pass in deep peace, and came away with that;  but no one read or canonised them.  This is quite a thought;  that the death of Jesus was not an agony. 

The deaths of Ramana, Buddha, Jesus, demonstrated an exquisite eliding of the planes of life and liberation.  Their deaths were seamless with life.   We attend a death as we attend a birth;  the sliding water in the woods, the kites that soar in the sky, the atomic interchange of consciousness.

Some of my stories of the Watershed contain kernels of the unending Life.  In one of them, the living white sunflowers ate the dead ones.  (The story is at the end of that post.) A blue radiance came in through the window, and played around the noumenon.   Seeing something like that just once or twice, changed my body’s depth-expectation for ever.

Lovers

Lovers

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Insight last week:  in the capsule and story of me, I don’t perceive the truth of a person or of life.  Same-ways, in the collective human capsule, how can our magnification of ourselves and guilt  perceive truth?  The truth is simpler than the pain we believe and measure.

Wisdom residing within our soul’s atoms unconsciously, and in just a few places awake, perceives the cosmos.  The cosmos is what we are, as we wake from the dream.   It is bound to be rather a surprise.

Solomon's Seal and Flower of Life

Solomon’s Seal and Flower of Life

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15 December

My mother’s piano is tres sympathique.  It was easy to imagine Vera Moore sitting with me, and what she would say about this note or that note, wrapping my fingers round it like a baby in a shawl.   I remembered her way with poetic images, and her LOVE.  That is the magic – her love.  It makes me want to go on playing, and keeps me focused.  I remembered her instruction to play what I am learning, like a chorale, without any inhibitions – sing it inside, with the touch.  I shall put that postscript onto the MusicLessons with VM.

The young Vera

The young Vera

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This is the time of the slide through solstice tipping point, which means different circlings to different soul types.  I hear its simple silence through my antakharana valley.   I am sleeping badly.  I think this is due to an intensity in Yetzirah generally.   The stillness stretches time – re-mind it under the “ravening curiosity”.  It is always slipping through the valley.   It never ends.

Today I have to do a Buddha SITA post.  I shall parallel it – link it with last night’s piece, here.

I got a little download this morning, but didn’t manage to write it all down.  The voice said “You know I would wish you to.  When you have piano lesson, take your jacket off literally, and listen.”

There was something important before and after this, which slipped away.

The flavour of the woods, the winter ground, the wet leaves and thawing frost is the Buddha nature flowing through, and in my black “snowdrop” diary of 1988, is the bit about the passing lorry-cosmos – my actual “enlight-in” … drop some of that into the new SITA post.

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My parents, the old people, still young at heart …  this is sad.  Their door closes.  They are conditioned to see ONLY the mess which humans have made of things, and the inevitable demise of the race.   I feel this is but a point of view, as I am consistently made aware of other wavelengths, other views.  The endgame AND …  the endgame contains something quite other which prevails, through that dream.    “All is happening as it should.”

To be a Kabbalist is rare.   My father is rather closed and opinionated in his way – at nearly 90.   Pessimism.  My mother has pessimism, some of it rubbed off from him;  but she has a child inside who still wakes.   His connections are intellectual.  He worked on himself magnificently, all his life: Jiddu Krishnamurti was his teacher.  Hers are organic, and spark me off.   Anyway, I am so glad I spent this time with them.   So are they.  And we remember the older generation behind them, as we pour the whisky and wine.

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Swan to be born, and Camel

Swan to be born, and Camel

We watched a film called “Weeping Camel” about the Gobi Desert nomads, and their tenderness with child and beast.  They used the wind’s note through a stringed instrument to awaken a shaggy young camel’s maternal instinct to her abandoned calf who cried.  They caressed the mother, while drawing the bow across the strings, like a mantra, to the exact vibration of the wind. It was a lullaby.  In those wild parts of Mongolia, they use their vocal chords in this way too.  She allowed at last, her homeless  calf to suckle, and the bond was born.  The camera team gave a TV and a disfiguring satellite dish to the family’s small son, who had seen one in the town, and begged for it.   Progress is paradox.

Cosmos – the God-cosm – is rough and hard when we struggle against it, and gentle when we move with it.

During those long, slow breaths with the camels that evening, my childhood Himalayan hero died of a ripe old age in France.  I found this out, two days later.  I am growing up.

See again, the Sun’s silent veil of vibrant life;  the pattern of the cloth upon the deep.

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School photo, 1955

Swing & School photo, 1955

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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. 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/ 

Move to the other side of the Hermit’s Face

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The Hermit:  key nine of hermetic Tarot

The Hermit: key nine of my hermetic Tarot

This morning has a deep gentle calm on the open sea.

The other day it occurred to me, to step round the Hermit’s Ba bird, and gaze up into his face, his dark eyes, his lamp with the Seal of Solomon.  This is the light of stars, and also the inner light of man.

It is as any other face, a little wider than expected but … to face him thus, seems to cross the bridge between brains right and left – the walnut.   The Hermit is consciousness, and I approaching from his left, am subconscious.  As I step round to look up into his face, I align with his intuitive side.  There is a taste of bread and honey.

I stepped round his Ba and his staff into the cave which he is:  his own in-turned, heartward contemplation.  I look at that.

It is like glimpsing the Furnace of the Universe.  The galactic wheels, cauldrons, stars and fires throughout the Universe, turn.   Within my spine I slowly turn, like the neck of a swan:  axis mundi.

“Daily practice of the thought that the personal life is directly guided by a higher intelligence, daily remembrance of the truth that nobody can do anything of himself, daily endeavour to approach all conditions and circumstances from this point of view – these are the fundamentals of the training which makes us true possessors of the power of the Hermit’s path of wisdom” …  and its contentment.

Paul Foster Case

Human life evolves by the play of contrasts.

Goddess with swan - A childhood drawing, circa 1956 - probably copied from Leonardo

Goddess with swan – A childhood drawing, circa 1956 – probably copied from Leonardo

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“From intellectual recognition of the true nature of the central Self, to perfect identification with the cosmic memory … the cosmic process is meditation – the meditation of Kaivalya, ALONE”

Paul Foster Case

Sacred India Tarot 6 disks, buddha's enlightenment copy

The Life Power that All is One …  is alone.  I feel this flow through my veins, as well as the resistant personal stuff.   Where would flow be, without the dark bits to move along? … wave and particle.  In my picture of the Buddha’s enlightenment, that wave flows across it, with its bits of grit and song.   We feel its direction through us like the Dust in His Dark Materials.  We feel the soft seamless glide, guide and shift whenever we slow down and hear.   Whereabouts do I select to identify?  Or is it by blind habit?  The dial is given me to tune and turn.

Nowadays circles with dots in the middle have gone out of fashion, and it is by digital finger-tap up or down – little columns – that we adjust the wavelength.   Use whatever illustrates the principle best.   The dial is satisfying, employing the ancient delicate skill of thumb and forefinger.   Digi-technology begins to atrophy this.   Finger is gone – it is all thumb, like a growing ape, with much wider guidelines, a kindergarten primer.  Even the wheel is going slow – with more people sitting at home to travel and rove.   We have buttons on our brows.   We browse.

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The Perfect Law has Beauty for its foundation.  Eliphas Levi:  “black magic is organized madness.”  True magic is in the Will – an intense, expectant receptivity.

The Hermit Squares the Circle.  This means the divine circle, the sphere of cosmos, submits to its expression on the little ground – four compass directions + up, down, and becomes a map, a terrain.  A Mandala sits in a room, and its opposite numbers breathe together through the open Cup at centre.

A recent group work, with all the participants facing each other.  Each represents a Path, a Sefira, a Zodiac and a holy animal

A recent group work, with all the participants facing each other. Each represents a Path, a Sefira, a Zodiac and a holy animal.  See Mandala – a Demonstrated Democracy

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I know in my own mind, that primitive magic and modern science-theory are bedfellows. The passionate tension to prove or enforce a phenomenon, feels identical.  For instance, in straight psychology, the effort of mind to square a circle literally, is no different from attempting to command the laws of nature.  I used to fiddle around to prove things, and get overwrought;  I no longer try.  A heart seeking honesty arrives openly.

An unobstructed channel manifests the Heavenly Order.

Hamsa Great Swan

Hamsa Great Swan

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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. 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 http://janeaquariel.wordpress.

Deep Rose Tantra

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Imagine a red rose on a timber cross on the ground in the woods.  The interior wood is gold, the sap channels.

Indeed, so are we the sap channels of the Heart of the universe;  antakharana;  chords.  Or harp strings for the wind to sing, like it does through tall trees.

The deep red rose slowly comes more clear, with repetition and practice.  Cradle it in hand, smell the petals, feel them touch my nose.  So a rose is a nose: the touch of scent, the strange essence that is released from the truly feminine.

In terms of simple vanity, this is a token I intend to cultivate.  My grandmother had it.  It “bends the antennae towards it” wondering what this far off tantalizing thing is … a mere trace from a pot of rouge.  Every woman who aspires to Priestess knows to cultivate her female mystery, an aloof invitation, a listening oracle, a dignity and softness.   (Dion Fortune/Moon Magic)

So start.  Here’s the ladder.  First rung.  Age and experience helps – the knocked off corners of egoity, the rounded egg.

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Contemplating the rose cross is not just looking at it.  It is discovering all the ways to BE IT, including the subtle fulfilment of my sexuality, whether partnered or not … the essence, the consciousness.  It opens the rose in the garden of  my house of life.   When as an older woman the sexuality becomes distilled, she requires rather less of the bump and grind.  My drawing of Zofira has this.   The Mona Lisa and Botticelli’s Aphrodite have it.  Recollect the pre-orgasmic bliss which is before the feeling awakes:  ah, so.

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Zofira

A woman’s private rose faces downward, faces the ground.  Now life and a walk in the fields, the earth and the woods, or by the sea, could ‘contour’ these flavours.

It isn’t easy … to cultivate my fragrant Priestess while labouring on with my caveperson artistic and communicative projects – they take priority and use up all my intentions.   But have a go.

Vedic Saturn/Sani

The rose is love.  When my downward facing rose is open and aware in this subtle way, this is love, the life of love. And in it play the shapes I have drawn so much, the ovals, the ripples, the crisscross waves around Saturn Sani, and… the figure of eight pelvic-floor muscle.  And a sense of immersion in the seamless Reality of these things.  It is objective, intimate, and quite other than the separatist way we humans interpret ourselves.

It is yet another expression of the hourglass, the Cross.

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Female bliss does not necessarily seek strong sensations.  She precedes them.  It is where the opening begins.  It is the Priestess before and after the Empress.

It is the star spangled gown of Isis.  It is in the moon and the tides.  Tuning into the secret scent, ensures that it occurs elsewhere too.  We merely link.

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Tifareth Rose star

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When the womanhood is awake, the subconscious memory-banks are in order, and supply whatever data the situation needs.  Failures of memory are perhaps when we lose touch with our root gender – male, female, or homoerotic combining both –  and are messed up in the thickets of mind’s hardening arteries.

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When the womanhood is awake, she is straight and plain.  My centre of gravity is vibrant:  ballast.  When a person fits in his or her body, it shows.  Each self occupied form of Nature has beauty and rest.

To be a human being – embodied – is to have to work on the form;  to be our own sculptor.  Art begins where nature ceases to act.  The sculptor has a glory in the life of the rock.  Human-ness inherits the Karmic millennia of struggle and confusion and error;  we are given a little life each time to penetrate the fog, clean away the murk and re-view our selves.  The human condition is stress.  The human condition is the work in the material plane to evolve, provided with all its opponents, terrorists and obstacles.   Terrestrial life – our life in and as Earth – is a School of the Soul.

And now be still, the Rose.   Nothing but the breath.  Let the mind relax, the third eye gather, the Rose develop more strength in detail, the circling petals, the glow of pink and red, the bindhu dew at centre, the golden cardinal rays, the cube of space unenclosed.

This focus is what I wish to use, co-opting with Yggdrasil and the workers of the Light.  The strength immediately happens when I go to third eye.  It is by third eye to third eye that we link, through the Will to Good.

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I also use the Magician at the Yesod violet-crystal portal, the Foundation of the Tree.  The Magician Key 1 halts the progress with “Who am I?”   No intruder can ask this and mean it.  Anyway, I sense a tetrahedral cathedra. 

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Solomon’s Cube

The business is to let a hidden treasure be Known, and to refrain from interpreting.  History is rewritten each moment, each breath:  the capacity to participate in the rewriting is a homeopathically tiny quantum in most of us;  the way the mind still is;  the practice of the present.

This is why to interpret events fascinates, it pulls and stimulates the intellectual power, but it seems to go a bit astray.  It forgets the real Cube, the heart’s treasure within the movie of the mind.

The Cube’s essence is Self-enquiry:  to dissolve a tendency back into the root awareness.  In the awareness, in-formation grows like the rose. So awareness is the Cross, the Cube outspread.  The Greater Mystery is the Rose.  The Rose is our desire nature:  the Cosmos is desire, gravity, the harmony, the All moving together, the intent, on a galactic and atomic scale.

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Labyrinth

Human beings are as clever as monkeys, we pick up truth, and then lose it in our mares’ nest activity.  We humans lose truth as soon as we interpret or “organise” it.

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The truth combines Sri Chakra bindhu point, with the Rose.

“I am a hidden treasure, and I desire to be known.”

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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. 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 Fountain, the Eye and the Woods

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“Aquariel” is a companion to my other blog, Janeadamsart.  Sometimes I feel the need to write a little differently, perhaps more privately, or more opinionated.  Perhaps Aquariel will serve as a kind of commentary, at a slower tempo.  We shall see.

“Janeadamsart” is a journal, bridging east and western wisdom.  Aquariel is the same journal, walking with the Rose and the elements.

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4 November 2012:

Happy 100th birthday, Elisabeth.   Scorpionic thoughts!  Life below ground, and in the well, where the still waters run deep, the seed beginning its journey through the winter YIN. Above, is a painting of Domenico in 1969, also a Scorpio – his birthday on the 6th.

How heavy it rains, pushing all the leaves down onto the ground in a wild golden russet litter.  I went for a walk yesterday afternoon – around Radlett in Hertfordshire, completing the circle in the dark.  It is only a short train journey from where I live.  Discovered I was strangely serene and at peace with the predictions and speculations about Britain’s trees, an imported European fungus which kills ash and other woods.  The reason – they say –  is that Britons have such a passion for planting trees and new woodlands everywhere, they import seed from abroad, and it is not quarantined.  It is the usual story, of mass mixtures of terrain and travel, weakening the native stock;  and so we have an immune-system breach at many levels.

No wonder in the 1930s there was a craze for eugenics, and the Nazi ethnic cleansing panic.  It was in the shadow of things to come:  the apprehension.  The Nazis thought they were a threatened Master Race and began felling outright all the “diseased wood”.   That is an analogy to stop to think about.  I as each of us individually, have this cell-capacity to get it wrong.

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But on my walk, I didn’t feel the Devas of the trees are “upset”. Instead, they seem to tell me this:

It is more in the light of change, decay and growth passing through Nature, which remains constant.  Humans are locked in tiny projectile dreams of dismay.  In Nature the essence rises and falls and renews as the breath.  Is a tree angry when the wind blows her down or a beetle eats her bark?  Who knows!  The trees are a collective, they are not of the testy persuasion of individuals. 

We lost the elms.  We are always “losing” something which reached its span, and the loss merges into the new upsurging growth.   Many may come to stand dying, yet grey and delicate in the forest.  Not every tree is afflicted.  Some are strong, and resist the bugs.

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Reportage limits an issue to the local roadster view.  For instance, the high speed to Birmingham railway, highly undesirable as it is, will NOT actually ravage the entire Chiltern hills area. But politics and local protest must multiply the slogan, to make the point.  When I am out in wood and field and sky, chequered with farms and dormitories, there is but little sign of human pollutant.  It is an environment temporarily fragile, but actually indifferent to, and far transcending any of our ideas or railway lines. (I suffer from those, as a “nature lover”.) Note also:  the mindset which needs Nature in whatever emotional spectrum, as ENTERTAINMENT – a backcloth for us humans to enjoy, and act out our stuff.

And note another mindset which seems to occupy me now … which in some strange way co-creates with, and comprehends the natural process and its stems and stamens, and … sees right through the affliction.

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In the common Euro-culture paradox, what we see and speculate about the trees has its political analogy.  Environment, politics, health, sexually transmitted disease, the depletions caused by zig zag travel and airports, imported foodstuffs, mental internet viruses, terrorist cells and legislation … all are this.  They are the fragile cohesion of what I take for granted – I take for granted for instance, the skill of the linked keyboard I use.  I would feel unhoused without it.

All this is yet a symptom of the Age of Aquarius getting into its stride;  thousands of years ago they predicted that in the Age of Aquarius, human consciousness would take to the air and buzz around distractedly.

It is a thought, that Nature is less willing to be a sentimental playmate with the humans and their drama, and withdraws some of Her beauty and eco-systems at this time.  Her immunity is in recession.  Although more of us now renew and respect Her mysteries, we have to take the consequence of centuries of exploitation.

I accept this in the greater cyclic pattern.  It is profoundly seasonal with the tides.  It also reveals us to ourselves, consequentially.  We are still Yetziratic beings;  we live more comfortably in the mind, and in our mental trauma; we have not learned fully enough to live in our bodies, and respect the ground, our Mother.  We do not yet, really walk.

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courtship with knowledge

courtship with knowledge

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Consciousness seems insistent on one thing:  to be experienced completely.  Our worldview and its narrow frames are prompted from a psychology which is incomplete.  The growth cycle of human conscience, though speeded up a bit with global warming and “the Photon belt”,  is very very slow.  Con-science is the union of two words:  With and Knowledge.

Perhaps because of writing and picturing a lot about trees in my other blog, and the aftermath of the American storm, the trees and fields were exceptionally alive and beautiful yesterday. My spirit praised and danced with them, and the soggy soft earth of the paths awoke my feet.

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I discovered – re-membered – that the Cross for the Rose is a “latin cross” opened out, which folds up into a golden Cube of Space with the Rose inside.  Carry it in and as my heart.  It is a great help, to picture together the Seal of Solomon, tetrahedrons, pentacle as a concerted thought form.

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I have been walking along trying to “draw” the red rose pentacle petals, one set of five on another, trying to see and touch the way the petals softly bend and curl.  Around this is the magic golden box, the Cube of Space. When you open it out, the Rose of Life springs open from the centre.

Isn’t this amazing? the Rose symbolizes Saturn and the Hanging Man – whose Tarot Keys 21 and 12 are in the point where all the axes cross.  Saturn and the Hanging Man both signify the ripening process through frames of time.  If I keep a small gold box, with a rose inside, it soon goes dead and hard,  but if I keep renewing it as a living Thought Form – the sacred geometry of the gold cross and crimson Rose  – in concert with the healing of the human condition and its trees – why!  it is the Regeneration, the scent.

So, that may be partly why the trees  looked so tall and majestic and soaring, and in wonderful converse with each other.

And I love the heavy rain now which keeps me indoors, and strange it is to have the human roof, the shelter of my “Gothic arch”.  I feel particularly thankful for this and for the infrastructure, as so many of our pals across the pond lost theirs, lost their roof, their power-grid-connection, their belongings and their security.

It is likely that each country or culture suffers or will suffer its form of natural cataclysm, whether dramatic or in slow motion.  So grow with it.  Got to accept that everything IS changing – Changing for real, as our human obsession, and its fallout, manifests for us to face.  Replacing for a time the wild, it leaves for a long time, concrete and toxic scars and roads to get grown over.  These we have to see.  They are that aspect of ourselves – the broken slabs, the skin diseases.

The irresistible force grows through our lives and through our curved planetary biosphere, like our hair.   The seer Douglas Harding used to ponder First-Personally the mystery:  “but  God can’t see His own beard growing! – nor know how it does?”

Nature is the unceasing Fountain. We are yet unseparate from the whole process of cosmic adjustment: an acceleration and warm-up in the energy field.  The human agency is but one of many.  It is under inertia-momentum and can only see itself, in the tightening mesh of housing and transporting and industrializing itself – (all of which produce the carbon problem on our conscience):  the environmental blot.

And yet this is a little thing in the Greater Picture.   I cannot help but find this view.  It is the viewpoint of the Companions of the Light.  My personal indoctrination is from among the hedges of the maze – a lifetime’s thumb-print whorl.  I can’t see over them:  I grieve.

He and she see further, from above and from below – a much wider horizon – and they teach my eyes.

… and at night the gold fell away 
for there is no person there ; 
what there is, is carbon free 
pure current, like the air.

Where I am, at the point of Jacobs Ladder with the ground, is PHILOSOPHICAL.  Philosophy has a tendency to open like the Rose … far beyond, above and below the flat oblong screen.   Philosophy gathers vastly her orbital views …  like the sound, keep on sounding, singing, of the rain.

Nature is the unceasing Fountain.

Here is a fascinating resonance.  In the Tarot wisdom, Key 15 the Devil card –  through which we learn most, and whose zodiac is the Goat, Capricorn – is symbolized as the Fountain, the Eye, and concept of Renewal.

The Devil presents a flat, dense effigy of religious dictatorship;  an advertisement of hedonistic bondage and despair.  But when we – like the Builders of L’Art Gothique, in the middle ages – face up to the effigy in our inner life, it dissolves into the Light behind the shadow we believed in.   “Keep practicing.”

The horrible figure is in fact, the irrepressible Fountain of Nature.  It hardens into our inaccurate ideas and tyrannies. The mask, the masque, is in truth the Lovers’ open space and freedom.  15 dissolves to 6.  But we must find this out for ourselves … continually …  before we demand it of others.

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If you look down onto a Fountain (or an Icelandic geyser from above) it has the shape of an eye.  The AYIN Hebrew letter assigned to the Devil/Key 15, means “the eye” – physical sight.  It also means “a fountain”.

Nature is the unceasing Fountain from the seasonal rotation’s core, putting forth new life as ever through the eventful human crust. During war time in human affairs, there is a baby boom. Nature likewise, becomes more active, she fountains her green-stuff as it is cropped;  and the forests grow a little faster. The trees have wider rings.  On my walk I notice everywhere, new plantations of trees, the staked fur of very young woodlands.  Maybe they contain the European spores which harm our native species, but nevertheless the tendency is irrepressibly copied; interwoven.

It is interwoven with the different forms;  the fountain is in parts of the world, an eruption of volcanic fire, lava flow.   Life is delicate, like gravity.  The Fountain can be catastrophic to our habitations.  But life is the inexhaustible capacity for renewal:  to reattach herself to the toes of the Giant.  Little houses, fields, lichen, the psyche… include relationships and the power to become conscious of what we are doing; and the event to heal.

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Still the rain falls, whispering and swishy in the street, as the sky and buildings across the road gleam through tattered golden branches, along dark veins, the moss of life.

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The Finger of God 

Years ago, my oracle bottomed out
into Ramana’s Self enquiry.

Yet I love
the instrument of Kabbalah
having faithfully climbed the Tree,
each Hebrew quaver cherished
in musical discipline;
and in the overlapping dimensions
of Jacob’s Ladder, marvelled.

Source, not sorcery, saw these things.
and inward by the Hermit led,
follows that pointer to the core of being, whose art
the rainbow crock is cooking.

In the Work of Unification,
I the artist in a field, celebrate en sof
“without end” –
the no thing with its mirage.

My Work of Unification
is pegged out on the clothes line
with the daily wash.

I distil my bright bow
as rain from the sun’s ray melts.

God takes prints of time as a whole –
a unique whorl
of valleys with their ridges looped is
God’s inky finger on my many landscape years
to toil; and yet
already deftly placed!

As I am led daily into this matter
I seek a stout tail ahead
for my trunk to hold.

These things first are teachings,
then they are life.
They take the entire time
for an elephant’s child to grow.

from Poems of Eclipse 1999

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