Folklore, science, mythology, art, religion, archaeology, mathematics…it goes on and on in a our cyclical history. Starting with a Golden Age to the Dark Ages and to the present ascending age.
This book holds a powerhouse of information and research with a holding theory that we live in a binary solar system. Yes incredulous and far-reaching as it sounds it is a book that needs to be read.
Part of my ongoing search for the meaning of life !!
Having a romp with your man the night before, and driving on a foggy morning the next day while listening to Jazz; takes orgasm to a whole new level!!
Time can be very strategic!! Life more precious as loved ones fade into the dark unknown. Courting the underworld and also that dark place of the analytical mind, I have found insight into something more. This time of the year screams this depth, scratching at my emotions while confronting me with nothing, a non-caring pain. This time of the year as dusk approaches even the smile of my child, the purring of cats seem to fade into a realm existential of the unreal and profound.
The Apostle said, ‘I lived without a law once,’ that is, before I came into this body, I lived in such a form of body as was not under a law, that of a beast namely, or a bird.[15]
My parents never really looked at death though they are now dead. My best and longest time friend… she too is gone from this life. So as I start this reading I hope to reflect as sermons to them as well !!
The day I began this journey of The Seven Sermons I sat at the pool side where son was swimming with his swim team. Two trees about twelve feet tall were before me. I sat comfortably.
The noises were overwhelming. Children crying and water splashing as women next to me talked about their problems. I then looked at the two trees. On every branch was a small bird; golden and chirping. Singing together and jumping. Everything else faded away but what I was viewing. I thought to myself,
“How can this be?”
One bird jumped down dancing towards me. Slowly, systematically and very consciously the bird came close to my foot and then turned around back up the tree. I then looked down for a second, thinking to take a picture. When I looked back the trees were empty.
I thought,
“How did so many birds fly away without a movement or sound?”
I now ask a question,
“How can so many die without a movement or sound’?”
Red Roses…“For Scorpio, the evolutionary aim is to face those shadowy places. To make the unconscious conscious. To break Taboos.” Hare In The Moon Astrology
The 8th day of the holy days of Christmas brings us to the Hierarchy of Scorpio. This is a primal triad of my astrological signature. Scorpio and Neptune hand in hand are my ascendant rising planets. My life is this motif but not all the time. This takes me to two individual women who are my friends and teachers.
Gloria Hays was the head of the Esoteric Department of the Rosicrucian Fellowship and Shirley Sharp was the head of the Healing Department. This Rosicrucian Fellowship’s foundation is in Oceanside California and is based on the teachings of Max Heindel.
Gloria was a spiritual diplomat of the highest degree. She was a hostess and spiritual adviser and my friend. I use to love to watch Shirley play the organ in the Temple, barefoot. Her passion for music sounded the magic; ascending and descending on those of us sitting in the healing temple. We were surrounded by the 12 Hierarchies. These two women were my champions of light in the darkness.
It has always been a passion of mine to study the mysteries of life and death; Gloria and Shirley are my friends on this journey. Today my focus for this holy of holies day is on the two of them as teachers and friends. Rest In Peace and…
“Tell we meet,
Tell we meet,
Tell we meet,
The Rosy Cross to greet,
Tell we meet,
Tell we meet
God be with you tell we meet again…”
The hierarchy of Gemini illuminates our hands today.
“They are to be visualized as flower centers, fragrant, luminous and endowed with the precious gifts of healing, and bestowing benediction” Pg. 11
Yet maybe a nice hug or pat on the back might be more down to earth and human. Anything that we do with our hands we can make it a caring or creative gesture; A moment of conscious awareness in action.
“Be still and Know that I am Goddess [God].” Psalm 46:10
Maia, is the Goddess of May the hierarchy of Gemini.
“Romeo:
If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Juliet:
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.
Romeo:
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Juliet:
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Romeo:
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Juliet:
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.
Romeo:
Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
Juliet:
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Romeo:
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
‘Twas the fucking night
Before a fucking glorious and righteous holiday…
And all through the fucking dump
Not a fucking creature was fucking stirring
Not even a fucking rat…
The cigarette butts lined up with no care
In hopes that his fucking lighter
Would instantly light the butts there…
Squatting in a cardboard fucking box
Cozy and warm…
Then…
What to his fucking ears
Did he hear?
But a sound of a drunken Santa
Walking down his alley
With a couple of glass-tinkling beers…
“Hey Santa could your spare
This old fucking punk a drink?”
“Yes sir I’ve two left…”
SO they stood in the alley
Fucking Santa wobbling a lot
Mr. Fuck laughing
The beers he fucking drank up…
Then he put Santa in a Taxi
Sending him home to his fucking Penthouse apartment …
Waving good-bye out the back taxi window… Santa yelled,
We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War’s a spiritual war… our Great Depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. And we’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.
~Tyler Durden
“This is the Beat Generation” which appeared in the New York Times Magazine on November 16, 1952 and attempted to define the very essence of the young people of the movement. He wrote that those of the Beat Generation harbored more than just weariness, but carried raw feelings of being used and endured a nakedness of mind and soul. Jack Kerouac countered in interviews by explaining that “beat” really meant “beatific” or “sacred,” and many interpreted his works as exercises in capturing the holiness of the downtrodden.”
http://washingtonart.com/beltway/opsasnik.html
*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Listening to the shock over the last few years, in general, of our young men, who kill with weapons of mass destruction? Now I see it is not a gun or assault weapon that we should worry about but any sort of destructive tool. I ask this question, are all of these random acts of violence random? It is beyond religion, race or country. These young man have intelligence, college and lack accountability. I hold parents, institutions and all of us accountable too. I see this as a global problem. My insight tells me that we are seeing a manifestation of repressed shadow at play, with roots that are deep in the unconscious of these young men: manifesting in our young men in times of disillusionment and abasement. How else can we understand this hate, malice and disregard for life, joy and innocence?
I have spent a good deal of my life with rebellious men; ones that I watched in films, those in bands, artists and writers. I feel rebellion is healthy in any culture. It asks questions and plays with a culture creatively and freely. Yet, what I see now goes much further and deeper and shows us the real face of a powerful diabolical shadow. It needs a name.
My son is a part of this generation of young men, he grew up with the Matrix, Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings, not to forget to mention all of the anime cartoons and comic books. Somehow the foresight of these stories, myths and archetypes draw upon the individual young men and their ability to endure and conquer the evils of the world, but some of the characters, on an individual level, join this shadow and do untold harm to others and a culture. We need these stories now and I am glad they are here.
I am listening deeply and I believe that this new generation of young men have an intense unconscious to deal with. Some pop under this pressure.
I am not talking about gangs or any drug culture supported by addicts’ that are unaware and adrift in it. I see something deeper and beyond this… almost like a cancer.
So what can we do? Well, by reflecting on what I am saying and considering what I am saying, is a good start. I am sure I am not the only one seeing this either? We need to stop projecting blame on the individual young man but start looking at his shadowy cancer instead. The unconscious shadow of these young men is perverted and out of balance. This shadow is in all of us, yes it is part us all. It is part of who we are as human beings. We need to do something creatively unique and focus our conscience, our attention on this hidden issue. Maybe, read the books of their generation or at least talk to them about these stories. The world that incarnated with them is the world of computers, cell phones and endless games online or elsewhere.
This is not a solution but an insight into this problem at hand… it is time for all of us to listen to our young men. We may not agree with what they have to say, but it is time to acknowledge the big shadow they are carrying on their backs. It is a hidden collective unconscious that acts randomly on the individual. I feel this is due to a buildup of repressed negativity from many cultures from around the world. It is global. The world is getting faster and faster. Technology is moving faster and faster as well. It is time to slow down again and take the path of quality over quantity. We need to show them the value of life instead of only pushing them towards fame, fortune or wealth.
Take a breath and just listen….
//
It is always interesting when a symbolic painting painted from years ago comes forward to reveal itself. I remember what the Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung said,
“…that when creating art from an unconscious or spiritual place one should share it with others or the public…”
Yet, I do because as Jung points out, that when one does it can touch someone else and affect a chain of events that has meaning.
The Temple By Hudley 1991Last night while watching the History 2 channel. I came upon a TV series. In general it is about an unearthed structure that may have been built during the medieval period on American soil. It is a very interesting topic to me. As I watched the program a special moment happened. I call them synchronicity moments. This structure seemed familiar to me. As many ancient buildings, it seems to be in tune with the four directions and with the sun, moon and stars in the night sky. The Knights Templar focus was on the divine feminine and for them it was the star Venus and also the symbol of the egg.
On this particular structure on American soil there is an egg shape stone that lights up as a certain time by the sun. This holds great meaning symbolically when understanding the Goddess.
As I was viewing this program I looked at the clock below the TV screen and noticed the time was 11:11.
Numerologists believe that events linked to the time 11:11 appear more often than can be explained by chance or coincidence. This belief being based on the concept of synchronicity. Some authors claim that seeing 11:11 on a clock is an auspicious sign. Others claim that 11:11 signals a spirit presence.
Knowing this I had to listen to what I was watching with more intent. Then the image of a watercolor painting I did years ago came to my mind. At the time when I created the painting it was based on my inspiration. I was working with the American Indian Medicine wheel that is based on the four directions: North, East, South and West. I also placed a triangle shape over the threshold of the building of my watercolor. The building I imagined was also built of stone like the structure in the history channel.
At the time I created this simple water-color I was thinking of it as a holy place that I would like to build on a large piece of land in a natural setting.
I am now content to share this story. To think about it and this new experience of what it is saying to me now. What is saying to you the reader?
So be it, I shared my story Mr. Jung!!
It’s never a good idea to discuss religion or politics with people you don’t really know.” Agree or disagree?
I can only take the above statement ironically. For me it’s never a good idea to discuss religion or politics with people I do know. As in my family, as in where I grew up. I am pointing my figure at my father. It is the kind of finger you use when you are really pissed off too. Growing up in a patriarchal family, a patriarchal world, meant you could not express yourself unless you wanted to fight. Yelling and screaming was the “pain of independence” * we had to suffer when politics or religion came to the dinner table. To this day I think I am still yelling, unconsciously, to be heard. I have found that people I don’t know seem to really not care much about talking politics or religion. Yet, I can usually have a good conversation most of the time. A good discussion means listening and talking; sharing and being respective. As a person who has a BA in Religious Studies I find this subject very interesting. The reason I did not complete my Master of Arts in Religious Studies is due to the fact that the freedom to learn and express oneself, at Mount Saint Mary’s college in Los Angeles California, became stifling, repressive and downright unfair. I witnessed favoritism towards those individuals who were Catholics. One Sister, department head, did everything that she could to suppress my creative voice. Yes she was a lot like my father. I left the program. My focus is interfaith. I love talking to people about their faith, their culture as well as their individual unique perspective on religion. I like listening to atheists and secularists as well. I do find conservative religions such as the Evangelical tradition, and conservative politics as the Tea Party people: as very difficult people to talk to. These people are like my father. They close their eyes and ears and seem to lack the ability to discuss anything that makes sense to me. So I fall back on Thomas Paine.
The real man smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, and grows brave by reflection. ~ Thomas Paine
In conclusion I cannot agree or disagree with the above quote. I do listen to people I do not know very well. I listen to their perspectives on religion and politics,. I try to discuss religion and politics with people who I know, but I prefer discussing politics and religion with people I do not know.
* this quote is from Susan Cain’s book Quiet http://www.bookbuddie.com/quiet.html
My brother called to tell me mom passed. There were few tears to shed. A year before I shed my tears knowing that this day would come soon enough. Giving birth and waiting for death are so much alike in their ways. One waits and endures through the pain while caught in the eternity of this waiting. It passes. Human beings are born and then they die.
The funeral director was called by phone to come and receive my mother’s body in death. They arrived quickly. A gurney was brought into the house. The man asked if my father and I would like to join my brother downstairs.
“Many family members find it hard to witness their loved-one’s bodies being placed on a gurney.”
My father and I stayed. I watched as the mortician picked my mother up as a bride over the threshold. Her body hung down lifeless. A vivid image of Christ on the cross came to mind. Then she was placed on the purest white sheet I ever saw. Then they wrapped it round her. She was the center of a beautiful white Lilly. My father bent over and kissed her, I followed and kissed her, and he followed again. Then she was gone.
“Many things were among her accouterments, in her right hand she held a brazen sistrum, a flat piece curved like a girdle, through which there passed some little rods – and when with her arm she vibrated these triple chords they produced a shrill sharp cry”
~ Apuleius, The Golden Ass
Letting orthodox belief systems go,
rooting in the emerald-green nether lands,
Grey crooked trees and black Raven,
Whirling rouge invisible wind blowing,
dirty golden roses on the ground,
Breathing in I count to ten,
Total darkness,
Only the red lines of blood vessels,
moving snapshots of light,
I breath out,
Slowly the dark wooden boat sails on the indigo sea,
The white sail slowly flapping in the salty breeze,
He sits there with his dark skin and darker beard,
Wearing a white kaftan and tight braided cord made of black donkey hair,
He leaned toward the woman dressed in orange,
Wearing the headdress of Hathor,
Then she raised her arms up in the shape of a cup and sang,
“I am eternity,”
Her voice echoed and shimmered golden rays around us,
My heart-felt this and the purple vibrations of laughter.
I opened my eyes to the colors of my backyard.
hear the shrill in this song… that is the sound of brazen sistrum !!
You must be logged in to post a comment.