Sep 192014
 

stairway-to-heaven-julie-hamiltonOnce the past has been breached, it is usually annihilated, and there is no stopping the forward motion. But it is precisely this loss of connection with the past, our uprootedness, which has given rise to the ‘discontents’ of civilisation and to such a flurry and haste that we live more in the future and its chimerical promises of a golden age than in the present, with which our whole evolutionary background has not yet caught up.

We rush impetuously into novelty, driven by a mounting sense of insufficiency, dissatisfaction, and restlessness. We no longer live on what we have, but on promises, no longer in the light of the present day, but in the darkness of the future, which, we expect, will at last bring the proper sunrise?

We refuse to recognise that everything better is purchased at the price of something worse; that, for example, the hope of greater freedom is cancelled out by increased enslavement to the state, not to speak of the terrible perils to which the most brilliant discoveries of science expose us. The less we understand of what our fathers and forefathers sought, the less we understand ourselves, and thus we help with all our might to rob the individual of his roots and his guiding instincts, so that he becomes a particle in the mass, ruled only by what Nietzsche called the spirit of gravity.

Reforms by advances, that is, by new methods or gadgets, are of course impressive at first, but in the long run they are dubious and in any case dearly paid for. They by no means increase the happiness or contentment of people on the whole. Mostly, they are deceptive sweetenings of existence, like speedier communications which unpleasantly accelerate the tempo of life and leave us with less time than ever before. Omnis festinatio ex parte diaboli est – all haste is of the devil, as the old masters used to say.

Memories, Dreams, Reflections, C.G Jung

Nov 302012
 

When Dawn broke my sleep with a light, golden spear,

Out peeled the bell o’er my hypnotised head.

My eyes opened wide as I sat up in silence,

Raising the silver shield up from my bed.

 

The bright, ruby ring I had plucked from the deep stream –

Blood of a rosebud that sparkled in my eyes –

Finely it glimmered, a star pink as sunrise.

 

By the night river of clear running water,

I had watched servants weave garlands of wonder,

Maidens make ready for dancing and feasting,

Faerie-folk tending the flowers of summer.

 

Somewhere were singing the undines…. A page-boy

Whispered of treasure to those who could listen,

Spoke of a ring that endowed one with wisdom

 

All who would go there were seeking this treasure –

Moonlight enraptured the realm of enchantment –

Nowhere directions for those without vision –

Lost beyond time in a place of deep dreaming.

 

Fed by the fountain of memories, like snow-flakes,

They watched without seeing in shadows of knowing,

Drank without thinking a draught of forgetting.

Jul 212011
 

Once I was asked when he – Dionysus – first came here.

Who can say! I should laugh at such a question, for what is time? There are only hours of sun, seasons and days marked by the passage of the moon. Most severely have I been warned by the priests to never fall under the sway of time, because that would bring death to all prophecy.

Daily I am reminded that time is of no consequence, as fate unfolds precisely as the gods command it to and ‘when’ this occurs is immaterial, the potential for all action being present in every moment.

We are concerned here with what is infinite. “For this reason”, Timocrates informed me – quite pompously, in fact – when I questioned him on the matter, “the League has taken it upon itself to regulate all of the calendars throughout the civilised world in order to subjugate for perpetuity the menace of time at the centre of the Earth.”

For the sake of the initial inquiry, however, it was sufficient to say to say that Dionysus comes at first sighting of the Pleiades, accompanied always by Euterpe, whose hypnotic sounds will soar over Parnassus from flutes poised like spears of moonlight on the muse’s lips. What happens then, who can say? It is one of the mysteries we cannot share easily, for like dark and endless dreaming, memories of those days are like mist in the fire of morning.

Apr 232011
 

“Hope!” the birds sing as you enter
Into space. The sidereal turning
Back reveals undying memories,
Log-book of a life-times’ journeys.

Starlight is the love inflection –
Four plus one, the whole quintessence –
Flame, Air, Water, Earth, Reflection,
Quantum leaps in five directions.

Twelve the signs that mark the time-piece,
Zodiacal months and sections.
Fiery Water, Earth-Air, star suite.
‘Now behold the Ram,’ says Hermes.

Vernal sun – the fiery Aries’
Golden fleece – lights Pallas, mighty,
Guardian over Argive heroes;
Asteroid of winged Niké.

This the key to hidden gateways –
Look beyond to see the secret –
Clio fixed for all the greats’ days.
Thalia the Muse, the Grace says:

Apr 232011
 

‘As he has this reawakening
Lord Apollo calls Prince Hermes,
Guardian over endless journeys,
He who made the turtle-lyre sing.

‘Whispers he to Hermes: “Good friend,
“Tell Orion wisdom stories.
Sow in him some inner vision,
Else, I fear, he could get boring.”

‘Smoother than a bust of marble
Is the Prince’s arching eyebrow.
He, the son of Maia, whispers,
“Dear Apollo, you must stop now.

‘“Sun-God, where’s your measured reason,
Has it burned your brains to ashes?
This is sport outside the season.
See his eye; the lightening flashes.

‘“Give him peace or fear tomorrow.”
Warns wise Hermes, eyes ablazing,
“You shall bring the Greeks such sorrow,
Should Osiris’ ire be wakened.

‘“I must pit my wits against him,
Lest the one that’s everlasting
Redefines the world’s whole history,
Buries all our memories deeply.”

Jul 232010
 

When the Aeon spoke it said:

“And you that we have loved shall live our dream. Lest the dream should die with the passing of our age it shall be written that destiny has flooded through the gates again of earthly paradise.

In words, thou art free, and satisfied are we that our will to be done is now in place for you to make with us the final journey.

The fortune was our dream and your most dearly beloved did taste the wine of your success, while you helped shape the future with each beating of your heart.

Always shall we remain in your mind as fulfillment for the giving of the dream.

Your gardens has been watered with the tears of earthly love. The muse of ancient melodies, forgotten when the Earth revealed her age, shall resound throughout your place, forever scented with the rose of youth.

With beauty you prayed and we could feel the love which sent homage to our fathomless place.

Whence came your yearning but from memories of the fated realms? Seven styles created in the clouds of starry skies shall be the wonder of elections made through each presiding scion of our race.

Our message is released and comes in time, the light relays the promise and yes, we are certain, the coming shall be quick.

What is seen now on Earth shall be seen again in eternity, the realm of pure being.

From the eyes of every being shines a brilliant and penetrating, silvery white light”.

May 092010
 

Deep within the endless ocean
Swam the dolphin, swift in motion,
With a haunting cry, the seeking
Spirit felt its wisdom speaking.

Hosts of angels sang a promise
‘Here’s eternal bliss in heaven’.
More than all they dared to dream of
Heard the sages deep within them.

Music of the highest order,
Tones of never-ending beauty,
Filled the dolphin’s soul completely
So it rose back into ether.

Now the circling bird, so patient,
Dived again to catch the spirit
As it reached for air, transpiring
At the dolphin’s exhalation.

All at once the ones in heaven
Heard an instrument of glory,
Sounding far beyond their memories
Rolling out the timeless story.

Not a thing would they remember
Of the secrets of the music
‘Cept that it was more than wisdom,
More than knowledge; all that truth is.

May 012010
 

Celtic StagI walked with my head down looking neither left nor right, once again alone and knowing nothing but my dreams. Once we had all been friends and lain together in the fields before the end, watching time run away and Summer fade to Autumn.  It is true that we had parted company and that I had gone a separate way, but I felt for the first time in a long age the stirring of an unbroken connection with this place and I hastened to meet fate.

I felt a profound sadness as I wondered for how long I had  been a lost soul; was it an eternity?  I did not know if I was on the right path or not, I just knew that I longed to return. I completely lost track of time, where I was going and what I was supposed to be doing, so fully absorbed was I in this longing to return to the place of my memories and dreams.

When my consciousness was woken once again, I stopped and looked around. Immediately I breathed a sigh of relief. Indeed, there I was afforded an abundance of joy in my heart, for although I was not yet at the Elysium fields I had somehow found my way into the garden of my parents, East of Eden.

Behind me was the sacred stream, which ran down from the northern hills ,and before me was the house that they had built, hazy in the sunshine, surrounded by flowers and trees.  The Oracle was over on the left, just out of sight behind the hawthorns and nightshade, while the city, I sensed, was far away in the West; I was completely safe assured. My longing passion subsided and I became one with the surroundings, silent as a hare in the grass.

I had not been there long before I saw a movement amongst the grass and bushes by the side of the house.  I saw two tawny creatures step slowly up the sloping bank, turn, and look my way.  One was a stag, the other a doe, and my joy knew no bounds.  I loved them dearly and wished with all my heart to follow where they led, the path to the Elysium fields.

I willed myself to keep sight and follow them, but was rooted to the spot by my stronger concern that they should not be startled.  Lord, was I enraptured by the presence of these sacred animals whilst in the Eastern land, the very sight of them gave me a sense of peace and rare privilege fortifying my spirit as if I had drunk the elixir of life.

I felt the warm cool wind once again, blowing me towards the Potter’s Hearth.