Mar 092013
 

The worship of Adonis was practised by the Semitic peoples of Babylonia and Syria, and the Greeks borrowed it from them as early as the seventh century before Christ.

The true name of the deity was Tammuz: the appellation of Adonis is merely the Semitic Adon, ‘lord’, a title of honour by which his worshippers addressed him. But the Greeks through a misunderstanding converted the title of honour into a proper name.

In the religious literature of Babylonia Tammuz appears as the youthful spouse or lover of Ishtar, the great mother goddess, the embodiment of the reproductive energies of nature. The references to their connection with each other in myth and ritual are both fragmentary and obscure, but we gather from them that every year Tammuz was believed to die, passing away from the cheerful earth to the gloomy subterranean world, and that every year his divine mistress journeyed in quest of him

“to the land from which there is no returning, the house of darkness, where dust lies on door and bolt.”

During her absence the passion of love ceased to operate: men and beasts alike forgot to reproduce their kinds: all life was threatened with extinction. So intimately bound up with the goddess were the sexual functions of the whole animal kingdom that without her presence they could not be discharged.

A messenger of the great god Eas was accordingly dispatched to rescue the goddess on whom so much depended. The stern queen of the infernal regions, Allatu or Eresh-Kigal by name, reluctantly allowed Isthar to be sprinkled with the Water of Life and to depart, in company probably with her lover Tammuz, that the two might return together to the upper world, and that with their return all nature might revive.

 

Dec 312012
 

May God, who in the mystery of his vision and power transforms his white radiance into many-coloured creation, from whom all things come and into whom they all return, grant us the grace of pure vision….

He is the sun, the moon and the stars. He is the fire, the waters, and the wind…

Thou the blue bird and thou the green bird; thou the cloud that conceals the lightning and thou the seasons and the oceans. Beyond beginning, thou art in thy infinity, and all the worlds had their beginning in thee…..

There are two birds, two sweet friends, who dwell on the self-same tree. The one eats the fruit thereof, and the other looks on in silence.

The first is the human soul who, resting on that tree, though active, feels sad in his unwisdom. But on beholding the power and the glory of the higher Spirit, he becomes free from sorrow.

Of what use is the Rig Veda to one who does not know the Spirit from whom the Rig Veda comes, and in whom all things abide? For only those who have found him have found peace.

For all the sacred books, all holy sacrifice and ritual and prayers, all the words of the Vedas, and the whole past and present and future, come from the Spirit. With Maya, his power of wonder, he made all things, and by Maya the human soul is bound.

Know therefore that nature is Maya, but that God is the ruler of Maya; and that all beings in our universe are parts of his infinite splendour…

May the seer of Eternity, who gave to the gods their birth and their glory, who keep all things under his protection, and who in the beginning saw the Golden Seed, grant us the grace of pure vision.

Svetasvatara Upanishad

Dec 252012
 

He feels anew the faith of all on earth,
The power of salvation streaming thence;
But as he looks, he feels his very soul
Pervaded by a new and unknown sense:
Who added to the cross the wreath of roses?
It is entwined by blooming clusters dense,
Profusely spreading just as though they could
Endow with softness e’en the rigid wood.

While light and silv’ry clouds, around it soaring,
Seem heavenward with cross and roses flowing,
And from the midst like living waters streaming
A threefold ray from out one core is glowing;
But not a word surrounds the holy token,
The meaning of the symbol clearly showing.
And while the dusk is gath’ring grey and greyer,
He stands and ponders and is lost in prayer.

At last he knocks. The myriad stars above him
Look down with shining eyes as they appear.
The portal opes, and he is bidden welcome
By brethren wont to comfort and to cheer.
So he relates how far by hill and valley
The will of higher Beings led him here.
They stand amazed, for well they see their guest
Was sent to them by heavenly behest.

They crowd around him, and their inmost being
They feel by a mysterious power stirred,
Their breath they hold to listen, for he rouses
An echo in their hearts with ev’ry word.
Like deepest lore, yet uttered by a child,
The wisdom flowing from his lips is heard:
He seems so innocent, like crystal clear,
As though descended from another sphere.

The Mysteries, Goethe

Dec 082012
 

 Face to face and silver silence

Fills the spaces left between us.

In the mind our eyes will wander,

See therein love’s sweetest pleasure.

 

Nerves are bad – my tongue is frozen –

Still my heart is speaking volumes.

In our veins the blood grows warmer;

By degrees the sun gets nearer.

 

How can I make real what’s happened

There between us, in the dream world;

Lest we find a hidden moment

Just to slip within the ocean?

 

So, the truth– there’s no denying –

When I’m with you all is fading

To a pale, unfocused shadow,

Of itself, while you are shining

Like a star.

 

But I must hide this

thrill I feel

when you’re beside me.

 

When we meet I’ll give you kisses,

Brush each cheek in swift succession.

As my scent becomes your aura,

Both your arms could pull me closer.

 

Charismatic Rays just blind me,

Touch upon my racing heartbeat.

Hold me tight – I’ll melt in stages –

Sink into the sea of changes.

 

Now you know the slightest trigger

Might unleash a storm within me,

Bring us into new dimensions.

When we kissed I learned you simply

Make me whole.

Now I must wonder,

How can this be put asunder?

 

Maybe when the days have lengthened,

Reached a point – mid-summer’s evening –

We shall find ourselves reflected,

There – upon the bridge of twilight –

In the waters deep and tranquil,

Streams that mingle, once divided.

 

While I watch you speak my eyes fall

Down onto your mouth, as always;

Search your face and try to listen,

Try to stop myself from losing

All control.

I long to kiss you.

 

Both my lips are wet from wanting

You.

You feel the nervous tension

And it makes you want to draw me

Near –

Upon your knee, quite slowly,

Smile and laugh to soothe the tempest.

 

Throw your arm around my centre,

Cast a whisper in my shell-like

Ear,

And see the stars in my eyes;

See the way you rock me, world-wise.

 

Feel the way my thighs, relaxing,

Curve around your hips like liquid.

Then my arms uncoil, like vine leaves

Wind across your chest and shoulders.

 

As I breathe you feel me quiver –

Shake inside and out, get shivers –

Hairs on end are poised for action,

Secrets of this wild attraction

Are revealed.

At last you see me.

Now you know the love flies freely.

 

No more ghosts -our worlds, dissembled –

Merge as one while we just tremble.

 

 

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.

Nov 092012
 

We pull an unwinding thread through to the centre and destroy all monsters.

By the silver cobweb we retrace our steps, slowly through the darkness without shadow.

The sun rises; water evaporates to mist. Freedom beckons, love cries and there, a rainbow, frames the hidden gateway.

Paths unfold before our feet….

Across the bridge of twilight space dissolves.

All is transfixed in perpetual motion, beyond the borders of time.

Only eternity, silent and golden, is present within us, beckoning always.

So, we rise, on ultra-light rays, white birds with transforming wings,

High above the mountain, far beyond Earth’s atmosphere, until we are suspended, rooted to Heaven.

Then we see, then we feel, then we know, that the whole of life is from a vow to save love, to rectify and redeem the moment

It was lost.

To return, be reunited,

To never relinquish the quest, seeking always the Beloved, who is still in the only hidden place.

Inside, when everything else is revealed, when all that there is can be reached.

In the mind, out of the mind.

Spark of soul untarnished by dark matter.

Ready to be raised upon the pinnacle, always, ever longing for reunion.

Oct 082012
 

How then is a new spring, a new source of living water to be found? How the rock struck? With which wand, and under what mandate?

It is by the gathering of a few friends with a common purpose. And with a faith in the reality and good will of those in the spiritual world whom they seek to make contact, and from whom they will receive protection, enlightenment and teaching. This gathering of friends in common purpose and respect is the  natural warmth that is spoken of in alchemy.

To warm the alchemical still of the ‘first matter’, the prima materia. To hatch the cosmic egg so that a live chick shall be born. The alchemical bird, that at first needs careful nourishing, but which will grow by due care and process into a powerful creature indeed, an immortal phoenix.

And this element of the alchemical bird being a phoenix is further indication of how the spark of the Mysteries, once lit, is passed on. For the original fire, even if largely smothered, banked up by its own ash so that it hardly gives out further light of heat or living flame, can burst forth again. Any ember from that source of inner fire can be fanned by those who know and care, into a new manifestation of the phoenix – which will rise in a blaze of wonder and glory as powerful as ever it was when first hatched, induced and evoked.

This is a natural path of progress in the Mysteries over the course of time.

Gareth Knight, The Abbey Papers

 

Aug 262012
 

I have been in many shapes,

Before I attained a congenial form.

I have been a narrow blade of a sword.

(I will believe it when it appears.)

I have been a drop in the air.

I have been a shining star.

I have been a word in a book.

I have been a book originally.

I have been a light in a lantern.

A year and a half.

I have been a bridge for passing over

Three-score rivers.

I have journeyed as an eagle.

I have been a boat on the sea.

I have been a director in battle.

I have been teh string of a child’s swaddling clout

I have been a sword in the hand.

I have been a shield in the fight.

I have been the string of a harp,

Enchanted for a year

In the foam of water.

I have been a poker in the fire.

I have been a tree in a covert.

Ther is nothing in which I have not been.

The Battle of the Trees, Cad Goddeu, 1 – 25

Apr 242012
 

The Shepherd, Mind of all masterhood, hath not passed on to me more than hath been written down, for full well did he know that I should of myself be able to learn all, and hear what I should wish, and see all things.

He left to me the making of fair things; wherefore the Powers within me. e’en as they are in all, break into song.

Tat: Father, I wish to hear; I long to know these things.

Hermes: Be still, my son; hear the Praise−giving now that keeps [the soul] in tune, Hymn of Re−birth − a hymn I would not have thought fit so readily to tell, had’st thou not reached the end of all. Wherefore this is not taught, but is kept hid in silence.

Thus then, my son, stand in a place uncovered to the sky, facing the southern wind, about the sinking of the setting sun, and make thy worship; so in like manner too when he doth rise, with face to the east wind.

Now, son, be still!

Follows the Secret Hymnody…..

……Tat: By thy good pleasure have I seen this praise−giving being sung, O father; I have set it in my Cosmos too.

Hermes: Say in the Cosmos that thy mind alone can see, my son

Tat: Yea, father, in the Cosmos that the mind alone can see; for I have been made able by thy Hymn, and by thy Praise−giving my mind hath been illumined. But further I myself as well would from my natural mind send praise−giving to God.

Hermes: But not unheedfully, my son.

Tat: Aye. What I behold in mind, that do I say. To thee, thou Parent of my Bringing into Birth, as unto God I, Tat, send reasonable offerings. o God and Father, thou art the Lord, thou art the Mind. Receive from me oblations reasonable as thou would’st wish; for by thy Will all things have been perfected.

Hermes: Send thou oblation, son, acceptable to God, the Sire of all; but add, my son, too, “through the Word” (Logos).

Tat: I give thee, father, thanks for showing me to sing such hymns.

Hermes: Happy am I, my son, that though hast brought the good fruits forth of Truth, products that cannot die. And now that thou hast learnt this lesson from me, make promise to keep silence on thy virtue, and to no soul, my son, make known the handing on to thee the manner of Rebirth, that we may not be thought to be.

The Secret Sermon on the Mountain