Tag: gold

Lubet of the Divine Liberty

And this was the death; for the soul’s fire proceeding from the Father’s property turned itself away from the Son’s property, in which alone the divine life consists. Thus the property of the soul remained naked only with its will in the outward Sulphur, and the inward disappeared, and continued steadfast in the eternal unchangeableness, as in an eternal nothing, wherein there was no more any effecting [or working efficacy to bring to pass].

Thus man with his outward body lived barely and merely to the time; the precious gold of the heavenly corporality, which tinctured the outward body, was disappeared, and so the outward body stood barely and alone in the life of nature’s desire, in the soul’s fiery property; understand in the form and property of Mars, in the wrath of God, which is the wrath in Sulphur, the property of God’s anger and the dark world: But seeing the outward body was created out of the time, therefore the time, the constellation with the four elements, presently obtained the dominion in him; and the divine property, the desire of the Deity (which ruled and tinctured time, so that there was a holy life in the creature out of the time), was vanished; its own peculiar love in the divine desire was turned to water, and it became blind and dead in the will and desire of God; and the soul must help itself with the sun’s light.

But seeing that time has beginning and end, and the will with the desire has given up itself to the temporal leader, therefore the dominion of time destroys its own contrived spirit, and so the body also dies and passes away; and this is that which God said to Adam, that “he should not eat of the tree, or plant, of the knowledge of good and evil,” of both properties, lest he died; as it also came to pass, he died in the Sulphur; the Sul in the kingdom of God, the lubet of the divine liberty, out of which the light of God shines, and in which the divine love, the love-fire burns [disappeared and withdrew from him].

Now there was no remedy for him, unless God’s desire entered again into his dead Sulphur, that is, into his Sul, which was dead, into the dead [or mortified] essentiality, and again enkindled it with the love-fire; which came to pass in Christ: And there the heavenly body, wherein God’s light shines, did again arise. But if this must be effected, then the love-desire must again enter into the desire of the enkindled anger, and quench and overcome the anger with the love; the divine water must enter again into the soul’s burning fire, and quench the wrathful death in the astringent fiat, in the desire to nature, that the love-desire, which desires God, might be again enkindled in the soul.

Jacob Boehem, The Signature of All Things

The Hymn of the Pearl

Black Pearl by Mbz1

When I was an infant too young to talk, in my father’s palace, Reposing in the wealth and luxury of those who nourished me, My parents equipped me with supplies and sent me out from the East, our country, on a mission.

From the wealth of their treasuries they gave me a great cargo, Which was light, so that I could carry it by myself – The cargo was gold frmo the high country, silver plate of the great treasuries, Emerald jewels of India, and agates of Kosan; and they armed me with steel.

They took away from me the jewel-studded garment shot with gold, That they had made out of love for me, And the robe of yellow colour (tailored) to my size. But they made an agreement with me, Impressed it on my mind, (so that) I might (not) forget it, and said:

“If you go down to Egypt and bring from there the one pearl, Which resides there near the ravenous dragon, You shall put (back)  on that jewel-studded garment and teh robe, which you like; And you shall be a herald for our kingdom, along with your well-remembered Brother.

So I started out from the East, on a hard and frightening road, accompanied by two guides; For I was unused to traveling on it. I passed the borders of the Mosani, where there is the inn of the Eastern traveling merchants; And reached the land of Babylon.

The Hymn of the Pearl

Souls of the Dead

“Tell me, Circe, who is to guide me on the way? No one has ever sailed a black ship into Hell.”

“Odysseus,” the goddess answered me, “don’t think of lingering on shore for lack of a pilot. Set up your mast, spread the white sail and sit down in the ship.

The North Wind will blow her on her way; and when she has brought you across the River of Ocean, you will come to a wild coast and to Persephone’s Grove, where the tall poplars grow and the willows that so quickly shed their seeds.

Beach your boat there by Ocean’s swirling stream and march on into Hades’ Kingdom of Decay. There the River of Flaming Fire and the River of Lamentation, which is a branch of the Waters of the Styx, unite round a pinnacle of rock to pour their thundering streams into Acheron.

This is the spot, my lord, that I bid you to seek out. Once there, dig a trench about a cubit long and a cubit in breadth. Around this trench pour offerings to all the dead, first with honey mixed with milk, then with sweet wine, and last of all with water. Over all this sprinkle white barley and then begin your prayers to the helpless ghosts of the dead. Promise them that once you are in Ithaca you will sacrifice in your place a barre heifer, the best that you have, and will heap the pyre with treasures and make Teiresias a separate offering of the finest jet black sheep to be found in your flock.

When you have finished your invocations to the glorious fellowship of the dead, sacrifice a young ram and a black ewe, holding their heads down towards Erebus while you turn your own aside, as though about to recross the River of Ocean. Then the souls of the dead and departed will come up in their multitudes and you must bid your men make haste to flay the sheep that that are lying slaughtered by your blade, and burn them up while they pray to the gods, to mighty Hades and august Persephone.

Sit still yourself, meanwhile, with your drawn sword in your hand, and do not let any of the helpless ghosts come near the blood till you have had speech with Teiresias. Presently the prophet himself will come to you, my lord king. And he will lay down for you your journey and the distances to be covered, and direct you home across the fish-delighting seas.”

Circe finished, and soon after the Dawn enthroned herself in gold.

Homer, The Odyssey

Three Golden Apples

Three Golden Apples from the Hesperian grove.
A present Worthy of the Queen of Love.
Gave wise Hippomenes Eternal Fame.
And Atalanta’s cruel Speed O’ercame.
In Vain he follows ’till with Radiant Light,
One Rolling Apple captivates her Sight.
And by its glittering charms retards her flight.
She Soon Outruns him but fresh rays of Gold,
Her Longing Eyes & Slackened Footsteps Hold,
‘Till with disdain She all his Art defies,
And Swifter then an Eastern Tempest flies.
Then his despair throws his last Hope away,
For she must Yield whom Love & Gold betray.
What is Hippomenes, true Wisdom knows.
And whence the Speed of Atalanta Flows.
She with Mercurial Swiftness is Endued,
Which Yields by Sulphur’s prudent Strength pursued.
But when in Cybel’s temple they would prove
The utmost joys of their Excessive Love,
The Matron Goddess thought herself disdained,
Her rites Unhallowed & her shrine profaned.
Then her Revenge makes Roughness o’er them rise,
And Hideous feireenesse Sparkle from their Eyes.
Still more Amazed to see themselves look red,
Whilst both to Lions changed Each Other dread.
He that can Cybell’s Mystic change Explain,
And those two Lions with true Redness stain,
Commands that treasure plenteous Nature gives
And free from Pain in Wisdom’s Splendor lives.

Michael Maier, Atalanta Fugiens

Key Words

abyss air apollo artemis

beauty blood dawn divine

earth fire future god

gold golden heart heaven

human light love magic

magical

meditations

tarot mind moon mystery

nature power prayer reason

sea secret silver sky

soul spirit spiritual star

sun time truth vision

water wind wisdom world

Silver like beads of Dew

In a chair, at the far side of the room facing the outer door, sat a woman. Her long yellow hair rippled down her shoulders; her gown was green, green as young reeds, shot with silver like beads of dew; and her belt was of gold, shaped like a chain of flag-lilies set with the pale blue eyes of forget-me-nots.

About her feet in wide vessels of green and brown earthenware, white water-lilies were floating, so that she seemed to be enthroned in the midst of a pool.

‘Enter good guests!’ she said, and as she spoke they knew it was her clear voice they  had heard singing. They came a few timid steps further into the room, and began to bow low, feeling strangely surprised and awkward, like folk that, knocking at a cottage door to beg for a drink of water, have been answered by a fair young elf queen clad in living flowers.

But before they could say anything, she sprang lightly up and over the lily-bowls, and ran laughing towards them; and as she ran her gown rustled softly like the wind in the flowering borders of a river.

The Lord of the Rings, J R R Tolkien

Temple of the Sun

It was at some stage during the Sacred War, when I was 13 years old, that a renegade party of Crissan soldiers fled from the carnage on their shores towards Delphi, where they set about slaughtering the saints in their beds.

I was already in hiding at that moment, alone in the most secret of secret places.

While I devoted myself to private prayer in this deep underground chamber, by their screams and the quickening of my heart I knew that a band of furies was raging above me.  I pulled my veil close about me to ward off the chill of that cold, dark grotto, my only comfort God’s eternal flame.

I counted sincerely on his protection, seeing as all else had failed, and as the night passed I fell deeper and deeper into his hypnotic embrace. Silence fell in stages.

*

It was the gradual appearance of light – awareness of the sun rising  – that brought about my return to consciousness. This and some previously unheard noise.

The noise grew much louder until – with a clanging of metal, blood splattered but gleaming – a great warrior revealed himself at the entrance of the cave.

I turned around quickly, startled and more than a little afraid. He had his sword drawn and the scent of the battle was strong, but I at once saw the insignia of God upon his breast. A glimmer of hope alighted on me like gold dust and grew with miraculous speed; in the blink of an eye I knew that my prayers had been answered and Apollo had come to my aid.

I arose and turned to face him, with palms outstretched in supplication, reciting a prayer of thanks for deliverance against the enemy.

He pointed the sword in the direction of my heart and addressed me in a cool voice. “Are you a Cretan maid?”

I shook my head and a look of what appeared to be relief crossed his face. As I stepped closer it was replaced by one of wonder and his eyes twinkled like stars in the half-light. Softly, he said: “Where are you from then child?”

I lifted my veil. “The Temple of the Sun, my Lord.”

He crouched down on one knee and scrutinized me with an air of fascination. Gently taking the weight of my hair in his hands, he spread his arms to measure the golden sections and then opened his fingers so it fell like skeins of silk around my shoulders.

My eyes rolled upwards of their own accord, and a split second before I fainted, he breathed between the parting of my lips.

Cupid and Psyche

Soon after her husband came, and when he had kissed and embraced her, he fell asleep. Then Psyche (somewhat feeble in body and mind, yet moved by cruelty of fate) received boldness, and brought forth the lamp, and took the razor, so by her audacity she changed her kind.

But when she took the lamp, and came to the bedside, she saw ‘the most meek and sweetest beast of all beasts, even fair Cupid couched fairly, at whose sight the very lamp increased his light for joy, and the razor turned his edge.

But when Psyche saw so glorious a body, she greatly feared, and, amazed in mind, with a pale countenance, all trembling, fell on her knees, and thought to hide the razor, yea verily in her own heart; which she had undoubtedly done, had it not through fear of so great an enterprise fallen out of her hand. And when she saw and beheld the beauty of his divine visage she was well recreated in her mind.

She saw his hairs of gold, that yielded out a sweet savour: his neck more white than milk: his purple cheeks, his hair hanging comely behind and before, the brightness whereof did darken the light of the lamp: his tender plume-feathers dispersed upon his shoulders like shining flowers, and trembling hither and thither; and his other parts of his body so smooth and soft that it did not repent Venus to bear such a child.

At the bed’s feet lay his bow, quiver, and arrows, that be ‘the weapons of so great a God; which when Psyche did curiously behold, and marvelling at the weapons of her husband, took one of the arrows out of the quiver, and pricked herself withal, wherewith she was so grievously wounded that the blood followed, and thereby of her own accord she added love upon love; then more and more broiling in the love of Cupid, she embraced him and kissed him a thousand times fearing the measure of his sleep.

But alas while she was in this great joy, whether it were for envy, or for desire to touch this amiable body likewise, there fell out a drop of burning oil from the lamp upon the right shoulder of the God. O rash and bold lamp, the vile ministry of love, how darest thou be so bold as to burn the God of all fire when he invented thee, to the intent that all lovers might with more joy pass the nights in pleasure?

Cupid and Psyche, Apuleius

Then comes Music

The golden band is shifting shape and blurs before my unblinking eye that is fixed on its centre.

I feel that a benign but wholly irresistible force is holding me still upon the stool, commanding my mind to empty as the shimmering golden snake slides around the left side of my face and cups my chin.

In the next split moment there is no face at all that I can see, simply the image of a lyre, clear as the glass itself; defined and unmistakable.

A single note – a perfectly pitched string from the middle of the octave –  sounds in the centre of my mind. It radiates outwards so it inhabits every space around me, clear as light and purer than the purest gold, the herald of God’s presence.

The the snake bites its tail and the form of another inhabits my own entirely. Then comes music

Gift from the Pharoah

As Nafrini arranges my hair I sit with a cold, damp hand pressed over my eyes. I wonder if I will have the strength to make myself heard when the time comes.

She sets down the comb and places her soft hands upon my neck, gazing down at me with lowered lashes and appearing as an Oread nymph in the priceless Egyptian glass. Both she and the glass were a gift from the Pharaoh  and are said to carry within them a charm of Qetesh, Egypt’s goddess of love and beauty.

She sees my anxiety and I close my eyes with relief as she gently soothes the pains from my head and shoulders. Her touch is lighter than the wings of a dove.

After a short time the pressure in my brow decerases and Nafrini bids me, in her heavily accented Greek, to ‘look into the glass again’, as she sets alight a tightly wrapped bundle of herbs and leaves from a flaming lantern which hangs beside the doorway.

The acrid scent of the smoke is not quite pleasant at first, but it is not long before I start to become hypnotised by my own reflection in the shimmering glass. Nafrini has been singing for quite some time in a low but musical voice.

The words she utters are in her native tongue – a language I know a little of – and the stream of mysterious audio symbols mingles irresistibly with the smoke, until I feel the very air about me has become a vivifying incantation.

A nightingale, herald of spring with a voice of longing, bursts into song and I feel myself grow suddenly drowsy, my eyelids flickering like the wings of a butterfly as it gathers pollen from swollen summer blooms.

Before I have the chance to drift off into sleep, the sensation of cool metal being pressed into my brow rouses my attention. I open my eyes onto the mirror and focus on the golden diadem Nafrini has placed around my temple on the piled up coils of braided hair.

I am captivated by the glittering of gold in the warm glass and when she hands the sprig of daphne to me I chew it unthinkingly, unable to tear my gaze from my own reflection. Time slows to a standstill; I see that it is changing.