Magic realms of Psyche

‘There’s no answer to his queries,
Dionysus’ brains are weary.
Cares he not for Neptune’s offspring,
Wants he just to hear the girls sing.

‘Watches he the virgins wander –
Through the fire-dance, travel onward,
Filled with wine and honeyed nectar –
Through the magic realms of psyche.

‘There the nymph, sweet Ariadne
Forces him to drown his sorrow,
Charms him nightly with her beauty;
Drinks he like there’s no tomorrow.

‘Groans the wine God: “New man, stop,
And hush the hound, you’ll turn the hops!
Mere immortal, you will end this.
Once for all now, comprehend it:

‘”Here, tonight, the true initiates
Drink new wine. The growing mystery
Share I then, but none could hear it;
Thanks to you, the maids grew teary.

‘As did Phoebus’ wan Priestess,
Voice of heaven, whom truth begets.
Hold your peace now, stand in silence.”
Thus did end the hunter’s license.

Shimmering-throned immortal Aphrodite

Shimmering-throned immortal Aphrodite,
Daughter of Zeus, Enchantress, I implore thee,
Spare me, O queen, this agony and anguish,
Crush not my spirit

Whenever before thou has hearkened to me–
To my voice calling to thee in the distance,
And heeding, thou hast come, leaving thy father’s
Golden dominions,

With chariot yoked to thy fleet-winged coursers,
Fluttering swift pinions over earth’s darkness,
And bringing thee through the infinite, gliding
Downwards from heaven,

Then, soon they arrived and thou, blessed goddess,
With divine contenance smiling, didst ask me
What new woe had befallen me now and why,
Thus I had called the.

What in my mad heart was my greatest desire,
Who was it now that must feel my allurements,
Who was the fair one that must be persuaded,
Who wronged thee Sappho?

For if now she flees, quickly she shall follow
And if she spurns gifts, soon shall she offer them
Yea, if she knows not love, soon shall she feel it
Even reluctant.

Come then, I pray, grant me surcease from sorrow,
Drive away care, I beseech thee, O goddess
Fulfil for me what I yearn to accomplish,
Be thou my ally.

Sappho

Kore Kosmou

Thou must be informed of the words of Hermes when he laid down his books.

“O sacred books,” he said, “of the Immortals, ye in whose pages my hand has recorded the remedies by which incorruptibility is conferred, remain for ever beyond the reach of destruction and of decay, invisible and concealed from all who frequent these regions, until the day shall come in which the ancient heaven shall bring forth instruments worthy of you, whom the Creator shall call souls.”

Having pronounced upon his books this invocation, he wrapped them in their coverings, returned into the sphere which belonged to him, and all remained hidden for a sufficient space.

Kore Kosmou, Hermes Trismegistus

The Phaedrus Charioteer

I might tell of many other noble deeds which have sprung from inspired madness. And therefore, let no one frighten or flutter us by saying that the temperate friend is to be chosen rather than the inspired, but let him further show that love is not sent by the gods for any good to lover or beloved; if he can do so we will allow him to carry off the palm. And we, on our part, will prove in answer to him that the madness of love is the greatest of heaven’s blessings, and the proof shall be one which the wise will receive, and the witling disbelieve. But first of all, let us view the affections and actions of the soul divine and human, and try to ascertain the truth about them:

The soul through all her being is immortal, for that which is ever in motion is immortal; but that which moves another and is moved by another, in ceasing to move ceases also to live. Only the self-moving, never leaving self, never ceases to move, and is the fountain and beginning of motion to all that moves besides.

Of the nature of the soul, though her true form be ever a theme of large and more than mortal discourse, let me speak briefly, and in a figure. And let the figure be composite-a pair of winged horses and a charioteer. Now the winged horses and the charioteers of the gods are all of them noble and of noble descent, but those of other races are mixed; the human charioteer drives his in a pair; and one of them is noble and of noble breed, and the other is ignoble and of ignoble breed; and the driving of them of necessity gives a great deal of trouble to him. I will endeavour to explain to you in what way the mortal differs from the immortal creature.

The soul in her totality has the care of inanimate being everywhere, and traverses the whole heaven in divers forms appearing–when perfect and fully winged she soars upward, and orders the whole world; whereas the imperfect soul, losing her wings and drooping in her flight at last settles on the solid ground-there, finding a home, she receives an earthly frame which appears to be self-moved, but is really moved by her power; and this composition of soul and body is called a living and mortal creature. For immortal no such union can be reasonably believed to be; although fancy, not having seen nor surely known the nature of God, may imagine an immortal creature having both a body and also a soul which are united throughout all time. Let that, however, be as God wills, and be spoken of acceptably to him. And now let us ask the reason why the soul loses her wings!

Plato, Phaedrus

Philosophy of a Lunatic

I feel so close to God, so inspired by His Spirit that in a sense I am God. I see the future, plan the Universe, save mankind; I am utterly and completely immortal; I am even male and female. The whole Universe, animate and inanimate, past, present and future, is within me. All nature and life, all spirits, are co-operating and connected with me; all things are possible. I am in a sense identical with all spirits from God to Satan. I reconcile Good and Evil and create light, darkness, worlds, universes.

John Custance, Wisdom, Madness and Folly: the Philosophy of a Lunatic

He who has found and awakened to the Soul that has entered this conglomerate whole – he is the maker of everything, for he is the creator of all; the world is his: indeed, he is the world itself.

Brhadaranyaka Upanishad

Spiritual megalomania is as old as the world. Its origin is found well beyond the terrestrial world, according to the millennial-old tradition concerning the fall of Lucifer. The prophet Ezekiel gives a most moving description of this:

You were the signet of perfection, you were full of wisdom, and perfect in beauty. You were in Eden, the garden of God; You were covered with every kind of precious stone: Sardonyx, topaz, and diamond, chrysolite, onyx and jasper, sapphire, carbuncle, emerald, and gold, with which you were adorned, and which were prepared for you on the day that you were created. You were a guardian Cherubim, with outspread wings; I placed you, and you were, on the holy mountain of God; You walked in the midst of stones of fire…Your heart was proud because of your beauty, You corrupted your wisdom for the sake of your splendour. I cast you to the ground, I exposed you before kings, to feast their eyes on you…..

Ezekiel, xxviii, 12-17

Here is the higher (ie, celestial) origin of inflation, superiority complex and megalomania. And since ‘that which is below is as that which is above’, it is repeated below in human earthly life from century to century and generation to generation. It is repeated above all in the lives of those human beings who are detached from the ordinary earthly setting and the state of consciousness belonging to it, and who transcend it, be it in the sense of height, in the sense of breadth, or, lastly, in the sense of depth.

Unknown author, Meditations on the Tarot, Letter VII, The Chariot

Hypnosis

I think of that moment as I prepare myself for the sacred realm of dreaming, but it is a troubled brow that I lay upon the soft fleece and hypnosis does not come easily.

I have vivid memories of the autumn Tristeria – almost two years past – which left me with a sense of dissatisfaction that I cannot place. I wonder if my love for Dionysus has grown too strong. The allure of the youth has power to move me beyond my present confines and I am drawn to follow him in a way that would be irresistible were it not for my oaths to Apollo.

Whether I might share in Dionysus’ gift of eternal life without sacrificing my first allegiance to the Sun-King is a matter that occupies my mind greatly, most often when darkness falls. I cannot safely confide these thoughts to anyone, for if I do not remain true to Apollo and above the temptations of passion, then none will have faith and his rule shall end.

It is my dreams that sustain me. On nights such as this – warm and heady with the thick scent of Datura – my longing for adventure brings the dolphin to Psyche’s realm; I join him as he shoots like an arrow through the deep, swelling sea.

I am of course able to direct the course of my dreams. It is a skill that is cultivated in whomsoever holds this office, and it is upon this that the world’s most powerful men place extraordinary value.

I spread my heavy hair about the fleecy headrest and – with my hands still entwined in the golden threads – I gaze at the glittering constellation engraved above me. It is of the sun-seeker Orion, beloved of the Moon-Queen Artemis. Her love holds him there in perpetuity.

Tonight I shall dream of the huntress in the sky, who raised her bow at Apollo’s behest and claimed the life of her lover unawares. In this way i will learn from her the art of subjugating the crackling fires of desire, by which I shall make the love of my own life immortal.

The Unconquered Warrior

Love the unconquered warrior, love who falls on the flocks, love who keeps vigil in the soft cheeks of a girl,

you roam over seas and in the halls of savages; no immortal nor any of the men whose life is a day can escape you.

He who is touched by you goes mad. You twist the minds of just men to the ruin of injustice.

Victorious is the bright desire from the eyes of the fair bride; it sits enthroned beside the eternal laws,

for the goddess Aphrodite works her invincible will.

Sophocles, Antigone

The Portal

As the Shaman tapped the deer-skin
Drum, he spoke aloud his thinking,
“What became of those two fellows,
Those who still remain in heaven?”

From the deep green emerald forest,
Stepping softly came a figure,
Made of light, a horseback rider,
In one hand he bore an object.

“One returns,” spoke out the Shaman,
“He could tell a pretty story,
Judging by the hand that’s holding
Stuff of legend, history, glory.”

Robed in silence, seven sages
Watched the horseman drawing nearer,
Saw the object, clear as crystal,
Then, exhaled their breath for ages.

“This makes eight but who shall tell us,
Where the final one is waiting?”
Spoke the Shaman, at which moment,
Something stirred within the forest.

Light of limb and swathed in mystery,
Dazzling in the emerald darkness,
Stepping soft upon the carpet
Came the ninth and moved among them.

Sat she down beside the fire,
Peaceful as the moon at midnight
As the eight in spellbound wonder,
Took her as their inspiration.

Eyes that once were blind with wisdom
Opened then to something greater.
How it happened, none could fathom;
How the ninth became this lady.

So, there is the greatest mystery:
Free of time and made immortal,
Born to hold the key of history;
She, who dared step through the portal.

Message from the Stars

Sotheby's collection — 19th Century Diamond Ring and Necklace, image from Sotheby's

“Smile!”, the stars incline to tell,

“Share our light, immortal wealth.

Blessed are we with hopes and dreams,

Sent from Earth in endless reams.

So we shine to share with you

The dazzling promise: Dreams come true.”