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.

Wheels of Time

‘Then discern the Gods, Goddesses
That the one so named, ‘Orion,’
Calls to mind his ancient history,
Sees the wheels of time that move on.

‘‘Here’s the truth.’ He thinks in silence:
‘Now I comprehend my story.
Memories of the tears of Isis
Come and thus reveal my glory.

‘‘More than all the Gods of Greece
Could muster. Pales the golden fleece;
And yet that rogue – the Lord of tricks –
Has caught me in a spell of Nyx.

‘‘Something must rejoin the fragments
Here in time of Egypt’s ruler.
He’ll release the captured psyche
With a force that’s unifying.’

Kalki Vishnu

‘Speaks he well and so the ancient
One is mindful now to listen,
‘As the moving words of wisdom
Sow on Earth the Kalki Vishnu.

‘‘Please continue’, thought he mildly,
‘I should know which other Earthling
Might make use of what is given,
Use the soul quite well, be risen.’

‘Hermes needs no more persuasion
Than mere thought from this, the Star-King,
Thus the great magician whispered
More of love, love everlasting.

‘“There’s a soul which doth, your Highness,
Overlay the sound of silence,
One who swayed the final juries
Yet was torn apart by Furies.

‘“One who plucks the deepest heart-string –
Thracian bard of noble standing –
He, who can’t forget his first kiss;
Let him rule the deep, Eleusis?

‘“Mayketh he the sweetest music –
Tames he winds, makes fire of ice –
He should rule with rhyme, not reason,
Seeking, ever, Eurydice.

Glimmer of Dewdrops

And on the first day of the week when the sounds of the temple bells sought their ears, one spoke and said: “Master, we hear much talk of God hereabout. What say you of God, and who is He in very truth?”

And he stood before them like a young tree, fearless of wind or tempest, and he answered saying: “Think now, my comrades and beloved, of a heart that contains all your hearts, a love that encompasses all your loves, a spirit that envelops all your spirits, a voice enfolding all your voices, and a silence deeper than all your silences, and timeless.

“Seek now to perceive in your self-fullness a beauty more enchanting than all things beautiful, a song more vast than the song of the sea and the forest, a majesty seated upon a throne for which Orion is but a footstool, holding a sceptre in which the Pleiades are naught save the glimmer of dewdrops.

“You have sought alawys only food and shelter, a garment and a staff; seek now One who is neither an aim for your arrows nor a stony cave to shield you from the elements.

“And if my words are a rock and a riddle, then seek, none the less, that your hearts may be broken, and that your questionings may bring you unto the love and the wisdom of the Most High, whom men call God.”

And they were silent, every one, and they were perplexed in their heart.

Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of the Prophet

Twofold Teaching

History – as, moreover, the life of the individual – is ‘worked’ by day and by night. It has a diurnal aspect and a nocturnal aspect. The former is exoteric, whilst the latter is esoteric. The silence and obscurity of the night is always full of events in preparation – and all that which is unconscious or superconscious in the human being belongs to the domain of ‘night’.

This is the magical side of history, the side of magical deeds and works acting behind the facade of history ‘by day’. Thus, when the Gospel was preached by the light of day in the countries around the Mediterranean, the nocturnal rays of the Gospel effected a profound transformation in Buddhism. There, the ideal of individual liberation by entering the state of nirvana gave way to the ideal of renouncing nirvana for the work of mercy towards suffering humanity. The ideal of mahayana, the great chariot, then had its resplendent ascent to the heaven of Asia’s moral values.

This is the formula of the twofold teaching – by the speech of day and by the knowledge of night; of the twofold tradition – by verbal teaching and by direct inspiration; of twofold magic – by the spoken word and by silent radiation; and lastly, of twofold history – ‘visible’ history by day and ‘invisible’ history by night.

…and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night (Genesis i, 4-5)

And the act of separation of the intelligible from the mysterious signifies at the same time the establishing of cosmic respiration, which is the analogy of ‘the Spirit of God moving above the face of the waters’. For the divine breath (ruach ‘elohim) above the profoundness of peace (‘the waters’ – it is this which is the psychological as well as the cosmic reality of nirvana) is the divine prototype of respiration.

Unknown author, Meditations on the Tarot, Letter V, The Pope

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.

The Shaman

On the Earth the Shaman shifted
Shape and let his song be silence.
Thus, was set a leopard’s spirit,
Loose amongst the emerald forest.

Just beneath his leafy carpet
Slipped a serpent, shedding softly,
All its skin. This eerie presence
Passed them by, the nine in heaven.

Knew the souls of all the sages –
Those who heard within the silence
Purest notes of timeless music –
Golden was the light, the silence.

Soon the leopard reached the edges,
crossed the deep green emerald forest,
Looked up at the sky of sapphire
Saw the eagle, called in spirit.

So the bird did swoop upon it,
Took the soul within the leopard,
Lifted it beyond the forest,
Past the clouds, ascending skyward.

From the greatest height a creature
Of the world might reach, the eagle
Spied a movement on the carpet
Of the Earth and dived to reach it.