Wake!

Wake! For the Sun, who scatter’d into flight

The Stars before him from the Field of Night,

Drives Night along with them from Heav’n, and strikes

The Sultan’s Turret with a Shaft of Light.

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

The Golden Wheel

I left myself to journey into the ‘other’ world with full confidence that my meditations thus far would bear fruit and that I had sufficient protection from the force of my guardian angel and the others.

In what seemed to be no time at all I saw my ‘other self’ in the inky void of deep outer space, where I perceived no stars. In the far distance, below me and somewhat to the right, I almost immediately saw a round, golden ‘wheel’ or ‘seal’. I approached it rapidly and soon perceived that certain symbols and/or words/pictures were engraved on the round, golden wheel. At once it rolled to one side, revealing a black hole behind it.

In the next scene I was standing on a high and exceedingly pleasant mountain plateau in pale sunshine and fresh air. There was no sight of the golden wheel and the ‘black hole’, as I now could see, was the perfectly round entrance to a cave in the side of the mountain.

Logic dictated that there was a reason why this should be so. I do not know why – although it was very clear to me at the time – but I felt it was my mission to call forth whichever waiting souls there were therein. As soon as I arrived, therefore, I stood on the edge of the entrance to the cave (having been vehemently warned not to set foot inside) and shouted very loudly through cupped hands:

“PRAY!”

I do not recall whether I repeated this word but before very long – rushing from the very depths of the cave, out from the complete darkness – came a group of identically dressed men of Arab or Indian appearance. Indeed, not only were they identically dressed, in long, white robes with red sashes and red edges on their turbans, but they seemed to me identical in every particular of their appearance.

The body of them – each of slender build and even height with black beards of medium length – came all at once from the cave and rushed into the middle of the plateau. As I turned to follow them with my eyes I saw this to be the most breathtaking panorama, stretching out for what seemed an eternity, facing the gold-hued horizon.

They had each sat down cross-legged and begun to pray with perfect synchronicity. There seemed to be between 30 and 40 of them, arranged into a number of regular rows. I saw then that they were a river springing forth from the mouth of the cave within the sacred mountain.

Golden Lotus

How I have dreamed of you, my secret love, in days of never-ending summer and nights of infinite stars.

You were unfolded in perfection before my eyes, lovely and unbending by the golden lotus,

Like the flower that reveals in its splendour a vision of the coming magus, who walks alone in the garden of my desire.

Long is the road that would lead me to my secret love, marked only by the scent of the ever-opening bloom.

A charm the magus weaves is cast before my longing face; a veil of beauty that intoxicates my sense beyond the realm of understanding.

In solitude I comprehend this mystery, which leads me ar along this, the only path I know.

I see the destination of my soul. In the rising sun it shall be be found with you.

Bells made Stars

Speech in time was just dilated,

As in speed was sound delayed.

Worlds and planets thus created

Made of tone, on tone relayed.

Complex phrase; intensified

According to subjective distance;

At the turn of some was tried

Conveyance through a near existence.

Thus, that moon was made receptive

Through the dark, to distant stars,

Whilst illumined, Mars and Venus

Showed up gates as bells made stars.

Adam and Eve

Adam then breathed in the essence of life,
Born with the earth of his Lord the Creator.
There in his eye was a land in the sun light,
Man was resolved by the rhythm of nature.

Genesis named and inspired the new creatures;
Two at a time did the first stand in line,
Once recognized by the style of their features.
All were made equal for each was divine.

Butterflies formed and then found in the meadow,
Adam in person, the dawning of history.
Then with their wings did the doves of his heir,
Crown him in silence with leaves from a prayer.

In twilight he saw the first stars as he prayed,
Kneeling as one who was yearning for symmetry.
Angels came down to take plots from his dreams:
Beauty and truth inside out; drawn was Eve.

Open the Closed Circle

Magic is the study and practice of the control of Nature’s secret forces. It is a science – pure, or dangerous – like all sciences….Papus

We have to add here only that this is true, and also that “Nature’s secret forces” are secret only for a limited time, notably until their discovery by natural science – which simply discovers and renders controllable the “secret forces” of Nature one after the other. It is therefore only a question of time until the pursuit of magic and that of natural science coincide and become identical.

But, on the other hand, it is also true that the closed circle of science, which is a prison and captivity for the spirit, applies also to personal magic. Magic, in so far as it is a science – and it is one – has the same fate as science, ie, captivity in a closed circle. And when Papus says further that, “Magic, we could say, is the materialism of t he future knights of Christ…“, he admits with this statement the fact of the captivity of magic as such – in a closed circle of a single aspect of the world, which he names “materialism”.

And he gives expression to his hope that in the future there will be an intervention from beyond this closed circle by future magicians (“knights of Christ”)….in other words, that future Teilhard de Chardins will do for magic what he has done for science: that they will open the closed circle and transform it into a spiral.

Unknown Author, Meditations on the Tarot, Letter XVII, The Star

The Root of the Root of Your Self

Don’t go away, come near.

Don’t be faithless, be faithful.

Find the antidote in the venom.

Come to the root of the root of your self.

Molded of clay, yet kneaded

from the substance of certainty,

a guard at the Treasury of Holy Light –

come, return to the root of the root of your self.

Once you get hold of selflessness,

you’ll be dragged from your ego

and freed from many traps.

Come to the root of the root of your self.

You are born from the children of God’s creation,

but you have fixed your sight too low.

How can you be happy?

Come to the root of the root of your self.

Although you are a talisman protecting a treasure,

you are also the mine.

Open your hidden eyes

and come to the root of the root of your self.

You were born from a ray of God’s majesty

and have the blessings of a good star.

Why suffer at the hands of things that don’t exist?

Come to the root of the root of your self.

You are a ruby embedded in granite.

How long will you pretend it isn’t true?

We can see it in your eyes.

Come to the root of the root of your self.

You came here from the presence of that fine Friend,

a little drunk, but gentle, stealing our hearts

with that look so full of fire; so,

come, return to the root of the root of your self.

Our master and host, Shamsi Tabrizi,

has put the eternal cup before you.

Glory be to God, what a rare wine!

So come to the root of the root of your self.

The Root of the Root of your self, Rumi

The Black Rite

Then the goddess steps up on it –
Disc of night, the lamp of dreamers –
As the steeds with hooves of onyx
Take to flight with sweet Selene.

‘Draws she near to bold Orion
Hoping, thus, to soothe his temper.
Points to one, the oldest Satyr,
He the muses loved to ride on.

‘“Bold Orion, please concede
That Crotus, here, who lived and breathed,
Stands there now with arrows poised
To guard your captivated form.

‘“See, as well, the scales of justice,
Those with which the Lord Anubis
Weighed the mass of souls departed,
Measured who should meet Osiris.

“Know thee not the queen of starlight
Calls to time: ‘Stand still, be halted’?
So shall she perform the black rite;
Bring to life the king through deep night?

‘Now Apollo speaks: “Your wisdom
Shines upon a hidden meaning;
You have placed him here with reason
On the font of deeper dreaming!

‘“Might he not recall the last life
When the stars by which you’ve bound him,
Shone upon Egyptian Pharaohs,
Helped them walk the sacred night, free?

‘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.

Starry Heaven

Laid I down upon the pillow

Soft, my sleepy head one evening.

Holding fast a cross from Israel

O’er my heart, for Love’s forgiveness.

Then I saw a sight, quite welcome,

To a child of starry heaven:

On a board of dark-night matter

Drew the Master with his finger

Five points joined, a star-shaped image

Finished by a sixth point, centred.

Once His finger left the black board

Burst a light; a new-made star born.

What a clever One! I wondered

Hoping then He’d make the sun shine,

Yet He made a second star light

Up the night before my wide eyes.

Very soon – in deep hypnosis –

Did I reach the land of dreaming.

In that realm I found another –

Dark with unrequited passion.

Gave this one my self a garment,

Woven in the strangest fashion.

And he gave me food to savour,

Made me feel a princess, favoured.

Later did he stand behind me,

Put his head upon my shoulder,

Kiss my neck to make me bolder.

Lord of night, my dream-self’s other

Showed me that our bond is soldered,

Soothed my soul my Spirit’s lover.