Transformatio Dies

Ten minutes later the Master re-emerged, devoid of magazine and whiskey glass but clutching to heart an exceedingly large, old and important-looking volume.

The much-lamented loss of Pros Theon had abruptly ended a few short minutes after its owner entered the bathroom, where it was discovered at the bottom of a towering stack of bathroom-reading material and joyfully rescued by its ecstatic owner.

Tremendously relieved, twelve years of life added back on, the Master placed Pros Theon on the desk in the study with a great sense of ceremony, lit an ancient lamp and turned to the penultimate section:

Transformatio Dies (The Days of Transformation)

Translating and interpreting the elaborate text was a mission that took every effort of will and imagination; the fruits of this fabled tome being rare and exotic indeed.

After 23 meticulously strung-together minutes, the Master – who had a surprisingly short attention span for one inclined to meditation – looked up from the text and out of the window for inspiration, directly onto the swaying treetops. Perchance, there was sitting a bird of extraordinary magnitude and power and in that same instant a piercing set of eyes imparted the truth – a reminder – with almost unfathomable simplicity:

‘Forwards backwards; time is taking
Certain steps through every section.
Herein find the secret waiting:
Future from the past; reflection.

Soaring Eagle spread his massive wings and flew towards the window, sight locked like magnetic iron onto the fixated Master, who felt a heavenly upsurge of pure, unadulterated joy and ran in the eagle’s direction, having reverted back to childhood in a twinkling of the eye. In complete innocence the Master was able to grasp one of the bird’s great tail feathers and later attach it to the sun-tinted dream catcher. More memories of Halcyon Days would be captured by this than by all of the other feathers combined.

Twilight fell like whispers of an echo bade by Eros. Venus – like the bloom –transpired, with stars like smelted teardrops.

The Outer Limit

The Master paused for a second, before adding: As soon as possible, please, I sense that the shift is now occurring and the world must see what has been written for The Days of Transformation!

After another hour spent rearranging the whole of the small but superlative library – by now engulfed by a vast, dark shadow-web of captured dreams – the Master ascertained that Pros Theon was definitely not on the bookcase. The situation had become intolerable. A prayerfully desperate sound escaped the Master’s lips. Then, suddenly, a brainwave struck:

Did I put it in a safe place following the comet’s ominous portent?

The specific thought-question yielded an equally direct response from one of the Master’s spirit guides.

No, you’ve lost it, man.

The Master sighed, all at once feeling acutely tested.

Thanks for that Jim… any idea where it could be?

It’s the mother of all mysteries.

The Master let out another behemothic sigh; why couldn’t Soaring Eagle have flown by instead?

OK, but at least let me know if it’s been stolen?

You’re paranoid, man…

Oh for Heaven’s sake! Give me a clue will you?

Maybe it’s in the outer limit.

“Must we go there again,” the Master muttered, looking up all the same. I just need some light to be shed on the actual issue, which as well you know is the precise whereabouts of Pros Theon.

We need lights out here in the perimeter as well.

And why would that be? The Master scowled ferociously. As if we didn’t know already!

Because out here in the perimeter there are no stars; out here we are stoned….

Immaculately[i], eh, you don’t say!

Why don’t you just chill, man, It’s not ME whose lost it?

The Master levelled a thunderous glance at the South-East corner of the ceiling. How do you expect me to ‘just chill’ – as you so eloquently put it – until I’ve found The Magic Book?

Deafening etheric silence was followed by another two hours of frantic searching, during which time all the drawers in the building were pulled inside out (the contents checked thoroughly for the first time in years) and every cupboard and closet, including the drinks cabinet, turned upside down in the feverish quest.

Finally giving up in despair, The Master poured a quadruple Jack Daniels and injected it with a splash of coke, smoked a large pipe full of pure marijuana and headed off to the bathroom with the latest edition of Psychic Circular.

That’s the spirit, man, if you relax, it’ll find you.

[i] With thanks to J. Morrison

The Royal Road

One night from out the swarming city gate
Stept holy Bajazyd, to meditate
Alone amid the breathing fields that lay
In solitary silence leagues away,
Beneath a Moon and Stars as bright as Day.
And the Saint wondering such a temple were,
And so lit up, and scarce one worshipper,
A voice from Heav’n amid the stillness said:
“The Royal Road is not for all to tread,
Nor is the Royal Palace for the rout,
Who, even if they reach it, are shut out.
The blaze that from my harim window breaks
With fright the rabble of the roadside takes;
And ev’n of those that at my Portal din,
Thousands may knock for one that enters in.

Bird Parliament, Attar

The Silver Cord and the Golden Bowl

Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them;

While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars, be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain:

In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened,

And the doors shall be shut in the streets, when the sound of the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and all the daughters of music shall be brought low;

Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the way, and the almond tree shall flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail: because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets:

Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern.

Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it

Ecclesiastes 12.1 – 6 (KJV)

Even Chances

I could not wait for You, but You made me wait. My death was too far away for me and I could not see.

I hoped against hope that You would appear while I was living, and surely it took the enlightenment of Your presence for me to realise the truth.

In a sense I was not alive before that time, although I had dreamed that it would come. My dreams, in a way, are like memories, because I believe that what is to come is safe.

This is foresight.

Before and after: The beginning and the end. One and the same, yet different.

When you reached that time which came after, did you not see that it could only be

The Beginning?

I think I did.

Then do not fear things coming to an end, because you are here, in my eternal life.

The light of the world.

One of the first things you gave me was light. Everything became light. Truly I believe, that You gave me the moon and the stars, knowing how afraid of the dark I had always been. I believe us to be one and the same, in the most evolutionary way.

There is an honest, loving connection between us that does not fade.

Based upon natural selection?

I would not expand upon this principle, except to remind you of the element of Chance!

Now you perceive the problem with that theory – even chances are divinely designed signs.

I want my memories to last forever and ever.

Were they not your dreams coming true?

In search of Heaven in your Soul, you will find all the lifetime.

What about everybody else?

Do not panic! they are still resting.

The Language and The Name

The language that I spoke was entirely extinguished before the uncompletable work (the tower of Babel) of the people of Nembrot was even conceived. For no product of the human reason, from the human taste for always having something new, following the influence of the stars, is ever stable. It is natural that man speaks, but, whether this way or that, nature lets you do yourselves, as it pleases you.

Before I descended into the pains of Hell, on earth the Highest Good was called I, from whence comes the light of joy that enfolds me. The name then became EL, and this change was proper, because the customs of mortals are like leaves on a branch, one goes and another comes.

Dante, Paradise, XXVI, 24 – 138

The Song of Wandering Aengus

I went out to the hazelwood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread.

And when white moths were on the wing

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire aflame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And someone called me by my name.

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk amongst dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

William Butler Yeats, The Song of Wandering Aegnus

Golden Feathers

As their consciousness grew thinner,
So the eagle scanned the mountains,
‘Til it spied a pair of antlers,
Saw the stag to bear the spirit.

Folded wings became an arrow
Tipped with plumes of golden feathers.
Startled though the stag was, doubtless
Is the soul that leapt unto it.

By the silver moon of Mani
Did the stag with spirit wander
Cross the deep green emerald forest,
There to find the Shaman’s body.

By the campfire, dying embers
Glowed just like the sun does setting,
Wakened by a moth, the Shaman
Tapped his drum to reach the sages.

Piled he high upon the fire
Dried up leaves and tinder-branches,
Blew upon the peaceful faces
Of the sages smoke, while dancing.

Lifeless seemed the ones before him –
‘Saw the Shaman, none were breathing,
But were bathed in light of silver –
All around them stars were gleaming.

Precession of the Equinoxes

Descending twilight saw the Master sitting on the floor facing East in a distinctly prayerful posture, calling the Earth to witness. By the time the sun had set and Venus rose like a diamond on its band of gold, each cardinal direction and each of the elements had been called upon in turn.

Flame, Air, Water, Earth, Reflection; Starlight is the love inflection.

Looking up at the sky, the Master saw how the quintessential force was thrown into relief by the glowing pharos of Mars, silently beckoning his paramour as he bequeathed to her the dark and endless night.

The god of war was preparing his surrender at the temple of beauty, but he also had a message for the Master and this was the key to understanding other things:

Here in orbit turn the star-lings – planets binding, suns inclining – in such ways that whole dimensions fold inside the vaults of Heaven.

Mars was in perfect conjunction with Venus and the half moon, signaling the return of The Lovers to Earth.

Not only this, but the equinoxes were on the verge of their precession; together they gave rise to the most potent cosmic conditions that had been witnessed from Earth since the Star of the Magi heralded the turning point of history.

That the cosmic design might remain undefined was inconceivable, but how, precisely, it manifest was a mystery beyond even this:

“Meek”, He said, “the World is Thine,

This the reason: Just, Divine.

Bless these words, inform the start.

Energy, Created Art.”

Quill of Hermes

Marked these words the quill of Hermes:
Raise the green-lipped youth Adonis.
Listen well, as if to Eros,
See the truth within his promise.

Through the self, a solar system
Metes out time. The planets singing,
Seal in lines the great revision.
“Light!” The cosmic bells are ringing.

Truth reflects within the like minds,
As are scanned the skies sky for giants’
Astronomic temples; sun-signs
Trace the thread of ancient science.

There in orbit turn the star-lings,
Planets binding, suns inclining,
In such ways that whole dimensions
Fold inside the vaults of Heaven.

Angels watch the hidden stargates –
One from North, a second South-side –
East and West. The seal is six-faced,
Secret form: A cube-shaped inside.

Know the birds sing as you enter
Into space. The sidereal turning
Back reveals inside the memories,
Log-book of a life-times’ journeys.

Star flight is the love inflection,
Four plus one, the whole quintessence.
Flame, Air, Water, Earth, Reflection,
Quantum leaps in five directions.

Twelve the signs that mark the time-piece,
Zodiacal months and sections.
Fiery Water, Earth-Air, star suite.
‘Now behold the Ram,’ says Hermes.