Dreams descending from heaven

The Canigó is an immense magnolia
that blooms in an offshoot of the Pyrenees;
its bees are the fairies that surround it,
and its butterflies the swans and the eagles.
Its cup are jagged mountain chains,
colored in silver by the winter and in gold by the summer,
huge cup where the star drinks fragrances, the airs freshness and the clouds water.
The pine forests are its hedges and the ponds its dew drops,
and its pistil is that golden palace,
seen by the nymph in her dreams descending from heaven.

Canigou, Jacint Verdaguer

Water in Hidden Springs

The lovers of Brahman ask:

What is the source of this universe? What is Brahman? From where do we come? By what power do we live? Where do we find rest? Who rules over our joys and sorrows, O seers of Brahman?

Shall we think of time, or of the own nature of things, or of a law of necessity, or of chance, or of the elements, or of the power of creation of woman or man? Not a union of these, for above them is a soul who thinks. But our soul is under the power of pleasure and pain!

They also saw the river of life impetuously rushing with the five streams of sense-feelings which come from five sources, the five elements. Its waves are moved by five breathing winds, and its origin is a fivefold fountain of consciousness. This river has five whirlpools, and the violent waves of five sorrows. It has five stages of pain and five dangerous windings and turnings.

In this vast Wheel of creation wherein all things live and die, wanders round the human soul like a swan in a restless flying, and she thinks that God is afar. But when the love of God comes down upon her, then she finds her own immortal life.

God is found in the soul when sought with truth and self-sacrifice, as fire is found in wood, water in hidden springs, cream in milk, and the oil in the oil-fruit.

Where the fire of the Spirit burns, where the wind of the Spirit blows, where the Soma-wine of the Spirit overflows, there a new soul is born.

Svetasvatara Upanishad

Prophet of the Age

‘Thus I come to vain Apollo –
He who thinks himself the greatest –
Source of all my kindred’s troubles:
Every evening bow to Isis.

‘‘From the rest you’re put asunder,
‘Cept for Hermes – he may wander
Close – and yet the comely Venus,
She will burn each night for heathens.

‘‘Mars will threaten peace with war cries –
Or just gasp with thirst – in near skies,
Holding over Earth forever
Fears of war and stormy weather.

‘‘Now, fair God, more bitter medicine:
Worshipped, though – it’s true – you shall be,
None shall gaze upon thyself nor
See inside your mind. Yet, moon’s beams,

‘They’ll take shape within the psyche.
Shield of Earth, your sister’s mirror
Hypnotises every Earthling,
So the secret love I’ll give her.

‘‘Henceforth, god, be void of reason –
Let your self be burning passion –
Tempered, just, in winter seasons.
All you long for turns to ashes.

‘‘Filled with fire that’s all-consuming
You shall draw the Earth unto thee,
Just because your will is stronger
Than your mind, which is no longer.’

‘So the great unchained Osiris
Sends Apollo out of Nothing,
Up to where the Ra’s residing.
Rolling wheel of fate deciding.

‘Sevens swans with sorrow singing,
Break Apollo’s heart, like Daphne.
Eros laughs, “your love is kindling
Hope; at least you’ll warm the Earthlings!”

Round galactic spheres, revolving,
Fragments of the mind dissolving
Cosmic will is near resolving;
Prophet of the age evolving.

Eagle ride to the Himalayas

I was staring so hard at the winged being that even in that ‘state’ I began to meditate upon it, until I was slowly drawn towards it. As I got closer it began to look increasingly bird-like.

Before I actually reached it – while I was a few feet away – it seemed as if I was somehow becoming one with it, or closely attached at least; the only thing in my mind was what was before my eye, which at that point in time was like a bird. A white bird. The only thing in my mind was ‘white’ bird and as I thought of this in my eye was a dove.

At this point in time I realised I was actually thinking I was at one with a white dove and wondered if I was just ego-tripping. I wondered if I should stop, but for no apparent reason a voice told me not to think about that kind of thing.

We were rising upwards vertically – floating rather than flying – and I was conscious only of the being itself and the blue sky peripherally surrounding us. As we rose higher the bird began to change into a swan and other large, white birds, until it was like an eagle in form. Maybe even a Phoenix, I wondered, but I didn’t know if this could be right.

When we finally finished the ascent – I knew it was very, very high up in the sky – the eagle began to fly in a particular direction with me on its back. I kept very close indeed to the bird’s head/shoulders, so that our faces were almost touching.

I had the distinct impression it was very cold indeed and that we were heading to an even colder place. We seemed to fly for quite a long time. I like hot climates and the cold weather bothered me, it seemed uncomfortably cold.

The sight of a huge, white triangular shape made me realise we were flying towards – and would ultimately fly above – snow-capped mountains that I was told were the Himalayas. The flight over the mountains was spectacular. We followed a very narrow ridge for a long way and there was nothing but snow and sky to be seen amongst those razor sharp peaks.