Elixir of Life found East of Eden

I walked with my head down looking neither left nor right, once again alone and knowing nothing but my dreams. Once we had all been friends and lain together in the fields before the end, watching time run away and Summer fade to Autumn. It is true that we had parted company and that I had gone a separate way, but I felt for the first time in a long age the stirring of an unbroken connection with this place and I hastened to meet fate.

I felt a profound sadness as I wondered for how long I had been a lost soul; was it an eternity? I did not know if I was on the right path or not, I just knew that I longed to return. I completely lost track of time, where I was going and what I was supposed to be doing, so fully absorbed was I in this longing to return to the place of my memories and dreams.

When my consciousness was woken once again, I stopped and looked around. Immediately I breathed a sigh of relief. Indeed, there I was afforded an abundance of joy in my heart, for although I was not yet at the Elysium fields I had somehow found my way into the garden of my parents, East of Eden.

Behind me was the sacred stream, which ran down from the northern hills ,and before me was the house that they had built, hazy in the sunshine, surrounded by flowers and trees. The Oracle was over on the left, just out of sight behind the hawthorns and nightshade, while the city, I sensed, was far away in the West; I was completely safe assured. My longing passion subsided and I became one with the surroundings, silent as a hare in the grass.

I had not been there long before I saw a movement amongst the grass and bushes by the side of the house. I saw two tawny creatures step slowly up the sloping bank, turn, and look my way. One was a stag, the other a doe, and my joy knew no bounds. I loved them dearly and wished with all my heart to follow where they led, the path to the Elysium fields.

I willed myself to keep sight and follow them, but was rooted to the spot by my stronger concern that they should not be startled. Lord, was I enraptured by the presence of these sacred animals whilst in the Eastern land, the very sight of them gave me a sense of peace and rare privilege fortifying my spirit as if I had drunk the elixir of life.

I felt the warm cool wind once again, blowing me towards the Potter’s Hearth.

Reason leaves with the Fairy Guide

continued from The Fairy Guide…..

“We may go for a little while, but do not stray”

The whisper was like a fire in the night seen only by myself and I snapped out of the reverie I had fallen into. It seemed that consciousness had not gone the same way as my reason and I was glad, then, for the voice of this unseen third behind me.

I had remembered him (or her, it was not clear) at the onset of the journey, for he had surely made himself known in my heart. Was he, perhaps, a more faithful friend then reason, or at least a more reliable one? I recognized the wisdom of the alternative to us all going along together and, as I did, the fairy looked with deeper interest at the longing brown-haired girl, and then back at me. “Perhaps we two should go on ahead and you may follow later, if you wish?”

Although I could easily have gone along with them, this last was revealing itself as the best option. As anything is possible within reason I judged that it would probably be best to let her take the lead on this occasion, especially as she had clearly found something for which she had been looking. The fairy would soon lose interest in me if I remained passive and, with consciousness intact, I would not be likely to slip up as long as I remained vigilant.

The fairy smiled at me with those glittering eyes again and I felt a strange sensation. Inexplicably, I wanted to kiss her, and I leant towards her almost despite myself. I was so close that a silken strand of long hair, lifted by the wind, coiled around my neck and touched my bare back and I spoke quickly to cover my confusion.

“Thank you for taking care of my friend, I hope to join you both very shortly, I’m sure I will find my way to the Potter’s hearth, I’m sure it will be easy to find. Maybe I could ask someone for directions..”

The fairy was spontaneously helpful for no apparent reason. “Have no fear”, she said, “his house is well hidden, but you shall find the way without having to look. Follow your instincts, but remember to turn right; the way back here is not East of Eden.”

I was very glad of this kindness she had shown me in exchange for the companionship of my enchanted reason, which parted from my self with what I knew would soon become wanton abandon. I wondered if her preference for the elemental being was a form of betrayal or liberation.

Alchemy cannot be taught

“Whoever feels an urge to teach is not living his own doctrine completely and has not attained the heights of initiation….”

“…Alchemy cannot be taught. All the great works of literature which have come down to us through the centuries contain elements of this teaching. They are the product of truly adult minds which have spoken to children, while respecting the laws of adult knowledge. A great work is never wrong as regards basic principles. But the knowledge of these principles and the road that led to this knowledge must remain secret. Nevertheless, there is an obligation on first-degree searchers to help one another.

…”Patience, hope, work. And whatever the work may be, one can never work hard enough. As to hope: in alchemy hope is based on the certainty that there is a goal to attain. I would never have begun had I not been convinced that this goal exists and can be attained in this life.”

A famous poet, Morning of the Magicians, Louis Pauwels and Jacques Bergier

Dissolution is the secret of the Great Work

The dissolution of form is a fundamental tendency of the Cosmic process. All things change. All conditions pass away. No form ever remains fixed. Existence is a stream, a series of waves, an eternal movement.

Hence, he who would know the Rosicrucian philosophy must rid himself of the irrational desire for fixity, must eliminate the wish for crystallisation. We are in the midst of a flowing universe, and in order to bring to completion the Great Work to which we are called, we must grasp the truth expressed in the alchemical maxim:

“Dissolution is the secret of the Great Work.”

Paul Foster Case, The True and Invisible Rosicrucian Order

Meditations on the Tarot: The High Priestess

The essence of pure mysticism is creative activity. One becomes a mystic when one dares to elevate oneself – ie, ‘to stand upright’, then even more upright, and ever more upright – beyond all created being as far as the essence of Being, the divine, creative fire.

‘Concentration without effort’ is burning without smoke or crackling fire.

On the part of the human being it is an act of daring to aspire to the supreme Reality, and this act is real and effective only when the soul is serene and the body completely relaxed – without smoke and crackling fire.

The essence of pure Gnosis is reflected mysticism. Gnosis signifies that that which takes place in mysticism has become higher knowledge. That is, gnosis is mysticism which has become conscious of itself. It is mystical experience transformed into higher knowledge.

Now, this transformation of mystical experience into knowledge takes place in stages. The first is the pure reflection or a kind of imaginative repetition of the experience. The second stage is its entrance into memory. The third stage is its assimilation in thought and feeling, in a manner where it becomes a ‘message’ or inner word. The fourth stage, lastly, is reached when it becomes a communicable symbol or ‘writing’, or ‘book’ – ie when it is formulated.

The pure reflection of mystical experience is without image and without word. It is purely movement.

Unknown Author, Meditations on the Tarot, Letter II, The High Priestess.

Meditations on the Tarot: Concentration without effort

Learn at first concentration without effort; transform work into play; make every yoke that you have accepted easy and every burden that you carry light!

This counsel, or command, or even warning, however you wish to take it, is most serious; this is attested by its original source, namely the words of the Master Himself:

“My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew xi, 30)

Unknown Author, Meditations on the Tarot, Letter I, The Magician

Memories

Our memories have awoken:

“Were we missed?”

A lifetime has spoken;

“Oh! here is bliss.”

The Golden Key

He gave my self a golden key

Upon it fixed were rubies three.

I raised it to my lips to kiss

Then thanked the One and swallowed it.

The key was safely in my centre;

Through the doorway I did enter,

Past the guardian of the threshold;

Quetzalcoatl’s face was threefold.

Later in the night I wakened –

Half an owl and half a wizard –

Stood before my sleeping station.

Dawn brought hope; a sweet sensation.

Free at last, we dared to open

Wide the way to dew-lit flowers,

Where we walked as soul survivors

Through the sun-kissed April showers.

The Lateness of the Day

The minutes ticked by alarmingly swiftly for Bunty and the occupants of the white van. At a certain moment, the lateness of the day suddenly struck her; she checked her watch in great consternation. Lord in hell, it’s a quarter before eight, where the blazers are they!

She whipped out a mobile phone from the front pocket of her rapidly creasing trousers and punched a few keys. When Leonard picked it up on the first ring she barked at him furiously. “Where – exactly – are you and what time do you call this?”

There was an anguished silence and then she interrupted him. “That is not acceptable Leonard, I expolicely told you no later than 7.30 and now look at it, ticking along on eight!! No buts, Leonard, get over here prontish. I expect to see all of you ready and waiting at 8.50 precisely and I do not expect to see any brown shoes with black trousers or three-buttoned suits. Is that clear? Good, now get along with it sharpo”.

She flicked the phone shut with another impatient sigh. You just CAN’T get the staff these days!

“What shall I do with these cookies, shall I put them out now?”

Bunty’s faithful servant Puss-Cat had been hovering anxiously by her side for the past fifteen minutes, worriedly brandishing a huge basketful of delicious looking home-baked biscuits that were laced with brain-washing chemicals. Bunty waved her away irritably, “Not now, for hell’s sake, can’t you just get along with it for once? JANE, SELENA, you lot, what time do you call this?”

She lunged towards the latest batch of arrivals as they walked through the door looking, for the most part, surprisingly with it. Then there was Susannah, who looked “absolutely stunning! Jane, look at Susannah, you might learn how to dress for business! See those beautiful pointy shoes? Darling, I do hope you’re feeling better, you must take care not to work too hard now!”

Bunty smiled fondly in the face of no response whatsoever and then turned her attention to the Head of Marketing. “Well, Jane, would you like to explain why you’re so late?”

Jane cleared her throat. Stick it up your prissy little arse you bitch troll from hell. “Ermm, I thought you told us to be here at eight? It’s only ten-to.”

Bunty waved her arms crossly and stamped a small foot. “Yes, yes, just get on with it will you, some people have busy lives to be getting away with.”

The White Van

Somewhere at the end of the A1 a white transit van was battling through an immense clog of rush-hour traffic. It was occupied by De Vine’s male employees, together with about 50 large boxes that were filled with the company’s latest publications and conference-related literature.

Jack, Leonard, Anthony and David – attired in their scruffiest clothes, normally reserved for car repairs and painting – sat huddled in stony silence, unified only by a strong sense of doom. Anthony was in an especially black mood. I’m Head of Front and Back Office now, they shouldn’t be asking me to do menial chores like this anymore, it’s an outrage!!

Leonard was sunk in a partly self-made pit of stupendous cynicism, of such philosophical power that it enabled him to read Anthony’s mind. I don’t know what else you expected from those morons, it’s nothing but dog eat dog around here; nothing bloody matters anymore. He harrumphed knowingly and focused with grim determination on the road ahead, willing the day to be over.

David stared grumpily at some bird droppings on the windscreen. The van men were officially running late and counting down the minutes to when Bunty would ring one or another of them to dish out an ear-bashing.

Their task was to ferry all the magazines, directories and conference packs to the venue before 7.30 am, then quickly shower and change into their best suits in order to chaperone guests as they arrived. It seemed unlikely that any of these things would happen, so Jack attempted to lighten the mood with a joyous rendition from his favourite musical. This did not go down well, especially on the right:

Bloody Hair – what on Earth’s his point singing that now, what’s he trying to tell me? Regardless of whether or not it was the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, Leonard’s annoyance grew exponentially with each lilting verse. Poking Jack sharply in the ribs, he challenged the Head of Telesales to silence in his own inimitable way.

“Shut the hell up you stupid plonker, I don’t know who the hell told you that ‘peace will guide the planets and love will steer the stars’, but whoever it was must have been off their ruddy head so put a sock in it.”