Archive for the ‘occult’ Category

A Night in the Temple of the Moon

March 4, 2010

Yesterday evening was a waning full moon in Virgo, with the sun (of course) opposing my own sun sign while it spends this month in Pisces. It might have been unfortunate, but also obvious that this would be a night I would find myself entering the Temple of the Moon, where Isis, the Great Mother dwells. She draws me in as she must, for the darkness must always draw in the light. As usual, this trip is unexpected, at least as far as my agendas and plans are concerned. I usually like to prepare for my trips, but spontaneity can take the reins whether we like it or not.Some might say it was an unfortunate time to enter this Temple of Darkness, others serendipitous. Both are irrelevant, for here I was, surprisingly by choice, but here nonetheless. Being here always encourages one to face and address those things one has hidden in their own dark temples of the mind, and this is what was thrust upon me. Darkness does cooperate with its own kind, and so the pain began to coalesce within me. As the layers are peeled away, it is all there for me to see once again — yes, again. This is a pain I am well too familiar with, one I thought I had reconciled — but no….

Now it stands before me naked, stripped of all accoutrements, accessories and masks, naked before me as I am naked before it. There is nothing I can hide and nothing left to hide because everything I am is displayed openly before Goddess and the Universe.

One cannot begin to approach the deep truth and beauty of Isis unless they are purified. We must be pure of heart, thought, intention and desire. If we are not, and in this moment I am not, then she will help you rid yourself of the lies and the drivel we surround ourselves with. Isis has her own special way of doing this with the tenderness and ferocity of a lioness. Some might call it an exercise in tough-love, but I am a willing student — so my class begins.

Things  begin with standard self-examination as the doors are opened and then slowly intensify with thrashings and spankings interspersed with water-breaks, so to speak, only to continue. This goes on until I go to bed, thinking only of sleep and rejuvenation. However, I remain in this Temple of the Goddess as I pass into my sleep and quickly deeper into REM state. I remain in this Temple throughout the night, facing pains and demons of my own creation that apparently were only swept under the rug in years gone by, sometimes repeatedly. I remain in this place until I awaken the next morning, where I am left exhausted, empty and desolate — simply cast away.

All these pains and thrashings of the night have cleansed me (for the time being), and as I stand to face the day completely disjointed, I begin to mimic waking life without any life left in me. I remain apart from my normal reality throughout this day without finding any consolation in knowing that it is only an empty cup that can be filled.

I say a silent prayer:

“I am emptied so that I can be filled — full beyond overflowing so that I might share, so that I might give of all that passes through me in abundance.

“I give not for myself, but give because it is simply in my nature. I am as a tree that gives of its fruit, and gives of its fullness.

“I give not because I want to give, but because I must. I make no plans to give, I do so only because I exist.

“I give now without plan or effort, spilling what is within me wherever I go, and without discrimination.

“I give so that I might be empty, only to be filled again.”

This day I walked empty — void of emotion, thought, desire and agenda. This day I walked in pain from having pain torn from me, and I walk, waiting to be filled again.


Has Anyone Seen the Light?

March 3, 2010

The following event took place last year in the late spring in the southwest of France. I was in the process of building my dream home (and still am) without any money, and without any tangible way of finding any. During those days, I was simply doing what I could do with 300 Euros worth of bags of mortar and a pile of rocks salvaged by hand and wheelbarrow. In other words, I was building a  rock foundation for my house that needed to be built before anything else was built, no matter what my building budget might have been, or where that budget might come from. And so it goes…

It is a beautiful day, although I am feeling a bit out of sorts, fatigued maybe. A cool Spanish wind is blowing in from the south, carrying with it the stories of more exotic lands and those who live in far-off places. As it passes by me, I know this wind picks up my story as well (or rather the essence of my story), only to carry it to those on its future path who have ears hear the song it sings — those who live in the lands of northern France, Denmark and possibly even Norway.

A big gust of wind  strikes me and blasts through my immediate surroundings, blowing over our old French bicycle, a three-speed Renault that was a top-of-the-line model in Grandmother’s day. The bicycle lands with a crash and the wheels begin to spin ever so quickly. My attention is drawn to this local mishap, and the wind stops. Something is in the air –something now crisp, sharp somehow and very still. There is a taste and smell in the air much like ozone after a lightning strike.

Just prior, I was in the process of gathering rocks into one central area, as they were strewn around our land — these are rocks that were casually dumped from place to place as I aquired them and I was now taking stock in preparation to build a mortared-rock wall. I squat now for a brief rest and to admire my now single, large pile of rocks. Something has settled over me, but settled might not be the right word,  for this is crisp and immediate — it is a calm-after the storm, but  there is also something is so precise in this. It is defined and focussed but I cannot place it. Suddenly in my stillness I become alert — this is not calm at all, this is fast and urgent.

I feel as if someone is behind me, watching me intently, burning a hole in the back of my head. I feel a sound  behind me  and I turn, looking over my shoulder. My eyes are drawn up to the clear blue sky and I gaze upon what appears to be a star, a very bright star, a tiny day-star. It is stationary, but no, it is coming right toward me, charging. I cannot move — I would not move and there is no time anyway. Noise increases in my head and I am calm and simply curious. A tiny point of light has come upon me and strikes before I can blink. It has come to me with a purpose and a driving, immediate intent.

Whiteness explodes and surrounds me as this pinprick of light enters into my side — I am blinded by this light as it expands all around me. It is consuming everything in its path as it expands into a large sphere of light. The fields and nearby trees are fading away, and now the distant houses. This intense clarity has absorbed everything  I could see from a central point outwards — that point being me, squatting by a pile of rocks.

Yes, here I am. I am squatting by a pile of rocks. I look over and see the wheels of the bicycle spinning, only now more slowly, and now not at all. The southern Spanish wind begins to blow calmly once again as I contemplate my rocks and what just happened.

Something has changed within me — somthing is within me that is defined and focussed but I cannot place it. In my stillness I am alert. My morning funk is gone, replaced with a feeling that all things are well. I look around and see that all things are exactly as they are, perfect and in place, and I know that all things do, indeed, come to pass.

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