Posts Tagged ‘Magick’

Imbalance and the Tree – Part 2

June 16, 2010

So to continue, in this microcosm of what is always “running and returning”, I am back to elaborate from where I left off. Imbalance, of course, is always a risk, and plays a divine (for lack of a better term) role in our course. This imbalance exists so that we may find balance through correctional activities that compensate for vibrational (habitual or otherwise) shifts that we so relish (while, of course, denying them). The desire for balance teaches us our mobility – it teaches us to walk, and will teach us to recognize when we are faltering on our path. It is a good system.

The risks on the straight and narrow can all be sourced from one thing, and this is mistaking it for a short-cut, or a fast track. This path is actually more demanding, requiring a discipline hard to come by. By not exploring the branches of one’s potential through direct experience, the fruit on those branches could be said to be studied from a distance. This is, however, a relatively short-term condition (in the greater scheme of things), for as one reaches the central point of the tree, s/he is availed all that exists to the right and the left in a direct way, and can be willingly, albeit momentarily, in these realities as s/he chooses, knowing the price to be paid if this existence, or pole, is not balanced by its opposite, or mate.

Suffice it to say, whatever path one finds themselves on, it is one that leads somewhere – it is always one that leads to new realities, and new ways of thought and existence. Pitfalls are essentially irrelevant if seen as negative experience. Duality reveals itself as an illusion, and the journey is one that takes us to the place we find ourselves in, in each and every moment. If we cannot be where we are, we have failed, forsaking the present moment by a future moment that does not exist, and will only arrive malformed due to our own neglect of taking notice of where we are in this moment. We cheapen our own existence by thinking of it as less important, even mundane, in comparison to what we believe to be a positive trait – that called hope of a better future.

Hope is superficial, and sitting on a chair, wishing things were different. If you get up out of that chair, you are no longer hoping, you are creating. If you are totally within this creative activity without thought of its outcome, you are in the moment, and assured that all subsequent moments will unfold perfectly. This reality transcends all hope, and you stand as being the one responsible for your creation.

A Land That Time Forgot

May 30, 2010

This story came about from a complete failure of subject-agenda. A
friend and co-conspirator (blogger), Marian Youngblood of
Siderealview’s Blog invited me to do a bio of sorts for her to feature on the same blog, and requested I do a continuation of “A Visit With a Sirian.” This sounded like a wonderful idea to me, and so I agreed. Stories such as this take little effort for me, for I subscribe to the maxim that “An Idea is
One Whose Time has Come,” and so assumed the time had come. While I had more to say regarding my experiences with “the Sirian”, I was struggling with much in the technical aspects of execution – or composition. I was unable to compose this story.

Meanwhile, something else, or someone else, was pulling at my attention, insistently even. This little friend of mine was relentless in his need for communing with me, and wanted me to share a story that included him. I didn’t know this was to be the story I would share with Marian and her audience – I only knew that I must write this story – the one you
will be reading today.

Meanwhile, I questioned the Sirian regarding the “block” that I was experiencing with his story, and in a serious and austere way and winking at the same time, he told me, “This is not the time….” 

And so – I would like to introduce you to A-Bar in

 A Land That Time Forgot
Pete Madstone 

Today, I find myself living in the southwest of France in a place I could have never dreamed of. It abounds with life — birds, animals, insects and woodlands. There are more trees than people, and many of the inhabitants of these savage lands live just outside the arena of the physical world that we are so familiar with. In spite of the typical challenges that come with life itself wherever any of us might live, I would have to say this place is simply “exotic”.

So, let’s begin with Webster’s defining the word exotic –

exotic1 : introduced from another country : not native to the place where found <exotic plants>
2 archaic : foreign, alien
3 : strikingly, excitingly, or mysteriously different or unusual
4 : of or relating to striptease

Lets take this step by step –

definition 1. With this, it seems that I am the exotic one here, since I was “introduced” here from America – a member of a not yet extinct variety of humanity’s transitional sub-species – the evolutionary inclusionist.

definition 2. Foreign, yes — alien, likely. So this would be me, again. I am foreign and alien to this place (or at least its people), since I come from another with different ways — but from my perspective, this place is what is foreign and alien, so all things can, indeed, be seen in more than one way.

definition 3. Okay — now we’re talking, and not about the “famous” french cuisine (though the food certainly fits with this one, as well). Let me repeat this definition — strikingly, excitingly, or mysteriously different or unusual. If I apply this definition to this place, I would have to say that I couldn’t say it any better — it describes perfectly the environment that surrounds me. Because I cannot say things as simply as Mr. Webster, I will devote much more time and effort to describe this place that is far from south Santa Monica, the place where I cut my teeth on a surfboard. But first…

definition 4. This one is pretty much irrelevant, since the kind of place you might find “exotic” dancers would be in the nearest city – which for me would be a French city called Bordeaux, and like all French cities, this one is terribly intimidating. Along the same note, I will mention that it is not unusual for the french female to tan her chest freely on our summer beaches just as the males do – and so these beaches could certainly be considered “exotic” in this context, but I don’t live on the beach.

I would now discuss just what is strikingly, excitingly, or mysteriously different or unusual about this place,  for this is what I really have to share with you. It is not that what I will be discussing was never available to me in the variety of other places I have lived, it is just that never have these certain exotic flavors been so apparent to me — so evident, tangible or real. Maybe it is me who has changed, but I would have to surmise that it is my environment that has changed me — this exotic environment.

I live on a half-acre of land 500 meters (3 “city” blocks) from a medieval village in, as I said, the southwest of France. The road to my house is unpaved and few cars pass by on their way to some scattered homes beyond my own. Splitting off this small road by the gate to my land is an entrance to an old path which is used by the occasional equestrian, hiker or nearby resident of the village on an evening stroll. A couple of winters ago, I was walking this path more than anyone, for I had made a discovery that was reliant upon one condition for this peculiarity, or phenomenon, to be witnessed most easily — I had to be present at a certain place accessed by this path at the time of the “crack between the worlds,” the quarter-hour just before and just after sunset.

Into the land that time forgot...

So it was out my gate just about every evening, and down this path around 500 meters in the opposite direction from the village into a little tree-lined pasture. On the path were two old oak trees that became a vortex, or portal of sorts for me, for every time I walked past these two trees, everything became silent — there was a definite shift. Far away traffic, birds, insects, and the general buzz of life all stopped here. It didn’t take me long to realize that I was passing into a different time, and a different place — into a land that time forgot.

There, at the far end of this grassy field where three hedgerows join is a small copse closing in an otherwise invisible corner of the field. Directly at the “entrance” of this little secluded corner is an old water well — a well covered and overgrown by years of non-use and neglect. This was certainly a forgotten place.

The first few times I had gone to this place, I would feel eyes upon me — many, many eyes from behind and in the trees and branches of overgrowth surrounding me — always blinking off and on, twinkling like bright little stars in a woods bereft of foliage. There was something here, and I certainly felt right at home. It didn’t take me long to begin doing sunset rituals of communion wand-less, and without any of the typical tools, talismans or regalia of the trade. There was certainly a bustle in these hedgerows, and well before the time of the May Queen.

My simple but raw ceremonies became a standard for me, weather permitting. Upon arriving, I would stop to take in the energy and air of this ancient place, and center myself in the open space defined by the leafless trees. Then, I began walking my circles, and defining my pentagrams, hexagrams and sphere of influence/reality. Salutations would be done, followed by invocations of the cardinal’s overseers. Then, simply stillness and release. It wasn’t a few days before I began sitting at the mouth of the old well after performing my ritual. I just wanted to just be with the land and its wild life, curious about the abundance of those shy and reluctant, but always blinking eyes. From the first time I sat at the opening of this well, I could sense the presence of our local Undines working in the watery realms directly below me — however, these were not the ones with the eyes in the woods.

These others , I found quickly, were of the earth realm, beings who never ventured into the light of day unless absolutely necessary (invoked), or simply overwhelmed with curiosity or craftiness — these were the Gnomes, working the same caverns below me that the Undines travelled. These caverns and tunnels are abundant in this region of France, with many of them open to the surface, and all of them are crystalline in some way. All these caverns are paradise to those who secretly dwell in them.

"No, it's not a hat -- it's my head!"

So it was at some point just after the winter equinox that I met this local group of Gnomes — builders they are, if you don’t already know this, and here I was getting ready to build a house. Every evening I was there, they would begin to crowd around me, these little Gnomes. Small they may be, but certainly strong and stout they are, for they are rock workers. Masons they are, Stonemasons, the prototypical Freemasons, and the earth they work is their temple.

So, I decided to ask for one of these earth-dwellers to help me with the building of my house, which had been at a standstill for 2 years. I specifically stated my requirements (I thought) that were as follows — The house needed to be done in 1 year, and I needed funds, materials, support from friends as yet unmade with the actual physical work, plus support from one of the Gnomes who was considered highly skilled at this work they did so well. Of course, it slipped my mind that these beings were best at rock-work, and other than the rock foundation, the house was to be of wood frame/strawbale construction — but Gnomes are builders, and the best in the world, so why would this matter?

One of the Gnomes did come for me, knowing it wouldn’t be a full-time job. He would only come around when I was actually working, and besides the other events he was to oversee, he still had his own personal time, and life. He was an A-BAR — this is the title of a Master Rocker, and his name was “Ephrana -yam.” He prefered to be called A-bar, or simply Eff. A year passed as agreed, and the rock foundation was done. So what of the house? Well, it was far from finished, but at least I did have a floor to build the house upon. Apparently, one year was not enough time for me to build a house, even when partnered with a specialist in rock-work. I still had wood frames to bring up, roofing to do, and everything else up to and past the kitchen sink.

Of course, A-bar did exactly as he understood — it was I who was somehow vague or a little unfocused/misdirected in my desires. So for my little Gnome friend, a year is what it took to complete his part of the job– a year for the foundation. Of course the funding did arrive to for the project within that time from an unexpected place, and I could not have continued without that, anyway. So Eff did do his job, as requested, and did it to the Tee.

So what of this exotic nature of the place that I call home (for now)? There is something about it that is so pure, untouched — unqualified even. In the history of man, very little has been done to corrupt, or even direct the energy here, and so it can be a little difficult to work with. It is very still and unmoving, and it is used to being still — it is an uncertain energy. It is tentative, having had little experience with outside direction or foreign influence. But we can both learn — both me and this energy. Some have said the energy is flat here, but to me, its potential is remarkable, for it has been unused for millenia, maybe since the beginning of time.

I still have to wonder, though – is this a place that time forgot, or just a place that man forgot?

I Question These Things of Myself.

May 24, 2010

I used to be a little boy
So old in my shoes
And what I choose is my choice
What’s a boy supposed to do
The killer in me is the killer in you
Smashing Pumpkins 

Wars, pesticides and deforestation. Mass human slaughter for control and mass animal slaughter for food. Terrorism, airline crashes, “acts of god” and toxic waste — the list goes on. What is Shiva, the Destroyer up to? Or, more importantly, what exactly is our involvement with this “natural” current, or force? Are these destructive forces out of balance, or is what we are witnessing a simple rectification of our now accelerated creative process? 

After spending much time over the last few weeks trying to bring a rapidly expanding aphid population to a halt, I realized my apple trees and roses needed a little more help than a simple spraying with some water mixed with dish-soap (a natural treatment using organic soap). While my soap method would work instantly, I would soon see again the all too familiar ants running up and down the branches of these plants, continuing their farming of those little critters that seem to be a major food source for these ant’s communities. While I had nothing against the ants, the aphids had to go, so, yesterday I gave up on my “ecological” reasoning and invoked/embodied the god Shiva for a final solution (not that invoking god-forms is an un-ecological act). Yes, I had been killing, and yes again, with a little help from the best, I would soon be done with it. I would destroy to “make room” for something else. I would have apples and roses this year — hmmm… 

So — I am a killer, that’s admitted, but I rationalize my acts by acknowledging some discernment has been applied, which is completely unlike the destruction done by wholesale corporate profiteering and agendas — but, how does my small act of complete destruction of a local species in my three apple trees differ from the results of a lie called the “Global War on Terrorism?” This I ask you, but I would like to discuss this archetypal force the Hindus call Shiva, the Destroyer. 

The god Shiva is one god of a trinity of gods that perpetuate the whole of the “creative” process. This is an eternal, circular reality much like the Buddhist’s Wheel of Karma. However, Karma I will not elaborate on beyond this simile only for the purposes of being brief. This trinity of Hindu gods is as follows: 

  1. Brahma – the creator
  2. Vishnu – the preserver
  3. Shiva – the destroyer

Shiva - the Destroyer

Shiva goes by many names, but as an archetype is pretty consistent, even with his varying aspects. It is Shiva that is responsible for death and destruction, and is the dissolving force in life. This dissolution of things physical is apparently done in order to create new things, since death is the method for our rebirth into a new life (hence the Wheel of Karma). So it seems that destruction is directly mated with creation, but separate. Could it be both these concepts are misunderstood? If these two are unified as one, would we even have a name for it? 

It seems by tradition that Shiva needs to be sedated, calmed, or even stoned enough so that he doesn’t consider what is inherent to his nature. Annual festivals provide a “nectar” of sorts to be delivered unto Shiva for his satisfaction. It also seems Shiva has much in common with the violent Egyptian goddess lioness Sekhmet, who is kept drunk and docile as a cow. 

So today, what is man doing with this Shiva force? Are we not keeping him stoned enough? Are the priests failing in their duties? Is it only my judgement that tells me all this death and destruction is unnecessary, or are we just observers to a natural force that is in its rightful and proper place? Could it actually be that  man is  manipulating  this force and extending its cycle for personal profit? Could I be giving too much credit to the Bilderburgs? Maybe there is something bigger going on than the minds of men could even understand? 

Consider this story that things need to be destroyed to make room for more in what is considered an ever-expanding universe? Does this make sense? 

Consider this circular reality, and what would happen if we changed our perceptions of it into that of a spiral reality. Would an infinitely expanding spiral have need for a tri-creative set of overseers, or would all things be unified. Would Shiva become redundant, or obsolete? 

Since the Shiva in me is the Shiva in you, I will ask you again — what do you think?

Eheyeh Asher Eheyeh and Da'ath

May 15, 2010

Da’ath is translated as knowledge, but this is not knowledge as we in the western world would understand it today. Da’ath refers not to information as fact, harvested and stored like a crop (or crap) for later use, but to an understanding in a very real way, in a way that you can understand only by becoming the “subject” known. This becoming equates to a one-ness, a union with the subject in an intimate, even sexual way on an energetic level. Any direct experience with the intangible is certain to have Da’ath involved. This is where Adam knew Eve (but of course he knew Lilith first, and Eve was only one of six rebound relationships that occurred until he was happy).

That being said — Da’ath is first and foremost the place, or method, that  Keter/Eheyeh can know itself. Da’ath is knowledge of the all in one, and the one in all. Da’ath is where I know (actually realize) myself.

As Eheyeh is emitted out of the quaternary process that begins with Ain and results in Keter, a pattern is established that will later be represented by the ineffable, unspeakable, first name of God — YHVH. All before and up to Eheyeh is prototypical experience.

Since this beginning is a proto-experience, it is said it cannot be known, but Da’ath can be known, and all is reflected in and through Da’ath. All things can be known and experienced by reaching into and across the Abyss.

The "unapproachable", completely transparent Keter with Its Blue Star as a "Lens" allowing the making of "opposite" forces.

As all things are as their source is, Eheyeh is as Its source is, this source being Ain, and Ain being nothing. Eheyeh is also Ain Soph which is endless, and it is Ain Soph Aur which is limitless light. All that precedes Keter is only Eheyeh as a result. With nothing else to be, Eheyeh is as it is, but it is something, it just knows not what this something is. Eheyeh pre-Da’ath knows Nothing, but in its expansive/limitless way, it needs to know Nothing as Something, so Da’ath arises in an attitude of reflection — Eheyeh’s self-reflection.

Da’ath is a mirror and provides Eheyeh with an idea of nothing as something, and Eheyeh now knows. It knows all things before they are things. It knows all things before opposition, and it now knows opposition by its own reflection, and so can create via divine opposites — Chockmah and Binah, but I digress.

Eheyeh, I Am, becomes intimate with itself via a reflection of itself in a mirror that is itself. This is what is meant by knowledge as discussed, and so I can begin.

I Am (Eheyeh) is now mated with itself in a direct way, in an intimate way, in a cosmic act of masturbation. I Am knows itself, and “sees” itself, and declares “I am That I am” — Eheyeh Asher Eheyeh. I am THAT I am, and I am no “other” I am. There is no other I Am but the one that comes from nothing. This is self-awareness from the perspective of Eheyeh.

The interesting thing about Da’ath is that while it serves as a mirror for Eheyeh, it is not a flat mirror, nor is it uni-directional. Da’ath reflects in all ways — up/down, right/left, forward/back, in/out, directly/indirectly, diagonally, multi-dimensionally, and through itself. All this for a quasi or psuedo-sphere. All this for a psuedo-reality.

Eheyeh first sees itself reflected back to itself by this “lens” called Da’ath, but it also sees itself reflected through Da’ath, into the lower realms (bear in mind these lower dimensions have not been “created” yet), to the point of omniscience and omnipresence (Yes, I digress again).

Why is all this, or any of this, important? Because now we can discuss ourselves as I Am, and by the power of self-reflection, we can understand ourselves as “I am THAT I am.” By the combined reflection of Keter as it is seen through Da’ath, and by the reflection of ourselves cast back towards us, we can experience direct knowledge of who and what we are, provided, of course, that this image is not filtered by the Yesodic realm prior to our “seeing”. This means we must rise above our Kingdoms in this physical realm if we wish to see things clearly.

By placing ourselves in the geographic reality called Tipheret, we stand directly opposite Keter, the “I Am” of nothingness — the Identity of Source. From this position, we have the most direct “view” through the lens of Da’ath of the Crown we wear. By the power of reflection and self-awareness, we become as I Am. We awaken with a reflection Eheyeh in Tipheret.

Da’ath IS Keter, and Keter IS Da’ath. When Keter is, Da’ath is not, and when Da’ath is, Keter is not. They coexist as one, but can be only one. As one in origin and reflection, they blink into and out of existence eternally in an ocillating waveform. One becomes the other, and the other becomes One. First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain — then there is Eheyeh. Without Da’ath, there is no I Am that I Am — Eheyeh Asher Eheyeh IS the name of this sphere that is only a quasi-sphere. This is Sirius.

I propose that Da’ath is no more a psuedo-sphere than Keter is. By making Da’ath a “real” sphere, however, we do not now have 11, we have 10 + 1.

This is interesting though, because for the time being, some physicists have agreed that, mathematically, there are 10 + 1 universes. Again — not 11.

When Your Writing Slumps…

May 13, 2010

Slumps — this is what a soufflé does when it fails for reasons unknown.

So what do you do when your writing slumps, otherwise known as the dreaded “writer’s block,” also for reasons unknown?

Well, if reasons are unknown, then there is no reason to look for any because there probably aren’t any to be found. This being the case, there is only one thing you can do with this slump, you can write about it. Drop everything you’re supposed to be doing, everything you’re supposed to be writing, and forget about it. Then you just pick up a pad and pen, or just fire up the old machine (which is probably on anyway), and begin writing. Write about how empty, dry and desolate you feel because you are not fulfilling your purpose in life.

Or, begin by writing about how you have absolutely nothing to write about.

Or, begin by documenting the events that led you to this state of being a miserable wretch.

Or, accept all this and just move on. Begin having fun doing what you do best, and that is writing — even if it is not the writing you are supposed to be writing.

Just dive into those words that come to you. Leave these words uncorrupted as they fly through the portal of you imagination into reality. Write as you have forgotten how to write, free and spontaneously,  flowing and going with the words as they pass out of your mind. Go … go … go into that night where there is no light but the light of the written word. Go … go … go with your words as they spin tales of woe and peace. Go with them as a passenger on a mysterious journey without any destination.

Go … go … go write what you will. Go back into your work with a pen in your hand. Go back into your work where your only need is the need to write and the need to share.

Go … go … go where you go without a care in the world. Go away with yourself to a place in your past, a place where you first wrote your name — that place where you first felt the joy of success. Go back to this day, for this is the day when you began to write —

and so begin again today.

%d bloggers like this: