Elusive

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Image: photo credit: SilverTorch66 20160924_160604 via photopin (license)

It’s been a while since I heard from The Opener, as Anubis is sometimes known. He can be an elusive entity, frustrating even. The past few months have been challenging, forcing me to look inwards, a necessary process in hindsight. I’ve been clearing out defunct mind-sets, beliefs and behaviours. There’s still more work to be done and doors to be closed. Fortuitous that He’s appeared at this moment, as all manner of obstacles have separated me from my “Mentor” for too long.

I’m trusting myself and the Universe more, which is producing positive results. You could say I’m beginning to see the return of my authentic self, the Jan that I love and believe in. So many people suffer the frustration of not being who they truly are due to life circumstances. This is something one shouldn’t dismiss easily as it’s an issue that strikes at the heart and psyche deeply. It weighs people down and you can see the shadows shrouding the vision of those so afflicted. Almost as if all colour and vitality have left the person and they’re living as copies of their true selves.

His Nibs (Anubis) looks at me without speaking, and then squeezes my hand. It’s taken a while to get to this point but we’re here, thankfully. For too long I’ve neglected myself and felt my energy bleeding out, okay illness has in part taken its toll. Many people around me are in varying states of unhappiness and indulging in unhealthy projections towards others. They’re pressing my buttons and I’m pressing theirs. This continues to create toxic environments, on the inner and outer.

The sluice gates have been opened and all this crap is being “washed out” into the greater Universe to be neutralised and transformed. Visualisation is a fantastic tool dear readers. It can create true magic and open up unbelievable vistas.

“You’ve remained in the darkness of the tomb for too long” He states matter of fact.

“Not willingly! I answer. What else is there to say? I couldn’t see a way out, the seals on the tomb doors looked unbreakable.

His Nibs shakes in laughter, not unkindly it has to be said. The Opener can be unpredictable and should not be underestimated, ever. Saying that, this inscrutable deity can be hugely protective, loving and patient if he befriends you.

“I’ve not left your side at all, but had to stay aloof in order to let you ask for help” He explains in measured tones.

“Ah, the free will thing” I murmur.

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Image: photo credit: seyed mostafa zamani via photopin (license)

We understand each other but do I understand myself? I gaze into the distance and see a desertscape blasted by strong winds. There’s a long figure walking across the sand, it looks like the Opener. Yes, it’s him in human form. He seems impervious to the grit filled wind swirling around him. The horizon is hidden from gaze, only hinted at when the wind drops. The ancient deity is in his natural element and knows neither fear nor uncertainty in this harsh environment. He is the loneliness of the endless expanse, a mirage created from the yearnings of our Soul. He is the bestower of hidden knowledge, giver of Life and Death, Judge of our Hearts and True Intent.

I ask Him for a blessing for the journey to come, to give my heart courage and resilience. He complies and comments “don’t leave it so late before calling me. We have work to do Jan.”

I nod ruefully. This is a time of Coming into Being. The scent of incense tantalises my nostrils, an offering to The Opener it appears. We part in love and peace, until the next time.

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Image: skyhp009, Pixabay

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Dionysos Pursues: Spirit of the Vine

Image: werner22brigitte, Pixabay

Once again we enter through the portals of the bar hidden deep within the heart of the city. A place only found by those who truly seek answers to questions of the Soul. Three hold court in its hallowed premises, the Spirit of Dance, Love and Memory. Which one shall the visitor gravitate towards? He stands silhouetted in the doorway, passion and gnosis encapsulated in breath taking beauty and disintegration. This is no ordinary seeker. Humans, non-humans and gods have passed through this place, leaving profoundly changed in some way. He enters holding the symbol of his divinity, the thyrsus surmounted by a pine cone. A panther, horse and bull soon follow. All eyes gaze knowingly at the tableaux. Something is afoot they sense. The man’s eyes search the dimly lit room, they’re intense and piercing. Many yearn to touch his sensual lips, not knowing why such an urge should overshadow reason and decorum. He brings a wildness of spirit and madness in his wake, with little change of escape for the unprepared.

The Triad watch silently, knowing well who he’s come seeking. The Spirit of Love gestures to a figure waiting in the shadows. A beautiful woman emerges into the light. Nut brown hair is held back form a fine boned face, which is flawless except for a tiny scar next to the right eye. This only serves to highlight her beauty. Her green eyes shine brightly, vulnerability clouding them briefly. They close for a moment, the man then seizes his chance and kisses her lips lightly. Such restraint the woman thinks. Many were the nights when the sleepy eyed god would rain kisses upon her, offering his Body, Heart and Soul. The fruit of the vine flowed like his blood, a sacrifice that was readily accepted by his worshippers, especially the Maenads.  Mighty Dionysos!

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Image: werner22brigitte, Pixabay

The woman curls her arms around his neck and they begin a slow dance in the centre of the room. The orchestra plays a wistful and hypnotic melody that fires the blood and reaches deep into your memories. It sings of the passion of worship and illumination, of unconscious urges rising from the depths and fragmenting in the light of day. Those present feel its primeval beat and unbridled emotions. They perch on the edge of surrender, surrender to forces beyond human comprehension, as do the two figures on the dance floor. Dionysos whirls away from the woman and performs a dance in ecstatic frenzy. He gives up himself and his very being in this ritual of unbinding and vulnerability.

“Come, maenad, tear me asunder and set me free” he begs his partner.

The woman walks round him, slowly and seductively. She stands in strength and power, confident in every way. Her grace and serenity beguile and warm the heart.

“Unbind your beauteous hair my love and let it flow like a waterfall over my arms” he beseeches to no avail.

“I loosen my hair for no one Great One, those times are gone. I no longer rend my clothes and spirit for you” she whispers in his ear. He moans in protest and then laughs.

They circle each like warriors on the battlefield. Memories swirl around them like ribbons of light, shimmering in intensity when the emotions overflow the cup. His ecstatic trance flows like a river in full rage, unstoppable and dangerous. The Triad held the power at bay if only to protect the bystanders. The driving beat of the melody urges the dancers onwards to a higher state of consciousness. The God of the Vine gazes intently at the woman facing him, her lips whisper prayers uttered in his honour in ancient times. His eyes close in humility and thanks.

The woman approaches and kisses him deeply. It tells of millennia of searching for her true self, of walking on roads unknown and fearful. Yet, she always sensed his presence wherever she went. The kiss told of her fragmentation and subsequent rebirth. It told of nights when the god approached and enfolded her in warmth and safety. It told of a love drawn from a bottomless well.

The two figures part and stand smiling at each other. She stands back and holds out her arms, two serpents emerge from behind and wind themselves round each arm. Her hair comes loose and flows down her back. The God of the Vine drinks bows his head in respect and gestures to a table in the corner. On it wait fruit of the vine and two wine glasses. The red of sacrifice has been replaced by the white of rebirth.

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Image: werner22brigitte, Pixabay

Daily Oracle Card from The Archangel Oracle Blog

Daily Angel Oracle Card: Seven Of Earth, from the Dreams Of Gaia Tarot Card deck, by Ravynne Phelan Seven Of Earth: “Meditation, Grounding, Connection, Cycles, Change, Interaction, Purification, Stress” Key Phrases: “Get out into nature. Let Gaia heal you. Connection between self and the world. All is connected and has influence. Address the stress. Meditate […]

via Seven Of Earth — Archangel Oracle ~ Divine Guidance

“Trust” They Say: When Nature Speaks

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Image: Oak Tree, River Llugwy, Betws y Coed, Jan Malique

This post has been languishing on my computer for a while. There are have been numerous attempts at starting it, only to be discarded minutes later. I haven’t been in the mood to write much these past few weeks, due to a variety of reasons, illness being one. Health issues have been ongoing for months, draining my energy and enthusiasm. My doctor’s prescribed a whole variety of medicines to deal with gastro-intestinal problems, eliminating one cause after another. I’ve taken more medication in several months than in the past few years, and it isn’t really making me feel any better. Some symptoms have been alleviated, but long-term medication isn’t the way to go if there are other ways of resolving the issue. I don’t plan on increasing the profits of pharmaceutical companies if at all possible. An appointment has been arranged to see a specialist in several weeks time, let’s see what they say. That’s where I am at the moment. I’m not usually quite so open about personal issues in my posts but a time comes when it becomes necessary.

Change is Knocking on the Door

I know there are many other people experiencing stress and difficulties in their lives. There appears to be a mass of chaotic energy sweeping through the planet at this time, making people feel destabilised and fearful. It’s contagious and quite hard at times to shield yourself against. My challenge is to remain calm and not give in to provocation, and there’s plenty of it going on around me in both personal and professional spheres. Challenges serve to reveal the true nature of your spirit. Mine’s currently sitting in a chair with a warm blanket covering her knees, and thinking wtf is going on with the dysfunctional inmates around her. Apologies for my language but it needed to be said. My nature needs to be less judgmental admittedly, but rude behaviour is unnecessary and being such a “sensitive little soul” it pains me to the core.

It feels good to get that off my chest. All is not bad in the Shed though as there is light filtering through the rainy gloom and lighting up the shadows. I got up one morning a couple of weeks ago and aimed to have a good day. A weight lifted off my shoulders and Hope emerged to give a thumbs up. This was looking positive. The day went well. I finally admitted that a change of work environment was necessary, and steps needed to be taken to find positive people, experiences and opportunities. Change can be difficult but I implore you not to put up with crap if it’s taking a toll on health and wellbeing. Be true to yourself and your heart, self-sacrifice yields little in the way of either spiritual or material gain.

Who Answers?

So, the scene has been set for this strange little journey of mine. What comes next? The drama started in mid-September, we were en route to work and my partner was giving me a lift to the railway station. It was my first week back at work after our holiday and I wasn’t in the most enthusiastic of moods, just tired. My thoughts cried out to the greater Universe for clarity and guidance. An answer was needed, anything that would help me see through the fog of uncertainty. There was a distinct lack of trust in my ability to navigate the waters of life. Then the words “Trust” and “Duir” fell like pebbles into a pool. Duir is the Irish/Gaelic word for Oak (meaning door), a tree that has been revered for centuries by many cultures. Duir and Druid have their roots in the Sanskrit dru, meaning wood, tree and vid, meaning to know.

 The Oak Comes Forth

Those two words kept repeating in my head for a reason. Synchronicity dear readers, a word that appears when things are afoot, when guidance is being offered by otherworldly (or other) sources. We’d visited Betws y Coed in the Snowdonia National Park several weeks ago. Our walk took us along the banks of the River Llugwy. The majority of trees there were deciduous, with a large number of oak trees being present. Great numbers of acorns littered the footpath and river bank. The rocks and trees were also adorned in moss. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of ‘otherness’ and felt old.

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Image: Old Green Beard, Betws y Coed, David K Almond

I love trees and have always regarded them as wise and powerful sentient beings. Trees hold memories and knowledge of times past in their bodies, they’ve been revered as beings worthy of respect and considered great teachers. Numerous cultures speak of the World Tree existing at the centre of the cosmos, whose roots go deep into the underworld and canopy stretches into the heavens. So they are rather important entities, whose existence we depend on to oxygenate our atmosphere, create habitats for a huge number of species and also enrich our Souls and Spirit. Trees rock! For a former city kid my spirit is surprisingly receptive to the land and its spirit. Does that sound arrogant? Perhaps this is one of the meanings of Life, not to forget our deep and eternal relationship with Nature.

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Image: Tree of Life by William Morris, Jan Malique

As for the Oak tree, I can see why it came forward. Situations appear clearer with hindsight!

Oak appears in many places in our home, on the frame of a mirror, on furniture and our garden gate. There are oak trees across the road from us as well. The answer was all around me and I’d been too preoccupied to notice. What of some of the symbolism associated with this king of the forest?

Associations with Deities:

Arianrhod, Balder, Blodeuwedd, Brigid, Cerunnos, Cerridwen, Cybele, Dagda, Dryads, Herne, Indra, Janus, Jupiter, Jehovah, Llyr, Odin, Pan, Rhea, Taran, Thor, Vishnu, Zeus.

 Correspondences:

Planetary Ruler – Jupiter
Element of Fire
Male
Totem Bird – Wren, Eagle, Swallow, Woodpecker
Totem animal – Bull

Folk Lore

Associated with sky and thunder gods and deities of fertility and fire. The Oak is said to confer courage, health, inner strength and protection. The ancient Romans considered the tree to be the ancestor of humankind and the Arcadian Greeks thought of themselves as being Eggenoi Dryos (Sons of the Oak). Oak was associated with prophecy, a means by which gods communicated with their worshippers. Meetings were held under it and oak groves were places of ritual and worship.

Due to its deep roots the Oak can help with the good health of our feet in aiding stability, connecting to the solidity of the earth/Earth. It is thought to be one World Tree, connecting the three realms and a doorway into the Otherworld. Oak also represents the Lord of the Forest, in the glory of his strength, protection and virility. Oaks that had mistletoe growing on them were especially revered, as the berries were considered semen of the Sun God. In ancient times the plant was known as druad-lus (druid’s plant). It represented rebirth and peace,  with the ancient Celts refraining from battle when the mistletoes was being cut at the Solstice. The Druid’s god Esus was thought to reside in the tree.

As a physical doorway it is incredibly strong and resilient, and as a spiritual doorway it can give us access to primeval worlds. Places in which we can gather courage and strength to overcome adversity. The tree’s bark, leaves and acorns can be used to produce healing remedies to revitalise the physical and spiritual levels. As a Bach Flower remedy, Oak helps with despair, despondency and limitations of illness. It supports the person by helping them persevere and has a calming influence. It therefore has much to teach us.

There is much more connected with the Oak but that is something for me to explore in greater depth. This is only a brief overview of a vast subject concerning tree lore. The best way of experiencing the majesty and wisdom of trees is obviously in nature. I’m not a Druid, just someone who feels great affection for these mighty beings. I asked a question and it was answered in the most appropriate way regarding my circumstances. The next step is to buy the Oak Bach Flower remedy and start making a list of “to dos”.

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Image: Moss shrouded glade, Jan Malique

 

Feral – A Random Act Of Poetry

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Image: skeeze, Pixabay

Annette Rochelle Aben posted a timely reminder about the joys of poetry on Random Acts of Poetry Day. It brought back many memories of early scribblings in the back of school exercise books, and freestyle sessions at literary events. Those were the heady days of youthful creativity, exciting and edgy. I devoured the poetry of Baudelaire and Neruda and took their lead in spinning tales surreal and impenetrable. My efforts were badly written but mine to own and proclaim in hushed tones. Such acts nurture the weird and wonderful natures of surrealists in the making. I know, a grand comment to make a worthy goal to aspire to don’t you think?  Anyway, enough of the procrastinating. Here is my very own Random Act of Poetry, a mish mash of parts, much like antipasti in a zombie restaurant. Please enjoy, or not. Do leave a tip for the ghoul at the door but don’t look her in the eyes.

 

“Don’t feed the horses” the sign calls loudly, but do I listen?

The cracked wood invites, beckons me in, and whispers “look”

Heart in mouth I approach, chest gapes wide, blood drips fast

Feral beasts wait, bellow fire from lungs of bronze and voice of dreams

Reality distorts, fazes mind, and whispers “look”

Feral beasts approach and sacrifice is offered

Heartless I stand, bloodied but unbeaten

 

Where am I now? “On the other side of No Return my darlin”

Drawls the lone cowboy, with eyes of smoke and voice of venom

He looks and says nothing, just stands watching

He looks and says nothing, just stands smoking

“Don’t feed the horses” the sign calls loudly, but did you listen?

Hell’s Librarian – Twittering Tales #52 – 3 October 2017

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Photo by GLady on Pixabay.com

This is my response to the fiendish challenge set by Kat Myrman for this week’s Twittering Tale.

It’s taken a while to track you down and I’m not in a good mood. You’re fifty years overdue and he wants it back. Hand the soul over.
(135 words)

Object of the Month for October: The Ultimate Zombie Apocalypse Weapon

I recommend the Royal Armouries blog for all the wonderful and informative posts. This one in particular may be useful in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse. 😉
https://blog.royalarmouries.org/2017/10/01/object-of-the-month-for-october-the-ultimate-zombie-apocalypse-weapon/

Seraph: Warrior of Light

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Image: Mysticsartdesign, Pixabay

Amunet faces another sunrise at the remote monastery, the sixtieth at the last count. Due to its location visitors are rare. Those that appear at its gates are there for very specific reasons and she falls into that category. The young man who accompanied her two months ago was meeting his guru at the monastery. Their journey will continue into the far north, deep into the Tibetan plateau. This is the last anyone will see of them. Many of her encounters end in such ways. As for the reason for being here, it has taken months of searching to find a lead, any lead, of the woman known as Seraph. She certainly had a sense of humour taking on that name. It was a little obvious! The monks have found the scroll she was looking for and today is the day its contents will see the light again after seven thousand years.

The library is immense, with shelves packed full with manuscripts and books. Most of which are written in Tibetan and Sanskrit, but in the inner sanctum are items of rare provenance. Treasures hidden from the grasp of greedy tyrants and seekers after power. It’s even whispered that the angels themselves have gifted this place with relics of terrible and prophetic power. These are well hidden, no one, no one has access except for three people, Amunet being one. You may ask why this is so, that may or may not be revealed later in her journey.

Two monks carry the scroll carefully to a desk in one corner of the room and beckon her over. It exudes an energy that isn’t quite comfortable, hence the monks having to wear special gloves. She lays her hands on the document, asking permission to enter into its world. It senses her essence and unlocks the gates to a hidden world:

The Last Battle

These are the last words of the being known as Seraph. My time is nearing its end in this place of darkness, the hordes are numerous and I could destroy them all. Yet, this is not my task alone but for the ones to come. I shall wait as long as I can and no longer, this body is damaged and must return to its elemental home. The spaces between the worlds are widening, like wounds they bleed but it is time and not blood that flows. My kin wait for my signal, ‘not yet’ I tell them.

Bloodshed and hatred spread like wildfire over these lands, the hordes have hearts that are filled with a darkness no light can penetrate. The overlords of such evil stand like sentinels urging their minions onwards. I hear the dripping of poisonous words in receptive ears, what glamour and twisted magic is being wielded to bind and enslave? Have reason and humanity deserted their souls, the ones that are tempted? They would jump willingly into the Pit if ordered to do so. Threads of disquiet spread throughout bodies that appear defenceless. I hear their cries for salvation, trapped they are in realms we cannot go. That task is for our brethren, the ones so called Fallen. In whose eyes may I ask?

This is a battle that has played out for eons. Consisting of games infused with treachery and pettiness. What use is free will if it is twisted to suit the oppressor? Heed my words but I fear they will fall on stony ground. It approaches, like a tide of blood and anger. I hear its whispered threats but fear them not. ‘Come closer’ I urge it, it obeys. It holds aloft the sphere triumphantly, captured through treachery of one no longer alive. We offered the bait and they emerged from the shadows, grasping hungrily. All the knowledge of the Universe is distilled in that sphere, yet none can access its treasures.

It stands over me gloating and baring its teeth. A little closer, yes, believe I have only moments to live. Its breath sears my skin but this body is beyond pain. How arrogant the beast is, even placing the sphere in my hand. My fingers close round it and then it begins. My kin rise like a curtain of incandescent light on the horizon, and sweep across the land vaporising all in their wake. The beast turns in shock. I strike at that moment. It too vanishes, leaving ash drifting in the wind. Now I can depart this body. She lies breathless on the ground, blood and dirt besmirching her features. We gather her remnants and return them to the eternal flame, another warrior passes beyond the Veil. It is done and the relic is returned once more to our possession. This battle has ended but there are more to come. We must be ever vigilant.

Amunet looks up from the scroll to see a figure shrouded in light. They move into view and gaze down at her.  Those eyes, they look so familiar. The man smiles and speaks.

Man:

That fragment doesn’t give the full story Amunet, but it’s a start. We’ve been waiting for your visit. Are you intrigued?

Amunet:

Intrigued? I think you know the answer. Is it safe?

Man:

So far. Yet, I sense the same powers are on the prowl again. The lure of divine knowledge still holds them in thrall.

Amunet:

I think you mean the power it contains is what they’re lusting after. (Smiles).

Man:

(Smiles back). That and more. Their natures are unchanging, eternally chained to ravenous beasts demanding more of their souls. It twist and thwarts what grace is left in those fragile bodies. The overlords of the Pit beguile them with beautiful words and false promises. Promises of wealth and status. They feed on ambition, fear and anger.

Amunet:

Once tasted, always hungered after…They seek the light, but can never twist and subvert it. The ancient darkness will lose and realises this truth. That’s why it’s redoubling efforts to push this world into nothingness. How many times have I seen this being played out? It has to end soon, otherwise we will intervene and then there will be nothing left for either side.

Man:

 I, understand.  (Bows and turns to leave).

Amunet:

Seraph, my words may sound harsh but this has dragged on for longer than necessary.

The man pauses and turns. He nods in understanding and then leaves. Amunet rolls up the scroll carefully and waits for the monks. She walks over to the window and looks at the retreating figure of the one who was Seraph. He disappears into the mist that’s descended on the mountains.

 The saga continues.

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Image: LYJ19920520, Pixabay

 

 

Journey from Death to Life by Elaine Mansfield

A powerful post on bereavement and healing by Elaine Mansfield, who lost her husband through cancer. This details her journey through loss and encounter with the mysterious  Green Man in dreams. A remarkable journey. I reblogged this in the hope that her words will be of help to others experiencing grief. It resonates strongly with me.

https://otvmagazine.com/2017/09/18/journey-from-death-to-life/

Twittering Tale #51 – 26 September 2017

Kat’s Challenge for this week. Enjoy and participate.

like mercury colliding...

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About the challenge: Each Tuesday I will provide a photo prompt. Your mission, if you choose to accept the challenge, is to tell a story based on that prompt in 140 characters or less. Be sure to let me know in the comments with a link to your tale.

A final note: if you need help tracking the number of characters in your story, there is a nifty online tool that will count for you at charactercountonline.com.

I will do a roundup each Tuesday, along with providing a new prompt. Have Fun!

Twittering Tale #50 – The Roundup

forest-path-238887_1280 keywest3 at Pixabay

Starting us all off…here’s mine:
“We’ve been here before.”
“I can’t believe…which way did we go last time?”
“Right.”
“Left. We’ll go left.”
… …
“We’ve been here before…”
139 Characters

From Michael at Morpethroad;
There’s no less travelled road she bewailed
Says a lot about…

View original post 811 more words