Hunger

heart-876746_1280

947051, Pixabay

Preamble

I wasn’t sure how to proceed with this post. The word ”hunger’ kept ricocheting in my head, and as writers know the Muses in such cases are directing our attention to something of great importance. Or not.

My little tale started out as a love story (of sorts), then widened to gather in hunger of a different type. Hunger for power, which may be the most destructive of all. On the other hand, revenge, hate, envy, malice, and other self-destructive traits spring to mind.

Therein lie the makings of a dark little tale methinks, featuring a vampire and ‘fallen’ angel. I tend to use such devices in my posts to explore issues that may otherwise end up being dry and indigestible (for my new readers – you’ll get used to this). Instead they end up being impenetrable and indigestible, makes a change.

You may find the turn of phrase a little, old fashioned, and the names puzzling. They are very, very old Souls, bringing with them remnants of their culture. One that has to exist in the modern world and its ways.

At the heart of this tale lie the issues of love, sacred oaths, integrity, and right motivation. For those engaged in any form of esoteric and spiritual work these should be central to their work and existence. My opinion only dear readers.

Better get started then.

gothic-3161492_1280

darksouls1, Pixabay

Encounter of Powers

The story takes place in a café located down a side street in a city that shall remain nameless, and in a country that shall remain nameless. Dusk is approaching, being a time which is neither day nor night, but in-between. A time when the senses undergo an awakening, when the sensitive and empathic pick up ‘signals’ on their antennae. They feel the approach of inexplicable and awe-filled emotions and presences.

In the distance we see a huge Sun radiating rays of gold in varying hues. The setting Sun bathes the streets in a film of iridescence. It shimmers gloriously. A figure is silhouetted against this eye catching canvas.

The dazzling light recedes to reveal a woman with hair the colour of old gold and golden eyes. The lips are full and stained red, and manner calm and commanding. Her look is piercing, knowing, she can see through your masks and shields. There is no lie she can’t penetrate, no subterfuge that can’t be ripped apart.

The man standing outside the cafe watches her intently. He scrutinises every aspect of her figure with hooded eyes. His breath synchronizes with her steps. She glides towards him, offering a hand, which he kisses respectfully. He then holds the door open for her.  A gentleman as always.

cafe-789635_1280

donterase, Pixabay

The interior is an eclectic mix of styles, eccentric even, and the reason why it’s located in the ‘bohemian’ quarter of the city. It has a relaxed atmosphere but allows for privacy if the clientele so require. They find a table at the back of the café and sit in silence. From time to time each glances at the other until the waiter approaches.

The drinks are ordered and then silence settles over the two figures like a welcome Summer downpour. It stretches into minutes as both contemplate the significance of this meeting.

candle-2903006__480

fietzfotos, Pixabay

They begin to converse in the original tongue, a habit both are often inclined to do:

She Who Is Silence Before The Storm:

Magic of an accursed kind, filled with envy and spite has been loosed. Its attentions have been directed towards individuals under my care. Initiates are involved, highlighting the seriousness of the act. I am, displeased.

He Who Is Clothed In Shadow And Strength:

With good reason my lady. Oath breaking and mischief are serious in themselves, but, the hunger for power brings with it serious implications for the perpetrators. Many Mystery Schools, esoteric and mystical orders have been prey to betrayals enacted by those they’ve trained and taken under their wings. I have seen much of this over the millennia. I know you have strong views on this.

She Who Is Silence Before The Storm:

Strong views? Your words surely do injustice to the depths of my feelings. Cracks present in the souls of those particular individuals can widen like fissures; where worldly ambitions and desires can take root. Perhaps the most heinous crime is that of seeking to elevate the Self above all others and gather together acolytes to enact their dark deeds. Knowledge of the human condition is put to detrimental and unethical use. Thus are Powers of a Higher Plane disrespected and the sanctity of the Higher Self torn to shreds. They are doomed by their own actions.

He Who Is Clothed In Shadow And Strength:

Doomed? A certainty. Such deeds have seen the light of day throughout history my lady. The material world is rife with individuals who are instruments of the forces of chaos and evil. I am not without blemish of character, and have perpetrated much upon legions of humanity before reigning in my baser instincts. Your attentions have been my salvation, as has your, love. I dare mention it as my soulless body yearns to see the light, your light again. You remain silent my lady. Have I offended you?

She Who Is Silence Before The Storm:

Not at all Shadow Walker. It was leading to this point, I could see the fire gather in your eyes. Please give me your hand. Such an elegant and strong instrument, clothed in silk and as deadly as a dagger. As is your mouth. What havoc you have caused with both Shadow Walker, taken us to the depths and then raised to the heavens. We have known love and desolation, and I could have destroyed you with fire and turned your bones to ashes. Yet my hand was stilled by what was glimpsed in your eyes and heart. You have never taken advantage of our relationship, why?

He Who Is Clothed In Shadow And Strength:

Do you need me to answer that my lady? My trust, faith and love are pledged to you and only you. We may walk different paths but there is honour between us. It was so in the beginning of all things when life issued forth from Nothingness, before I, transformed into what I am now…You chose to fall my lady, the enormity of your sacrifice overwhelms me at times.

She Who Is Silence Before The Storm:

It is an act never regretted, for I have been the hand that has guided and protected the lost, vulnerable and Seekers through the darkness. I have been the destroyer of armies of darkness swarming out of the gates of the Abyss, and I have served justice upon the breakers of sacred oaths. I guard the Temple gates. I gift you the fire and my love Shadow Walker, do what needs to be done and I shall do my part. The fire of the Sun behind the Sun shall purge the insidious growth of betrayal.

He Who Is Clothed In Shadow And Strength:

I serve as you wish.

man-407084__480

SplitShire, Pixabay

Withdrawal Behind The Veils

The two figures remain seated, with hands clasped together and deep in thought. They savour this moment, one of many to come. They are the epitome of the Sun and Moon, invested with their respective powers. They are the balance of forces flowing through the Universes, the arbiters of justice and guardians of the Path. The minutes tick by, eternity passes and then the Powers withdraw behind the Veils to do what is necessary.

Here ends my tale, an exploration of an issue that has been troubling me for a while. On the nature of initiates (or otherwise) who choose to seek the path of power for reasons of status and gain. Surely negating the very reason they chose to seek evolution and growth, in the end such actions only bringing down hubris upon their heads. FIN.

 

Advertisements

Crane Song – May 10: Flash Fiction Challenge

May 10, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story defining “the charisma of cranes.” For centuries, cranes have inspired art and philosophy. You can write a crane story or create something new out of the phrase. Go where the prompt leads. Respond by May 15, 2018.

May 10: Flash Fiction Challenge

Charli’s provided a beautiful prompt this week on the subject of cranes, a mysterious creature considered sacred by many cultures, being a messenger from divine beings, keeper of secrets and sacred lore. How do you encapsulate that in a few words? Well, here is my attempt:

Crane Song

Crane sings his song of becoming,

Of passage of time.

Shapeshifts,

Answers to the call,

Of the Three who are One.

Sacred Moon bird,

What can you see?

Your vision sees the true face of all.

Seer of the Three who are One,

Your words are hidden in mystery,

Meant for ears that hear true,

And hearts that are pure.

You weave Magic,

Usher in times of change.

Speak with the voices of those beyond the Veil.

Crane sings his song of becoming,

Of the passage of time.

Shapeshifts, answers to the call,

Of the Three who are One.

 

The Psychological Defense Mechanism of Displacement — MakeItUltra™

By Dr. Perry, PhD “Turning feelings into words can help us process and overcome adversity.” ~Sheryl Sandberg Our emotional responses to everyday life events do not always take a linear path from perception to a reaction. Every day we encounter an endless assembly line of external stimuli that we must quickly access, process and classify. Our brains […]

via The Psychological Defense Mechanism of Displacement — MakeItUltra™

Offering : Splash #writephoto

splash

Image: Sue Vincent

My offering for Sue’s Thursday Photo Prompt makes a return to wind lashed northern shores, home of Odin’s seer. What is it with the One Eyed god and his summons? He appeared long ago, a shimmering dream offering the fruits of his suffering and knowledge. The woman who stood before him didn’t fully realise the significance of this act, but knew it had to be accepted.

Such offerings are deeply infused with sacredness and offer a glimpse into realities beyond normal perception. They occur in liminal places, for no other location will do. Such boundaries and thresholds facilitate the opening of the consciousness to divine forces and revelation. On this occasion the Seer stands at a place of offering, she carries the mead of inspiration for the one who stands in the light of fire from the skies:

You call upon me once more One Eyed One,

Wrenching me from a place of solitude and silence.

I peer into the darkness of first beginnings,

Grasp at visions of times yet to come and times long gone,

When all that we hold dear vanish into the fires of undoing.

A new world calls, yet my heart fills with tears at what is inevitable.

For those who walk the path of foretelling feel the weight of their calling,

We obey and proffer a hand of help when all feels lost,

Yet who carries us when we can no longer walk?

Who offers shelter when fire rains down upon our heads?

Who comforts us in times of tribulation?

One Eyed One, for it is you who answers our call,

Peers into places that even we cannot see,

Offers the waters of healing.

My obligation to you is ever eternal,

And my blood bond most potent.

As such, accept this mead as my offering.

What more will you have me do, my well of inspiration?

How may I serve at the turning of the ages?

So we observe the Seer at this most important of acts, offering to the gods, see its power splash into the water. Perhaps one could view this as a propitiatory gift to a deity of tremendous and dangerous power. They must be appeased and loved at the same time. The rain and wind are relentless as she pours the mead into the waters of Mimir’s Well. For without Mimir Odin would not have gained mastery over the runes.

Encounters in the Silence: Waiting #writephoto

waiting

Image: Sue Vincent

Sue’s photo for the Thursday Photo prompt inspired me to commit to words the travails of a person considered heretical by the authorities and imprisoned in a remote citadel, for their own “protection.” The Compact Oxford English Dictionary defines Heresy as “belief or opinion which goes against traditional religious doctrine.” It’s also vaguely related to a role I assumed in the recent Silent Eye workshop “Jewel in the Claw” (of an Elizabethan Jesuit priest). This is an exploration of conflicted emotions and mindsets. All this from one photo? By now regular readers of this blog will be aware of my love of meandering down strange paths. I’m a creature of habit it has to be said:

People of the Chaos gazed across the Abyss at People of the Balance. The two had been engaged in long cycles of supremacy and capitulation. This Cosmic War had endured for eons, an inadequate word for the length of such time spans. Dark and Light aspects were carried within the heart of both entities but didn’t sit comfortably with either. This paradox continued to perplex and anger, the origins of the conflict long forgotten. Perhaps it was gestated in the womb of fire, light and sound that announced the birth of this Universe; a place removed far from knowing and belief.

Both sides held often deeply flawed perceptions, depending on which way the scales tipped. One wonders when the schism first appeared. Prisoners were taken by Chaos and Balance, the one chosen in this cycle was taken by the forces of Chaos to a remote mountain citadel. It was the stronghold of their mages and priesthood, for magic and religion were entwined in a faithful marriage.

The prisoner walked this path and therefore deemed a suitable subject. His existence in this place of light and shadow was often tinged with fear and uncertainty. Not surprising as he was deep in enemy territory, tolerated only due to his calling. They placed him in this remote outpost for his own “protection”, safety being guaranteed by the High Priest of the Temple of Shadows. Thus is the scene set, what of our man of Balance? What are his thoughts on this state of affairs?

I desire nothing but freedom from all that is inimical to my way of being and belief. I live for all that is aligned with Balance and Order. We are the people of the true faith, ones that lead the way in shedding Light upon the Darkness and Wayshowers. Yet, my heart is the chalice that has known darkness of a kind that recalls the beginnings of our world. My eyes have gazed upon a well with no end, bottomless like my memories. Silence confronts me every day of my incarceration in this place of light and shadow, with hostile forces seeking to crush all that I embody, with little success.

Then one day, their High Priest enters into my silence, shattering it profoundly. He tests my mettle and faith by questions that unsettle and provoke. In turn I pierce his shield of false perceptions. We both face stalemate, moving backwards and forwards from a border that remains rigid and unnavigable. How his chaotic nature resonates with that aspect of mine lying hidden behind doors I dare not open. On another day he shatters the silence of my existence. This time I step back from my prejudices and attempt to meet him halfway. We carry on this strategy day after day, until a time comes when insight breaks through the mist obscuring truth and understanding. For a moment in time we achieve perfect balance, gaze across the Abyss in perfect harmony, recalling our original state of being and separation.

So the cycle continues, as does the way of both Peoples.

A common misconception? — The Silent Eye

A timely find! Sumeria is the focus of the journey next year.

“….so, this year it is Shakespeare and the Elizabethan Court, and next year we’ll be in Sumeria.” Running around getting things organised for the workshops always involves the attempted acquisition of some strange items. I frequently get asked what I’m hoping to use them for and that inevitably leads to questions about what we […]

via A common misconception? — The Silent Eye

Resilience of the Emboldened Spirit

knight-3003641_1920

Yuri_B, Pixabay

Templar Knights, Cathars, Priests, Priestesses, Mystics, Ancient Gods and Magicians have wandered in and out of my stories on a regular basis. For the Silent Eye’s April workshop in Derbyshire I shall take on a role that’s in keeping with the spirit of these characters. As yet I can’t reveal what that role will be, my perception of their persona will change as I inhabit the skin of this individual.

In Mystery Schools (both ancient and modern) the enactment of mystical dramas amongst other things, served to elucidate profound knowledge; as well as initiate psychological and spiritual processes within the individual. Change in whatever shape and form acts as a catalyst to transform consciousness and reveal insights, regardless of whether we’re ready to accept them! That’s the way of personal growth dear readers.

These words are a reflection of my personal explorations on a mystical and magical journey that has continued for over 30 years. I’ve endeavoured to pass on any knowledge and insights gained to help others, one can only try. It’s a journey unique to me, the ultimate destination being to regain wholeness and reintegration with the Cosmic Consciousness. My truth will not be someone else’s truth, my perception of the manifest world will be exactly that, my perception and not anyone else’s.

hands-1926414_1920

Myriams-Fotos, Pixabay

As for the strange and colourful figures wandering through the virtual landscape of my blog, they’re more potent and real than you can ever imagine. Okay, they’re products of a creative process, imagination is an incredibly powerful tool. It can be wielded with a deft hand much like a surgeon’s scalpel, at other times either like a paintbrush or pencil. Dion Fortune defined magic as “the art of causing changes in consciousness in conformity with the Will.”

Important to keep that in mind and not jump to erroneous conclusions.

Now, back to the focus of my little foray into the minds of the fantastical characters I mentioned earlier. All the human entities are searching for the god of their heart, wanting union with the indefinable and apparently unknowable Creator of all life. They’re seeking to part the Veils of Mystery separating human experience and reality from that of the Divine. For Divinity, the journey into manifestation is to gain understanding of its creations, to take to its heart the beauty and subtleties of material life.

adler-589599_1920

Pezibear, Pixabay

To look upon the face of Divinity and live is to finally achieve true gnosis. Life is never the same, the world is then viewed through a lens of supreme clarity. Some of my Seekers have passed through the Veil and lived, others have undergone the transition from the material plane to immaterial plane. Wisdom has been the fruit of their experiences and I think a sense of great inner peace, of a reconciliation between human and divine consciousness. Therein lies the key, for me, to understand the motivations of my character in the Workshop. Therein lies the meaning of resilience for an emboldened spirit. In the words of the wonderful Captain Jean Luc Picard of Star Trek fame, “make it so.” I go with those words into the depths of Derbyshire.

Mímir’s Well – Thursday photo prompt – Carved #writephoto

bowl-on-the-moors

Image: Sue Vincent

Once again Sue has provided a powerful image for the Thursday Photo Prompt, and once again Odin’s Seer has appeared to peer into the waters of truth. I hope my words reflect her visions as she saw them:

This place is known as Mímisbrunner (Mímir’s Well), one of three wells found beneath the roots of the World Tree, Yggdrasil. Within it are contained great wisdom and knowledge, lusted after by many who know not the depth of its waters and sacrifice demanded for even one sip. Even gods are not exempt from paying a price for the secrets it offers. Odin knew this well, and felt the agony of giving up what was most precious. I too have sacrificed much, stepping beyond the realms of all that is safe and known, for knowledge forbidden to the living and dead alike.

Our kind are called to this path, never being freed from its duties and burdens, that is if we care to accept the calling. If not, then the sight is dimmed, and we are blinded to the other worlds. Yet, they still call to me in dreams and visions, as the magic is potent and eternal in my blood and soul. I am here on this windblown and rain blasted place because they sought me out, urged travel from the western lands. Something is afoot, it stirs in the depths of the well. The One-Eyed One came to me as silent and swift as a shadow, brought portents of things incredible and filled with awe. This is a time of rising, of secrets being unveiled, of choices offered and fates spun. I prophesy for him and send dreams to the chosen.

The stone feels alive against my palms. It resonates with the power of gold and fire, falling like a waterfall into the great darkness and silence of Creation. I see that place of beginnings and eventual endings, have seen it reflected in my eyes since the time before birth into this world. Fire and Ice fall towards each other, both sentient and holders of secret knowledge. The first parents, sole inhabitants of what is sometimes known as the Great Silence. The veils shroud my eyes now and so it begins, I peer into the well as the time of recounting approaches.

I am blinded, consciousness retreating to the back of my skull and then, beyond into other places. I ask whether to go either backwards or forwards, left or right. My inner vision sees ephemeral shapes linger behind, hiding within sight. They hold questions that need to be asked and answers to be given. I feel the breath of anticipation brush against my cheek, it brings whispers of new beginnings waiting in the wings. They are silhouetted against the doorway, a portal carved with precision and beauty.

The waters clear, a head rises to the top. Mímir speaks in riddles, “the time of release and self-awareness await” he utters softly. The soul unravels, falling away to float away in the winds of change. All must face the time of reckoning, falsehoods and darkness confronted. The beasts wait on the periphery, thirst for your blood and flesh. What is your path of escape? What choices do you make, the same mistakes or new ones, step outside perceived reality? He pauses and then opens his eyes. I sink into them, falling, falling with no end in sight.

I utter many things, words that remain hidden from my conscious mind, they are meant only for you to understand. Ancient seas stir with the breath of winds, and waves break upon shores unknown. The skies shimmer with an obsidian light, illuminated by a pearlescent moon. A figure stands on the shore and stares out into the distance. Their heartbeat echoes loudly, it calls a name repeatedly, “Faith.” Only they know its significance. What does it mean to you Seeker? That is all I can tell you, the rest you have to seek out, offer a worthy sacrifice for what is to be conveyed. Give it to the waters, as Odin gave his eye. Go now.

As for me, our kind are called to this path, never being freed from its duties and burdens, that is if we care to accept the calling. If not, then the sight is dimmed, and we are blinded to the other worlds. Yet, they still call to me in dreams and visions, as the magic is potent and eternal in my blood and soul.

Eve of the New Moon

Ponciano, Pixabay

Emotions well up, overflow and settle. The Chalice awaits, receptacle of the Soul, Holy Grail unveiled, bathed in silver.

What is it that you seek? Such questions must be asked, such questions must be answered. Choose the path to walk, choose the fate offered.

Visions cross deserts of the mind, appear as mirages. They carry meaning lost to conscious mind, but found to heart awakened. Time ticks on, places no restriction.

She distils knowledge of things hidden within the Shadow, opens vistas unparalleled.

Initiates yearning, releases captive life. See the new beginnings, grasp with both hands.

This eve provokes questions and relinquishes much, harries procrastination and steadies impatient mind.

Gaze at her veiled beauty, summon hidden powers. Offer songs of celebration, pour libations upon ground.

Wait with held breath, see the mysteries descend. Speak your intent and wait in silence.

Speak your intent and wait in silence. She will answer and reveal what should be. Time ticks on, places no restriction.

The story behind … Spartan Dog — Melusine Draco

I have a soft spot for this vampire and look forward to the series unfolding.

What of the author?

Melusine Draco is a prolific esoteric author (fact and fiction) and spiritual teacher; countrywoman and dog person; writer, creative author and tutor. I’ve been a long time follower of her works and heartily recommend you have a look at her blog.

Every book has a story behind the story of how it came to be written. It may be about a life-long passion, a personal journey, the need to share an experience or knowledge. It may have been fermenting in the brain for years, or sprung fully formed from a blinding epiphany. Whether it be fact […]

via The story behind … Spartan Dog — Melusine Draco