Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam

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tesatool0, Pixabay

I checked my Spam folder this afternoon and found 20 comments. They were all from porn sites alas. It’s been a while since I was favoured by the attentions of these lascivious bots. Under the circumstances perhaps bots is  not the right word to use. Anyway, the “me” of last year would have been rather indignant regarding this issue. As for now, they’re a slight annoyance. Or so I say…

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Prawny, Pixabay

“We’re proud of you” two husky voices shout from the sidelines.

I turn round to find His Nibs (Anubis) and the White Hare (not Rabbit, I remembered) trying not to laugh. His Nibs hands me a peeled grape and a cloth infused with lavender oil. The White Hare gestures towards a splendid armchair. They soothe my ruffled feathers, this little chick needs to be humoured it seems. Why not? I need a good laugh and this duo are more than willing to provide that.

“You’re quite receptive to it then?” The White Hare says with a smirk.

Trust a creature associated with fertility and fecundity to, er, come up with a comment like that. Oh my gods! This isn’t looking good. As for His Nibs, the ancient Egyptians and their gods weren’t prudish about sex and erotica. Much like those with a healthy attitude towards these subjects, of which there are many in this modern age. The crap filling these porn sites have a different take on sexuality. How did I manage to get on to this subject?

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Activedia, Pixabay

“Unwelcome comments in your Spam folder” His Nibs gently states in my ear.

I try to look offended but can’t be bothered. A semblance of outrage  is summoned and then I lie back in the chair. Various plans have stalled, but for good reasons I think. The seeds of promise planted over the last year have gestated and waiting to sprout, impatience has no place in the cycle of life and regeneration.

“Uh oh, you’re going down that path again. Don’t get wordy sweetie, just say what you feel.”  The White Hare looks sympathetically at me and offers a hug.

I hug him back. That’s what true friends are for, a shoulder to lean against (that is if you’re tall enough to reach their shoulder). I follow his advice and express my true feelings. Unfortunately White Hare isn’t prepared for my choice of words. He actually looks quite shocked. His Nibs pretends to look at a spot on his hand. I feel emboldened and thrust a fist in the air. Which does nothing for my neck ache. Ah well, time for another peeled grape.

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Pause for Breath

StockSnap, Pixabay

My last post may have sounded doom filled and steeped in angst. It wasn’t meant to be. The posts that are most personal and intimate (emotionally) emerge when the inner world responds like a boat’s sail to winds bringing change and guidance. They herald moments of introspection and the need for silence.

My Muse, Anubis, tends to choose such moments to offer words of wisdom. You have to understand the interaction isn’t purely a creative device; it’s a glimpse into worlds a Seeker after Wisdom and Self-Insight finds themselves travelling. Legions of such Seekers, from all spiritual traditions and none, have undertaken journeys that have profoundly changed them and their perception of this world.

For some people the journey never ends as they search for elusive truths and answers. They place one foot after the other and walk through doorway after doorway. The Universe offers them a glimpse of a world that has suddenly become unfamiliar. It has always been the same but our perception of it has changed.

StockSnap, Pixabay

We become perplexed and doubt the validity of reality, doubt our ability to function without the illusion of a stable Universe. The truth is it’s never been stable, it’s in constant flux, shaped by our thoughts, actions and speech.  During moments of quiet we can hear the inner voice speaking its truth and engaging in dialogue, dialogue that is usually drowned out by the noise of our lives.

It appears many people can’t bear silence, makes you wonder what they’re fearful of hearing when the noise stops.

Pause for breath and listen to what the inner voice has to say.

The link is to a lovely piece of music evoking the beauty and grandeur of nature. It may help in your moments of pausing.

http://player.lemonadebox.com/kkbtwz
“Tundra” by the Norwegian composer Ola Gjeilo (lyrics by Charles Anthony Silverstein)

Meeting at the Crossroads

JanBaby, Pixabay

A crossroad beckons on the horizon once more, and my feet are approaching it at a leisurely pace. So unlike me it has to be said. Evidently I’m mellowing in middle age.

Change is a coming and I’m not sure how to face it. Much like my reaction to prevailing weather conditions. It’s been cold, windy and rainy for weeks, and I haven’t even ventured into the garden to say hello to its inhabitants. My usual seat at the kitchen table has remained empty, which is a shame as it’s an important part of my writing and dreaming. It’s window facing and provides a lovely view of life unfolding through the seasons. It also gives me space to go inwards and sense the emotion of my inner landscape. One might say being a spectator has its uses, but disengaging from participating in life’s dramas makes Jan a dullard indeed.

The spectres of inertia and frustration are ever-present in our lives, beasts that are unwilling to loosen their grip. They gnaw at our innards and inject soporific poisons into our veins. We need all our courage and survival instincts to break free and run. That is until we get to a place of safety and gather our resources, summon our magician’s powers and bind the damned creatures. I’m talking more Gandalf than Harry Potter.

“More Gandalf than Harry Potter?” a voice queries from behind me.

That voice, with deep threads of mystery and dark wickedness running through it. His Nibs. I’ve neglected him for a while, just as well. No disrespect mighty one, the work we will be undertaking will require all of my strength and resilience, as well as hope. The path I’ve chosen to walk isn’t easy, more fool me! When you ask to enter into the service of Anubis, you need to carefully consider the implications of your decision. He’ll test your substance and spirit to almost breaking point.

He mutters with indignation, “that sounds a little harsh, you’ll scare them off.”

“Sorry, but it’s the truth. No point in sugar-coating what’s essentially a season ticket to the Underworld and Duat, ferrying the dead, lost, guiding initiates, breaking through fear, glimpsing awe-filled mysteries. I could go on.”

“Fine, things have been a little difficult for you lately, that’ll die away. Sorry, occupational hazard.” His voice trails off at the withering look on my face.

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View from kitchen window, Jan Malique

Human existence appears to be experienced in cycles and tantalising episodes in a rite of passage drama. Rites of passage seem to be barely celebrated in modern societies; almost becoming relics from a past that’s viewed with curiosity and nostalgia. That’s my opinion. Commercialism and materialism have taken over, retailers dictate when and what we should be celebrating. We’re urged to empty our wallets and spend rashly on the old plastic in order to show our affection and commiseration on specified dates. Why? Can’t we be trusted with showing care at any point in the calendar year?

“I like seeing you like this, a good rant releases useful chemicals in the brain. Go for it my little friend.” Says an ancient Egyptian God wearing a hoodie.

He then flashes the Ace of Spades in my face. I look at it and wonder why he’s showing me the card.

The Jackal God watches closely, absorbing every detail of my expression.

“The Ace of Spades is traditionally considered the Death card, but not always with physical death. It’s associated with personal transformation, changes, endings and beginnings. Such things are sometimes viewed with fear and troubled minds. Yet, there’s no rebirth without the ending of our old selves. New growth can’t flourish without removal of all that’s dead. This card symbolises ancient mysteries and hidden truths. See it and drink in its message.”

I understand and tell him “Death has appeared many times when I’ve consulted the oracle.”

“Who’s the oracle? Anyone we know?” he asks quietly.

I answer equally quietly “The Magician’s Tarot by Quareia.”

Pexels, Pixabay

I can see the readings vividly in my mind, beautiful but disquieting images. Portents of seemingly dire events and possible futures, of messages from powers beyond this plane, of restriction, illness and healing. The Abyss and Underworld showed their faces. There was more but I’m not jumping to any conclusions. He knows all this but isn’t saying anything. Our meeting at the Crossroads heralds a time of reassessment, doesn’t it always!

“How may I serve?” I ask again, for it’s a question that needs to be articulated, with confidence and without fear. I’ve searched for him for so long, entered into the womb of the Underworld and returned changed, not always prepared for what’s unfolded. In hindsight it’s helped in the process of shattering a restrictive carapace and unhealthy conditioning.

I look at the hoodie wearing God of the Dead and Transformations and call his name, ask for guidance and clarification. I ask to learn the songs of grief and unchaining as my journey progresses, I ask for the wisdom to recognise and acknowledge the lessons being bestowed, for myself and others. He takes me to the Saqqara, the necropolis of ancient Memphis in Egypt, a place he’s walked again and again in long distant times. The sun bleached sand and stone of its landscape still holds a sleeping power, resonating with echoes of the dead and curiosity of throngs of the living.

We watch the two worlds intermingle, their inhabitants pass by each other, sometimes catching glimpses of things that puzzle and induce longing. The centuries roll by before us, he’s seen it all. Time falls like a huge waterfall, drenching us in its spray. There’s only silence flowing around us, gleaming like water illuminated by the Sun. It stretches beyond the horizon. It’s the Silence of Knowing. A tool to break our shackles.

NeuPaddy, Pixabay

 

A Pox on All Spammers

Image: James_Jester, Pixabay

It appears one of my posts has been favoured by a select group of spammers. They’ ve been lavishing fragrant words of flattery and guile on it for months. Elusive is the post in question, and Elusive it’s going to be as I’ve deleted it now.

I’m sure His Nibs will be amused at the turn of events. One lot of spammers appear to indulge in nonsensical prose and the others, they’re linked to various porn sites. Quelle horreur! My delicate nature was terribly shocked, I had to resort to tea and cake to calm down. Perhaps I’m being naive, an innocent journeying through unsafe waters filled with all manner of sea monsters. To be honest I’ve been quite lucky with responses to my posts. So what am I complaining for?

This issue is irritating, like a banal pop tune stuck in your mind. Or a runny nose and unproductive cough. His Nibs is shaking his head in despair, it appears I’m enjoying complaining.  How rude! What is the world coming to when you can’t even moan in your own Shed. He gives me a look that speaks volumes in several known and unknown languages. Wrong move on my part…

I’ve not had much time to concentrate on developing the blog due to longstanding commitments. My recent wanderings have given me sore feet and precipitated a certain ennui deep within the spirit. Perhaps it’s due to the separation from familiar friends, Anubis, and the troublesome Hare (yes, I’m talking about you, you tea drinking fiend). Perhaps it’s due to being caught in a rut, of going over familiar ground over and over again. So much so that I’m stuck in mud up to my ankles.

The inner creative landscape has shifted profoundly, ebbing and flowing. At times emerging scorched from the rays of an ever-growing sun. One evolving into a giant, ready to go supernova. Then the greening of this landscape began at the close of last year. I finally managed to clean the dust off many projects, vowing to get back on my spiritual quests. Too many distractions caused me to lose focus. Have they taught me anything? Much. The Hero engaged upon the greatest quest of their life often suffers doubt, lack of faith and despair. Their inner resolve is prey to dangers lurking on the path, which can seem terribly lonely and lacking light in many ways.

What does this have to do with my spammers? Not much, except to release the words that have been dammed for so long. My musings had become a mystery to even to me.

His Nibs smiles beguilingly, we have an important appointment approaching. So you’ll have to excuse me. The Shed is due for redecoration and I have to contemplate my navel and ponder on the meaning of Lif. Or fight dragons, but as I like dragons this isn’t going to happen any time soon.

The Impossible is Possible He Says: A Return to the Beginning of Things

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Me in 2015

I don’t like being photographed, due to shyness mainly. For purposes of this post a decision was made to use a photo, a selfie (I dislike those things usually) taken in 2015. She stares at me with a look I remember well, filled with secrets and questions. The core of this person remains unchanged, as much as a whirling vortex can.

A whirling vortex?” he repeats slowly, the look on his face is thoughtful. His Nibs appears out of thin air, typical of these deities to indulge in dramatic behaviour.

His absence has been longer than usual, which has given me time to tie up a few loose ends. I look at his face for indication, any indication of his thought processes. He draws sigils and hieroglyphs into the air, sacred symbols etched in fire. I see a raging ocean struck many times by lightning. The First Time. Anubis is in his golden form orchestrating the play of elements. There is silence in this place of the first creation, a silence that is infused with many layers of meaning. The Mound is yet to appear. Strange that I should be witness to this again.

Image: Golden Anubis, Jan Malique

Being born is an initiation, a period of trial, tribulation and learning. We infuse our lives with beauty, pepper it with tears and sadness, and write its story in our personal Book of Life. The time has come to continue my story in the Book of Life. He hands it to me gently and smiles. I stare at it with the same look my other self had in the photo. She was yearning for change and wondering whether her circumstances would shift, evolve. Sometimes the perceived impossibility of the task at hand can throw you off kilter. Introspection can bring with it fears and uncertainties. They are unavoidable but necessary.

“I’ve stood on the edge of towering sand dunes peered down at you, watching your every move and thought. Your eyes have reflected the incandescent light of stars burning at the edge of galaxies, throwing illumination into the heart of darkness. You seek, question and demand, as you should. What answers have you obtained? You smile and give me that look. Filled with secrets and questions. Are you ready to serve, to pierce the illusions of this world and act? Take care to speak honestly and without prevarication. Serve higher ideals. The Impossible is Possible”

Anubis intends these words for those who are ready for the Journey.

His eyes burn with ancient fire and his hand gestures towards the unfolding of creation within the First Time. This journey is one towards the beginning of all things, a return to Source. We sit on the Sacred Mound beneath the waters of Chaos, the Eight peer at us intently, alien frog and snake headed creatures from a time before time. A return to the original womb of being can involve dangers, realisations of truths we may not be ready to face. I sense movement of the Eight and also of something more…The waters of Chaos bubble and shift constantly. His Nibs watches, silent as the depths of the Void, and as inscrutable.

The storm continues around us, but we‘re sitting in a space set apart deep within the eye of the storm. A place of deep significance and sacredness, the First Temple from which all others were birthed. Again I sense movement of the Eight and also of something more. From out of the gloom emerge his priests, jackal headed men bearing his mark. They stretch into infinity, forming a processional way into the depths. This is the path into the depths of the subconscious, hence the guardians of the portals safeguarding the way. There are places where no light has ever pierced, where no voice has uttered sound. We dare to pass through these halls of silence, and dare to emerge intact.

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Image: Trandoshan, Pixabay

He employs sleight of hand, confuses our senses, makes us believe the real is unreal and takes us to the very edge of reality. We stand on the precipice and peer over the edge. We peer deep within our selves, for that is the purpose of this journey, of any journey, to find our truth and speak it.

The Eight churn the waters of Chaos, creating life where there was possibility and promise. The Sacred Mound waits our return, it is time for emergence, manifestation of all possibilities and promises. The Benu bird utters the first sound that breaks the eternal silence and the child Ra emerges from the waters in his womb of Blue Lotus. His light pierces the eternal darkness and so it begins. The Sacred Mound waits on our return and embraces us as we emerge. From silence and darkness does life emerge, looking out into a vast Universe filled with mysteries.

Anubis is known by many names, one being the Walker between the Worlds, another being Psychopomp, and another The Opener. He’s a shaman par excellence, guardian of the portals between the different states of consciousness. We meet him at significant points in life, so as to be eased into states of death and resurrection, symbolic and real. What’s prompted this bout of soul searching? I’d ordered a book written about Anubis and had to wait nearly three months for it, due to delays that seemed to go and on. This issue tested my patience severely, at one point I thought he was “pulling on my chain” just to see what I would do. It unveiled aspects of myself that needed looking at, and here I am looking at some of them.

Riddles of the Night – Templar Shadows (3) By Sun in Gemini

A beautiful post, filled with great poignancy.

A bastard’s bastard, he would never know that he carried the blood of the Templars in his veins. That was only speculated after his death, being proved, later, by the researcher who followed his short life. He did it because he was a runner… Hardship was the key; hardship and the words his cruel companions […]

via Riddles of the Night – Templar Shadows (3) — Sun in Gemini

Yearning 

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Image: Myriams-Fotos, Pixabay

Deserts are strange places, filled with silences infused with paradox. Now and again the wind carries voices and presences that require our attention. They sent me the Alchemist Amunet, but she didn’t come alone. The Jackal God and Seraph, the Fallen Angel followed behind. An intriguing and important trinity. They have their reasons for stepping out of one reality into another. Shapeshifters and catalysts are the Three. I have questions to ask of them, hoping for answers but will they be what I want to hear? Need to hear?

Image: Pixabay

Mystics, mages, and travellers throughout the centuries have wandered through these often silent and apparently barren places. Places set apart from the discordant centres of so-called civilisation. They aren’t always havens of the deeply spiritual. Phantasms and djinn step lightly on the sand, weaving mirages and unsettling dreams. Nevertheless, we mustn’t abandon our sense of wonder and adventure. Yearning for such things is the voice of the Universal Soul urging us on.

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Image: Engin_Akyurt , Pixabay

I’ve been sending prayers into the desert wastes since memory began, and the human throat learned to utter sounds. It feels that long. Sometimes music is the only key that unlocks the yearnings of memory. One such song has stayed with me for years, Jevetta Steele’s “Calling You” from the film “Bagdad Cafe” (directed by Percy Adlon). It’s been on my mind for days. I haven’t seen the film for years, yet it’s resurfaced. Why? I’ve attached links to both song and imdb site for the film for your delectation. It may answer this question, or not. Answers to dilemmas and salvation can appear from the depths of barrenness and solitude. Much like the protagonist in the film. She brings the waters of life and magic to an isolated community in the desert. She brings change, and transformation, for herself and others.

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Image: Engin_Akyurt , Pixabay

I stare across the expanse at the Three. They’ve been called, petitioned but never summoned. Who would have the temerity to demand their presences? Not I.

“Calling You”? Their voices answer, chant songs of everlasting life, death and rebirth. Bring forth sentience from the Void, urge us to listen to the heartbeat of the Universe. Urge us to be courageous, surrender finally and step into the precipice.  In ancient times chants were uttered, sung to deities, praising divinity, praising the wonders of the world. There were magical incantations, bringing forth mysteries, shattering perceptions. What do they ask of me?

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Image: MihaiParaschiv, Pixabay

Amunet reaches forward and lays a butterfly touch on my throat centre, one that has been in great need of release. His Nibs (Anubis) lays a gentle touch on my lips and Seraph places a kiss on each palm.  Much to contemplate and take action on. It’s time to return from the desert and rejoin those that have been waiting at the gates of the temple. The Neophyte must progress.

http://m.imdb.com/title/tt0095801/

 

 

 Anubis Commands

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Image: TobiasBisander, Pixabay

On Saturday 18 November 2017 I was ordained as a Minister with the Sacred Rites Foundation. Sounds strange saying it but it’s been a long time coming. I have neither changed my spiritual preferences nor path in case you were wondering. It will involve inter-faith work, which is the way it should be. The decision to go down this route has given me a good “kick up the bum” as I’ve been in procrastination mode for quite a while. His Nibs had a hand in this issue, one way of telling me to get on with it! He can be a hard taskmaster when the occasion calls for it, a bit of a softy really when you get to know him. Don’t tell anyone else will you? There’s a lot to think about and many projects to complete. I’m at a crossroads again but know what road to take. The question is whether I’ll be disciplined enough this time and follow through on the path that lies before me. Why so mysterious?

His Nibs appeared in my mind’s eye a couple of weeks ago, I was wiping his face and hands to reveal gold beneath the black. His colours are black and gold, of corruption of the flesh, and disintegration of matter and spirit. This isn’t the end though, for the gold heralds transformation and transmutation. A profound alchemy occurs on deep levels of the psyche. This image surprised and puzzled me for ages.

I’d been waiting for a sign, anything to give me an indication that the constant barrage of crap coming my way was ceasing. It seems my prayers are being answered. Things have been falling into place, loose ends are being tidied and clarity of mind slowly re-surfacing. The physical ills are being dealt with but I need answers soon. There’s important work to be done in 2018 as obstacles are being cleared from my path. He tells me “no excuse now to procrastinate.”  Again I return to the black and gold, trying to understand that which is filled with paradox and truth. The process isn’t easy to understand, you can see my dilemma.

He gazes at me silently, expecting an answer. All I say is “how may I serve?”

“The right answer” is his reply.

I told you he could be a hard taskmaster. Don’t mess with the Opener. Unfortunately he spoils the, er, hard man persona by winking cheekily at me. I wink back but it looks like I have a nervous tic. Ah well.

Black and gold are his colours, revealing and obscuring the true nature of Being and Consciousness, revealing and obscuring the true nature of godhead and humanity, revealing and obscuring the true nature of death and resurrection. This paradox will be revisited in my next post as I need to dig deep beneath the vision of the emerging golden Anubis. This aspect of the god is one I’m not familiar with. Understandable as I’ve lingered in the place of disintegration for too long, held on to things that haven’t served me well.

Image: Jan Malique

Salvation -Twittering Tales #58 – 14 November 2017

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Image: SkittersPhotos at Pixabay.com

Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tale this week has plucked a familiar figure from my inner landscape. He comes when needed most:

They wander lost and forgetful in the great Void.
A sea of memories murmurs in their ears bringing regret.
The dead have lost hope of any salvation,
“Save us mighty Anubis” they cry brokenly.
Will He hear? The darkness and silence overwhelm.
Then Eternity is pierced by light,
He comes.

(280 characters)

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Elusive

 

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Image: Jan Malique

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