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

 

 

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Road Trip to Hades

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Image: Pixabay

It’s been rather difficult thinking of suitable subjects to write about lately, then it hit me, I need an adventure to get my teeth into. The Shed’s rather quiet at the moment as most of the lodgers are on their holidays. Anubis has been absent for a while, probably engaged in guiding duties. Not in the Egyptian Underworld but in Bloomsbury, central London. I think he’s got a pretty good gig going on there. The place is crawling with denizens of the underworld. I had my suspicions for years but could never prove it. Odin and Sekhmet are on a walking holiday in Crete. Apparently Odin has distant relatives living there. Who knew? As for the White Rabbit and Mad Hatter, I prefer not to think about those two at the moment, they’ve caused enough havoc. Azrael, the Angel of Death and Cerberus are coming back from their respective road trips soon.

Reflecting on past encounters with the above archetypal figures, it seems evident that these individuals appear as “heralds” in our life. Joseph Campbell comments in “The Hero with a Thousand Faces” that the appearance of such beings acts as “the call to adventure”[1], precipitating the Hero into life changing experiences. Of course there have been many occasions when I’ve refused “the call to adventure”, only to face inertia and negative situations.  The gods will only take so many refusals before making an offer that can’t be refused.

When the call is accepted supernatural aid appears at the right time. Enter stage left Azrael, Anubis and Cerberus. Two chthonic deities and the angel of Death assigned as planetary angel of Pluto in Qabalistic and medieval magical tradition. The power of Three consolidated. Containing within themselves the beginning, middle and end, past present and future, body, soul and spirit.

“Quite a lot to think about, isn’t it?” A voice mutters from stage left.

I turn to face three figures grinning at me from the shadows. Azrael gives a thumbs up and the canine terrors wink like mad. Not what you expect from these entities, beings traditionally associated with death, initiation, and dissolution. They also embody secrets and wisdom hidden deep within the Self. That’s been my experience, I can’t speak for anyone else.

“You want adventure and here we are, ready to offer you an experience of a life time as the cliché goes” Azrael comments quietly.

He watches carefully, eyes sliding to the fire escape. An eyebrow lifts in question. What are they up to? Cerberus pulls back a curtain to reveal a rather sweet looking VW van. It screams road trip. He then flourishes a sign with something scrawled on it. It’s written in beautiful copperplate script. HADES. Be still my beating heart! Is this the offer that can’t be refused?

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Image: Pixabay

The Road Beckons

The van is packed and this strange band of travellers gets underway. I’m not sure where they got the vehicle from, it’s like a Tardis inside. Anubis puts a toy Dalek on the dashboard and mutters something about the three of them being Dr Who fans. Azrael is outside checking his motorbike. The Angel of Death is a biker, well, well. We finally depart after a few minutes. The green landscape of North Wales flash by and then the road towards Ruthin and Llangollen is taken. The landscape changes soon after as a detour is made towards the ruins of Castell Dinas Bran in Llangollen. A portal opens near the ruins and the van whizzes through. We face an endless road in a desert landscape. The sky is bright and cloudless, the air is still, almost filled with expectation. Feet up, I’m busily scribbling my impressions in a notebook. How’s the journey so far?

It feels like we’ve been travelling for hours but it’s only been half an hour. Time moves in strange ways in this place, wherever this ‘place’ is. There are a variety of figures walking on either side of the road, one is holding a large clock, and its hands appear to be moving in an anti-clockwise direction. They smile at us and carry on walking. Each figure that passes bows their head in deference. Our exalted companions are the focus of their attention. The bleak but beautiful landscape is soon interrupted by a building that suddenly appears on the horizon. It’s an American style diner. Quelle surprise!

We disembark and find a booth to sit. The clientele are an odd assortment, consisting of shades of the dead and what appears to be the cast of “Frozen” ( I loathe that cartoon). Azrael greets a striking looking woman adorned with beautiful tattoos. She hugs him enthusiastically and kisses my other companions with as much energy. Finally she approaches me, her stare being quite intense. I stare back, kindred souls it appears. Hail mighty Ishtar!

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Image: Pixabay

The image of the figure holding the clock appears once again and the great river of time washes over us. The Goddess retells the story of her descent into the Underworld over a cup of coffee. Her hands and eyes convey the passion of her experiences, poignant and illuminating by turns. Her story is the story of our Soul, mirroring its many losses, regret, sorrow and moments of understanding. Her descent into Darkness, dissolution and eventual ascent into the Light show the way to new beginnings. She pauses and winks. A small box is pushed across the table, it’s a gift for us. Nestled in blue velvet is an eight-pointed star. An important gift, we must take note of its symbolism. She advises me not to eat or drink anything that’s offered in this place. Although this prohibition doesn’t apply to the Psycho-pomps offering me anything though. “Remember” her voice whispers in our head. She blows a dramatic kiss and then disappears. The other diners are still entranced by the tale of the Goddess, emboldened even by her resilience, also saddened at the prospect of no return. They eye Cerberus and his companions nervously.

At this point I’m thinking “if Cerberus is here, who’s guarding the gates of the Underworld?”

Cerberus pipes up “my cousin Cyril’s doing me a favour. I haven’t had a holiday for, oh, five thousand years. Sorry, I lied. There was that time when Anpu and I went on a bender at New Year several years ago.”

Wish he wouldn’t read my mind! I remember that incident, it was rather embarrassing trying to break the news to Hades. The canine terrors had to perform community service in a dance studio in Buenos Aires, teaching tango.

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Image: Pixabay

As soon as we leave the diner it vanishes into thin air. A memory of things dreamt of by a younger world. Such phantasms litter the highways of the inner landscape, being stopping points for weary travellers. Dylan, our VW van carries on down the road. Azrael now leads, a magnificent presence enshrouded in divine light, all-powerful, all compassionate. Such beings rarely show their true appearance. It would mean certain annihilation for our spiritual and material forms, such is the magnitude of their power. Cerberus is chatting away with his adoptive brother, they laugh briefly. A few minutes later we hear cursing from outside. Cerberus has his bottom stuck in the window, it seems he was mooning at a passer-by. Well, Herakles had it coming, fancy kidnapping Cerberus from the Underworld as part of his Twelfth Labour. I think they’re even now. Dylan kicks into life and zooms down the road. We hold our collective breath, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions after all…

From a distance we spy a lone figure pushing a huge rock uphill only to see it roll back down again. Sisyphus, king of Ephyra (Corinth) was condemned for all eternity to carry out a futile task for his hubris, deceit and egotistical nature. We decide not to stop and make our way past Sisyphus. The fields surrounding the king are filled with Datura plants, a bad omen indeed. A warning is issued by our companions not to be deceived by this individual. The crimes he was condemned for in life are still valid in the afterlife, such as it is. He cheated death at least twice but was eventually dragged back to the underworld by Hermes.

Rituals, Blessings and Farewells

Dusk is falling and the night sky is now filled with gleaming points of light. We stop to camp by the roadside, no sense in travelling any further as it’s the dark of the moon tonight. There are rituals to be performed for the dead, one of many before we enter the Underworld proper. We sense them gathering around us, so many that are known and unknown. Prayers are said, offerings made, and respect given. Many have passed through the transition alone and unmourned, even unloved. For them these rituals are a balm and blessing. A release more importantly.

Azrael censes me with incense, for this night is significant for me as well. I must finally relinquish my old self, make the descent and lay her to rest. The Universe peers at me from his eyes, which are like stars blazing in a lapis lazuli sky. Azrael is considered the Angel of Death in Jewish and Islamic angeology, but there is no reference of him named as such in the Christian Bible. Additionally some scholars have disputed the name Azrail being used in the Qu’ran, the angel of death is simply called Malak Al-Mawt. He transcends religion and dogma, the sense is that he WAS before time began. It’s not the biker that stands before me now but something profoundly powerful, infinitely compassionate and gentle. Not to be feared at all. As for my Muse, His Nibs (Anubis) approaches next and rests his forehead on mine. We haven’t had much time to chat, which I don’t mind. He and Cerberus rarely meet and this is a special time for them. He chuckles. Damn! This mind reading trick does annoy me at times.

No sleep for the wicked tonight. We sit around the camp fire and eat dinner, except for Azrael. His nourishment is, well, not sure what he eats and drinks. He looks at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes and mouths “smoothies”. How can I respond to that? This is a moment I’ll treasure, for the companionship, laughter, and silences.

The Sun rises and our merry band of explorers continues on the last leg of the journey to Mordor, sorry, I mean Hades. The landscape becomes even drier and the skies are bathed in a peculiar orange light.  A huge cavern appears in the distance, this is it folks. I glance over at Cerberus, his three pairs of eyes mist up at the scene. Homesickness. I wonder what his cousin Cyril looks like? The van is parked near the cavern mouth and we make our way slowly into the depths. The tunnel is wide enough to avoid being claustrophobic thankfully. There is illumination provided by torches lining the tunnel, which is a little strange. My companions don’t question this, so I take their lead. The presence of dread is absent, for our journey is one where there is a return, an ascent into Light again. I mutter a prayer silently, for myself and she who bids farewell to this life. She shall face Persephone and Hades beyond the waters of Lethe, but I won’t be sipping its waters.

The three heads of Cerberus rise eagerly and give out an ear-splitting cry, but I’ve come forewarned and already inserted the earplugs. There’s an answering howl and a large Blue Roan Spaniel rushes out of the gloom and greets Cerberus. This is cousin Cyril. A Spaniel guarding the gates of the Underworld, why not? Cerberus and Cyril remain at the gates, to prevent the “inmates” from escaping they say. What jokers they are…

Our obols are ready for Charon the Ferryman, all we’re waiting for now are the priests of Hermes to accompany the deceased as we can’t go any further. She’s anointed with perfumed oils and dressed in a linen shroud. Obols are placed on her eyelids. I kiss her forehead and offer a blessing for the journey ahead. A blue lotus and heart scarab are placed on her chest, a remembrance of the homeland. She’s entitled to that at least. Our priests arrive with a bier and place her on it. We hand the obols to the priests as Charon approaches in his boat. So the journey begins and ends here. How prosaic it sounds!

The living have no reason to linger in these dread halls, so it’s time for me to leave. The smell of decay and forgetfulness linger in our minds. How I yearn for fresh air and sunlight to banish the stench of death! My wish is granted as we soon pass the two canine guardians and emerge into a changed landscape. The ominous light has disappeared to be replaced by bright, sunny skies. The desert is blooming and the road is rather busy. Dylan starts up immediately and we speed off towards the horizon. Home is a welcome sight as we emerge through the portal into Llangollen. By now a huge number of crows have massed in the ruins of Castell Dinas Bran, witness to our emergence. I’m looking forward to having a relaxing holiday, my companions are in agreement and we head down south to get the ferry from Dover to the continent. A holiday in Greece beckons! Suitably disguised we sit out on the hotel terrace watching the sun set into the ocean. Bliss.

[1] Campbell, J. The Hero with a Thousand Faces (Princeton University Press, 2004), “Part One, The Adventure of the Hero, Departure: Call to Adventure”, Chapter I, 46-47.

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Image: photo credit: DCphotography_ Tracy Chan-137 via photopin (license)

Walk With Me

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Image: Pixabay

“Then walk with me and embrace the mysteries of Heaven and Earth” he says.
The Hermit speaks no more but lifts the veil obscuring, bright is the light he offers, illumination of things hidden, things not spoken off but revealed only in symbols and dreams foretelling.

What is it that he offers? “Self-knowledge” he whispers. No more is uttered, such is his challenge to both wary and unwary. Each must choose the path of becoming and undoing. The Fates wait, with life thread spun and shears at the ready. We stand ready, scales fallen from eyes, new vision gifted, new life waiting.

We seek the temple with no name, image made perfect in visions and meditation,
guarded for all eternity, hidden from the profane.
It is a place of Becoming, the mountain path to a place of glory, Heaven made on Earth. He talks in riddles, places seed in soils fertile.

Softly do we tread in places Angels walk.
See their gaze alight on Seekers true, soul searing and questioning.
We say the Way is long, and they answer “only if you make it so”.
Such Truth is evident and all embracing.

Who bars our way? Guardians most awe-some, Warriors unrelenting.
Doubt has no place where we seek to go.
For it is a place hidden from the profane, a place of Becoming and Unfolding.
See his staff sweep across unknown vistas, star-filled skies and depthless oceans.
The Portal waits, is it real or a fancy of our dreams?
Doubt has no place where we seek to go.
“Then walk with me and embrace the mysteries of Heaven and Earth” he says.

The Poker’s Not Hot Enough

Image: DailyLolPics

It had to happen one day…Would it help if I said sorry, pretty please with sugar lumps? Sigh. No one else can fathom the anguished soul of an artiste such as me like wot you can. See how upset I am, the spelling and grammyrrh have gone to put, I meen pot.

Not easy being an apprentice angel, the distractions are many and hours long. Having a twisted sense of humour doesn’t help. I didn’t mean to kick that minor demon into the Abyss, he was asking for it. Kept saying I looked like a duckling with my fuzzy wings. They’ve lowered their standards by letting in riff raff like him.

Do you know what they’re having me do now? Cleaning out Pegasus’s stable, with a toothbrush and child’s spade! As for the smell, oh Divine Consciousness. Would it be inappropriate to say I was being exploited? Yes. Okaaaaaaay. I get where you’re coming from. The Union had a different viewpoint on this issue though.

This isn’t going well is it? Any more wine left?

Fall from Grace: Diary of a Previously Unemployed Knife Thrower

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Image: Eve, John Collier, Wikiart

Saturday 5 August 2017

The look on Eve’s face is telling, or is that the artist projecting his own notions of shame against the Mother of all? Let’s face it, She was set up. There was a power struggle going on, the male priesthood and establishment need a scapegoat and she fitted the bill. Compared to the divine ancestor my situation is a mere gnat bite on the body of humanity. Okay, a slip of the hand and my assistant, the little anaemic sop… Let me correct that, he was anaemic by the time they took him into the ambulance. Accidents happen at work, why on earth they had to involve the Health & Safety people I don’t know. It’s an occupational hazard for anyone involved in the business. To be fair his threat of a lawsuit forced their hand.

Talking of accidents, that no-good, con artist of an agent got her comeuppance today. The zombies she was representing finally had enough of being ripped off and demanded a pound of flesh. In fact they got several pounds of the stuff, the police had a problem identifying her. Justice has been served with a bottle of Rioja!

Sunday 6 August 2017

Still can’t get that image of Eve out of my head. When I knew her She was like a star of the brightest light. Why did it go wrong? Humanity wasn’t meant to be mired in darkness and ignorance. As for the lie about using one of Adam’s ribs to create a companion, well, it leaves you a little speechless. Does that mean that if she was injured or happened to become existentially challenged. Wait, what do I mean? Anyway, if she died, would he die as well? To be honest the heart of humanity suffered great a grievous wound when they wrote the various Books. Bad PR folks, look what they did to Lilith and Mary Magdalene. Shame, shame and shame. I’m ashamed to be a man. To be honest the women are just as bad, maybe even worse. Makes you wonder what kind of deity/Higher Being/Cosmic Conscious they believe in. I’m Freud would have plenty to say about that, he wouldn’t have minced his words. He was a straight talking guy when I knew him.

I’ve been six months in this temp job now, the people are just as dysfunctional as I am. Fit right in. Hard though being cheerful, not in my nature to be a ray of sunshine. It’s been a challenge keeping my tongue quiet, been sorely tempted at times to tell some of those people what I really think of them. Humans can be so, needy and malicious. At least your average chthonian or solar deity would display such negative traits with a bit more style and aplomb. Persephone warned me about cutting back on the bitchiness. Do I listen to her? Not always alas. I miss Eve and Lilith.

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Image: Lilith with a Snake, John Collier, Wikiart

Monday 7 August 2017

These thoughts about our lost Paradise are making me maudlin. Well, Paradise hasn’t been lost exactly. It’s just that humanity is on an attachment this material plane of manifestation for a while and will return to HQ when it’s been completed. Although I don’t think humanity quite understands the work that’s involved in working from the Divine Blueprint. That doesn’t apply to all the work experience people though, many actually get the concept of Free Will. I’m making it sound like a huge corporate nightmare, perish the thought! It’s more like a centre of learning/temple without walls or boundaries. That’s the best I can do. That reality is hard to describe, even though I’ve visited many times. The supervisors are numerous and often hard task masters, or that’s how it appears to human perception. I think humans know them as angels, archangels, etc. Just realised, I keep referring to ‘humans’. I’m, no, I used to be human. Not sure what I am now, not undead, not either living or even dead. It’s a strange existence, I straddle several worlds. Makes your thighs ache like mad! Heh, heh. I thought it was funny.

Tuesday 8 August 2017

Angels. Now that’s a subject I could go on about for hours but won’t in deference to them. They’ve been viewed variously as benevolent and sinister. Depends on which side of the divide you stand, the Abyss can be a nasty place to fall into. I’ve peered in and it isn’t somewhere you take the family for a night out. The ones known as the Fallen have been viewed with fear and more. There’s been so much misinformation bandied about them, some of it deliberate. The great ‘War in Heaven’…What was that about? Did we ever stop to think what was really going on there? Nothing, nothing, ever happens just by chance. Humanity has a destiny to fulfil but has managed to get side-tracked many times, not easy I suppose maintaining a balance between their twin natures. Hard having the both in one body can be problematic. Sandalphon ensures I get to hear all the latest news. We have a chat when it’s quiet and when I can bother to get out of ‘grumpy immortal git’ mode. I should open up to them a bit more but it’s centuries of conditioning I need to discard before reaching the inner, sensitive man.

Wednesday 9 August 2017

I’ve been getting to the urge to slap one of the team across the face with rotting fish. Swear I saw his eyes turn black momentarily and an aroma of sulphur follow him out of the room. He’s a wiry individual with a spiteful streak. He reminds me of one of the demons I came across when wandering the wasteland many years ago. Now that was the perfect place for some of the not so friendly Fallen. Gross material matter has a tendency to change things in unexpected ways. No laughing matter, I’ve seen the effects on so many that came through the planes of manifestation we know of, also the innumerable ones we don’t. Humans need to keep their boundaries more secure, by that I mean not allow any ‘walk ins’ to get a foothold. They allow fear to cause breaches in their protective shells, letting in things that are quite nasty.

Thursday 10 August 2017

This diary’s beginning to go places I don’t want to. Probably because of the hovel I’m currently inhabiting. The landlady advertised it as a ‘jewel of an apartment in a desirable central location’. It’s next to a recycling plant and built over a doorway into the infernal regions. Sounds funny written down but I’m not laughing. Even the cockroaches and silverfish had thrown in the towel and left en masse. They begged me to leave with them but I couldn’t afford anything better. Anyway, they left me a phone number of a good estate agent (think I just saw a pig fly past my window) just in case I changed my mind.

The landlady gives me the creeps and I spent several decades as assistant to a Necromancer in Tartarus. They were the worst years of employment imaginable. Something about her makes my skin crawl, although the plastic surgery has rectified that issue. I don’t look a day older than 670. My skin looks luminous (that might be the accidental exposure to radiation) and you can bounce a rubber ball off my toned posterior. Where was I? Yessssssssssss, my landlady. I’m not sure what else she does apart from instil a terrible feeling of dread in the soul. She’s never around during the day and as soon as twilight approaches her door creaks open to reveal…I can’t even write what she looks like because I can’t remember. Strange that. I have a theory about what she could be but uttering it aloud and even writing it down could cause a terrible tear in the fabric of the Universe. Sandalphon and even Mikael dropped hints about her true nature but I was rather preoccupied with other matters.

Friday 11 August 2017

I managed to corner Sandalphon and Mikael this morning. They were a little reticent about the matter. I think they were trying to be polite, kind even about my lack of awareness. They don’t view reality as humans do, and human emotions are quite alien to their kind but many have chosen to work with humanity. In order to help them achieve wholeness and evolve; to become divine beings once again and bring back knowledge of the material world to the Source and angelic hierarchy. Anyway, I digress. I was quite shocked at their revelation. Bad luck seems to follow me round like a hungry dog.

The house is built over part of the Abyss and the landlady is a ruler over one of its levels. I’m cursed, that’s the only explanation. Mikael gently commented that I was quite right about the curse. Coming from this archangel it is doubly wounding. Well, at least he’s on my side. I’ve upset many in my long and illustrious career, so it could be anyone. Mikael waited patiently for me to run through the suspects. Four hours and 42 cups of coffee later I remembered who it was, who cursed me that is. The ancient Egyptian serpent Apep. I recall trapping his tail in one of the gates in the Underworld. I wasn’t meant to be there at the time but wandered in through the wrong doorway. Set was about to spear Apep when I interrupted them. Well, you can imagine their annoyance. My brief sojourn in the Underworld didn’t go well. That Apep has one foul mouth on him! I need to get a hobby. Roll on the weekend…

Hope and Prayers

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The man hangs his head in weariness, sorrow floods a heart sore and beleaguered. Night after night prayers are sent to unseen powers; the hope being that these petitions will reach the ears of benevolent beings. In a world beset by hardship and bleakness, the prospect of hope, and of better times is all that sustains his soul.

His belly rumbles, complaining due to lack of food. The season of wild Summer berries is past as winter draws near. Much has been sacrificed in this wilderness, the tribe now lost to the passage of time. How many centuries have passed? Too many to count. The loneliness bears heavy on shoulders. Immortality comes with heavy penalties.

The Healer, for that is his soul’s mission, reflects on all that has passed in his long life. The gifts bestowed upon him have helped many but ultimately proved futile in healing the deep wound within him. Or so he believes. The very unseen powers he has focussed his attention on have diligently listened to each and every syllable. His guardian angel has stood watch over his seemingly frail body daily, willing their charge to keep hope and trust alive. An apparently difficult task even in the best of times, but now, beyond comprehension. Self-sacrifice has beset the Healer like an incurable disease, a trap healers are often prone to fall into.

The angel makes their presence known to their ward through a sense of great peace. The Healer wakens from their despair with surprise. Self-doubt and lack of faith have hindered communication between the two for some time. Yet, that hasn’t stopped the great love they have for each other. There are many in other realms that watch over humanity, protecting and guiding. They are ever present, watching our suffering and joys, unable to assist without our consent. He sighs, lamenting his lack of action.

“All you have to do is ask for help, I have always been around you” the angel gently states.

“I know but I have felt unworthy, trapped in inertia, perhaps fearful of making changes” answers the anguished man.

The great being enfolds the man in light and sound, “wings” if you please. The intensity of love and comfort provides a healing balm to a soul that has been lost for so long. The brightest of light can be found buried within seemingly unrelenting darkness, as well as hope. The man feels his spirit strengthen, resilience returns once more. It is something of steel forged in the hottest of fires. Even shattered steel can be melted down and formed into a thing of beauty and power. “Remember this” the angel comments.

LVX.

 

Immortality: The Alchemist’s Daughter Recollects

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Image: Pixabay

Achieving immortality has been an enduring goal for legion upon legion of humans over the centuries. Tomes have been written hinting at the existence of wondrous elixirs and arcane rituals giving/offering the chance of eternal life and youth. To what end we may speculate, perhaps to abate our fear of dying, perhaps to prolong our contemplation of matters philosophical and metaphysical. Ultimately the real reason may only be known to the individual engaged in such a pursuit. Immortality is a fable retold century after century, our passion for it undiminished, our longing unquenched. We are born, live and die, a simplistic viewpoint of our existence on this material plane. Yet, there is so much that lies before us. At what point do we lose our sense of wonder about the Universe and our place in it? Continue reading

Smokescreen

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photo credit: BellaGaia BARE HONESTY via photopin (license)

Roshanak is her name, meaning in Persian one who is a luminous beauty, a shining star or light. Fitting in all ways, do not be deceived by her outer garb, that would be foolish and ultimately defeating. Serene and bearing knowledge of things found only off the beaten path. She assesses and keeps her counsel, for we are not privy to such secrets. Master of the hidden aspects of this life, Master of the keys to fulfilment and oblivion. The choice is yours. Harsh as that may sound it is all that is open to us, or so she likes to tell. Silence is her domain but only if you desire it so. She waits for you to ask, seek, and search. She is a smokescreen the unseen throws in your path. Fear her not, she is not what she appears to be.

 The space around the enigma is, seemingly empty, yet pregnant with meaning. We seek such guides and teachers, hoping for clarity, yearning for self – knowledge. Roshanak emerges at the moment of transformation, offering choices not easy to accept. Continue reading

Rite of Passage: Running with the Storm

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Image: Pixabay

The Elders stand in a semi-circle within the sanctuary. The High Priestess and Shaman stand on either side of the portal and the Summoner in front of it. A storm is brewing in the north, for it is the sky gods who prepare the trials to come for the young initiate warrior. The air is charged with a ferocious energy, it makes the skin tingle with electricity and the heart race with anticipation. The great forest shivers, knowing what is to come. The drums beat out a rhythm that is hypnotic and ancient, the melody of which has come down from the ancestors beyond the stars. It sings of knowledge that is beyond reach of mortals in their unprepared state. ‘Seek, Search’ it chants. Who shall heed this message? Lightning illuminates the gathering for an instance, striking the torch above the portal. It leaps into life as the salamanders gather in their hundreds. Continue reading

Lux Anglicae – Mystery #writephoto

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Image: Sue Vincent

Here is my offering for Sue’s Thursday Photo Prompt Mystery #writephoto. The Muses of creativity have been sparing with their favours lately, a fact that has frustrated and puzzled this blogger. Until now. I shall reserve judgment, no need to attract hubris you understand. What says the Alchemist?

These are the Dragons and Serpents which the ancient Egyptians painted in a circle, the head devouring the tail; thereby signifying that they proceeded from one and the same thing, and that it alone was sufficient, and that in its revolving and circulation, it made itself perfect.

Nicholas Flamel

A figure waits within the recesses of this place, harbinger of things hidden and awe-ful in their intensity. Many have searched for the enigma but He has always proved elusive. Lightbearer veiled in Mystery. Abiding in both the Crown and the Kingdom. From spirit do we pass through the Gate of Tears, ushered into life and forgetfulness. The Lightening Flash has all but shattered the Self, the quickening comes without mercy. The Fallen have not entered into Darkness but into Life, not many understand this. The Seeker consults their map, vellum inscribed with strange sigils and sheer incomprehensibility. They shift and pulse as if living beings, reflections of the greater macrocosmos:

 Man know thyself, and you shalt know the Gods

The Delphic Oracle surely hints at things most profound waiting rediscovery. Yet, the oddness of such words being emblazoned across the lintel of this doorway. The Seeker lifts one foot as if to enter through the portal. Hesitation has no part in this adventure, ‘go forth’ an inner voice urges. A cavernous temple of velvet darkness and luminous light unfurls itself like the wings of angels. Smoke edged with tendrils of white gold. At its heart lies something immense and perfection itself.

He waits, eyes closed in deep reflection. A breastplate of platinum pulses in rhythm, like a heartbeat it announces the presence of something living. There is no other sound except this. The great being fills the temple space. Clothed in radiant white stands he, from a muscular neck hangs the symbol of his power, a silver Tau cross encircled by the beast of wisdom – the serpent. Ageless and beautiful he has always been and always shall be. Lux Anglicae pierces the darkness of matter. Matter is transfigured, humanity is restored, the Fall is ended. This is the Mystery you have been seeking.