The First Mound: Beginnings #writephoto


Image: Sue Vincent

For Sue’s Thursday Photo Prompt I return to ancient Egypt for my offering. The tale then moves to our present time, and new beginnings.

If you’re acquainted with the myth of the First Mound rising from the waters of Nun, you’ll understand where I’m coming from. Beginnings and endings interest me. This creation myth originated in the ancient city of Hermopolis and involves a set of eight deities, the Ogdoad, existing in the chaotic and endless waters of Nun. The location is one before existence of the world and first land come into being.

These frog and serpent headed deities swim in dark waters, in a Universe bereft of light and sound. It exists in a place outside of time and space, nascent, waiting, gestating. The action of the waters is endless, eerie even to eyes ancient and modern. Thoth stands witness to the scene, drawing our attention to Nun and the potentiality he contains. For Nun is an ancient god, ever-present in a world that hasn’t come into being yet. We the audience wait, witness to a sacred drama played out over millions and millions of years.

Silence stretches into infinity, intense and weighted with the memories of the Eight. Water also has memories, instilled with the essence of a Time before Time. Dare we take a sip of something so potent? Thoth looks at us knowingly, he knows what our thoughts are and the deep currents running through our Souls. We are inextricably linked to these ancient waters, place of all beginnings and also our own ancestral birthplace. The waters meanwhile continue to ebb and flow strongly. They carry the thoughts of the Eight, tell of their plans for this Universe. We hear their faint whispers in our heads, old, so old and so unfamiliar.

We ask ourselves ‘where and when did I begin?’ and Thoth answers ‘in the First Time.’

This makes us pause and leaves us grasping for clarity and answers. He points out they lie within.  The Eight echo his words but we are unable to understand them, or refuse to in our fear and puzzlement. The waters of Nun crash against each other, stir the endless depths, mix the soup and matrix of life. The tension builds, there is a pregnant pause (!), how appropriate. The silence deepens, hurts our senses. The Eight sing a song so mesmerizing we almost yearn to jump into the waters but are held back by the God of Wisdom, Magic and Mysteries. Our time of Becoming is not now but waits in the shadows.

Then, everything freezes, Time freezes, as if it ever existed! The waters churn and boil for an eternity. They part as the First Mound rises from the depths, a pyramidal shape being the first land and the First Temple. It rises in magnificence, the tip radiating out an intense Light that pierces the Eternal Darkness and Silence. ‘Let There Be Light!’ a shout goes out. Fiat Lux!

One Beginning unfolds, and a myriad of others yet to unfold as the Eight take to the depths, waiting, listening and watching. As for us, we turn our eyes towards the distant future that is our present. Our eyes reflect the mysteries witnessed, the visions flow out and create new beginnings for us. Ones that hold a germ of the Eternal Mysteries, of memories buried deep within our brains, waiting to be unlocked and perused.



Kali — Archangel Oracle ~ Divine Guidance

She has been viewed with fear because of what She represents and brings. These energies are necessary to clear away dead and limiting behaviours and mindsets. Change can be painful, especially if we’ve been procrastinating.

One wonders what She is bringing for many of us during these tumultuous times.

Daily Angel Oracle Card, from the Goddess Guidance Oracle Card deck, by Doreen Virtue, Ph.D: Kali ~ Endings And Beginnings Kali ~ Endings And Beginnings: “The old must be released so that the new can enter.” Message From Kali: “I sing praises to those whose hearts accept the Universal order, which only appears to be […]

via Kali — Archangel Oracle ~ Divine Guidance

The Cosmic Weavers – Thursday photo prompt: Turrets #writephoto


Image: Sue Vincent

It took me a while to get my offering together for Sue’s Thursday Prompt. A strange tale of Cosmic wars, of forces of Anti-Life and Life sparring for all eternity, and hidden truths.

The turrets of this Order of Light shine with a luminous glow, sending out a message to the rest of the cluster of planets in this sector. As long as the light is present all know they are safe. Cycles of cosmic battles have rendered numerous systems vulnerable, dead and dying, and billions weary and fearful of further war.

The inhabitants of this place hold knowledge that is sacrosanct and eagerly sought by many but never found. It is spoken of in hushed tones and desired by envious minds. This secretive order works for the most part in silence, for these Cosmic Weavers create the fabric of universes. They also cut the threads of their creations to start Life anew. This place is one of a vast number of way stations stretched across galaxies and unknown regions of space.

The One that is the Many created these sentinels before time existed and creation was enacted. They were to guard against the brooding multitudes that gazed across the Abyss and sought dominion over the living and awakened. Beings of Anti-Life seek Life, in order to dismember and scatter it across the heavens. Chaos is necessary to break down all that is unnecessary and past their life-cycle. When the equilibrium is unequal, Cosmic balance is shattered and the long Night overshadows all. The same applies to the concept of Order.

There is perfection in symmetry, for the art of the Cosmic Weavers is to create blueprints encapsulating harmony of number, geometry, sound and light waves. As for the Cosmic Weavers, they are beyond Light and Dark, Chaos and Order, Good and Evil. Their true essence is unknown and cannot be known. The words of their Order are emblazoned across the portal to the monastery and hints at what could be:

“I have seen the face of the One that is the Many and partaken of their Light. I am the Weaver of Life and its Executioner, I am the Truth hidden within the Lie, I am the Light hidden within Darkness, I am the Hope that flows unending, I am the Parent to the Child, and I AM all that is and will ever BE.”

The turrets are incandescent on this occasion, for the Light of one Order member has returned from a mission deep in the heart of the desert wastes to the south of the monastery.

“I have seen the face of the Sleepers arisen from the Abyss and the sum of their hatred and envy” so speaks the scout.

The gathered intelligence is scrutinised in minute detail, and appropriate action taken by the Council. The news is of a disturbing incursion into the star system next to theirs. The Sleepers in the Abyss had awakened and captured a planet, laying it to waste, all light had been consumed as well as sentient life. The planet now exists as something not of this reality. It whispers of a craving hunger that can never be satisfied. Light and Dark are not in themselves either good or evil, intent in their use is everything.

The ancient evil has arisen, vengeful in nature and cunning in operation. They feel its essence drip into a vast ocean of darkness that is not darkness. Some call it a black hole but that would be an incorrect description of what it constitutes. The Council makes the sign of protection and bars the image from all sight, then the Cosmic Weavers step forward and unravel the fabric of reality piece by piece. The Light of the turrets becomes brighter, expands outwards and engulfs everything in its path. The inhabitants of each planet in their star system and others hide within their homes, the cleansing is approaching and it would be fatal to get caught in its path.

The Light approaches the planet that is the stronghold of the Sleepers, and enfolds it in a net of infinite strength and power. It is done, the threads have been cut and the beings of Anti-Life are withdrawn from existence and memory. For now.

The one who is the scout opens their eyes and surveys the scene in the Mirror of Being. Their work is unfinished as vigilance must be maintained at all times. Some may wonder why this duality exists, Life and Anti-Life existing at opposite poles. Without this tension the multiverses would be barren receptacles, silent and forever clothed in blindness. They clear the visions in the Mirror and gaze into the heavens.

“I have seen the face of the One that is the Many and partaken of their Light. I am the Weaver of Life and its Executioner, I am the Truth hidden within the Lie, I am the Light hidden within Darkness, I am the Hope that flows unending, I am the Parent to the Child, and I AM all that is and will ever BE.”

The words vanish into infinity and the Cosmic Weavers return to their silent work.


Song of Passing – Fallen #writephoto


Image: Sue Vincent

A short offering from me for Sue’s Thursday Photo Prompt.

It has to be short because the words are running round in my head and need to exit in the right way for maximum impact. Ah, the joys of creative writing!

I sing for you a song of passing, one that speaks eloquently and without reason. For they are opposite poles of existence, of a life lived to the fullest capacity.

We mourn one that has passed from this world, fallen shattered, dashed on earth and stone. They were both divine and yet to become human, one changing to the other. For what is perception but a change of perspective?

The world turns on its axis, shouts in exhilaration, but all is silent now, all is darkened. For the stars have been dimmed, their voices hushed in respect for the passing of one of their kind.

O beautiful and incandescent Light, we grieve deeply, mourn your essence and wisdom! Yet, all is not lost. We gather your stardust flung across the heavens, and sprinkled upon the Earth. Thus is your sacrifice sanctified.

I sing for you a song of passing, one that speaks eloquently and without reason. For they are opposite poles of existence, of a life lived to the fullest capacity.

Jewels in the Claw (i) — Sun in Gemini

An intimation of the events of the April workshop by the author of this mystical drama. Steve Tanham is also one of the directors of the Silent Eye Mystery School.

There is a moment when he stops, puts down his packing box, and looks at what remains of the Court Floor. It is the last vestige of a creative journey of twelve months, of twenty souls intent on giving their all to the rather unusual script, and of a Silent Eye spring weekend at […]

via Jewels in the Claw (i) — Sun in Gemini

Creation: Footprints #writephoto


Image: Sue Vincent

My offering for Sue’s Thursday Photo Prompt #writephoto returns to the watery abyss, Abzu,  of ancient Sumeria. I have taken liberties with the mythology of these beings, so apologies are due:

They slumber, dreaming, planning, and weaving.

There is only eternal silence,  audible to none save those who exist only in the space between. 

Enki sees all, yet holds back speech, yearns to mould creation yet to be fulfilled.

Tiamat and Abzu have mated, cause the Primeval Waters to stir. Thus did their children emerge, thus did battles ensue, and thus did treachery unfold.

Enki sees all, waits for resolution. Peers through bloodstained waters, mourns over sacrificial body, and offers prayers to one now gone. “Be at rest Tiamat” he whispers. 

The ones who are Hidden emerge, peer at life nascent, taste rich waters, pour forth fire spiralling. Creation falls from thoughts shrouded.

So does the magic begin, spells are woven, flesh, blood and sinew knitted. The chants goes out, so emerge new beings. 

Abzu fulfills, Enki proposes. Thus did their creation rise from watery abyss, place unsteady feet on land freshly risen.

Thus were footprints engraved on virgin territory. Thus did rise humanity, creation of those who slumber, dreaming, planning, and weaving.

Thus did the eternal silence end. Thus did creation unfold.


Thursday photo prompt – Distant #writephoto by Jan Malique

Image: Sue Vincent

Infinity rose in the East, place of greatest light, as the tribe stood in silent respect. The day of the Third Sun and hour of the Unfolding Future was upon them, initiating the rite of disintegration and reintegration. Such a ritual had been performed by the Elders and Way showers since this phase of their world began. A time measured in tens of thousands of years. The cycle of this age was now nearing completion, and the Tree of Life and Death waited in the Temple of the Sun for the delegation from the people of the Third Sun.

The tribe viewed this event as a necessity to keep the cycles of the Universe ebbing and flowing. It was their duty and carried out with devotion and steadfastness. The journey to the spiritual heart of their planet waited in the snow-covered mountain range. It called to those ones chosen to undertake this task.

The stone circle they waited outside was a portal into the gigantic outer court of the Temple of the Sun. For the whole planet was a sacred landscape, littered with smaller temples that acted as power “sub-stations.” The main temple was psychically linked with every inhabitant of the planet, with each tribe pledging fealty to one of three suns in this multiverse. Every moment of their lives, every act, every thought, was imbued with a sense of purpose and devotion. Resilience was their distinguishing characteristic, with souls tempered in the fires of their Sun.

The High Priest and Priestess of the main temple appeared at the portal to escort the delegation to the place of ritual. It took milliseconds, for time behaved differently inside these precincts. The inner sanctum beckoned, composed of pillars of gleaming crystal, in the middle of the hall stood a tree of grandeur and awesome power. It was a remnant from the beginning of creation, placed by hands unknown in the very belly of the planet. Life and Death played out within its branches, words of power were inscribed upon its leaves, forbidden to all except the initiated.

The leaves shivered in expectation of the rise of power. The people of the Third Sun stood in a circle around the altar that was the Tree. Sound issued from the pillars of crystal, vibrating molecule upon molecule. The circle contained immense energy, powerful enough to incinerate millions of stars and galaxies. The time of disintegration was upon them, dismantling the Universe as it waited for the moment of transition; for death was an inadequate word for what was coming. Helices spun and transmuted as the skies turned to fire, all this and more was reflected in the eyes of the ritual participants, nine in all. Then silence descended upon the Universe, it held its breath, as darkness gathered, embraced its kith and kin. All mourned and then rejoiced.

Light bubbled over from the centre of the Tree and gathered up the remnants of all that was lost. Atom by atom the matter of the Universe coalesced, integration had been achieved and the time of the First Sun had begun.

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


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.


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.

Twittering Tale #67 – 16 January 2018 – “The Tree”


Photo by veeterzy at

Kat Myrman has presented us with a marvellous challenge this week in Twittering Tale #67, a thing of beauty to be praised in my opinion. To that end here is my offering to the World Tree:

Deep in the Forest lies the origin of All
Seen in dreams and visions within sacred pools
Guardian of the Ancestors, Bestower of Resurrection
Sacrificial temple
Tree of Life, bearer of the Worlds
Let us proclaim your beauty
Let us proclaim your sovereignty
Hail Proclaimer of Mysteries!

(279 characters)


Dance of Consolation: Beginnings and Endings

This image of the Hindu god Shiva in the guise of Nataraja (Sanskrit – Lord of the Dance) is familiar to many people. Shiva Nataraja first appeared in 5-6 CE and the freestanding figure about 10 CE. It’s a persona that’s supremely evocative and inspires awe, if not a shiver down the back. I have a little statuette of the Lord of the Dance somewhere in storage, he needs to see the light of day now. My collection of statuettes all have a history behind them. Ganesh, Shiva and Vishnu have found their way to me over the years. I’m waiting on Brahma to grace me with his presence now. They were all bought in a little shop off Baker Street, central London. It was one of many little gems scattered across a busy city centre. The shop had a gorgeous statuette of Shiva carved out of sandalwood, how I wish I’d bought it at the time. It was too large to carry on public transport and getting a taxi home would have been expensive. My regret has lessened over the years. Honest, it has. Now, what of Shiva Nataraja?

As Destroyer, Shiva is one aspect of a divine triad consisting of Brahma, who is Creator and Vishnu, who is Preserver. The dance Shiva performs is called Tandava, and is said to bring about the destruction of the physical world and illusionary concepts of the Self. What is left thereafter but for creation and enlightenment to rise out of this ending?

The ecstatic Cosmic dancer has a smile on his face, perhaps knowing what he’s about to initiate? Symbols and motifs have a habit of perplexing the conscious mind, which act as a portal into the greater expanse of the subconscious. Music and dance are powerful keys to doorways hidden deep within the Soul. The many elements comprising this vision of beauty and luminosity sometimes leave me feeling overwhelmed and mystified. He’s like a book filled with mystical knowledge, unfolding his secrets when the mystic attains further insight. What is he conveying in his ecstasy? What is he conveying is in his pose?


photo credit: aaRJay fotography Shiva Temple via photopin (license)

The god dances within a circle of flames representing the world of Maya (Illusion) and consciousness, the inner ring symbolises water and the outer is fire. His gestures convey five attributes:


The upper right hand holds a drum (damaru) representing the sound, a heartbeat, to which Shiva dances in his creation of the world.


The lowert right hand is held in the abhaya-mudra (what is called the “fear not” gesture, palm facing outward with the fingers pointing up.)  It is a blessing.


This is represented by fire held in the upper left hand (either in a vessel or his hand), symbolising the disintegration of matter. Agni (fire) cleanses and removes the result of destruction at the end of each epoch or Yuga. The lower left hand is in the gahahasta (elephant trunk) pose and points towards the raised left foot, conveying Shiva’s grace.


The right foot is placed upon the demon of ignorance, Apasmara, vanquishing him so that knowledge may flourish.


The left foot is raised, bestowing eternal bliss, grace and release.

Shiva’s unkempt hair signifies him as an ascetic and houses a crescent moon (the seasons are created through its waxing and waning), a skull, Datura blossom and Ganga, the goddess of the river Ganges. When her presence was needed on Earth Shiva’s hair broke her descent.

There are snakes coiled round Shiva’s upper arms and neck, signifying his power over these creatures. They are also symbolic of reincarnation and regeneration due to the ability to shed their skin.

This is only a brief glimpse into the symbolism of this mighty Lord of the Dance, one would have to meditate upon his nature to gain personal insights. I can’t profess to be a devotee but hold him in great esteem, perhaps my ancestors worshipped him at one time, I hope so. One day I’ll visit Chidambaram in Tamil Nadu, India to visit the great temple complex of Nataraja. Legends tell of Shiva having performed his dance of beginnings and endings in a grove of Tillai trees there. Sacred landscapes are instilled with the essences of divinity, hence one of many reasons pilgrims undertake their journeys to partake of these energies. This is my virtual pilgrimage to pay homage to Shiva in his Nataraja form.