Dragon Charmer

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Image: Pixabay

My recent posts have been a brief respite from tackling the BIG issue in my life. Consorting with the White Rabbit and Mad Hatter has its downsides but they appear when needed. The job gets done and they watch from a safe distance at the resulting, mayhem. Mayhem and chaos are words I would also associate with the Greek god Dionysus, who is associated with the lifting of repression, inhibition, and release of desire. You need to approach him with care dear readers, his presence brings with it uncontrollable energies and impulses. Such energies serve to break down the façade of so called civilised behaviour and perception. Not always a bad thing if we are experiencing stagnation but keep Hermes nearby for damage limitation!

Now, what of this elusive BIG issue? If you look at some old maps there may be areas marked ‘here be dragonnes’. I’m currently in a place ‘where be dragonnes’, not always a comfortable place to be. They’ve been with me for a while it seems. We’ve fought on many occasions, with both parties drawing little blood. That is fortunate, no sense in these conflicts escalating into wars. I sense this will never be the case, the dragons agree. They come from a time when the world was an idea in the mind of creative forces. Being primordial and primeval in nature, bringing with them knowledge and memories of things power filled and mysterious. I don’t view them as being either evil or negative. They’re transformative symbols and the time is ripe to undergo change.

Instead of picking up either spear or sword, I decided to face them with a different mind-set. Why not charm them? One definitions of the word caught my attention:

“The power or quality of delighting, attracting, or fascinating others”.

(https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/charm)     

That’ll do nicely.

The sound of wings is already whispering in my ears. The outer armour is dropped but not my shield of Light; it would inappropriate to appear vulnerable so early in the proceedings. How does one proceed in the act of re-acquaintance/knowing with old friends, possible adversaries? Fear not dear readers I won’t descend into a florid, long-winded discourse, thought I’d take the route of a stream of consciousness. What needs to be said regarding these inhabitants of the psyche should be honest, plain and simple. If this resonates with you, please take a seat and try to enjoy the show.

The beat of their wings echoes the beat of my heart, one, two, three, four. The rhythm repeats, then pauses. Quite hypnotic. They’re approaching, cutting through the different levels, from sleep to knowing, then being. I pick up a helmet fashioned out of gold, with a dragon’s head carved on the top. Animal instinct transformed into Higher Knowledge. The ability to control that which is uncontrollable and carries immense power is therefore gifted to the wearer of such a helmet. It must be worn with honour and utmost integrity, if not, it burns with divine fire, obliterating all. My heartbeats get louder, as does the sound of their wings. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four.

They approach from the West, accompanied by the great Angel of that place, Gabriel. Four in all, three moving into their respective places in the North (Uriel emerges), in the East (Raphael emerges) and in the South (Mikael emerges). Such shimmering colours reflect off their scales, irridescent and alive. I close my eyes and sense their presences, seeing with the inner sight that which can’t be seen with the outer sight. Truth isn’t always apparent to our everyday perception. The Universe has a heartbeat and it becomes louder. One, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five.

From the North emerges Sandalphon and transforms into a dragon whose scales reflect colours of the earthly realm and more. Such power and beauty, yet, I am reminded not to fall prey to illusionary beliefs. Of course. Are words necessary? He circles me, a circle within a circle. There is a hint of something more contained within this winged being. The Ouroboros comes to mind, dragon biting its tail. A union of the chthonian and celestial principles, of light and dark, beginning and end, cyclical in nature. He approaches and inspects, scrutinises, evaluates. I raise my hand in greeting and stare him directly in the face. The fire of creation is in their eyes, as are the waters of the primordial ocean. “I am ready” I say. We dance as rivers of light. I’m not afraid to be who I really am, perceived shortcomings and all. Like who you are. The charmer achieves her aim as do the charmed. It works both ways. It is done and they withdraw. The work now begins, to be courageous and face the fear.

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Image: Pixabay

Tea With The Mad Hatter

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It’s been a while since the White Rabbit and I met up with his former cell mate the Mad Hatter. Sorry, I meant to say colleague, yes, that’s what I meant…My companion gives me a calm but deadly stare. There’s a faintly manic look in his eyes that makes me edge away slowly. You don’t mess with Fluffykins (my private name for the arch Trickster). I know that he knows that I know that he knows this most private of affectionate names. We choose to take the road of ignorance where this is concerned for very good reasons.

In this surreal group of ours, namely The Shedies, a little light humour is essential. Especially considering the past history of some of the members, and I include myself in this select number. You may not be aware of this but I love tea, most varieties except for Earl Grey. Never Earl Grey. Apologies for the outburst, it’s a subject I’m passionate about, as well as food history, food, cooking food, reading about it. Sigh. Where was I? Ah yes, tea with a certain tragic figure. Tragic? The Mad Hatter has a sad history. He was the toast of European society for centuries for one very good reason. The man’s skill in millinery was legendary. He lived hats, dreamt hats, and made hats. As for the sobriquet “Mad Hatter”, it pains me to go over that terrible incident.

Many cultures revere tea highly and rightly so. Its serving is couched in mystical ritual and ceremony, often elevating the senses to a state of oneness with the outer world. It can be used as a tool in meditation but that’s another story. Apologies for the digression but it does have a purpose in this tale of woe. The Mad Hatter invited us to a tea dance in a grand hotel in central London many years. White Rabbit, His Nibs (Anubis), Thoth, and I went ahead to the hotel, filled with excitement we were. My heart lifted as we neared the hallowed portals of the building, the smiling doorman ushered us in. We followed the soft refrain of a familiar tune, our feet eventually leading to the main ballroom. Sunlight showered through a glass dome that was the ceiling. The orchestra looked terribly elegant as did our fellow diners. Oh my, we spotted the Mad Hatter sitting at a large table to one side of the dance floor. What a rakish figure! The man was truly blessed with good looks, manners and grace. Admittedly his choice of garb was a little, florid and ostentatious. My heart still raced with admiration.

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Image: Pixabay

This scene was a nostalgic reminder of gentler times (obviously viewed through rose tinted lenses). Yet, I sensed a strange undercurrent running through this room. The more I looked, the more the scene appeared to fragment revealing hidden things. Things perhaps not meant to see the light of day. Such is the energy that accompanies our merry band of misfits and magicians. We perceive the world in ways not usual with many, on highways rarely travelled. Shadowed shapes moved soundlessly amongst those present, were they either living or dead? It was hard to tell. Occasionally a figure would stop and pour something into a tea pot. It looked like light and gold dust. Such was the effect of this act that our surroundings shimmered and briefly vanished. It was apparent that there was another world behind our current reality.

I peered further into this strange new world and could see earth walls and ceiling, with roots weaving through tunnels and a large chamber. Suddenly the words of the Cheshire Cat echoed through my mind:

“If you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there”.

Yes, that made sense somehow.

The White Rabbit and His Nibs looked at me silently, whilst Thoth smiled that infuriatingly mysterious smile of his. I could smell the aroma of trickery and illusion in the air. The tension was broken as waiters served us with cakes and sandwiches. The Mad Hatter lifted the tea cup and breathed in the delicate scent of Oolong. He paused for a moment, a terrible look on his face. Was he grimacing? Suddenly a roar cascaded from his mouth, The tea was STEWED, quelle horreur! This was the last straw for the master milliner. He jumped and launched himself at the poor waiters serving at our table. A hand emerged from beneath the table and pulled me under. The White Rabbit rolled his eyes in despair. My other companions seemed to be enjoying themselves and just grinned at me.

I peered at the mayhem going on around us. There was a quality of madness about it. My intuition sensed powerful forces at work. “It’s Faerie magic” a voice whispered in my ear. His Nibs then laid a gentle hand on one of my ankles.  “Just in case” he muttered. Faerie magic. I felt an overwhelming urge to throw myself into the midst of the melee. Food fights seemed exciting and I always wanted to indulge in a spot of this particular mischief. His Nibs tightened his grip on my ankle at that moment. We could hear the Mad Hatter screaming at another diner. This doesn’t sound good. His voice was edged with hysteria. This was more than annoyance, what exactly did the Faerie folk put in his tea? Next thing hordes of police were pouring through the doors. We remained under the table, except for the White Rabbit. He, with the Mad Hatter were being dragged into one of numerous police vans. They didn’t worried, which was a little strange. I swear the Mad Hatter even winked at us.

Everyone “laid low” for several days. The White Rabbit and Mad Hatter were released after a couple of days, bail being put up by a mysterious benefactor, only known as “Queenie”. Hm. The Mad Hatter saw me briefly before going on an extended road trip. He kissed my cheek and then slipped a package in my hand. It was a box of tea, Assam in fact. All he said was, “treat it with respect”.

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Our band went separate ways for several years, only to meet up two/three years ago. My chance meeting with the White Rabbit in Llandudno recently was an omen of further shenanigans.

Resonance

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She followed the Seven, Guardians of the Lore into the innermost depths of the sanctum. Torches glowed with a preternatural brilliance. Here was housed their most sacred lore, memories emanating from an era when neither Light nor Darkness existed in that Universe. A time when the Omniscience held a germ of all that was to be in their thoughts. So did life and death unfold. They showed her the way, then the Holy of Holies emerged from thoughts and soundless voices. Thus was she shown the beginnings of her people, of her kin. The images played out before her, of a time and place not of their world: Continue reading

Choose Your Side

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Image: Pixabay

Which side of the Abyss do you stand?

With the Heavenly Seraphim or Hordes of Darkness?

Chaos and Balance straddle realms unknowable, realms inconceivable.

Good and Evil masquerade as the other.

Ignorance and Illumination falter, battle for eons.

We hold one and then the other. Vessel half empty, Vessel half full.

Stands the Lightbringer betwixt the two.

‘Choose your Side’ He pronounces.

They are within YOU, neither nightmare nor dream but realities known, hiding in shadows and slumber.

Which side of the Abyss do you stand?

With the Heavenly Seraphim or Hordes of Darkness?

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

Master of Ceremonies

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Image: Pixabay

I came across this suave gentleman whilst looking for an image for another blog. He intrigued me and I wanted to know more of his story. Who, what and where, raced through my mind. At one point I thought he looked a little like the late Argentinian jazz saxophonist Gato Barbieri. Hm, maybe not. Perhaps I want this man to have a history filled with all manner of adventure, loss, love and creativity. Magic even.

Writers have spun concoctions from the meerest scrap of an idea, why shouldn’t I from an image found out of thousands? People interest me, I love observing them, at rest, work and play. Human nature repels me (and many others) when it manifests in ugly hatred,  malice and selfishness. On the other hand, It enriches my spirit when the true beauty and poetry of the soul shine through. I digress. What of my mysterious stranger? I named him the Master of Ceremonies for a good reason, which will be explained later. His demeanour and roguish good looks hint at, a life infused with spiciness and whiskey flavoured jazz melodies. A little overstated? I can’t help myself.

Continue reading

A Fleeting Glance

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Image: Pixabay

The spectre of a creature inhabiting the dark places of our subconscious emerges into consciousness once more. It’s been a while since I visited this landscape, the last time was in Ancient Bloodline – Moonlit # writephoto. Love, although a dysfunctional and destructive one, was the basis of that story. How could it be otherwise when it involves the Lady of the Bright Red Linen (one epithet of the goddess Sekhmet) and demons such as vampires. The ending was not a happy one. Why should it be?

The memory of that tale and an old project prompts me to weave another story involving yearning and love. My interest lies in exploring the depths of this creature’s psyche and also ours. Whether I succeed remains to be seen. Alas my protagonist doesn’t fare well much like the one in “Ancient Bloodline”. Crimson kisses and exquisitely painful emotions lead only to oblivion. My general of armies of darkness and blood has followed his ancient Egyptian priestess through centuries of search. Often glimpsing her but not quite able to touch, until now. Such an obsession is his undoing. Continue reading

Come Hither He Says – Knock #writephoto by Jan Malique

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Image: Sue Vincent

An intriguing photo from Sue for this week’s photo prompt Knock #writephoto. What a magnificent creature I think, redolent of deep and ancient magic. Great Pan, is that you? Guardian of the portal into Nature’s mysteries.

In the mind’s eye I see your temples of green, mighty forests stretching far beyond the horizon. Pure and sweet streams wind through glade of green. My feet take me through flower filled meadow and deep river valley. Sweet thyme and oregano crush underfoot and honey bees sway drunkenly in nectar and heat filled flight. What a marvel of imagination! Come forth Great God of Nature, long have I waited to glimpse your face. The question must be asked, will fear shatter the dream, Pan-ic drive me from your realm? We have defiled your memory much, shaping sacred into demon birthed forth from intolerance and religious zeal. Your world has not banished but stepped back into the shadows, it waits in our dreams, our hope and our yearning.

Come, come, Great Pan! Open the door to mysteries beyond. I wait, draw circles in earth and call forth Sylph, Salamander, Undine and Gnome. Air, Fire, Water and Earth. Should I come before you innocent as a child, free from guilt and hardened perception? Soft, soft are your footsteps through gold tinged forest, such sweet music sweeps before you. Reed pipes, how hypnotic their sound is. The memories come fleeting, tinged with sweet and sharp, bring on deep thirsts. I glimpse your face briefly, you persist in playing this game but not in cruelty it seems. I feel you close now. Arcadia is close now. Ancient hymns echo in my ears. They praise you primeval god, petition for fertility and joy. They sing of times lost, when only mist existed after chaos withdrew from night.

He comes closer still, pipes lulling fear and Pan-ic. I feel your gaze mighty Pan, dare I turn my head and look? Closer and closer you edge. I reach out and knock on the door, a pause and then it swings open. Bright eyes gleam in the gloom, they move closer, is that you Great Pan? Beyond lie green temples, flower filled meadow and deep river valleys. ‘Come hither he says’ and I can only accept, knowing great mysteries lie ahead.

Fragile and Luminous

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photo credit: EmsiProduction The Time Rabbit via photopin (license)

The White Hare watches me and then looks down at his watch. His face is solemn, voice silent. Finally he intones, “we are fragile and luminous. Intricately engineered things of beauty, ephemeral like snow crystals glinting in the rays of the Sun.  Such is life, such is beauty.”

His words give me pause for thought. Typical of the Lord of Magic and Wisdom to throw me such a morsel! Oh, did I forget to mention that the Hare is intimately connected with the ancient Egyptian deity Djehuty (Thoth) and his centre of worship at Khemnu? Wise is he in all things associated with knowledge and higher wisdom. Rather like Jedi Master Yoda. He tries to hide a smile at my comparison but I spot it. His eyes scrutinise intently, making me feel unsettled. The silences seem to stretch into infinity and hold a wealth of meaning. I have no words to offer him, only what lies behind the gates of my soul. 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