Resilience of the Emboldened Spirit

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Yuri_B, Pixabay

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

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

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

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Myriams-Fotos, Pixabay

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

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

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

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Pezibear, Pixabay

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

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Esoteric Shipbuilding — The Silent Eye

Two weeks to go before the workshop and here’s a taster of things to come.

It was a ‘stream of consciousness moment’; one of those that acts like a time machine. The flash of memories cut right back to my childhood – seven or eight years old. It included the sight and texture of the old bricks of our primary school playground, the beginnings of art at school, and learning […]

via Esoteric Shipbuilding — The Silent Eye

From Spirit to Social Bot: The Familiar Shapes Documentary — The Thinker’s Garden

A welcome post from the Custodian at The Thinker’s Garden.

FROM SPIRIT TO SOCIAL BOT: THE FAMILIAR SHAPES DOCUMENTARY “…they can assume all manner of shapes at their pleasure, appear in what likeness they will themselves…they are most swift in motion, can pass many miles in an instant…” -from The Anatomy of Melancholy by Robert Burton (1621) Almost four hundred years ago, a young Oxford graduate…

via From Spirit to Social Bot: The Familiar Shapes Documentary — The Thinker’s Garden

Sign of the Serpent: Travel Curiosities

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mati-foto, Pixabay

Another day and another town, such is the lot of the traveller passing through, glimpsing places preserved in aspic and showered with sweet almond pastries.

Sunrise bathes all in gold and sparks of flame, catches breath in throat. Church bells ring, announce the time of prayer and silent contemplation.

You wonder what lies beneath, how true its heart is and how deep the well of memories plunges. You ask to sip its waters, wait hesitantly for permission.

The silence flows endlessly, gives no indication, and gives no quarter. “Tell me” you urge and yet like a lover engaged in games of intrigue it answers not.

Eyes peer curiously from windows and doorways, mutter in tongues unfamiliar and offer yet more silence. Dare you engage? Dare you invite responses?

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StockSnap, Pixabay

Words drop like pearls from your mouth and smiles banish the last of darkness. Welcomes unfold, hospitality ensues.

They ask what your journey entails and what you seek. Dare you enlighten them and reveal the plan? The Serpent calls, beckons and promises. Knowledge awaits, initiates yet more journeys.

They reveal the way, tell of the Sign of Infinity, of Serpent poised above the portal. They point the way, deep into the heart of this city it lies, hidden in narrow, mysterious streets. No map is given, they only say “follow the voice of the wind. No guidebook will furnish you more.”

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doggerel, Pixabay

So the adventure continues, the labyrinthine streets bear witness to pilgrimages past and to be undertaken. You stand bewildered, silhouetted against stone and wood, bereft of purpose. Silence cascades like a mountain stream, stretches into infinity. So long it seems, so long, and then, the wind rises, gives voice to what you seek.

The shadows vanish, melt into gold and then it emerges. The Sign of Infinity, the Sign of the Serpent. You glance at your guide-book, page after page of blankness, of histories yet to be written. The first and not the last of travel curiosities.

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Graham-H, Pixabay

The School – The correspondence course, what it is and how it works

Another path that I walk on apart from the ancient Egyptian Mysteries. This being the Silent Eye Mystery School, one many of you may be familiar with. I’ve certainly written about my experiences of the annual workshops.

 

Source: The School – The correspondence course, what it is and how it works

Whispers of Ancestral Voices

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Image: Pixabay

Fellow bloggers and old friends who attended the recent Silent Eye workshop, The Feathered Seer, have written far more eloquently than I of their experiences.  This is my attempt at making sense of the weekend’s events, my guide Anubis will walk beside me as I recall all and perhaps nothing. I ask my Muse and Guide, The Opener and Walker between the Worlds what he makes of this tapestry woven from our histories. He gives me an inscrutable look (haven’t seen that one before) and whispers:

We carry in our DNA the sum of all existence and memory, from before time existed and beyond the ending of worlds. Linking with others to form gigantic DNA chains in the body of something beyond comprehension. Purposefully flying towards evolution and completion. Harmonious and beauteous in all ways. All return to the point of origin, from whence they came. Then there is no-one and no-thing, we just ARE but our conscious minds are unable to understand this concept except only in dreams and moments of true insight. Continue reading

Visions of Love (Guest Blog)

A mystic’s vision of Love.

Booknvolume

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Image: Pixabay

This is a story birthed as a result of two visionary and powerful poems written by Rabindranath Tagore, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913. He is an individual I admire much for his creative talents and ideals. The breadth of his work ranged from fiction, poetry, songs, dramas, stories, literary criticism, philosophy and social issues. An extensive list it has to be said! Tagore was awarded the Prize for the following reasons, which I would like to quote in full:

Prize motivation: “because of his profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse, by which, with consummate skill, he has made his poetic thought, expressed in his own English words, a part of the literature of the West”

Field: poetry

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The Dream (Guest Blog for BnV)

Booknvolume

graphics-1329065_1280.jpg Image: Pixabay

Things of beauty, gossamer fancies and rainbow dreams. The Dreamer weaves. The Great Emptiness gives a knowing look. Stardust flows from her hands and wondrous mysteries from her thoughts.

Billions upon billions of stars, diamond bright and filled with unceasing fire sing their songs of praise. They know what it is to be born from the depths of the furnace. They live with a passion untouched by doubt. There is no death, only immortality. There is no sadness, only joy.

She is the eternal mercy, compassion and love. These gifts she weaves into matter, flesh and blood. To dream is her gift, an act of creation and regeneration. She is the Mother and the Father. She is the beginning and the end. Such gifts She passes to Her twin. The Universe thus continues its cycle of being.

She has knowledge of all in the Great Dream, memories vanishing…

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The Wizard of Odd

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Image: Pixabay

I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir, said Alice, because I’m not myself, you see.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
Lewis Carroll

Alice has a point, I consider myself a fellow sufferer. What’s happened recently to bring about this state of affairs? The time of year is an important factor in this identity crisis. It’s a season combining aspects of death, regeneration and resurrection. Our departed loved ones, including the Ancestors gather near the thinning veils to grace us with their presence. The Shaman senses and sees all between the worlds, viewing the interplay of Light and Dark unfold. The iconic Star Wars theme is playing in the background whilst I reveal the workings of my inner life. Geek alert, geek alert. Most of my recent posts have been related to mythic journeys taken to the Underworld. For those of us sensitive to the nuances of Nature and the mysteries of veiled realities it is a time of change and reflection. Accordingly my writing has echoed such themes. Sounds heavy going, please stay with me. Not sure whether I can due to having a grotty cold. To be honest I’m sporting a hairstyle that says ‘dragged through a hedge backwards’ rather than stylish; wearing white, rose patterned jammies and furry slippers reminiscent of yeti feet. ‘What a terrible fashion sense’ my alter ego remarks, dabbing her nose delicately with a scented hanky. Apologies in advance for these, these cavalier interruptions. Since the Shed altered its admission policies all manner of ruffians have wandered in. Where is the Force when you need it?

Such unseemly digression, time to get back on track. The absence of silence is noticeable in a world filled with discordant and at times frightening noise. When we enter into a state of silence the voice of the Universe can be heard in all its beauty and simplicity. The Mystic, Poet and Writer are familiar with its rhythms; we offer our prayers within that space. Prayer is attuning yourself to the life of the world, to love, the force that moves the sun and the moon and the stars (Music of Silence, David Steindl-Rast & Sharon Lebell, 1998). How right they are! Mystics aren’t restricted to just the main spiritual and religious traditions. Our paths are varied and we are many, all united in a search for meaning and illumination in an often mysterious Universe.

‘I’ve not heard from you in a while Jan’, a voice comments from the sidelines, ‘sounds like it’s been busy.’

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Image: Anubis, Jan Malique

His Nibs. I turn to look at Him. The Wizard of Odd makes another appearance. For all those unfamiliar with my relationship with this entity, you may know him as Anubis. It’s been a while since we had a chat. I look at him tiredly; he lifts an eyebrow and suggests we take a seat. The silence flows around us for a while. He clears his throat and makes a remark about the weather, then shudders in shock. Spending too much time in temperate climes. How do I tell him that there is another one waiting in the shadows, someone I’ll have to share my affections with. He has a bright and utterly mischievous gleam in his eyes. The god’s face rearranges itself into a semblance of pathos. It isn’t working; I’m immune to such dastardly tactics.

‘When is Anubis number three coming? I’m a little upset understandably but will try to cope,’ his voice breaks on the last word.

Is he joking? His Nibs leans forward and starts laughing. This light-hearted banter vanishes the previously heavy atmosphere. He reiterates the importance of trusting my intuition and self-belief. The power of the mind and soul are immense he reminds me. Attune to the flow of the greater Consciousness, see  how it permeates and infuses matter in all its glory, including myself. It speaks clearly and resonantly within the silence, it hears my prayers, it hears my heart.

The Universe is manifest in his eyes, he steps aside and shows me the extent of the silence that is available for the Mystic to immerse themselves in. It is a liminal place, mighty like the Ocean breaking upon the shores of our dreams. A strange and luminous space. Charles Panati offers us one viewpoint of this creature named the ‘Mystic’ in his book ‘Sacred Origins of Profound Things’:

‘Mystic: A person who professes to undergo enigmatic experiences, occult or parasensory, not always pleasant, often unpredictable, by which he or she intuitively comprehends truths that lie beyond ordinary human understanding. The moniker is from the Greek mystes, “one who is initiated”. Mystics have always been regarded with a certain degree of suspicion.’

Hm. That explains a lot. Why are words necessary when the heart can understand things most profound and seemingly incomprehensible? My exposition is meandering down paths that appear random, they are not. I look across at the Great Silence and wait. He waits with me.  A Hare appears at my side.