Pause for Breath

StockSnap, Pixabay

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

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

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

StockSnap, Pixabay

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

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

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

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

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

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Is death still frightening if you believe the self is an illusion? An astonishing study of Tibetan Buddhists

I too was quite surprised by the findings of this study.

The researchers wrote that they were astonished by their findings. By Christian Jarrett

via Is death still frightening if you believe the self is an illusion? An astonishing study of Tibetan Buddhists — Research Digest

Big Bad Humans and Benevolent Wolves — Open Graves, Open Minds blog

Followers of OGOM will know that we have been at the forefront of debates around the cultural representation of the wolf since the Company of Wolves Conference in 2015. We went on to collaborate more fully with the UK Wolf Conservation Trust and stage our Being Human event ‘Redeeming the Wolf‘ in 2017. If we…

via Big Bad Humans and Benevolent Wolves — Open Graves, Open Minds

The High Priestess — Archangel Oracle ~ Divine Guidance

I find myself in another creative rut, one filled with questions and vision obscured by mist. The oracles have been sporadically  active through the written word, but there has been something missing. Until today. When the High Priestess speaks it is time to listen.

Daily Angel Oracle Card: The High Priestess, from the Shadowscapes Oracle Card deck, by Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, artwork by Barbara Moore The High Priestess: “The The High Priestess opens herself to the sky. She basks in the radiance the stars cast upon her upturned cheeks. She soaks in that tremulous, incandescent light, feeling it glow […]

via The High Priestess — Archangel Oracle ~ Divine Guidance

View Across The Water: Part 1 Of The Living Vessel

Image: Jan Malique

The month of the Crane was approaching, bringing with it mists from across the headland. His ancestors stood with him, gazing across the water to the sanctuary of the one known as the Hermit. The little white washed building stood on the remains of a temple dedicated to an unnamed deity. It was said this goddess had watched over his people from a time of cold and silence; when the world was frozen by the breath of ice giants. Or so legends said.

The Hermit had also acquired near mythological status, as people of his kind were often viewed with fear mingled with deep respect. His origins were unknown, but many kingdoms called him one of their own. Merlin was the name he answered to, although his true name was hidden.

The man on the shore had travelled for a year to reach this place. A year of hardship and danger, evading hostile forces, both human and supernatural. This was a time of warring factions, of cosmic and human battles. It was foretold by the Oracle that a time of balance was approaching, when choices would have to be made, and destinies shaped.

A sense of heaviness lay on the man’s shoulders, composed of a sense of duty and sacrifice. Sacrifice of things not physical but spiritual. He had undergone trials that would have broken someone with less resilience and humility. He had been forced to look deep within his soul and face its true reflection. Not an easy task. Self-insight never is.

During the most terrible moments of his sense of isolation the tears flowed like a raging river. As did his anger. Where were his gods when he needed them most? This state of abandonment had left him almost broken, shredded his humanity, left it bleeding profusely on the ground. Thus was he prepared for the task they had chosen him for.

He was marked as a protector of the ancient relic his people had been guarding for ten thousand sunrises. A ritual object their gods had dreamed into being, holding the power to transform, create and destroy. It had no physical form but resided within a living vessel. He was now the chosen vessel, bound by unbreakable oaths. So it was that this man was brought to the edge of an unknown land seeking his guide and teacher.

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Image: OpenClipart-Vectors, Pixabay

The Hermit felt the man’s presence and prepared himself. The instruments of his art were gathered and his fire replenished. The sky and water simmered, infused with the scent of storms and portents. He whispered his student’s name, let it snake its way across the water, and enfold the human in a protective cloak.

The man swayed as if in a trance, standing on the threshold of this reality and the ones beyond consciousness. The relic sensed the presence of the Hermit and throbbed in response. The man opened his eyes and saw the Hermit before him. He spoke but no words issued from his lips. He conveyed knowledge through signs and visions. Through song and silence. So was a connection sealed with the vessel and relic.

The man stood unseeing and unspeaking. Then the dream shattered, releasing illusion and falsehoods. He felt the weight of suffering vanish like mist in the rays of the sun. Merlin beckoned the student and both got into the coracle waiting on the shore. A mist rolled in swallowing the two men. The ancestors stood guard on the shore; for as long as their kin was under the tutelage of the Hermit they would be present.

Here begins the journey of the one known as the Living Vessel.

“Equality,” A Flash Fiction Memory

Colleen’s stand on equality, and what rousing words they are!

colleen chesebro.com

Carrot Ranch writing challenge

January 18, 2018, Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes boots. Whose boots are they, where do they go and what is their significance? Go where the prompt leads.

Respond by January 23, 2018, to be included in the compilation (published January 24). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

Colleen AF 1976

Colleen, July 1976, Airman Basic, USAF

The sound was faint, but it was definitely there. The rhythmic stomp of combat boots echoed in my memory transporting me back to basic training in July of 1976. I had wanted to prove that I could do anything that a man could. I achieved it, but things still didn’t change for women.

Forty-two years later, our hats are pink, and our boots come in many colors, but our dreams remain the same. Today, the sound of many boots marching gives me…

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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.

If You Want To Start A Revolution, Start A Garden — Heathen Embers

This post may resonate with many people, its message is positive and empowering.

Forget protesting in the streets. The most revolutionary thing you can do is to plant a garden. Ideally a garden that nourishes all aspects of your being, not just your belly but your overall physical, mental and spiritual health. A garden is a place of many activities and benefits, but primarily it is a place […]

via If You Want To Start A Revolution, Start A Garden — Heathen Embers

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

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Me in 2015

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

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

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

Image: Golden Anubis, Jan Malique

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

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

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

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

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

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Image: Trandoshan, Pixabay

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

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

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

Smorgasbord Laughter Lines – Be careful what you wish for.

These will certainly cheer you up.

Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life

A woman was walking along the beach when she stumbled upon a Genie’s lamp. She picked it up and rubbed it, and lo-and-behold a Genie appeared. The amazed woman asked if she was going to receive the usual three wishes.

The Genie said, “Nope … due to inflation, constant downsizing, low wages in third-world countries, and fierce global competition, I can only grant you one wish. So … what’ll it be?”

The woman didn’t hesitate. She said, “I want peace in the Middle East. See this map? I want these countries to stop fighting with each other.”

The Genie looked at the map and exclaimed, “Gadzooks, lady! These countries have been at war for thousands of years. I’m good, but not THAT good! I don’t think it can be done. Make another wish.”

The woman thought for a minute and said, “Well, I’ve never been able to find the right…

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