Under the Grass and Topsoil

“The Prime Emanation … is the Revolution inside our being. It’s a process that’s going on in many of us now, making us more and more uncomfortable, and that’s a good thing. It’s a mystical cleansing of the emotional system and it’s why many people who begin working with the Gene Keys quickly lose a lot of weight and others fill out to just the right amount. We’re coming into balance, because we’re throwing out old genetic patterns. It’s about pruning back our desire nature because the solar plexus centre needs a new kind of environment. It needs a cleaner, more open environment, less cluttered with old frequencies. 

“One day we’ll return to the source. It won’t happen because of anything we do but because our particular story has found its way home. All we can do is follow the Emanation of our Love. We think we’re travelling into the future, but we’re really travelling back to the beginning…”

Richard Rudd Excerpt from the 64 Ways

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“Mend what was broken. Rekindle the Children’s Fire … We call this work ‘village building’ or ‘culture repair’.”  I had an email from Mac Macartney responding to my request several weeks ago, how can I find my pre-Roman “Angols”?  In his book The Children’s Fire he made it sound rather straightforward but now he says it is a matter of dowsing and resonance as there are no records.  The Roman conquest destroyed our indigenous Druid infrastructure.  How these tales echo through history!

In Mac’s book and journey, a map he drew of Wales shows evocative names of Celtic tribes and elders: Gangani, Silures, Demetae, Cornovii, Ordovices, Deceangle … which spread across the land.  I shall look at these names reflectively from time to time.

I feel profoundly rooted English, uninclined to move from HERE.  I hold the ground like an oak or elm; an Angle Sea – the Mona.  I loved what Tolkien wrote about the elm groves in his Lost Tales.  Tolkien was one of the Elder Ones, reproducing the mythos.  I have this inbuilt interconnectivity; the neural and nitrous fibres throughout the ground which I return to.  The body of Light Emanates. It is not a mere sponge.

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So in this moment in the earth I have a staff which illumines and is positive.  Let it lead this direction when and where it wants.  Let it shine.  It is a seer.  It sees through all conditions and fractures to the embracing Wholeness of the emanation.  I’m reminded of my painting of the light – the heart – within the earth, and a hammer, a geologist’s hammer which gently taps the geode.

I grew up in Kent, Scottish Highlands, Yorkshire Moors, south Cornwall, Surrey north downs and Quantock Somerset – all before I reached my teens; for we moved house a half-dozen times.  That is a landscape map provided!  I have walked it so much and flowered, that there is not much need to “know” the names.  The essence and loyalty and continuity are here.   It is like looking at the Geological Wall Map of Great Britain in my father’s room – the extrusions and worms of colour told us where and on what rocks we live – north Yorkshire was pale yellow.  And I became a painter for a time.

The gift awoke by the sea in Cornwall Caerhays age six, and that marks probably my descent from the Western peoples, touching ground.  It encompasses my long-ago walks in mid-Wales (tent by the Severn river), Snowdonia and the Pembrokeshire coast … and recently, along the Hertfordshire Way and Chilterns north of London.  The Hermit’s staff is a dowsing rod and also a blind person’s white stick! – for in this lifetime in those places I did not know consciously what I touch.  But they made me an artist.

I live all my adult life in the city which the Romans developed and called “Londinium”. Here I hear through the urban density, the heart of the country and its winter birdsongs and noble river.  Here staying at home for the last 50 years I find space for the soul to wander and flourish; and my present tribe.

My room is an untidy sanctuary of peace with a few trees outside, a busy railway to the north and a street to the south.  This morning as usual when writing, I feel the root of light sink deep, the silken stillness.  At Manor Farm in Somerset we had a giant elm down by the pond whose roots, I was told, spread right across the field under the grass and topsoil.  And so I know the tree’s root-system mirrors its bole; and I feel the Spirit moving into flesh through the stellar fibres of my body’s capillaries;  I am nothing other than this network of the fields and streams and woods;  I am this un-tapped and immense human conscious potential which – after millenia – we awaken into, again … and again.  My Druid knowledge lives today in the core wisdom of many esoteric languages which thrive.  It has a singular pulse in the veins:  I love.  I love.

The old alchemists said simply – don’t drop the wisdom (dew) on the ground.  Most persons cannot understand it, they break it up into cities and beliefs.  Carry it in the vessel which perennially and quietly mends itself with the Sun.  The wisdom is osmosis and photosynthesis: the Sun, the rain and the Earth.  No matter how apparently concealed, the same magnetic shines in each one of us.  It is in process of opening its dimension through our temporal fantasy of destruction.  As the living creature awakes and yawns it cracks the scales.

How tiny is my surface understanding within the solar system and each of its planetary gems.

The silence when the wisdom river is coming and when the oak is flowing is deep.  The magic we know is so immense that the essence transcends and permeates the particles which are knowledge.

There is no need to “know”.  There is every way to “be” and to recognise the flavour.  Taste it.  The animals, the trees, insects, birds and flowers taste it, un-obstructedly whenever they pause.  Wisdom dissolves manufactured outlines and provinces, and for humans this is hard.  Take a step back from the unfolding history and see the process.  The wisdom is invincible and the DNA awakens into this mutation now: frail dragonfly nymph on watery stem – its thorax burst open with the sun’s warmth into wings.

Illustration from Richard Rudd’s book of poems and prayers – ‘The Spring of Dreams’

To remember this is to collect together with Mother Isis the scattered limbs of Osiris and breathe on them with love.  This is perennial in our condition.

Quantock dancers

Seven sisters, High Point, Quantock hills

 

So the Quantock hills at present are my “walking country” where my mother still lives.  There is a long Somerset settlement in my life.  My home was there from age 9 until 20. Later, my father moved to North Devon and discovered in the next parish his Yule ancestors, with whom he had himself buried.  In Somerset and North Devon were extensive explorations, our home and our adventurous family holidays at Hartland.

These places where the heart is placed and soaks up the land are pointers towards my ancient tribal locations and relationships.  The seed is blown from tree by the wind or carried by bees to fertile ground by the laws and movement of Nature.  My father was an organic farm-manager, bee keeper and musician.  When I grew up my first regular job as a portrait artist took me all over England and as far as Gordonstoun in Scotland.  In each place I worked, there was first the need to go for an orienting walk and understand the landscape, roads and contour.  My early work is scattered around the country’s living-rooms like seed – many hundreds of portraits of children.  This was Providential.

This brings me to the inner meaning of our children’s fire.  Although it is threatened, there are in many pockets of the land, oases where the healthy seed is cultivated. In due course the whole seed will overcome the adulterated and even take into itself what is good in the latter.  Why else is there this incredible enriching mix and mulch and ferment in the human gene pool – through the overwhelming agony of frontiers, fear, bordering and displacement – why else the cross-fertilisation and upheaval of racial roots?  An innovative and gentle power of the seer is being born through these generations.  The environmental threat catalyses a revolutionary Symbiotic caring.  The animal and plant kingdoms in Gaia no longer agree to be our mere playground or unconscious prey.  The new Consciousness – already sprouting through the ground – is to unify and to nurture.

My mother’s garden in the early spring

The children’s fire?  It is this transformative glow of the quickening, the seed.  On the Underground in London I watched yesterday a father with his sons – he had an interesting lined child’s face, an elder Saxon with soft tired eyes, an artist perhaps with the sky; and one of his boys sat with him and stroked the back of Dad’s neck and untidy hair.  Love and care.

In the seed is the fire which is Life.  In the Upanishadic wood is the latent fire; in the grass the cow and in the milk the cream.  In the hen, the egg is our solar system.

Parvati waters trees. This image is copyright The Sacred India Tarot deck published by Yogi Impressions in 2011

The healing way is for those of us who have access and liberty, to attend to the quantum particle on behalf of the majority.  The consciousness is what there is.  Each root in the ground illumines and connects with all the others.  The quantum, homeopathic in dilution, is beyond prediction’s enclosures.

The needle’s point of Sufi thread pierces vertically the dense horizontal matrix: the tapestry.  What do I sew?

Light the fire for our children.  Be warm of heart.  Make this picture daily with the thread through the tapestry.  The only disease – the root of all diseases – is any form of our excess.  Balance is inevitable.

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My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel and Gene Keys Diary.

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2020. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

Sun, Saturn, Pluto

Cupola: Angel’s Sound (1988)

For my Gene Keys blog, I finished (with difficulty!) a drawing yesterday – cobra, wild boar and skylark – to illustrate the intuitive animal magic within the 54th Gene Key (6-11 January).

I just now realised they spontaneously embody the Sun, Saturn and Pluto – what a surprise!  For today is dawning the exact conjunction awaited all these years.

54th Gene Key Dream-Arc: the Shadow, Gift and Siddhi:  “greed” (cobra), “aspiration” (wild boar) and “ascension” (skylark)

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I feel aligned gently to the heart of the universe as the two Great Beings Chronos and Hades confer with Sol in my soul – my 71st birthday in a day or two.  I feel privileged to witness a meeting of celestial archetypes. The vast voluminous sphere with its shimmering Rings, miraculous Moons and 29 year orbit merges with a tiny outer planet’s 240 year cycle; the un-conceptual space of their intimacy through billions of our measurable miles.  Both of them mark Solar system parameters; Saturn is that of Time.  Pluto – the Hadean Underbeing – is that of Emanation.

The meeting is upon a mandala: a detail, a resonance.  Such beauty is in the notes upon the string.

Angel’s sound – spiral mandala – 1988

In a dome the size of St Peters in Rome or the Sofia in Istanbul, if a nucleus were a single grain of salt, the positions of electrons would be a few microscopic specks of dust. They whirl through the great chamber not as points or objects but as ocean waves en-sphering the salt grain.  Salt for instance, crystallises to the cube, the basic structure of all matter and of Solomon’s Seal: the solar web of our world. The planetary giants’ billion-mile intimacy and its timing is seamless with the galactic space of cell, atom and particle in my body.  There is no end.

Within our DNA itself is woven the planetary and galactic science “as above, so below”.

And those who might know better don’t realise this!  They have their complaining signboards up in front of their noses and would focus on that narrow waveband round and around, rather than into the cosmos which we are.

Discovery circa 1963 – a painting I did at school

Ishvara governs the universe and the infinite subtle geometry of our world with ultimate precision. How clearly I saw for a moment, that we humans including our astrologers and seers often – not always! – choose to read again our Fable rather than the fact; choose to look at a book with dark writing rather than listen to our heart; choose fear and warning rather than openness. Why?

(The wild boar in my drawing shows the old instinct of the hunter and the hunted within our aspiration.)

What if a Reality amazingly and simply other than that convention, quietly unfolds under the gossip?  Well then it requires its Seers.  In Vedic knowledge each goddess and mantra has its Seer – Ganapati Muni was the Seer of the goddess who fountains without a head – Chinnamasta and her nectarous vibrational sound: Om srim hrim hrim vajra-vairocaniyai hum hum phat svaha (See David Frawley’s Tantric Yoga and the Wisdom Goddesses/1994).

I am a Seer of the world which is mostly concealed by what humans tend to believe in.  The Seer develops the discovered Reality through choice and resonance.

Ramana Maharshi’s silence, the poet Ganapati Muni and a scribe

It seems we are by default willing to believe in what we are told by others to think.  The fibs that fly around are not worth the space of listening to.  Just this:  why am I willing to believe in lies?  Because I have a conditioning that if it makes me tense and anxious it’s bound to be true, it is tribal.

There is at the moment a ray or resonant string:  Sun, Earth, Saturn, Pluto, with Jupiter at present amplifying it.  The note will be exactly attuned tomorrow evening (13th January)  at about 22 degrees 40 in Capricorn.  This is compresent with the period (since 1987) of polar-axial tilt to galactic centre; a profound constellational adjustment within our core.  There is collective tribal fear of death in such alignment and silence – a feature of eclipse – and the people everywhere speed up and beat the drum.

Contemplate the musical string and the inner quiet when it is struck; the years for the sound to resound and travel as the conjunction slowly opens its seed through Capricorn and into Aquarius, breathing in and out.  Honour that, rather than the brittle belief.

Chronos and Hades confer with Sol in my soul.  The harmonic is within my body and DNA, microcosmic to the Solar System’s immensity; it is nuclear within my atoms.  The wavelength in our nervous system’s connectivity is so easily overlooked and unconscious.  A willing awareness with it – rather than follow tittle-tattle – is an “upstream event”.  It touches conscious space before the water starts to fall.  This is voluntary.

Voluntary in the same way, is metanoia, the in-turning – attuning – of the psyche to Sanctus: the Divine Unexpected.

The Fool and the Lamb in a tent at night listen to Angels – 1988

Most of us as individuals cannot accept that we are all of a piece, because we are accustomed to being regarded as separate phenomena who must struggle with limited resources to impact on each other and events.  It seems that many in the spiritual community pay lip service to the Mandala but continue to indulge the gossip.  Our surface psychosis shrouds the peaceful event of planetary beings occupying the one thread for a moment in our history’s river.

I began to feel the shroud is in place as a general distraction.  It allows the underlying current to follow its natural way to carry the cargo and cleanse our world.

I am all-of-a-piece.  When the DNA (through voluntary attentiveness and respect) awakes, the elder Forest Medicine speaks.

An event of Consciousness is the will within any cellular membrane to be conscious, to interact and help to sustain and support and co-create the infinite organ; to heal our wound; to take responsibility.  Who starts this but I?  I am you.  We are.  Our I begins the genesis HERE and HERE and HERE.  My feeling today is a clear world.

The still, small voice
connects.

If you look HERE
you’ll find.

If you play with your sword
you won’t;  but I’m HERE
our bridge.

You may not hear
what touches you

but HERE, my songs
in your tree, are lovebirds.

From Poems of Eclipse 1999

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My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2020. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

A New Year – Wings within Spine

Circle, courtesy of The Sun Hermit (Tom Corsus)

With Christmas we are thresholding Capricorn – the thresher of the Dweller – for the midwinter Solstice came late this year, on the 23rd.  This morning in north Somerset the sky is as eggshell crisp and blue over the hills; the sun rose in fiery gold splendour and the parcels were opened.  And the light will begin again to grow.

Painting by Jung in “The Red Book” – Jung’s fabulous Odyssey in the Sun-boat

Mac Macartney’s bookThe Children’s Fire” deeply touches me in his un-mapping of Wales. Along the numinous borderland of Druidic Albion, through wet leaves, frosty nights and carefully concealed firelight, refuse was chucked at Mac from cars, but also he met the ageless kindness from strangers. Mac’s odyssey towards pre-Roman Anglesey turns my nose and antlers towards the re-wilding movement.  In the tiny pockets where this starts, a seminal abundance collects.  The outlets are not many nor yet large, but the pressure underneath them is great, for human has cut back, tamed, tarred and scarred, regimented the ground and stamped out the witch.  The magical force concentrates around the vents like the tiny proportion of liberators in the mass human entity.

As Earth rotates so the core magma passing centrifugally through geological planes converts to nature’s irrepressible force and beauty;  Gaia, the greening.

This year I will walk with the re-wilding enterprise and the global energy parliament  and my patch of ground in the Gene Keys field.

Look at these sacred geometries in the dance of planetary time and space (read more; this https://ecohustler.com/technology/winter-solstice-fibonacci-and-earths-alignment-with-the-galactic-core/ is fascinating about the present alignment of Earth’s polar axis to galactic centre at solstice) – the real world we live in; the living texture of astrology.  Behold the cosmic patterning which silences the interpreter!

My inner eye opens again to perceive the spheres, the Suns; their shape and energy. Pockets of florescence, like nutritious energy-balls or bath bombs, explode and fizz “in the air”. Dandelion clocks scatter angels with one blow.    When nature’s tide reclaims the urban-industrial blotch, she could do so beyond expectation like the breach of a dam – the vigour and abundance will astound.  Who knows when or how this happens? It seems unlikely in regions burnt by global warming – and the forecast even there is unpredictable.  Where a branch is pruned, many sprout.  It will probably happen as the human population drops – at any time during this century.  Our DNA is coded collectively;  in harmony with natural forces and formation, the population may start to physically decrease.  The DNA is omnipresent, lacing the human form with the molecular evolution, atom to galaxy.

Consider also the vital DNA in the gut, its garden, and the old alchemists’ wisdom of the black dragon, the white Chyle and the red and white roses.  By roses, I mean the instrument of life in the blood.  All the teachings now say, put your hand on your belly, breathe into your bum.  Consciousness of the Solar plexus and intestinal wealth cancels the old ignorance which chucked it into the road.  It means valuing this organ of the body and the substances passing through it which are acted upon by enzymes to release nutrients and the Sun.  In Heaven there is no dirt.  It is not random that pure sexuality flows tandem with the gut.  The Tarot Hermit – Hebrew letter Yod – rules with his lamp the whole region, darker than a cave; the galactic night of his mountain peak.

Builders of the Adytum Tarot Key 9 – the Hermit (Virgo)

My Solar-return Moon this year is the Hermetic sign Virgo, in 2nd house. Just now the sun comes into the room, and on my “altar” is a tiny spark of light – the facet of a gem between Yab-yum lovers.   It echoes and earths the candle flame above it, about a foot away.  I feel sleepy and still this morning.  In the night I was awake a lot – perhaps a download; the pressure of Nature’s fountain through “outlets”.

The natural outlets – dolmens, temples, stone rings and streams – flow beneath the urban grid on sacred Albion and bide time.  Lifetimes can pass in the dreaming. The perennial magic in this land was long crucified but will sprout –  according to the cosmic relation beyond the window of history we teach ourselves.  I will contemplate Britain’s underground occult river.  Planted in the generative mind, the holy places will manifest. The human need begins here and there to work with nature not as a mere resource but with profound cooperative care and love.

Kabbalah Tree of Life as a Garden – 1989

In a wildish orchard near Chesham, a large animal sat quietly like a cat and watched my presence with long large ears, wide apart on slender neck, probably a deer.   Long minutes we watched each other, without movement and at a distance.  Near the farmhouse behind hedge and gates, the creature sat in the long grass, alert as the dew;  my solstice messenger.

With the wisdom that comes through here, I can focus on the re-wilding initiatives under the defiantly ailing human crust.  The ailing human crust, solid as it seems with its cities, infrastructure and disease, is a collective dream we subscribe to.  There is a choice.  Subscribe to the magazine or media-misery with its shiny photo-squares or cultivate through nature’s Imagination the spherical “bombs” of consciousness;  the subterranean limestone rivers, the enormous abundance of leaf, flora, bacteria and fauna behind the human bungalow.  Imagine the dolmens, the stones and druids.  Many druids reborn nowadays are in the work.  Come here to refresh myself and drink when I get tugged astray with grief – come Home.  I live in the physical dream but I move with the metaphysical (supra-physical) Malkuth – subtle, secret and unlimited.

Here is Origin – the mountain peak down which flow as rivers the messengers throughout human time.  When the vision is open, I see – in collective resonance – the human form symbiotic with the Garden and with the beasts whom in another dreamtime it dominated and decimated; whom now it seeks to name and nurture, for they are our body.  The DNA serpent is our awakening to this fact. Genesis is timeless.

Come now to embrace the indigenous Dreamtime which encircles the human game which “got spoiled”.  The Dreamer runs back and forth in time’s great landscape.

What spoiled our terrain?  The primary-school level of quarrelling.  Our future is not in that.  Our real future is that nothing can stop the human genome from growing up to take responsibility.  We grow out of our age – about eight years old at present.  Nothing can stop humankind from maturing, any more than the seasonal pulse be stopped – to live and grow with trees and earth and the animal kingdom, the fragile husbandry of climate change and the art of living; for it hurts us too much as a species not to.  If all I read on my window is war, starvation, nightmare media and consumer pollutant chaos … know that I see but darkly through the glass;  changing my focus from surface glaze to the inner eye, I may see the starry constellations in the raven’s wing. I may glimpse through the murk a mountain – each snowflake a unique hexagonal crystal; the living fact of the water I drink.

You may feel and be the awakening of wings within your spine.

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I feel as I rise into this, that the urban pollutant around our Earth is a dying genre;  it seems to intensify politically, but it is dead matter, a crust to peel away.  The crust, unconscious of origin and of the new order,  completes its own time.  Through it – in places imperceptibly, in other places outspoken or persecuted – emerge like green-shoots through the ground a new Homo Sanctus; the children already are born.  Imperfect we are, and painfully struggling, but persistent.

I don’t see this happening all at once – though in historic time it appears sudden and cataclysmic – there is a process of friction during which the worn-out strongholds increasingly collapse and the apparently weak prevails.  The “weak force” of gravity in physics exists (like homeopathy) virtually beyond the power of sophisticated instruments to detect.  Yet I guess as single gravitons unite with others, they condense into orbital waves which curve spacetime around stars, supernova events and planetary systems.  The force of attraction between ourselves as human beings, the mating instinct, has this infinitesimal origin.  And I feel that the magnetic mating instinct itself evolves towards Eden.

Such is cosmic consciousness – a quantum leap.  A single starling cell flying into the dancing cloud of thousands, millions in the Murmuration, enters the higher Intelligence: the geometry of I AM.

Or consider the bees.

The raised frequency level is not to be confused with the herd instinct in the market force or the lower “fear” vibration which conventionally governs the world.

Population explosion?  Visualise an immense tidal flow of racial varieties, Karmas and the surface tension of our suffering to cross-fertilise the gene pool – the nature of the tide leaves its deposit on the beach and flows back into the sea; then again it comes.  Gaia does not tolerate indefinite excess – just enough to force us as Her cells to change and realign. There are seasons and there are times; there is growth and there is contraction – Hesed and Gevurah on the Tree.  The universe breathes rhythmically, in greater cycles.

I am aware again now of our collective waste’s potential to transmute rather than to dump; of nascent technologies which rediscover and re-state the old alchemical wisdom with transmuting matter.  The human core potential to waken is limitless.  We are each a Solar-battery, still dormant.  The potential to biodegrade our ocean waste with the help of the Sun is limitless;  the intention is coded in old alchemic texts like algebra in modern physics.  It is encoded in our body, in the conscious threads of DNA we share with stars.

DNA helix – illustration from The Gene Keys by Richard Rudd

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From “The Glory of the World” …
Observe, how the seeds of all things that grow,
like grains of wheat or barley, spring from the ground
by the operation of the Stone                                                                                                      
and influence of Sun and Moon ;

how they grow up into the air,
are gradually matured,  and bring forth fruit
again to sow in its own soil.

The field is prepared for the grain, being ploughed up well
and manured with dung well rotted ;
for the earth consumes and assimilates manure
as the body assimilates food
and separates subtle from the gross.

Therewith it calls forth the life of the seed
to nourish with milk
as a mother her infant nourishes,
to increase in size, and upward grow.

The earth separates the good from bad,
imparting, as nutriment to all growing things,
the destruction of ONE thing
generating another.

Hermetic Museum of Alchemy, 17th Century

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Madonna holds in strong hands her wild sacred child, Buckfast Abbey, Devon: their pride in each other!

Any slight shift in worldview, in the personal consciousness, helps activate the ancient new science which is already manifesting.  The contagion travels from one to one; it pops open with the quantum hop.  Communities cannot wake up without ourselves as individuals – you and me – who can, who will, and who do.

I feel at such moment with the pain of our brittle dream around us, we yet approach the threshold of reality.  Look within.  Be still and let it breathe.

An alternative “Genesis”…?  for Christmas, solstice  – may Treasure come to you in the coming year.

When placed in its natural soil
and rained with dew from heaven
and roused to life
by warmth of the Sun and Moon,
it produces fruit, the way of its own kind.

These two sowings are our Art.
The Sun and Moon are grain
put into our soil, a soul and spirit,
and such as are the father and mother
are children they will generate.

Hermetic Museum of Alchemy, 17th century

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My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2020. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

Terma – Dare to Trust

 

“The Time of the Sixth Sun” collecting together many elders and sages of the global human community was first launched in April 2019 and again on 6 November by Theo van Dort, Nikki Luna and Uquala, for two weeks. A wonderful and unique heart-opener about positive environmental initiatives and new technologies around the world – spiritual, community and scientific. Profoundly recommended!  For more information and to keep in touch, visit timeofthesixthsun.com  

The package is available to buy until 6 December 2019 – https://timeofthesixthsunlaunch.com/own

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maitreya with leaf

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And now … what is Terma?

The Tibetan master Padmasambhava and other great sages hid Divine gifts within the human strata, within the elements of rock, ice, flower and field, within the soul’s deeps for future centuries to seek and find.  At the heart of the Rosy Cross is a tradition of the burial of Brother C.R. deep under earth in a vault built of the laws and proportions of sacred geometry and numbers.   Brother C.R.C the Rosicrucean founder, is repository of the Wisdom. The letters are derived from a Hebrew root RK (I think) which means “tenderness”.

Seek and find … within your home itself.  You have the key – use it now.

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I went climbing at the Castle, but it was not a good session, partly because it was very crowded, noisy and busy. I lacked a flow of Yang in the Yin which balances the climb. Also; I climb well only if I make a contact with someone; it makes me more daring and … to trust.

Then I went home, and then to Kabbalah group although exhausted.

The contact – to person or wall – through all life comes and goes.  The creative contact – I’m not there yet, this morning – is contemplation and love.  Performers lose their contact when too much is expected of them in a culture of spectators.  Spectator types (majority) rely on making a projectile contact through those who act it out. This threads through the entire spectrum of sport, art, the economy and politics.  Real connection – especially intimate – meets a cobweb of resistance.  The contact for me on a tired morning is coaxed.  It moves slowly into itself.  This afternoon I go to acupuncture – an appointment I pre-empted last week with retro Mercury! – I made a long journey for nothing.

“Hallo!” the voice comes from inside, just as I wondered whether pre-empting appointments acts out in microcosm a planetary movement in the celestial field.

The voice from inside, the connecting, is the contact.  The contact does not race into creative intensity – as it would if I were trying to perform or to work hard.  It stays with itself in a grey dawn.  The contact has this feeling of fragility; my physical body is not young.  At this moment the sun pierces through damp weather and glows on the wall.  It glows and fades, glows and fades, smudgy tree shadows’ slow quiver in the breeze.  There it all is!   Whenever the sun’s brilliance comes through and warms my eye, the heart responds, because what is my heart?  The Sun within me.

Each morning I look at the drawing I did for my father’s birthday in 1988:

coming out … touch the world

Everything is in it … Including the climbing!

The guidance from within does not impose meditation or belly breathing.  It awakens me to follow gently; to let it expand naturally from small beginnings.  Tuning into the Schumann resonance from whatever state of dullness takes time and listening and being.  It begins to embody down into my feet.  We shall (and do actually) live on Earth with and as the slow yet swift movement of the sunrise.  Cultivate the awakening, take the plough.

“Love and you shall know.”

Master Rakoczy, violinist

Creative works are my gift to myself from the boundless.  This morning dozing, I dreamed of the fashion nowadays for Way-showers to provide a gift when they are interviewed online; in my sleep I saw or read about two of these gifts which were objects, and then Ramana Maharshi’s which was  an equation I can write – as I woke I lost it, nearly found, then lost again.  I saw this sketch of him:

The meaning is old and beautiful;  the meaning is Terma and we find such gifts in our House of the Psyche in the Tree.

Fountain breath, tree of life

I am excited with the concept of Terma.  I discover it throughout the awakening network among us, as within and from my Self – core – when the torch is shone in here.  It illumines it.  Terma containing countless gifts and discoveries in the rock, is the whole of my life, and with Pluto and Saturn moving through Capricorn there is more of it now than there ever was before, on Earth; in the interface of the Companions of the Light with our physical being; and the inevitable resistance to it, to overcome.

I am a Terma.  “I am a hidden Treasure and I love to be known“.

Illumine the coal face

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Dare to be Divine?   Dare to trust.  Dare to trust the wall of life, dare to trust the person and dare to trust myself.

These are my two dear friends Bibi and Paul;  they are both teachers and sometimes they dance together.  Bibi (on the left) made a beautiful film in which she dances the Tree of Life as Tai Chi by the sea:

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See also my post in Aquariel, about Hashaq… the creative background

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Some Kabbalah group notes

The principle of the Game is in Beriah, the World of Creation.   For all the trouble South Africa is in now (as with every country its own) the multi-racial friendship in the rugby SA/UK match was impossible two generations ago.  This fact moved one of us – who was born there 84 years ago – to tears.

What is God?  What do I mean by One?

A married couple both from dysfunctional families, with difficulty started a pregnancy.  They have just been told by the hospital that their baby foetus has a heart condition.  They have only each other for support in the unknown.  WHY ME?  Talk to the little one, what are you carrying for us to learn?  Do you start to mend the broken heart in our families?  We are three of us now.  We are a team.  Work with it.

Yet medical predictions relying on measurement do not always manifest.  There are cases where the handicapped child is born with nothing wrong.  The resources and sources are Karmic in their depth.  The mystery is the unknown mending.

Love the teaching.  I don’t know God!  I am, this is, a detail in the unfolding of the Holy One.  The Holy One unfolds the garment of the All.  Doing the right thing begins to know the unfolding of God as synchrony appears.  How empowering are our questions – who is God? and why me?

A cosmic violinist – 1988

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We explored religious origins and their corruption by priestly power.  Knowledge of the Tree of Life opens up the dimensions – the four worlds or levels – in Egyptian hieroglyphs.  These four levels appear universally – Egypt and Zoroaster traditions.  The Tree is our road map.

A story of a well known musician – care which is core is absent from his life, through addiction to overwork or to public response.  Each day there is so much new going on, alchemically – cooking, gardening and relationships.

A vixen came to watch the internment of a family member’s ashes at Kensal Rise.  She was beautiful, vibrant and interested.  Then she paced around the grave in a magical circle.  What do we really know?

Refugees are constantly being displaced, and we en masse hear only the downside.  Yet many refugees are uplifted and start a new life. Why this huge displacement?  Look to the Beriah dimension which is vast!  A few are capable to take the opportunities opening out.

“Human beings of integrity are unlikely to be elected into high office.”

I witness a collective awakening in our evolutionary process, which is not of standard government.  Awakening from the convention of doom, gloom and blaming others, to evolution in earth, are painful steps towards human maturity, the unfolding of what some call the Great Plan from underneath the world’s show. You and I have capacity to free ourselves from an age-old victim consciousness.  The map just begins to be opened for the walker.

Despondency?  The collective crisis has been unfolding for centuries, millennia.  Individuals learn and grow.  The light from the lamp reaches further and reveals what was not seen before, which used to be dark.

As one drop of perfume fills a room, so do Schools of the Soul generate the unknown factor of inner work.  

The question what is God?  Who am I?  The alchemy of the moment happens in the situation I am in.  Walk into the house.  LISTEN.  Walk into my body.

What does the mother of the foetal heart condition actually sense?  She was silent and then replied “Life”, and her responsibility to this Life in whatever form.  A drop of the real Life force changed the atmosphere in the room.  The spark came.  The baby’s name is Hope.

Alchemy of the Question – how can I serve the gift, and learn?   The Lord is in his temple.  I am the temple.  Knowing this is ALL.

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My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

Drawings of Animals, Persons and Phoenix

1 November 2019

This is a big post, mainly pictures, most of them drawings I did this year … with some story as it arose.

The sketches of endangered creatures in the Amazon rain forest were commissioned last January for a children’s book to raise awareness .  However they were not in the style which the author needed; so here they are for an airing.

The Amazon fruit bat wakes in Plato’s cave.  Can you see the snail? – (2018)

bespectacled bear comes out into the open – 2019

Doesn’t each creature tell a story of someone you know, or of yourself on this day or that?

spider monkey 2019

Here, he lets go …  Instant enlightenment is on call

poison dart frog 2019

but it isn’t quite … what the seeker expected to find?

giant amazon snail 2019

Very slow and steadily he made his way along the Path, feeling every element …

flying fruit bat 2019

until he could open his heart and fly home …

fruit bats resting 2019

… to rest upside down in the boundless with his friend.

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Now here are some family snaps:

man with cat 2018

man caving, birth 2018

my friend,  she sits like an eagle 2018

new generation: this is her dad, just back from the war. She’s in the pram  …  (2018)

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These sketches are from my earlier post with Shakti Rising:

Ramakrishna and Yantras – 2019

Sarada Devi wife of ramakrishna (1994)

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I found this on a friend’s bedroom wall when I went on a visit – I had forgotten all about it.

afternoon nap – circa 1972

peter in devon –  2019

Brave bears …

and a fox at dawn:

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Copy from Botticelli; the winds are angelic forces – birth of Aphrodite 2019

this old sketch turned up of Douglas and Catherine Harding – perhaps 1996.  They are built open for each other. They tell friends to “See” who they really, really are,  like birds on the wire.

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Hand mudras – sacred gestures 2019

I went for a walk and met a beautiful nose on four legs

Arthur Koestler 2019 – an old mentor

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Here is a story:

Celebrate Nyousha (1997-2019), 2019

In August this year, we held a wake for Nyousha. She was only 22, the cancer started when she was 17. She wrote in her diary that each day, each moment holds the potential to make a change in the world; her courageous statement of living and loving more intensely through her death.  She was a feminist and an activist; she deeply searched her soul.  This young Persian artist had to die just as she grew up and opened wide. Her radiance illumined and inspired her loved ones.  Nyousha is among us.  She is grieved; and yet she is free.

In the Phoenix Community house in North London, I have my art room. The fur of old Kabbalist visionary was removed from my room for the weekend, and replaced with the young girl’s vibrant life for her family and all their friends to come and see; her exhibition, her gallery, her soul. We hung her work also all around the house.  About 300 people feasted in the garden and there was music.  Afterwards her brother carefully put my infrastructure back where it was.  My life made room for one whose adult life only began.

Today writing this post and uploading my portrait of her, I  discover it is her birthday: 1 November.  In Scorpio’s depth today, Mercury pauses to rest on one foot before re-winding the spiral backward. Hence, I reflect further …

Zoroastrian rock phoenix

Creative work supports the soul in yet another miracle of reality.  In shock and acceptance, the phoenix turns, ascends within and sings the outrageous alchemical moment in the heart and in Sol.

On hearing it’s her birthday, I got out my colours and struck for Nyousha this coin:

 

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Sketch of Nyousha & a climbing stretch – 2019.

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woman running with wolf – 2019

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Here now are a few sketches of climbers – always an amusing allegory with conditions of pilgrimage, ascension, meeting our Shadow, call it what you will.  We help each other:

Momo Freehill, bouldering 2019

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Climbing at the Castle Centre 2019.  That is me, near the spectacles, belaying my daughter.

Self and dropped knee/chimneying …

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… and herons, from a small book I just completed, about an artist I met when I was 16 – there are experiential roots of Islamic and Hebrew calligraphy:

 

Heron 2 2019

Alif aleph yod heron 2019

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My grandfather, copied from a black and white photograph by Richard Poussette Dart which I found in a book at Kettle’s Yard.  I was deeply impressed with the way Poussette Dart portrays him as a working mystic.

Jim Ede from a photograph by Richard Poussette Dart 2019

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More of the climbing companions.  This oak tree grew out of a sheer gritstone rock face in Yorkshire.

climbing on Agdon Rocher 2019

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on the  slabs

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Back home, my Rilke gallery begins to grow!

Lou Salome and Rainer Maria Rilke 2019 

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Procession – 2018

And: my journal today. I want to say again (not didactically) that when I am deeply reflective, it appears to me that we humans are within a genetic matrix which is creating a new Aquarian symbiosis. The animal kingdom is under threat of extinction by the present human imbalance.  Yet, looking at the countless small initiatives to protect and conserve a species and restore it to its habitat, I see the birth of a kind of care which did not exist when the beasts and birds were our plentiful hunting ground or amusement.  Against the ravages still being made against nature, human conscience in her depth strata expands the palette, embracing our shadows with the dawn.

Care and respect for the animals includes “the soft animal of our body” and  soul within us, in all its beauty.

with cat when he wasn’t well

For me, Gaia is not the earth-being alone – for we are not separate.  Gaia is our conscious human-earth relationship: to care.  The breakthrough comes where hope seems to be lost.  The condition is unbearably painful before I agree to pause, turn and evolve – individually as collectively. Nothing can prevent the evolutionary cosmos in the DNA.  The evolution proceeds at all levels interwoven: spiritual through psychological to the instinctual body and her seasons; the plant, mineral and subatomic universe.

A phoenix rises from the ashes to our call: transfiguration.

As the sun rises over the horizon it throws long sharp shadows across the field.  These confront us in our world at present.  Pluto’s movement through Capricorn de-constructs old institutions to make room for new birth.  Watching life in the cauldron, as hologram, I observe these basic principles time and time again through the chaos.  Since 2012 particularly, we are required to embody the ageless wisdom and to get real: our boots on the ground.  As the linear convention of time changes its nature, so emerges in both men and women the feminine, the unconditional rejoicing creature within us who flowers and gives birth.

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Sleeping swan (1988). Her nose is where she flies

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My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

The Rose in the Starfish

Rosicrucean Emblem Ten: Atlas

Journal, 7 October 2019

Is ecstasy the captive of existential fear?  Are they hand in glove?  What is love?

Here is a story in Arthur Koestler’s ‘The Act of Creation’: “The great biologist Elie Mechnikoff felt rather lonely one afternoon in 1890 when the whole family had gone off to the circus … he remained alone with his microscope. The microscope was in Pasteur’s laboratory at the Ecole Normale.  Mechnikoff was observing the life of the mobile cells in the transparent larvae of starfish, and idly threw a few rose-thorns among them.  The thorns were promptly surrounded by the larvae and dissolved inside their transparent bodies – they had been gobbled up and digested.  This reminded him of what happens when a human finger is infected by a splinter; it will be surrounded by pus which, like the starfish larvae, attack and try to digest the intruder.  By this analogy Mechnikoff discovered the organism’s main defence mechanism against invading microbes: the ‘phagocytes’, cell-eaters, a population of mobile cells among the white blood corpuscles.”

[Hasn’t this some resonance with the development of advanced technologies to bio-degrade the plastics in our oceans?   SIXTH SUN LINK – :  “The ‘Time of the Sixth Sun Series’ is a movie and documentary series 11 years in the making about the awakening and transformation of global consciousness and the huge potential we have for change in the world. Starring Estas Tonne and featuring over 85 indigenous elders, wisdom keepers, visionary thought leaders with a beautiful soundtrack. If you’d like to see the trailer and sign up to watch for free go to: https://timeofthesixthsunlaunch.com

This project was first distributed last April, and is being made available again on 6 November.  I only saw a small part of it then, and was deeply uplifted and fascinated by the holistic work of a new generation of young scientists – a profound, positive message concerning also our individual untapped potential for the good.

 I also started to correspond with Global Energy Parliament – well worth a visit.  This Keralan movement grounds spiritual conscience, philanthropy and eco-initiatives in quantum physics – the journey into the Higgs-Bosen or “I” particle.]

Bio-chemistry never lost the helping hand of its elder sister, Alchemy – nature’s interior art of transformation is assisted just a little by humans.  Seventeenth century alchemic aphorisms describe red and white soldiers’ activity within the corpuscular bloodstream as they travel to the castles of our interior organs.  What ancient medicine!

Think again of this fantastic occult paradox: starfish larvae eat up and digest rose-thorns.  Starfish have five extensions (like Vitruvian human); the rose is structured on five petals.   HEH is the fifth Hebrew letter, it means seeing and the breath.  Y H V H, a Dvine shorthand to indicate the One Reality, is father, mother, child and (second H) the Family which seeds the new Yod.  Our technology towards Gaia is as yet crude. It will refine.

And what about this? – in Keith Critchlow’s “the Hidden Geometry of Flowers” is shown the orbital pattern of periodic positions of Venus with Earth around the years. There is no escape for us whatsoever from the beauty, the dance of Venus:

See also my post about the seven-year cycles on the Tree of Life.

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What is Gaia?  The human bonding with the planet draws closer and it IS.

Tantra is the living web of touch.  Sleeping Beauty awakes within the briar.  A starfish drinks the thorn of the rose.  Everything dissolves in the Whole Life and Light.  What is Real is to be found, not pasted as formula onto a thought or an email.  It is off the beaten track.  It is cultured, nurtured, gardened, found again and again. The unspeeched song in the vascular branches replies to everything.

Earnest, serious analytical thinking is good as far as it goes; but it is not perception. It sees patterns but it does not perceive what is behind the patterns and behind the fear.  The pussy foot approaching the mirror must look behind it.

The character behind the patterns has a Uranian humour.  It overturns our apple carts and expectations.  The pattern seems real while I and others are wedded to its misery.  But actually it isn’t.  The pattern is Change and the Design around it is beyond the box.  Change can be a sort of eternity of misery including vulnerability to frackers, which pokes my mind away from serenity like the hellish toasting-fork.  But the Design wherein all change is temporary upheaval, laughs at locksmiths. What laughs at locksmiths? Love.  Compassion. What are locksmiths?  Weddings to misery and mistrust of life.  And what goes on?  Life, fermenting in fact with lovers and teachers and clowns and children and lighthouse keepers.  We are unstoppable!  We are not so obvious to the earnest thinkers of the pattern, but we shine because when we laugh or cry it falls away like a costume change.   It’s simple.  Just go on lighthouse keeping.  It’s stormy. That’s what lighthouses are for.  We are rooted quietly in the rock

Watch my predatory mind which grabs and fastens and worries any misery about environment, society or my physical body, just like a greedy market force.  Just recognise it and don’t go with THAT flow.  To help build a positive collective tree of life, attend to my environment in HERE and its collective contagion. This is I guess, my best intention with the extinction rebellion activists this week and next.  What are we rebelling against?  The old movie, the old machine.  The old machine for sure is not destined to survive and as long as I stick to it, it gives me grief.

I think there is a Kabbalah meditation this evening at D and M’s.  Let us gather together!

Recognise chaos (misery) and harmony (life force). Respect the fact of the dissonance towards sanity. Live within the given picture. Reading about the poet Rilke’s Russian journey with Lou Salome – the Divine beauty and vastness of that continent with its tenacious devout peasantry, his love for it, his passionate profound love for large Lou and her homeland – what flew into his poetry in subsequent years of the terror and rape of the timeless sacrament with time’s tyrant?  The serfs were an immense population in age-old bondage to Tsars; in young Rilke’s well of discovery they were beautiful like wild flowers in their dream time, their lives a struggle to survive, their devotion a hardy mystic blessing under the heavy foot of feudal taxation.  This devotion and faith met its hope in the soviet revolution and was slaughtered.  Long grinding holocaust.  In more recent times the devotion returns to the open places to build again with God.

What of the holocaust flew into Rilke’s metaphysics as terrifying angels?   The 20th century Tsars occupied his new spiritual homeland of endless steppes and skies.

What is my mind?  A sort of body which suffers pain!   My mind is a skinless lamb turned on the spit.  And what is outside, beyond and yet within my mind?

Each country will settle into his or her own nature in due course, including natural divinity and crown of thorns.  An idea wishes to be born this morning as I write.  What is it?  All things come to term.  All conflicts pass through each other.  In the middle (east) are concrete walls and religious war.   That isn’t the idea I had just now, which sank below the waves again, but let’s keep going. Concrete cracks apart and war becomes an outgrown fantasy.  Centuries ago, my soul carried weapons, now laid aside.  The civil war is in the middle east, concentrically.  Civil war is that between those of the same flesh and brotherhood, the same village.  So I have a picture of Christ wearing his crown of thorns.  There is a mudra of Transfiguration.  This is not the fish I almost caught just now, but never mind.

Lou Salome with her independence of thought and life style was a kind of beautiful Madame Blavatsky.  I’m also looking at her biography of Nietzsche.  I did these two sketches this morning – herself and Rilke:

“Devotion returns to the open places.”  This is the fishy phrase or feeling which prevails. Where people believe it is the End, this shy sly hidden card comes out of the sleeve.  What comes to its own end is the wall of conditioned belief, whether dumb or intelligent.  I see something.  I see nature, Gaia, colonising Her own.   I hear you talking about the millions of persons and children who will starve and die when Africa becomes uninhabitable due to human carbon emissions.

Yes, this is tragic for human beings, and I cannot spell out – (when in linear left-brain company and its deeply-read concerns) – the solar-plexus intuition’s sense of the natural DNA balances. They transcend what we humans think we do.  A vast cross-fertilised gene pool was born over the last century, and as swiftly it may become withdrawn, leaving a rich culture for the generations to thrive.  I can’t say such things, which seem heartless; when I awake, I think in paradox.  For the psyche which imagines the bigger picture, empaths also the individual sufferings of one of a million such families losing house, home and life through climate change – starving babies – the immensity of their fragile universe.  What do I know of the Karmic hinterlands of these souls, and of their future sprouting and rebirth?   Fires and heat scorch, and then there are ashes and then in the elder Chinese elementary cycle there is earth and water and wood:  a re-sprouting of human wilderness beyond prediction.  Compassion.

This is the Generation cycle:

The 64 I Ching Hexagrams are built from the pairing of the 8 trigrams (square root): Thunder, Wind, Fire, Earth, Lake, Heaven, Water, Mountain.  To these are attributed the five Chinese elements qualitatively.  In the Tao, wood generates fire which as ash generates earth which generates the metals which generate the water which generates earth …  (See the Great Treatise in the I Ching, and also ‘The Trigrams of Han‘ by Steve Moore)

this diagram shows also the Destruction or conquest cycle: earth soaks up water which puts out fire which melts metal which cuts the wood which conquers earth.

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It is not just the regeneration of Nature’s habitat through the altered conditions: it is that the souls which may die in Equatorial and other regions are seeds of the life force, and they get planted again.  Between the tropics of Cancer and Capricorn, where Earth’s circumference rotates faster, are found polarities of good and evil. Dictators engage in tribal warfare and pillage, but at the same time, the land is sprinkled with VSO and other teaching-missions. They save lives; significantly they sow indestructible seeds of cooperation, intelligent farming, self-sufficiency and friendship. No longer are religious dogmas inflicted, which cut the people away from their ancestral roots. There is a movement of atonement.

Humanity cannot be assessed at the level of political gamesters, the turgid knots of the lower mind.  Humanity is assessed through the vivid peaks of her philanthropic responsibility.

The goddess Kwan Yin painted by Roerich

The ageless teachings nowadays emphasise this.  In the old traditional way, those treading spiritual paths sought personal liberation.  The new way is philanthropic: self being for others;  embody it.  Walk your talk.

There is no answer.  There is a kind of seeing of the patterns, in our different ways; and there is acceptance of the whole.  Above all, I should not hate or despair, but empathise – understand also the condition of those driven by unconscious fear of change, whose expression is aggressive denial.

I grieve the extinction of waves of humanity and their bio-culture. I may in my next thought deplore the crisis of over-population.   Can I combine these concepts?   Over the last century or two, Nature’s tidal wave embodied souls in billions upon earth, and is bound to reduce that component as She withdraws.  It is difficult to find a language for this: she turns the human acceleration of exhaust, ingenuity and industry to her purpose.

She will use also the human nascent tendency to outgrow our addiction to survival-sexuality. Following what may or may not be dramatic drops in population in afflicted regions … may come a slow diminishing of the birth statistic as we pull our horns in, and our belts.  Slowly but steadily, “marketing-sex” becomes replaced by contemplative intimate relationships in the scale of Tantric values.  The genetic structure of the new human grows apace, leaving the old state and its passion and its beauty and its abuse behind like a sloughed-off skin or chrysalis.

This takes time and is perceptible in fits and starts, but it is here with us today; new generations are born to meet the environmental challenges creatively; the nature of the family evolves.  Our real nature is ecstasy; not static.

This fact is alive also “unconsciously” in the outspoken fear of Extinction.  We humans carry a huge amount of perception of which we cannot speak.  I feel that the collective androgyne fears what it carries in the DNA –  knowledge of a reduced progeny; this is one of the oldest instinctual fears which fuel the blind.  Upon this fear ride competition, distraction and the market force.  So you can see its INTENSITY!

The terror began to disrupt the old order at the beginning of the twentieth century with tsunamis of world-war, the soviet engine in Russia, Nazism, nuclear weapons and pollutants.   Did not the terror shout in the depth of the poet Rilke’s elegies and angels?

Yet there is peace.

Sting flows as ecstasy, that tide of salty foam about to engulf the starfish on the sand, receiving the creature into Her own element.  Isn’t this like us?  Small i-thought cries and fears the sacrifice into the greater Being which grows within us!

Extinction fear is “a thrust into denial” … as in innumerable behaviours light and dark, sexual and otherwise. The extinction rebellion movement is an actual outspoken expression of this fear!  Pluto turning direct last week draws out the sting, and … is there a beginning of healing? … wholeness.

DNA is a fibre throughout the universe and it is without end.  Through DNA the cosmic serpent, each phenomenon is entangled and interwoven through the quantum field.  Only connect … ! Here I spread jam on toast and there a supernova erupts. The one is a MOMENT in my time; the other is a million light-years in expansion.  Or there, a Japanese pauses at work in his orchard.

Japanese farmer in his orchard looks like the Hermit in Tarot, in this recent oracle – flanked by the statements of Master Rakoczy and the Ascension of the child within us.

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Almost all systems of thought create more constriction inside you, with the exception of those that lead you into deeper acceptance of your true nature.”

Richard Rudd,  the 25th Gene Key

  • How shall I hold on to my soul, so that
    it does not touch yours? How shall I lift
    it gently up over you on to other things?
    I would so very much like to tuck it away
    among long lost objects in the dark,
    in some quiet, unknown place, somewhere
    which remains motionless when your depths resound.
    And yet everything which touches us, you and me,
    takes us together like a single bow,
    drawing out from two strings but one voice.
    On which instrument are we strung?
    And which violinist holds us in his hand?
    O sweetest of songs.
  • To Lou Salome from Rainer Maria Rilke

 

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Photo by Sarah Poland

My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

Philosopher Stone

20 September 2019

I woke to a Promethean poem this morning.  Unfortunately it faded.  I am left with the sense of a large almost-round grey pebble.  The message within its fall to gravity was the fire.  It is the fire. It was bonded with the flow of water. But water is flowing Stone. The water which flows as Stone contains the fire which falls to Earth;  each day a fall of meteorites most of them incandescing to powder in the atmosphere – Air; these primordial processes prevail regardless of small human guilt.

The Stone is in my hand and its weight flies into the infinite core fractal of interior space, and inside each of Jim Ede’s pebbles is God.  This is noticed through the anguished human claptrap.

Two realities reside here: one, that we humans spoil the earth, and the other: how can we so arrogantly presume to?  It is in Gaia’s destiny to clear some of her surface areas for a time and alter the climate composition. As our Solar system moves deeper into the Photon belt, each organism is aware and agitated through changes in the DNA.

This is an unusual and Holistic idea. The substance or impression of Holistic ideas transcends – is greater than their composition.   Their composition – how they print out – is subject to the interpretation: the words.

The substance, the dimensional weight falling through my body however – this is true, and it is what I call transmission, reception of the Promethean fire.

 

Let it do its work.  Through countless receiving channels it is spelled out into this or that interpretation.  Generally speaking there is agreement, that when we fully embrace and accept responsibility with our suffering, there is joy.  There is unexpected, boundless joy, whatever appears to go on, or apparently engulfs it. Where one spark is covered for a time, another shines out.  Watch a glowing fire in the hearth; it whispers along the wood like a slow snake.

Human beings need to suffer from their rattling thought and its environmental disorders, disasters and creation of deserts, in order to begin to step free from this convention mind – to work with and as Nature, Gaia, not against.

“To begin to” is the operative word here.  Fixed holding-positions get left behind.  Awaken into prayer and progress with the day, again and again and again and again;  recreate the Power of Creation. An infinitesimal neutrino penetrates the leaden shield into the star; from star to star … again comes around the Promethean gift of Fire, the spark within each of us planted; the phoenix bird of song and light and joy in the recovery and resurrection:  “I am the Resurrection and the Light.”  “I am the love of the Light.”  “I am the core of Love itself.”  “Let there be Light.”

Coursing the sap in stem, nectar aflame,
each power to one beloved nadi clings.
The force through spine’s sushumna sings
‘All presence’, ‘Heart’s ocean’, ‘Swan of peace’, ‘Supreme’.*

As Her light pervades my body, I am detached;
my form as Self, Self and the world are matched

* – In one of my Ramana Gita sonnets, these are names roughly corresponding to atma nadi (Self), para nadi (that which is beyond manifestation) and amrita nadi (nectar of immortality) in the text.  The nadis are the meridian map within the Yogic body.]

phoenix bird of fire

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The alchemist blows a little on the banked fire, and it glows.   The breath. The body.

In a stone-age cave, the warming flame flows along the log like lava, like water with Light which is air and the Earth’s solar core.  Everything, each and every phenomenon has this potential (See the link to “beyondhumanstories” further down this post) …  within the plastics and perverted materials, nothing is other than the core.  Sooner or later it returns to the core, as technologies arise to biodegrade our unconscious waste, for we become conscious, first individually here and there, and then collectively as a tide through tipping-point.  Alchemists are able to quicken the interior process, and to see above the tide.  Wherever an alchemist is at work, the environment blossoms.  Alchemists are gardeners.  We potter and we ponder and we fish.

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The slow fire along the log burns out old Karma and all its fascination and even beauty.  It cleanses the slate, to the horror and grief of all who saw and were aware of, for instance, the burning of the Amazon forest. A cruel human may have caused it or encouraged it to spread; but it was to be.  It shocks and burns the soul.  It starves further the respiration’s resources.  The respiration is the whole planetary balance and swirl of currencies and weathers.  Why is this happening?

I think the new human will have, and has already a bond with nature, with creature, fish, plant, tree and rock which we used to plunder and exploit and harm.  The new human is so deeply, painfully connected with what she harmed that she plays into the restorative power of transmutation and the burgeoning of Life.  Humankind is no longer separate from the forest and creatures of the field, no longer separate from the seas, no longer a player of golf.

The new human re-learns the ancient unifying magic;  the art begins where nature ceases to act.  Already this is developing as a fact.   Those who despaired and yet were willing to hope, drop away from the old system. They begin to work with the Sun, creating local solar technologies.  They nurture the family and patterns of relationships.  Relationships are geometries and sacred forms and problems of harmony.  With the ripple effect, they enter and inspire one another.

A drawing from Douglas Harding’s ‘Hierarchy of Heaven and Earth’

I wanted to say … concentric waves or ripples.  Where the Stone falls and breaks surface, there is a centrifugal ripple: concentric rings.   These move subtly through immediate society and communities, creating further impacts and their rings.  Watch a fall of rain on the pond.  I don’t publish 99% of my work because it could be misunderstood.  I am not totally sure of it myself, or of peoples’ capacity to misinterpret and to twist.  The Stone goes on and on falling into my fractal core and there is no time to stop and buff it up into shape to pass through the gate; for always it comes.  I trust that where I work, the Companions of the Light take care of it. Their power to reach the ground and to start a wave passes through where I sit and write it down, and travels to other antennae.  I write the same thing over and over and over for the telegraph wire.  I’m a starling sitting on it.  There is never enough of it.  I write and sing so others unseen are inspired.  There are notes that travel above and below the standard spectrum; the invisible octaves of the ground of being.

Starling & murmuration – Image from allaboutbirds

While I was cleaning the house upstairs yesterday, Genevieve’s conversation with Paula Aamli (https://beyondhumanstories.com/podcast-hope-beyond-hope/?fbclid=IwAR3SX5Z8FWTfCgpMmcSayAIQghOQgphJJaq4Mx8c394Ey4X80_e4Yht4Pz8 uplifted and helped me to turn to face my pain; for Paula discovered – through facing hers – that though the present human engine is destroying its future, there is an unexpected response of joy, gratitude, discovery and noticing the infinite resource of life even in a walled in city garden, and certainly within the soul’s courage.  There is more to this than we know.

It is the infinitesimal fractal potency of the small!  The 9thGene key is called the Power of the Infinitesimal.  Beauty is the story, the dimension which cuts through every science.

Brancusi’s Prometheus on Bechstein, Kettle’s Yard

I was told long ago, in 1969: Your beautiful thoughts are not enough.  The stuff of beauty is sterner.  The way is to evoke and inspire that beauty in someone else.   Ah, but I see today, the beautiful thoughts are, and create the Way.  The beauty didn’t come into my hand like soap.  It had to be worked for, leaned into and with, discovered, suffered, recreated.

The new chapter is respirational, back and forth, in and out.  When the old breath is done it dulls and expires: the new breath coming in underneath it be-stirs things.  So rises and falls the Tao in our world.

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When I woke this morning with the Promethean poem I lay for a while listening to the hammering builders who’ve taken off a roof, up the road.  I could just hear the dark yammer of their radio.  Listening to radio news and watching media is a yammering, de-sensitising skin which most of us wear. It reinforces the screen of isn’t it all dreadful and bad, and it deadens the feeling.  Journalists are able to witness and report horrors with this leaden blanket.  I don’t have that protective numbness.  The Guardians force me in this way to stay sensitive.  I don’t read the papers or watch the media. My ear is to the ground; I pick up what I need to know.  The human commentary on atrocity and damage and guilt, is more than I can bear.   Many of us walk with only one side of our bodies and half of our brains and heavy clouds in our heart and loins.  I used to have dreams about only being able to walk with one foot, the other was tightly curled up asleep underneath.

The Tarot key that intuitively blossoms today is the 8th– Soul strength, the woman guiding the lion to sing and to speak.  “Make your pattern accurate, profound, honest, courageous.”

It is another such beautiful September day, this morning, sharp and fresh.  Water, stone, meteorite – recollect that vast numbers of comets and meteorites and cosmic bodies are  petrified water.  Water of Life.

The Stone warms up to flow as water with the fire inside.

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Click on image to view

My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

 

 

‘Shakti Rising’ – the original Drawings

The Sanskrit words Maha and Vidya translate to “Great Wisdom”.

Dr Kavitha Chinnaiyam’s book “Shakti Rising” was published in 2017 and you can find it on Amazon.  Earlier that year she asked me to do the illustrations for it.  They are included here under copyright.

It was a wonderful opportunity to reacquaint myself with the Mahavidyas – the Ten Wisdom Goddesses.  I had been inspired by them previously in David Frawley (Vamadeva Shastri’s) “Tantric Yoga and the Wisdom Goddesses”.

In this new post I will collect together the illustrations in Kavitha’s book, as well as some background images for a fresh angle on the creative process!

Kavitha combines her distinguished career in cardiology with teaching Yoga and meditation.  She introduces her Shakti Rising facebook community:  “This group is about radical self-discovery through the divine feminine. In this safe place, we can share anything knowing that it will be held in mutual love and respect.

The group practices meditation and develops the momentum of Kavitha’s work through questions, insights and sharing.

This sketch invoking Saraswathi Vedic goddess of the arts, creativity and learning, was done many years ago. Does she remind us of anyone?   3,000 years ago, the Saraswathi River in north west India flowed through the centre of Vedic culture and wisdom.  The river dried up into the desert of Rajasthan and became a deity, but its bed was recently rediscovered by archaeologists, and flows again. Saraswathi’s consort is Brahma.

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My medium for the drawings in Shakti Rising is the simplest one: pencil and Bic biro.  Here is a chance to see the original scans, smudges and all – with pauses in the visual narrative, for fresh imagery.  My art combines European and Indian roots with Renaissance and the ancient world.  At the time I did the Mahavidya drawings there was intense “disappointment” and pain in the world’s political crust: yet their power rivered up through me with an alternative and forward-looking Vision.

In re-invoking them now, I feel this same uplift brings together the deep roots of the Goddess east and west; her mountains, caves and rivers.  As we breathe and liberate the Mahavidya in all Her weathers and mysteries … she cradles us in Her freedom.  Take courage!

This is a drawing of my grandmother in circa 1946, on a Moroccan beach. She and my grandfather were giving servicemen a day off from their Gibralter barracks. One of them recalled, “Helen looked like a marble statue come to life, her hair curling, her arms shining, she walked by the frilly waters, and when Jim saw her he told her she looked like a goddess and she said, ‘I know.’

By way of background, here are two copies of Botticelli’s Pallas Athene with Centaur – a painting I associated from early childhood with my grandmother, who inspired me with these Renaissance models.  The one on the right is done with my left hand.  Click on either one to view:

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Dr Kavitha Chinnaiyam bridges modern medicine to the elder archetypes and healing powers of Kundalini Shakti.  She encourages us to rediscover our unfettered female beauty through the disciplines of Yoga, Mantra and Puja.  These practices attune and refine our being to the Shakti frequency, helping us to face and transform the shadows of our subconscious conditioning. Her work is a mountain-spring through the ground for men and women to realise collective human health and parenting.  Let us gather together …

You will find some of these ten Mahavidyas are wild, extravagant, untamed and elemental – especially Kali, Tara and the fiery Bhairavi.  Awaken the creative process!

Tarot Key 8: the singing Lion within each of us is gentled forth to speak. This is the card of Soul Strength or “Fohat” – a word for the limitless Light.

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The joy of the rising feminine power in nature still meets the engine of patriarchal distortions in the world.  This is inevitable.  We human beings as men and women sustain deep, separative wounds of conditioning in our individual and collective psyche. Mother Nature in her seasonal manifestations within the evolutionary biosphere may appear at first to resist growth in order to strengthen and deepen the root.

Sacred India Tarot – publ. Yogi Impressions 2011: the Queen of Staves or Wands represents SVAHA, the goddess of awakening: (see Chinnamasta mantra in D.Frawley’s work, mentioned below).  SVAHA is pronounced at the cadence of some of the longer mantras, to release the shakti.  Svaha!  Awaken!

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And now: the Mahavidyas.

Ganesh is the Lord of Obstacles.  His blessing is invoked at the beginning of each commercial enterprise or creative activity.  Ganesh the elephant god, involuntary offspring of Siva and Parvati, and brother to the transcendent Skanda, “unlocks the throat of poets.” So he is often depicted playing the flute.  To him are offered loving sweets and incense.  His vehicle is the wily and intelligent Rat.  On his brow is drawn the Siva Shakti Yantra:  two yoni triangles descend through one male lingam (upward).

In fact I did not draw this Ganesh until I had almost completed Mother Kali:  then I was nudged to do so – how could I have forgotten?

Ganesh is immensely difficult to draw, combining animal, child-human and divine anatomy – a challenging initiatory obstacle for any artist! – as I found with my repeated erasures, disproportions and re-tries.

Below is my first “practice” drawing of Kali – in charcoal and touches of chalk on tinted sugar-paper:

I was experimenting with media:  but generally I prefer line, and it is easier to reproduce.  Siva is aware in blissful deep sleep:  she absorbs his electricity and crackles.  Her seer was Ramakrishna: her city is Calcutta whose river Hugli – a branch of the Ganges delta – flows into the Bay of Bengal.

Next I sketched her this way – in ferocious glee!  Kavitha emailed to me various traditional versions.   I was not happy with this sketch, and at first I put it away.  Lord Siva looks as if he wishes to lie-in for a bit longer.

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At about that time, a joke entered:  to illustrate my friend Tony’s Cat-a-Log for his exhibition.  Our goddess looks perplexed, floating on the subconscious sea.  Behind her and to the left the charcoal flurry suggests Ganesh waving his trunk – perhaps reminding me to do him first?

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GALLERY ONE (below) – click on any smaller image to view or enlarge. These are Mahavidya Kali, Tara (sketch), Mahavidya Tara, two versions of Mahavidya Tripura Sundari and Mahavidya Bhuvaneshwari.  The deities supporting Tripura Sundari’s throne in version 2 were squeezed up together by xerox, scissors and glue, to fit the book’s format!

I recommend to you Kavitha’s book for their sadhana, integration and practice.  I will just mention here, that Kali is an elemental force;  Tara is a wild lass; Tipura Sundari invites with pure alluring Beauty, and Bhuvaneshwari bestows the Wisdom.  They express the light and shadows of our inner nature.

 

The graceful weight of Tipura Sundari’s great beauty awakens Siva’s sense of humour.  The gods supporting their plinth are (from left to right) the trimurti Siva, Brahma and Vishnu – destruction, creation, preservation – with Siva in his prehistoric character as Rudra the Wild Hunter.  They flank the Sri Chakra Yantra, Nature’s mandala upon nine strings.

The painting of figs in this sequence is an illustration for D H Lawrence’s long poem “Figs”.

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I include in GALLERY 2 (below) Anthony Wigg’s portrait of a Cyclopean woman, and another fig.  In many versions of the fiery Mahavidya Bhairavi, she has severed Siva’s head: while he in his Rudra the Wild Hunter consciousness looks on, presaging the self-beheaded Chinnamasta .   Kavitha asked me to remove Rudra and restore Siva’s head.  These three versions show the careful rotation of his body, as if during birth.

Mahavidya Chinnamasta – meaning “severed head”  also has two versions.  I used a drawing I did about 12 years ago, and added Chinnamasta’s three devotees.  Ecstatic, headless, thought-free, she drinks pure Consciousness, absorbing Kundalini from the lovers who earth the lightning-flash.  Her seer in the 1930s was the poet Ganapati Muni, spiritual brother to Ramana Maharshi.  Another of her names is Vajra Vairocani,”the effulgent lightning bolt of pure perception.” David Frawley (of Ganapati Muni’s lineage) gives this version of her Mantra: Om srim hrim hrim aim vajra-vairocaniyai hum hum phat Svaha!  

Those bell-notes awaken non-dual consciousness. He writes, “Srim is a mantra of beauty and light. Hrim is the mantra of inner transformation. Her Name is the  lightning of realisation. Hum gives the power to cut through illusions. Phat concentrates the force of the mantra.  Svaha (Awakening) offers it to the inner fire of awareness.  Bhairava the fierce form of Siva, is the seer of her mantra, as well as Bhairavi’s.”

Thus, the mutual exchange of Mahavidyas Bhairavi and Chinnamasta.

I find it best to view and close the images one by one, rather than sequentially inside the gallery, where the line sometimes tends to blur.

Of all the Mahavidyas, the one I most enjoyed drawing was Dhumavati, the elder grandmother or crone.  She was done in less than a day.  She carries a sieve and she rides a chariot flanked by two Saturnine crows.  Meeting her again, her wisdom nourishes me in the strange, immortally changing flesh.  I find it wonderful how the wild ecstatic Chinnamasta is followed in the sequence by Dhumavati: out of ageless Mystery speaks the fountain of youth.

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Here is my sketch and finished drawing of Mahavidya Bagalamukhi and her suitor – the logical mind.  What is your story?

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Mahavidya Matangi has an extraordinary presence – she resonates with Saraswathi at the beginning of this post.  Her seed vibration is “HRIM” – the inner transformation through creative expression.

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In this smaller sequence are:  a painting my daughter did at five years old for her great-grandfather – Jumping over the fire for Persian new year equinox – photos of Rose and Silver-birch – and a Black panther. In the Vidya we integrate primordial resources of childhood, the fiery heart, the animal kingdom and earth.   These pictures remind me that when my daughter was a child she had a dream one night that she met a Great Cat – a tiger, panther or lion. She kept still and they gazed quietly into each other’s eyes.

And finally, Mahavidya Kamalakshmika – With Lakshmi, goddess of the hearth, and of prosperity, she remains as ever Kali !

The wild fires of Kali, Bhairavi and Chinnamasta, the music of Tripura Sundari, Bhuvaneshwari and Matangi, the challenging passion of Bagalamukhi and the ancient wisdom of Dhumavati flow everlastingly sweet within her being.  Desire ripens to serenity. The Elephants return; she rides the lotus.

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And from a neighbouring Wisdom School:

Tibetan Dakini – re-drawn from an unknown original

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My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

 

Kali in the Spring – a Contemplation

In this free improvisation on a pair of Kali Yantras, Western and Eastern Mandala traditions alike share the sacred geometric form and its Tantric alchemy. My next post will feature my original illustrations of the Yoga Wisdom Goddesses or Mahavidyas – including Kali – for Kavitha Chinnaiyan’s thoughtful book and teaching: “Shakti Rising”. The book was published in 2017,

Here is a sketch of Mother Kali’s ecstatic great lover, the Bengali saint Ramakrishna:

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Early writings from Journal – 3 October 2010

Outside there is a gale. The house is a ship.  Today I contemplate the two Kali Yantras my friend in Australia sent.

Mother Kali’s four gated field is red. Eight rose/lotus petals with indigo stems encircle a big black sphere. Inside the black sphere is a Tetrahedron: five white womb triangles with a white bindu or apex, point towards you all her dark, cosmic power: AMA the dark womb is herself so powerful she is almost Yang.

(February 2019 – I drew for today this freehand copy:)


Marriage of Tetrahedrons

In the East and in Platonic wisdom the Tetrahedron is nature’s most stable form. Whether the apex points downwards (female/Shakti triad) or upwards from baseline (male/Siva triad), the Triad is produced to rest on any of its four sides.  No wonder that in the Western Mystery tradition J H V H is named Tetragrammaton, with the hidden fourth-dimension factor which seeds it.

In the Tetragrammaton cycles of YOD HEH VAV HEH, the second-HEH grows from centre of the triangle YOD HEH VAV, giving birth to new YOD, new cycle. So the second HEH in the cycle is pregnancy! The letter HEH in Tetragrammaton has the female function, but in Tarot Alphabet, HEH’s character is male, assigned to Aries and the Emperor. The Yin is so filled with fertility, she comes forth as the Son, the Yang.

 

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The strange potency conjoins man and woman, of whom the most uncompromisingly transformative is woman.

I begin to get a feel of Kali, her luminously dark velvet field, her awesome sexual shout, her red tongue, her necklace of skulls …  In today’s first Yantra (Yangtra!), the womb triangle/tetrahedron accommodates Siva’s fiery light through her body, without disturbing the total blackness of her sphere.

Mother Kali in India needs strong devotees, for she upsets their lives and floods their villages. Ramakrishna of Bengal embodied her devoted Tantric playfellow . And he was a crazy wisdom, often off his head.

Ramakrishna in samadhi, 1879

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Perhaps Kali arouses a man’s chaotic feminine oracle, but in a woman she becomes peace, a peace with gleaming eyes, white, black, red, softening to indigo rose violet in her valleys.

Kali is the wild weather that flows from the Himalayas.

One of the tributaries of Ganges is Kali Gandaki, which flows from the Tibetan watershed between those regal 8,000 metre consorts Dhaulagiri and Annapurna – the man and the woman, each is a mountain range. Dhaulagiri is priapic and dramatically visible. Annapurna is mostly concealed behind a vast shadowing cirque of Nilgiri or cloud mountains.

 

Ganges is a royal water serpent through the plains.
Supposedly, my natal Neptune in Libra (square Jupiter in Capricorn) epitomises my life-long offerings to Dhaulagiri and Annapurna.

Kali is a Seer.
VALE

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Siva Kali detail – Sacred India Tarot 2011

Kali 13, sacred india tarot publ.Yogi Impressions 2011

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A word on Yantra …
Yantras are geometrical constructs of Tantra – an art of touch and fluid union. One of Tantra’s translated meanings is “the web” or connectivity.  In these sketches I romp through a few Western forms and symbols of Yantra:

 

 

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PART TWO – October 2010

AVE

Six is the lily, with a six starred sun inside. The man blossoms into feminine. The Lovers are soul triads which marry. Consider the lilies of the field, they toil not, nor do they spin. Solomon in all his glory is not as these.

Within the Flower of Solomon’s Seal or Shield, Solomon in all his glory is the Temple and the intuition. The Star of David – Solomon’s son? or father? – is ABEN, the Stone: the fluidity of the Philosopher’s stone or elixir: the Seal becoming the son.

Lilies grow with the roses in the Magician’s garden. The rose is grown from the heart of the Cross formed of six squares: the rose is wrapped  within the Cube of Space.

The rose has multiples of five petals – her cultivation and extravagance.

Five is the female rose, pentagonal star of humankind representing the five limbs or senses.  Red is the colour-tone of Mars and of desire. “Five” suggests 1+4, 14 the gematria (number) of DVD (in Hebrew, dovid) the Beloved; and also of Gold – the work of the Sun.

 

The latin Cross (it folds up into a cube) is the field. The Star is higher consciousness. The inner Pentagram is humankind, and the root, flower and seed of human desire.

Kali the goddess is black and fierce. In Kabbalah she might be seen as Binah’s AMA, the dark womb.

The Chamundra Kali Yantra has five pink-red petalled concentric waves: the centre one is a Seal of Solomon (double Tetrahedron) coloured red – inside a white octagon of two squares. Like the great Sri Chakra Yantra, she draws inward and flows outward simultaneously: very quiet and at peace. She opens from inside a black field of Four Gates.

So she also expresses the Akasha Tejas tattva, or (in the western School) the whole Tree of Life inside an egg (field) of AIN SOF, the Endless. With six in the middle, she emanates as five rings, and is enclosed in a field of four.

 

(February 2019 – Like the other Kali Yantra in this post, I draw it for myself.  To embody Her birth-giving energy, I copied the computer-generated  version  I was sent.  The physical contact allows Nature’s irregularities to occur – as blown by wind and wave.)

Yantras are fertile seeds and signs. They need to be seen four-dimensionally – that is, as a tree or fountain.  They rise through the orbital system or cross-sectional rings of time.  They suggest the growth of the tree from root and shoot, encompassing all its seasons, seeds and bird-life.  This Yantra has Priapus in the centre, 8-pointed, white and red, surrounded by four pulses (orgasmic time-rings) of the Rose, and then again by the Cube of Space which is black. Priapus contains the feminine of the male flower, and at the heart is a white bindu. So, the Chamundra Yantra is Mother Kali’s kundalini shakti or kus. How sweetly these things translate.

And … in this light, this Yantra, a drawing to come some day, and how to see it? – how Siva couples with this full-blown dark-rose kus of Kali. Siva is nearly always painted white, though sometimes he has a peacock-blue throat. His is a Yogic phallus. He sits in Yoga (union) and it points up within him, and inside him there is Mother Kali absorbing it all, and creating a wild, rumbustious universe.

Any such focus is good, for holding the mind quiet. The Yantra is held loosely, lightly in my being. Note how between the dark-rose outward petalling, the Akashic space lightens from black through indigo to sky. BINAH – the cosmic sphere of Understanding: stand-under the waterfall.

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The above is some writing I discovered from nearly ten years ago.

Below is the sketch and my original portrait of Kali in 2016 for Kavitha’s book “Shakti Rising“.  See my next post for originals of the other nine yogic Mahavidyas.

Sketch for Kali in “Shakti Rising” by Kavitha Chinnaiyam

Mahavidya Kali: in “Shakti Rising by Kavitha Chinnaiyam

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My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2019. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

 

The Coin of the Sages

 

The Coin of the sages is an alchemist’s gift from heaven. It turns up in any crucible of life and relationships.  We polish our old copper coins (Venus) till they shine as the golden Sun.  

In an old alchemy journal I found this entry …  delicately it interfaces the timeless diary of today.  “The Glory of the World” and “The Golden Tripod” which are quoted, are 17th century writings in the Hermetic Museum library.  The Tarot keys discussed are in the Builders of the Adytum deck.

BOTA Tarot Tableau: three septenaries, seven columns: the keyboard. This deck is published by the Builders of the Adytum in black and white: each student colours and thereby empowers his or her own deck, following the Builders’ strict guidelines. The colours of the Keys have audial resonance also.

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8 March 2003            COIN

The ripe Priestess  sometimes makes Hermit’s Mountain seem remote … winnowing out error and shattering the Tower.   These three Keys form a vertical column in the BOTA Tarot Tableau. In fact they represent the bud, the bloom and the bursting of the seedcase as from chrysalis … in nature and in any creative process.

Beginning my Sapphire Tree painting for a book cover:  I started as blind egoists do on the dirty surface.   This should grow organically from centre as a mandala — not in one rush like a face.   Sapphire means liquid pale blue fire.   The 72 leaves should be a delicate tracery of  seminal wave connections in the white fire around and between the Menorah branches. Working from the centre outwards, let it grow.   Here is a dirty pool.   Cleanse to begin with, its centre.

Paul Foster Case invites me again to dip into the alchemical forests of “GLORY OF THE WORLD”.   When reading these, fountain gently with them up and down, restoring the synchrony of heart-body which is today collapsed and tired.

On page 61 it discusses the COIN OF THE SAGES.   I can see this white Coin from the sky, so bright that I cannot see yet what is impressed upon it.

Our Stone has its head in the earth and its root in the air.   I read alchemical texts not with my Hod but with the breath, with my inside.   Then they glow.   It says the Spirit delights in nothing so much as its own Soul and its own body.  Delight is another word for the Higher Will; be comforted.   It is minted pure and bright and white within the dark.   Begin from the centre
but let it descend first from the white sun.   The work of

the Priestess lets it descend.   10am, School of the Soul.

Priestess, King of Swords and the Fool, 1987

The Priestess, Rosy Cross and Fool descending – 2003

September 2018 – The evolution of those two drawings (1987 and 2003) is my life today –  the heart beats within the tapestry.  A house to paint in, which I invoked  15 years ago and forgot about, recently materialised;  last week I beeswaxed the floor and began work there with a new Tree of Life – see end of this post.  I have not painted for years!

new art-room

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2003 continued:

Hurly Burly welcomed her Mum so kindly last night at the Garrick wine-bar – Mum was feeling lousy because she’s forgotten how to paint.   HB too has been re-discovering how to paint — the light came in through her window.   I had a nice time there where she works,  but ate and drank too much, which paralyses my gut for the night.   But to read the “Golden Tripod” now, sprays white light into the Garrick; and I was introduced to a curly Paddy who has 400 (?) paintings he said he bought and collected in his house — the secret of a good painting is it invites you to take a walk into it.   Tall tales do not matter in conversation.   On my right, as I tackled warm goat’s cheese and fennel swordfish and a big glass of wine, sat Marta’s sister with her hyperactive three-year-old son Adam enjoying himself all over the counter with his tiny neat brown hands.

Enough:   now focus on Basil Valentine.

It is impossible for Yesod to sperm the Stone.  Yesod cannot remember how.  The sperming comes down through antakharana – the pipeline – and is observed and — as perception of it refines and begins to dispel the obscuring cloud — obeyed with joy: as in p.45 in the Golden Tripod.   Note the Source of the Priestess’s stream and her receiving element.   Male and female seed are the One thing, the Child within.   Wherever there is joy in creation is this natural intercourse of the Air, the secret fire, the dew.   The Earth is only the invisible thing that attracts union.  Out of no thing blossoms unicity.

Seek not our Stone in substances which cannot stand the test of fire.   Seek it in the incombustible oil that is the fire itself that ever renews and fattens the land.   It grows and gently shines and increases like a plant.   It increases in that it prevails.   Through all darkness, the stem glows and shines.

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September 2018

Here is the beginning of my new Tree painting – just sketching out Malkuth, Yesod, Hod, Netzach in the Lower Face, based on  carvings of the Companions around Chartres cathedral;  Archangel Rafael in Hod has no face yet.  I hope for it to combine thematically the medieval flowering of Islamic alchemists and Christian sages, the Star, Cross and Crescent, the child and parenting, the cosmic serpent of our DNA, nature and the fountain of life … as the journey begins, let it lead me where it will.

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Life has been too full-on for me to keep up with my blog posting.  But a month or two ago, I posted in my other blog Aquariel about a pair of Tarot oracles in June and July.   Here are the three links:

For Gaia
janeaquariel.wordpress.com/2018/07/20/summer-oracle-1-for-gaia/

Through thunder of the dew fall silent
janeaquariel.wordpress.com/2018/07/21/summer-oracle-2-through-thunder-or-the-dew-fall-silent/

The dying and the guardians
janeaquariel.wordpress.com/2018/08/01/summer-oracle-3-the-dying-and-the-guardians/

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My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2018. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/