Some of my journal from a week ago has been sitting in the pipeline. Upon these images and impressions were “floated” my recent posts on Karma, Kundalini Shakti and the Tree.
Woman by the Sea 1987 – drawn with my eyes closed
What is Oracle?
The oracle is a quirky thing. It is a way – an ear to the ground for footsteps or the pulse of things. The same root becomes orator and orifice. “Ora” means “now”, in Italian, and also Or is gold, and the ore of metals: the aura of the dawn: the oral tradition.
An amphitheatre is shaped like an ear in the ground. The oracle speaks at Delphi – where a peculiar configuration of the rock and waterflow condenses human receptivity. The oracle is also a coracle – a little Celtic boat shaped like a nutshell.
Firstly we learn to perceive the omens – affirmations and resonances which pattern human affairs.
It takes a long practice to become reliably “oracular”. It is clouded by anticipation, hope, fear and superstitious tension. To some extent we need to undo our education. It is clarified by human whole response, moving with nature. The Australian aborigines’ “Dream Time” perspective and way of life is a seamless oracle with the landscape.
For the oracle we use formally, Tarot cards, I Ching, astrology, scrying and countless other devices. We use whatever forms for us, an adequate lens. Leaves on the ground would serve, if we give them that meditative focus. The key to the oracle is a moment’s concentration: peace. To that concentration, the universe mysteriously responds, with picture language, the language of the subconscious; and things are revealed which only ourselves can privately know. It is the psychic law of gravity.
You-night: from Owl-Fox shaman series 1986
The little fox comes through the long grass, near magic mushrooms; and a distant owl is in the tree. This is an oracular painting, because I let it lead me. I had a dream that the owl, my familiar, came and stood on my shoulder. Our profile is along the borderlands.
I use the oracle as and when moved: usually for a reflection on what is going on. As the waters become still for a moment, I look. It is like the trees by a pond, as ripples which broke up the surface, fade. Actually the oracle never ends. If I ask it specific questions, it may give me answers to others. I use the Tarot and the I Ching, as and when moved. My daily writing is my invocation and my divining rod. It leads me where I didn’t know I should go. It digs the earth, finds the well, and raises the spirit level.
Mischief can easily enter the oracle. Alliance with a tried and trusted teaching, such as the Tree of Life helps to guard the truth. Above all, we develop our ability to discriminate the Maggid (inner plane teacher) from the Flatterer or Tyrant. The hallmark is: the “inner plane” does not opinionate or give orders. It shows cosmic and ethical principles, and in the light of these, our own decision ripens.
Ebony shakti, siva, elephants
Journal 12 October 2012 – After Acu-pins
It is truly very marvellous to know human beings: the individual treasury to savour.
I’ve been dipping in Nothing Ever Happened – and do you know? Wonderful as that view is, and Poonja’s great stature and humanity, and him with Mira … it is to me, quite flimsy. Now you’ve got it, now you haven’t, listen to the teacher and keep quiet, there is no thing, be happy … it is very Indian, but cancelling out the Vedas and all their intuition of Nature. It is OK for a time of rest. Poonja had power of presence and siddhis and laughter. People wanted relief from their Stuff.
The teachers’ personality and presence is fascinating at all levels.
But my devotion doesn’t go there! All that enlightenment is a carnival. It is not reliable, without a sound working grasp of the way the mind and the imagination work. Voluntary de-nutrition is not the way either. All the paths come to the same Thing, unthinged as the sea, whatever the texture and weave. How deep does it go? Self realization in the cave of the heart, assists the whole humanity in a way transcending any teaching or banners. At one time I tried to give up diary keeping, so as to toe the advaita line. No way! Ramesh Balsekar put me right. He said enjoy and honour what you are.
Light crossing the brook at Buckland Filleigh
I am guided by the Shakti, an elder feminine discarnate, and at this moment, the current is running in tune to her sharpness, my projection onto her. The woman births what the man built up over the years. The flavour of attunement has soft needles, for I went and had acupuncture yesterday. It prickles and yet it is a white flowing cloud, a magnetic fluid. It is the reality of my Sun mandala.
The sharpness is the way the Maggidim perceive. It is within and under their eyelids, like the core of the rose. The rose is a profoundly female organ, flag of desire, invitation. The pattern under her is both disbanding and integrative – (see dakini oracle pictures, below). She is a spider, yet she does not devour, she takes the dark staff and heals; that is her DNA.
What may I call you? Rosa? Maria Rosa?
Jupiter and Rosa
My history of Rosa is that she – I – was a moon of Jupiter Zeus, and he sent great charges of gravitational shift through my orbit, like lightning bolts. Thus were my initiations, and the acupuncture reminds me of them. I had a series of Watershed dreams during the 1970s; the initiations discharged their shock during them. I did a crash course of catching up.
sun wood yantra
When I ask it a question, it gives me picture-poems like Lyra’s alethiometer in His Dark Materials. Usually I lay out just the top cards of three piles, the present moment, centre, with its past and its future. This time, I also laid them out as “JHVH” – with the three cards which underlie each one.
Present moment: “Rose Garden“, with “Cutting Loose“, “Ganesh (in spider web, Lord of obstacles)” and “Mercury/Caduceus“.
and past …
… and future
The future is “Self preservation“. With it are “Centering the Present“, “Solar Return” and “Joker” (Fool).
In “Recall“, big sea shells in the sky hear the sea and sands. “The Rose garden” has pure perfume shells like kisses. The Egyptian was an ancient priestess in the winds of time. I feel with her, the stars, anterior to swirling sands … and how they become dutiful bubbles and subconscious blots – the dreams and forgettings, the lifetimes of being human through millennia to come.
The cards under her are symbols of the Sun Mandala, dark and light. “Sri Chakra” is the ultimate Yantra. In the Secret Dakini Oracle, it is called “Centering – the Present“. “Solar Return“ is a new moon sun-eclipse: poems of eclipse and confrontation; enquiry into roots; dark night of the soul: astrology. The “Joker/Fool“ wears a solar swastika mandala, rosebud in paper hat, little world – doesn’t god play dice?
Are they dancers? or pillars? Wood like stone and elephants
The oracle – the underbeing: the tempo slows down and comes in with the tide
“We say you have your threads together now, and so you spin them out, concentrically. Speaking to you in this element while you are here, and hear, we instruct. Mandala, chakra, web, the fuscia and the gem; cut loose, lay down the axe and smile.”
Woman entering the sea ’87
“Recognise that this strata has nothing to do with life-form thoughts and troubles. It transcends and antecedes them. It has its own tempo.”
“Each oracle lets go baggage – 49, 64 and 0. Let out the reservoir. The reservoir was a meridian behind a closed door. The door is open. The reservoir flows out in a controlled way. We are its handlers where she goes.”
“There is no more to dictate from this level; it is all stored. Lean back into here, rest and be silent. Trust me. I rain and I shine. I AM my way of writing you.”
“As the reservoir flows out, the acupuncture pings: your dolmens and dancing dragons.”
wood lamp pings
“There is a conversation between practitioner and client, which doesn’t need speech. He can see and she can feel the dolmens. So it is with us.”
brook by Henlys Corner: snake water stone
“Your silence is my speech. I am the goddess of your being; the daughter of the Himalaya and of the stars. I am Parvati and Isis and Annapurna. I make you a dancer, a temple dancer slender, curvy and supple. I recommend you dance, to clear your weight off the front. I am your commonsense. I am the knowledge of your body and her renewal. I am X X criss cross. I am the crossing over of the rivers of Time. I am ALL WAYS the centre of the Flower. I flow the centre of the flower. Follow. Following.”
“Transmission is absolutely continuous to and in itself; register the blips and pin points.”
Young tree of life upon the old
I am that I am.
I put on Dead can Dance, and danced with and as the She. So now the nadis sing in the back of my head. The Ancient World is a worship like the storm in a tree.
Recall those nadis, amrita, sushumna, and shankini. They are dancers.
3 nadis dancing with Pan 1989
She dancing with Pan ’89
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.
This blog is a vehicle to promote my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.
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