For the New Year

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rose star cross crescent

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3.star cross crescent

The pyramid converges
each mountain face to the sky.

Where worlds of Creation and Emanation merge,
the One abides, undivided,
through diversity.

May the Star of David, the Cross of Yeshua, the Crescent of Islam,
Buddha’s wheel, and Vedic OMKARA, merge in peace:
the Rose of our human kindred, all ways …

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5.  eight path mandala

… and let us part the waves, kiss the lips,
turn the wheel, fingers touch numbers on the clock,
enter the cave, find the jewel
and climb the mountain … through the rainbow …

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profiles left & right

… and let us this year open to each other.

Have a magical New Year!

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Sacred India Tarot - Parvati waters trees

Sacred India Tarot – Parvati waters trees

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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.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote also 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). Watch this space.

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. 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/

Recall at Xmas; Sap of the Tree

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18  Young love & Mum

On Christmas Day …

I didn’t get up till nine this morning!   There are no trains.  It is silent.  But the rain gurgles ceaselessly from grey sky while the street, stunned by festivity, retreats. I saw the cloud to the northwest going ragged with the wind, how lovely it must be on the wet Chilterns, the kiss of the rain, wet fields, mid winter clouds, to walk out there right now.

I am LUCKY to be alone in my small house at Xmas.  Each day then is Xmas present, this one a bit more so.   The truth is, I am never alone, because of the Companions of the Light and the soul room which goes on and on holding me.  In my universe I love the rain in winter –  but in parallel universes (threaded through this one) they are suffering floods, cold homes and Xmas awash.   The rain is both a kiss and a terror.  Really everything in life is.  Every particle is a kiss and a terror.

A fellow blogger across the pond created a new frankincense lotion straight from the sap of a tree, over solstice. (the scars in the wood produce a resinous elixir as they heal.)  He has an alchemical Hidden Map of the essences of trees and the mystery.  I can smell it from here.

The Hidden Map is whatever we are able to develop in our darkroom.  For instance, the blogland is a Hidden Map of  mutual nourishment and synchrony.  The Hidden Map is what I almost see, but feel, relish and know.  It is like being by the sea in the near night, which shrouds the land.   It spreads out atomically through the forms of Assiyah – the everyday apparent currency.   It is just as real, and because it cannot be grabbed, it is holy ground.  It is like the child brought to birth in a stable.

It is a great asset of the world wide web;  but one has to be of a certain development to perceive, handle and appreciate it fully.  We all know the downside.

Today is the space right at the bottom of the turning year.  The sphere touches ground.

Four spheres alchemy

From ‘Ladder’ – Roob’s Alchemy & Mysticism

The Kabbalist symbol of the Worlds, one on top of the other, has the figure of eight twice.  I got a snowman Xmas e-card from Israel – it tinkled and rolled out 3 snowballs.  When I moused them on top of each other, a carrot appeared for his nose, and some coal and a hat, and the whole scene chimed into tinsel and song.  I loved it.

I remember.  I remember now this moment, what it was like when I first met Mr V – in Alex Pollock’s garret in Haverstock Hill, by Belsize Park tube station.

It was October 1969; I was 20, he was 34.  He gave me his address;  the mutual shyness and wonder, an exposed and intimate intensity.  I cherish that in him – and my bud whose growth he was about to accelerate.  I remember the unabashed gravity of his inner child.  We sat cross legged, face to face, after Alexander Pollock introduced us, and talked till four in the morning.  Then he (naturally) tried to kiss me.  I said No not yet.  He wasn’t used to women saying No.  He liked it.

I remember his innocent inventiveness and wacky jokes.  I remember the first time I visited his big blue-and-grey bedsitter just round the corner. Wherever he moved in the room, my body was displaced, shocked and flowed.  I remember my entire womb on fire with the thrust of his Karmic field, and the longing to be pregnant. “I want to fill you up,” he said “with our child.”  I remember how the magical hierogamos became disabled, as soon as we tangled –  the wood was too much wounded.  I remember enormous orgasms in my dreams, over astral landscapes and among trees.

What an interesting thing to remember this morning, at Xmas.

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We had one peaceful Xmas together.  1976.   I was 27 and just four months pregnant, and I felt her move for the first time, during the Eve mass at St Dominics.   I wept during Father Alan Cheales’s sermon about Mary going to meet Elisabeth, the child leapt.  Mine did, at that very moment.  I went home at midnight and told him, and he had a couple of Hungarian friends visiting.   We had a Christmas tree and a big gold star that Xmas, which I had made;  and I listened to Messiaen’s music  – “La Nativite du Seigneur“.  (also see Jennifer Bate’s recording, particularly the long meditation following The Word.)  It was a rare and tender oasis in our years of psychic stress/collision –  a house inside a storm.  All the Watershed had by then been dreamed, which would become my map – my occult and alchemical path.

The big gold star is still here, hung on a thread in my bookcase.   I hardly ever notice it.   It is dusty.  Some of the treasures salvaged from my man in the ravine are lost – a pair of small pliers he painted red, for my birthday.  They might turn up one day, at the bottom of something.

Deep down where it liberates, I love and value Louis V for himself and for the extraordinary learning curve of a lifetime;  not one single accident.

I see our stress/collision, the breaking open of the apricot kernel.  It is a marvellous thing to have happened, even with all the pain, abuse and decades of fallout, as two progressive souls without a spiritual training, crossed swords.  Initiations are appalling.  This was mine.   It couldn’t be any other way.

Main points of synastry in the combined birthcharts of J (green planets) and L (brown planets) - in the frame of J's ascendent

Main points of synastry in the combined birthcharts of Ja (green planets) and Lv (brown planets) – in the frame of J’s ascendent. (L’s is not known.)   Note nodal grand cross and conjunctions along J’s sun-moon-creational axis;  and Venus opposite Venus, Saturn opposite Saturn AND Cheiron opposite Cheiron.  This relationship was a co-dependent Karmic scoop!

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In Alchemy, there is a Hidden Map, and we do not let it touch the ground, or it vanishes into the stiff and stony prosaic.  Alchemy is in the body of the imagination.   Alchemy is the region where all that will manifest, is created and is potent.   Alchemy is the command of the astral kingdom, where it is co-creative.  Alchemy is the twilit hinterland of the psyche, the soul behind the toothy coastlines.

Alchemy is the glowing furnace, way back of my House of Life, and the wonderful way he stirred it.   Had we been successful and happy lovers in Assiyah/Yetzirah, I might not have noticed nor nurtured the alchemy in Beriah.  He had, he admitted, “a problem with women” – he hated his mother.  I was in love with drama – my problem.  Behind our worst times, an angel smiled.

My creativity was excessive already, but the profound Karmic trauma between us sprung open my Pandora box.   Louis was an artist, photographer, writer and recluse.  He said “For me it is like this – go deep, as deep as you possibly can, beyond where you can even speak or write … then come back to the world, and tell the tale.”   This in him – which in later years he lost, under piles of angry litigation – still thrills me.   When I was only 20, I saw how honest I wished to be, I wished for my phony theatre fence to break down, so I could walk clear, and truly love – not just “be-in-love-with”.  I invited his destructive nature.  I couldn’t stop it.

All the time with him that I was mute with terror, and he was a wounded bull, was that land beyond where we can speak or write … the corner stone the builders rejected, which became a Violet Crystal.   Now it is a ruby tincture in the fluid Stone.   It fertilizes the ground.   I am a sea of golden wheat.  The crescent moon under my foot, is a tactile understanding of this lifetime.  I am seated on a stone bench, in a green gown with a red thrust in my heart and the stars around my head:  and my womb is always bearing down, splitting seed, delivering the Child.

bota key 3 Empress

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What can I say to a louis d’or?  “To forgive, I must Give way to the Force.”  I heard and wrote those words in my journal only a few weeks after we first met.  I was intuitively aware of what we were about to receive:   smoke on the Moon’s face.

You cannot get sap without wounding a tree.  You cannot get alchemy and creative joy without wounding life.  So the tree is glad to give the sap, and to heal.

In one of my dreams, I saw on his thumbs, great gaping cicatrices, like canyons.  They were our scar tissue.  He was in prison, he was chained, and I wanted to free him from himself,  in my heart.   In the same dream, were turquoise fishes and he asked a question about astrology.  In life he mocked astrology, which he knew nothing of.  In life he showed me ancient keys to esoteric knowledge which he threw away.   For give, and move on lightly.

the time of fishes

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Boxing Day – The Betweens

Dreams are a marvel and an awesome mystery, aren’t they – the wisdom and teaching they bring, from the endless deep.   I don’t dream like that nowadays.  I write.

Another quiet morning, no haste, no trains – the sun breaking quietly through a lightly veiled sky, very radiant.

What a breakthrough !   Fancy simply valuing us as a whole, like that, as if I return to his promising youth and pick it up from there.  I’ve been living this way for years, but now … the penny dropped further.

Walking the three miles (no buses) to my cher ami’s house on Christmas Day, I wondered whether Louis had died or might be near dying – because 2012 tipping point is close to the edge for many souls –  and whether I was celebrating his thread too, in the subtle Reality and clarity of the hinterland … the bardo borderland of the living and dying sunflowers.   I feel lighter in weight with the atomic fields passing through me:  my allowance with, and dancing with them.  The Consiousness receiving dead souls is vibrant, powerful and light … the release of long, bound-up energies.   Hey, it is like the infinite tides I danced with, on a long-ago rainy November night with him on Hampstead heath.  We were on LSD and wandering about.   They flowed across and through my path, and I am infinite space for their pleasure and vibration.  They are invisible, and the stars are tears, and his voice cracks with awe.  (He recorded the whole thing on a little tape machine – he worried about the tiny needle, was it moving? – I thought it was his compass he consulted, for our sense of direction.)   The compass, polar axis star floats and trembles …  I wondered if I was walking to my death, through and with other deaths into the eternal Life.   It is unedged and beautiful – the tao of Vesica Pisces.  I feel I want to put this Christmas peace present with him in my blog, and tell his name.  I shall tell the Violet Crystal story, to open my planned “Watershed” series.   It will be followed by The Knight.

In the years since, he did a bad thing.  There is no going back;  and he meets his own   reckoning in private.

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compass?

compass?

There is a shift in my subconscious about him.   It illumines everything very gently, leaving nothing stuck or left behind.   There is, at the bottom of the spheres, where the year’s axis turns, the river Styx, the fields of Asphodel, the everland of Hades.  I am released, he is released, and our daughter – who was exhausted –  is relieved of the burden she had to carry.  It is like a death, and is perhaps clairvoyance.  Life collapses to a veil and slides away, off the Art … unveiling the real Art.

When the Art is unveiled, compassion  …  my compass no longer blames that soul for something he did.  It is seen, that soul went astray, but will return to integrity. This is yet part and parcel of the Art.   Art Notdoing.

It is the fact of my salvage – gracious, serene, severe.  Let him be himself.

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A Poem: Smoke on the Moon’s Face

So I go on working in our garden of essence –
a bent and shawled old lady.

The truth of the child’s face
is kept alight, a sweet fertility beneath
the cicatrice we grew.

Can two old people
in this way together burnt
meet, exchange a kiss of peace?

I do not know.  It is a private matter
old as earth is round.  It is the core
of the apple.

In my ground the tree
drops fruit, and leads me
to the secret centre.  “Go deep

you said,
Oh my battered love !
as deep as you possibly can.”

Any place here
may be the gateway opening.
Around you and our compost burning
love, my thought plunges and is still.

As I straighten in the ground
the outlawed intensity of you
is beloved.

Walking by the tennis court, I heard
the players and their pocking balls,
and silently the sea
ran down my face where the lovers played –
bodies of bitter years did devastate
this long, enkindled moment.

The Lovers are bodiless.
The Lovers are where I drown.
The Lovers embrace
and our life is Their shadow.

The Lovers appear as silence
and every story merely points
to the moon’s face, where they embrace
as smoke.

There is no need to explain
to anyone
why you are in my underground
the deepest shaft in London town.

By the tennis courts
near Haverstock Hill,
I heard the muffled
roar of a train deep down;

as bushy brick chimney’s vent,
sunk into the Northern Line
out-spoke:
by a shattered well*
you sat and wept and wrote from hell
your sign;

Stepping out of my shoes, I
yet seeing through your eyes,
am blind.

from Poems of Eclipse, 1999

*In a recent excavation in Egypt, sand/topsoil was dusted away from tall chimneys which turned out to be wells.

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With my cher ami this day near Henly’s Corner, my hinterland resonances stay silent and sweet – a ripened fruit of life.   We had a long, gentle and loving visit.  We played a Xmas game of hosepipe and the Channel tunnel … all the way to Paris and back.

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Alchemy eagle Daat in the Tree of Life

Alchemy eagle Daat in the Tree of Life

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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.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote also 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). Watch this space.

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. 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/

Tales from The Watershed – “The Violet Crystal”

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theatre at Tintagel

Theatre in Tintagel, Cornwall. 

This is an experiment.  I have a collection of “Tales from the Watershed”.  These are short stories written down from my dreams recorded in 1974-1977.  I call that period The Watershed, because from its stress and upheaval, as from a mountain range, my life flows a mandala, past, future and all around.  It formed the bedrock geology of my (later) Kabbalist and Hermetic “re-discoveries”.   I shall include the tales in this blog, from time to time, as they were my raw material.  There are already a few, embedded in their respective posts – you can find them in the “Search” box or in the Watershed Tales category.  The stories so far, are “Foal”, “Sunflowers”, “The Man in the Ravine”, a mention of “Jupiter & Rosa”, and episodes from “The Rain Check Dream”.

The Violet Crystal is a bardo of interconnective relationship essences: a state of becoming. Years later, I did a sequence of paintings inspired by it.  (See also, Gallery below this post.)

Einstein and a centre pillar

Einstein and a centre pillar

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“The Violet Crystal” – (Dreams No.227,  21 January 1976)

I WAS NOT sure whether this was really my home or not.   It seems to be my flat, but I may have inherited it,  or be there on sufferance.   I spent the night there.   It’s a long place divided into two sections.  One area which I do not remember well, is rather cramped and crowded;  the other part is a big, very spacious room with a double bed in it,  and not much else.   Somewhere in the centre of this room was a pillar from floor to ceiling, and resting against this slender column was a big crystal or rock of uncut precious stone.   The crystal glinted peculiar hues of violet, pink and purple light in relation to some other similar object nearer the ceiling, and according to the way these two harmonised in their relationship.   It was very unfamiliar, as if not of this world, and of a shape that I found sometimes displeasing and clumsy, it was a rock,  it was very strange;  and I grew to value it very much.

It became, in relation to the few other things in the room, extraordinarily beautiful.   This was to do with the way that I saw it, or juxtaposed its relation to other things by moving it or them a little, so that they caught the light in a particular and deeply satisfying way,  like a marriage.

The formation,  though not large,  dominated the place with its atmosphere and the violet light within it.

The place did not “belong” to me, even though I lived here, and was visited here.   It was a treasure entrusted to my keeping which awed me a little.   There was nothing recognisable of mine here, no pictures.   It was almost bare.   It had so powerful an essence or personality of its own, that it needed no decoration.   It seemed to contain almost too much already.   At the end I touched and arranged two windowless curtains at the far wall of the room, so that their pink-violet colour lent its own intensity, moved by an unseen wind;  there may have been windows behind them.

A man stayed the night a day or two ago.   He was a stranger, he was not Louis.   I remember nothing of him, except that I wrote down his name twice in thick black writing in my address book and I wondered why; and crossed out the second entry of his name and address.

houses by the sea

Houses of soul along the sea

The other visitor was my sister.   I think she also stayed a night here.   She wrote in a diary, just like me, and she kept leaving it open so that furtively I could look at the page and what she had written.   In it she revealed herself.   I thought she wouldn’t like me to see it and read it, yet I was determined to do so if possible – and she kept leaving it around lying open, and I saw scraps of it,  tried to read it.   There was anger in it.   She seemed to be having problems with her husband.   She was angry with him, they were sexually incompatible and this was a source of terrible shame, like mine with Louis.   I longed to read more of her inner wealth and honesty, but I couldn’t trust that she would allow me to;   I did it behind her back.   She wrote also about the riding stable where I used to work when I was twelve years old, about the field with its trees,  the mud and the horses;   this place was essential to her revelations.

Amethyst 1a

She lives just up the road along a terrace of seaside houses; I know that she lives there in her actual Bishops Lydeard house in Somerset, and when I went to visit her there a little later,  I found that she had pasted her open diary to the window of her kitchen so it could be read by all who passed by.   I began to realise that she actually wanted it to be read, she wanted me to read it, like a call for help.   But I never had time to read more than a snatch of it at a time, for I was always waking up, or worried in my travels up and down this street, lest I oversleep, forget to write down the dream, not get up when I should,  or get to where I ought to be;   and all my teeth were hurting again;  something seemed to be happening to them, just as in my dream last week.   I tested and felt them with my finger, they were all in place, and not clenched or jumbled up, yet the muscles along my gums and the roof of my mouth were tense with some memory,  with pain.   The pain was not as bad as last time,  but I couldn’t work it out.   I wondered at its source.   Was it self pity?   a calling for attention?    identity problem?   All my teeth were in their usual places, though exhausted and sore.

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Tides

At the school playground by the sea, a large fat boy or man put on huge inflated white shoes which should enable him to walk on the water like Jesus.   He started off, walking backwards over the incoming waves.   His movement was clumsy and he soon fell.   I thought he was rather stupid to do it this way.   The shoes were so ungainly, and why go backwards with the waves pushing him forwards?  What could he be getting out of it?   It was as if he should be water-ski-ing but had opted for this laborious and unrewarding sport instead.   He got into the sea confidently, walked backwards with difficulty, fell in and tried again and again.

It looks easy from outside, for Louis to write short stories,  to dip into source,  to allow the sea to flow into him by travelling back into it,  his hinterland …   but then we are not doing it.  He is.   And the incoming waves just overturn his progress, and process as they must, to break upon the shore, the seaside town, the world.   Why is he facing the wrong way?

I found a better way for myself, while playing with some people over the massed bulges of inflated rubber that the sea had now become.   I jumped and played on these,  and learnt to keep my balance.   I too wore special shoes, but they were of a better design.   It was good to be in company –  I do not know who they were – doing our tumbling acts together,  and attaining a certain skill and dexterity.

(Postscript … the way treads the tides of panic, receiving them in full so that clarity dispels them.    Now I see the waves on the shoreward sea, and how it felt in my violet crystal room;  I was so lonely here.  Out there on the sea and beach, the world was playing.  I want to go out there and try to join in and do it too.)

All of this took place in a greyness like twilight, early morning,  the still heat of summer midnight or the greyness of the mind.   The air was slightly oppressive.

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the sea subconscious 2

Back in the flat with the violet crystal, I discovered something else.   I could hear the sound of the sea,  and I went to an unexplored side of the room and found a window;  and when I opened this window I found it looked out onto a wall and bushes leading away from me at a right-angle, so that I could probably climb out and along it.   And here indeed was the sea!   deep and grey in thick mist.   The waves were rushing along the very walls of the house.  The sea was just outside my window, and yet there was this wall also, like an L- extension of the roof, which I could at a pinch climb along, so as to be nearer still.

The sea seemed to be thus enclosed in a big back yard;  yet it was not enclosed.  It heaved with all its power and cold grey quiescent menace, and I could not see from where it came.   The waves appeared out of a dense mist.    It was fairly calm now, but there would be storms.   And already I wanted to climb out along the wall to sit in a place where the waves would be coming right at me;  for perhaps the wall marked the shoreline, a beach of rocks.   I looked forward to the storms, to the thunder of it.    And at some point, Peter my father joined me and stood in the window also with me, and shared my delight in this discovery.   I was  pleased and so satisfied that he should have cause to envy me, a room with such a view!

Amethyst 3

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I knew by now that the subconscious sea washed the whole terrace on which I lived, right beyond me and up the road, to my sister’s house and further,  though she would be higher above it than I,  being on a hill.   We lived on the same seaside terrace then, and the incongruity of this L-shape wall from my house, with its bushes, was an extension of reality which I didn’t even try to explain.

There was a whole condition of things which irritated her.   It was an opening, a window into her, a rare offering of herself to me.   She wrote clear, large and black in her big diary, that her husband didn’t satisfy her, that she was angry with him,  he came too soon;  and about the field with mud and horses.   I didn’t feel particularly sad for her.   We are sisters.   I was glad that she too, doesn’t find life to be all roses.

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The beyond within appearance

The beyond within appearance

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GALLERY  – paintings 1988.  With photos of the sea by Marisa – Cornwall 2011

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Stump the Guru – Santa Robert Xmas

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This is part 1 of a sort of big Xmas card.  Part 2 is in my other blog, Aquariel.

I visited the late Robert Adams (21 January 1928 – 5 March 1997) in Arizona in 1996.  You can find the story of that journey (also in two parts) in this blog, last June.

robert sketch empty

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Robert found it very hard to speak, because he had Parkinsons.  But he was irrepressible.  Here are some of his words:

“What I teach is utter nonsense – gobbledy gook.  It has no meaning, except to my Self.  I have no teaching.  It is simply my confession.  It is useless for most people, because I’m not giving a direction.  I’m not telling you to meditate twelve hours a day, or to stand on your head, or to watch your mantras.  There’s no instruction.  There’s just my personal confession … the way I feel.

“Now, it does some people good, these invisible instructions.  By just being here:  by opening your heart, something happens.  So don’t listen with your head, do not try to analyse or judge, or come to any conclusions.  As I always say – ‘do not believe a word I say.’  Why should you?  Who am I?  I’m nobody!  nobody important.  Listen to your own heart.  I’m a sort of mirror.  What you see in me is yourself … I can truthfully say that i am ultimate oneness, absolute reality, emptiness – unborn – nirvana.  I am that I am.

robert xmas eve 1

“When many people read spiritual books on Advaita vedanta, or on jnana marga, they immediately try to act out the part, and they memorise many of these quotations and sayings.  They become useless!  You have to go through spiritual disciplines to get to the place where you wake up.  In my own experience, I probably did these disciplines in a previous existence; for when I was very young, I felt these things.  I had no idea what it was, until I read the books.  So the reading of books confirmed my experience, and then I went to see Ramana Maharshi – but I had already felt this

“There is a difference.  I have to be very careful what I say, because this path sometimes gives people license to become arrogant, obnoxious  It’s just the opposite.  If you have jnana, knowledge, you show loving kindness, compassion, joy – and you express yourself as that.

“… You look for a reason … a solution – a cause?  But there is no reason, cause or effect.  There IS emptiness.  Emptiness is the Self, and I AM that.  Now, when I speak of I AM, I’m not referring to Robert.  I am referring to omnipresence.   I AM is that;  therefore when I utter ‘I AM’, I am speaking for all of us, for there is only One – and we are all ultimate Oneness.  There is no distinction. 

robert's hat

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“They say that there is a Central sun.  All of the galaxies in the Universe revolve around the Central sun;  one revolution takes 24,000 years.  The closer the galaxy gets to the Central sun, the more evolved a planet becomes;  and the further away from the sun, the greater the dark ages on that planet. 

“But where did the Central sun come from?  Who gave it birth?  Since the beginning of time, there have been individuals who pondered this question.  Where did creation come from?  Out of what did it evolve?  Great rishis in India, great seers in Japan, in Egypt, thousands of years ago, sat beneath trees pondering these questions.  If God created everything, where did God come from?  Who created the God? … 

“So these olden day rishis and seers pondered. And something very interesting happened.  As they pondered externally the cause of creation, all of a sudden they found themselves becoming introverted.  They began to look within themselves.  They began to realise – I AM.  And inadvertently they pose the question, “who am I? Who am I?”  without knowing what they were doing.  They didn’t even voice it verbally.  They just felt it – who am I?  And as they did this sincerely, religiously, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, something happened.  And it came to them – I am That.

“They were amazed.  Remember, these great thinkers from the past did not know each other; they did this independently, and in Egypt, Africa, India, Japan they all came up with the same answer, I AM THAT.   In other words, there is no external world.  There is no thing but mind.  And because there is mind, there is a Universe.  Therefore I am the creator of the Universe:  because the mind exists, everything exists.  They came a long way, for they realised that everything was an emanation of the mind.  They didn’t stop there.  They pondered, ‘what is mind?  If my mind is the cause of creation, where did it come from?’

“… They enquired, ‘then who am I?  Who am I?’ and they abided in themselves … They were not in a state of samadhi, because they were awake.  During their awakened state, they became no thing.  There was no mind;  no Universe, no God, no body.  There are no others.  And they realised this is the Self – not my self, but the Self;  and they were absorbed in the silence.  From that moment on, the world still appeared to them, but they were able to see right through it.

robert xmas eve 2

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“Now, these ancient rishis were unable to share this with devotees or disciples, because it’s a personal experience.  Since it’s beyond words, beyond mind and beyond thoughts, how can one actually share this?  Therefore, these ancient rishis became silence.  They never spoke.  Yet such power emanated through them, that if the right devotees came to them and just sat with them, doing nothing, saying nothing, wanting nothing, desiring nothing, they too achieved that state.  It was amazing.  This was passed down through the ages.  It was commonly called Advaita Vedanta, or Jnana (the path of wisdom) – and it is still the supreme truth. 

“Now, let’s talk about you.  As long as you want to become enlightened, you’re making a grave mistake;  for there is no one to become enlightened.   As long as you want to end your problems and change your problems from bad to good, you’re making a grave mistake, because there are no problems.  As long as you think there’s something wrong or there’s something right, or right overcomes wrong, and we have to try to correct the condition or situation, you’re making a grave mistake.  You see, whatever has to happen, HAS ALREADY HAPPENED.

“There’s nothing you have to do;  yet your body will do it …  Do not be concerned over your affairs, for right actions will always take place.  By right actions, I mean the Dharma – that which is supposed to happen.  Some of you will still feed the homeless, will still have your jobs, will still do what you’re doing.  But it will not be ‘you’.  Unlike yogic achievement, when you know this for yourself, you cannot prove or show anybody anything. 

“Time for questions – stump the Guru.  Why do you want to become free … ?”

 19.  Merry Xmas

Merry Xmas!

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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.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote also 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). Watch this space.

Aquariel Link

Aquariel Link

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. 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/

World Ends for Elevenses

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At 11 11 GMT, (which being British, is Best) yesterday, my companion-in-the-Work and I made a nice cup of tea, stopped talking, and enjoyed together the latest Big Bang.

Steven Isserlis & friends rehearse Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time at Wigmore Hall in '88

Steven Isserlis & friends rehearse Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time at Wigmore Hall in ’88

What a great day!   Everything is ROUND, like the Mayan calender.  I even got a snowball from Israel – (my cher ami’s family) – and threw one back to them:

rebbe & rebbetzin celebrate Yule

rebbe & rebbetzin celebrate Yule

This drawing was done back in the naughty 90s, but my dear Ex in it (currently in India)  looks rather like my cher ami now! –  but has more hair.

OK Xmas cracker:   now for my usual SERIOUS STUFF.

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Fool 0 Hermetic tarot

Fool 0 Hermetic tarot

I sleep better this week, and woke this morning with a vivid impression of two long electric cables being plugged in – (to me?) – blue and yellow.   These colours were in something I saw or thought of, recently.   Anyway, they are the colour tones of the Priestess and the Magician/Strength/Fool.   Priestess and Fool are my old partnership.   Blue and yellow irises:  buttercups and blue sky – the colour recipe some people use to go to sleep with –    remember that.

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Priestess 2 Hermetic tarot

Priestess 2 Hermetic tarot

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Today has that winter grey feeling, Xmas chores are done (except Slippers and Calender) and I might go snuggle with cher ami this afternoon, and watch strictly tinsel on TV.   I feel as if every tree is covered with snow.  It is raining.

In the world are many disappointed dressed up persons with nowhere to go.  The Great Moment passed and nothing happened.  The Great Moment has informed my psyche in recent years, because I am sensitive to the collective astral pulse and its themes behind the heartbeat.   That meant my little “me” subscribed to some of the nonsense, and felt apprehensive, and blogged like mad.

It is so beautiful the way the symbols cohered yesterday, and gently touched – especially Paul’s xmas card for me, with all its Circles and Eyes, like raindrops.

The Great Moment is now, and passing through all the time.

The Companions of the Light and of crop circles, set up 11.11.21.12  End of Mayan Time, as a joke – to give all the humans a tension buildup, whose relaxation helps us behave a bit better to each other …  the relief of a belief.   It was in the collective subconscious.  Of course, most of us pooh poohed it and went about our business, but it was there all the same, the butt of many a bad legpull.  And for the gun-psychosis victims in the States, their parents’ world ended just the week before.   The agony.

Those children, those souls were “taken out” abruptly.   Many interesting souls died in 2012.   They are precise, creative placements on the membrane’s other side.  A child’s sudden removal is a bud taken in full fruit.   Some of them were advanced souls, and their brief of birth was not to blur their spirit-level with the problems of life.   They incarnated just enough to get earthed, be loved, and acquire some language;  then go back behind the veil and do their job.   Those children now are strong.  But it is not sufficient for their grieving parents to join self-interested séances.  The grieving parents have to grow, to realise their child is in the Life Stream for their own and the human evolution, through the tipping point.   And contact.   Aquarius is the contact with the whole human ocean around the globe – experientially, scientifically, cybernetically and spiritually.  Touch hands.

in touch 20.12.87

in touch 20.12.87

As consciousness, none of us are born.  None of us die.  We are in eternal connection.

The soul is an infinitely wider landscape than the small presentation of it which births into a family’s love, upbringing, school, abuse, and adult Karma.   Rapidly those little ones with their irreplacible gap-tooth smiles, shot through the veil, and now are transpersonal Counsellors.   The many sudden and “meaningless deaths” of loved-ones, increase the Manifestation of the Wise, as Aquarius dawns and lifts the dust.  For those little children are ancient Ones.

I have yet to experience the traumatic death of a loved one.  All the deaths I have been with so far, have been at a ripe old age, or ready and willing to go;  so they were celebrations.   My parents are still alive.  I am nearly 64.  I don’t know how I shall feel when they go.   BUT – I used to dream again and again, that my baby daughter died.  I even tried to dig her up.  Those were recurrent nightmares of streaming, shattering, unbearable loss and grief.  THE GRAVE.

In my last life, she was aborted from me;  my cells have the memory. It is said that I, as young Sarah, died in 1895 at 48, from ovarian cancer, which is grief.   It fully tasted me.

The antipodean seer who told me this in 2010, was reading my Akasha records quite accurately at that time.  Then a moment came when for various reasons, he could no longer do so. He had been going to give me all the details.   He wrote and told me not to correspond with him any more.

In this lifetime I remember, when I was in my late forties, worrying I may not survive fifty, I might desert my daughter, my parents and my loved ones.

My Cheiron return pushed this button hard!  – the wounded healer, my daughter’s “eclipse” into San Francisco.  I was able to keep in touch with her during her wild years by being silent and calming down.  Somehow I knew in the silence she was well, and that this bedrock honesty is better than conventional reassurances.

image001

**

Goodness!  What unexpected and interesting thoughts, this morning.

2 vesica

Placement at the other side is Consciousness each side of the Yule door:  a delineation as the Age of Aquarius matures.   The Age of Aquarius began in 1600 when Kepler met Tycho de Brahe and plotted the orbit of Mars;  but Aquarius in full, begins around now.  There are big penumbrae of passing, between Ages.  They overlap, casting a pomegranate curve of shadow:  vesica pisces.   December 2012 is the present portal – Jesus’s birth and death was perhaps another.

A Great Portal requires nothing more, than to sense it is there, and go about one’s daily life in a relaxed way.

Life goes on

Life goes on

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Regarding grief and its expression, and how unreachable I was to my family until I broke down during Marisa’s travels, and said how painful it actually was …

On an Ascension path, one is bound by an astral loyalty to the Guardians which makes expression in life extremely difficult.  I tended to chatter in code, and in slogan, and to preach.  This appears like arrogance.  It is not.  It is the struggle to find a language in which both emotional realities – each side of the Door – are honoured and can converse, or agree not to.   It is painful, and for a long time isolating.   Growing older, erodes the resistant membrane, and helps me to laugh at me, to be vulnerable and to share.

There is a close relationship between those who pass on and those who stay on the earth plane.  We who stay, assist those who pass – in our daily actions and understandings – to become coherent in their transpersonal duties, feeding back.   We are all interconnected.   Wherever this is recognised, is Consciousness.  It is the sunlight breaking through my Path of Awe.

put on space?

put on space?

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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.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote also 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). Watch this space.

Other blogs:  (click on image) – Aquariel, Reckless Fruit (1), Reckless Fruit (2)

Aquariel

Aquariel

Reckless Fruit (2)

Reckless Fruit (1)

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. 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/

For Solstice

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Walk tall, breathe deep, open heart and arms.

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The Master Key

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The key of pilgrimage may open the door of the mundane into the transcendently spectacular, without ever leaving home.

The life condition had forgotten or taken for granted, the door of perception.  Realisation within all the surfaces of the world is revealed, tender and subtle.  With this key, the Vedic sages mapped the stars and sciences, through observing the dance of light, the sound of nature, her atoms, within their own contemplative and “seeing” spines, and walking through all seasons.  They loved.

So let the waterfall run down the spine that bonds us:  the music of the waters.

body tao tree

body tao tree

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The centre of the Sun core is infinite.  Planets – planes – are formed in the radiating field which cools, becomes visible, consolidates around him.  These like the Rose petals, are Shakti’s dance around Purusha “the Unborn”.  They precipitate, as thought does.

The core of a straight conifer stem with its branches twirling, is … the unmoving core of the dancer.  And he the Dervish in order not to dizzy, “spots” his inner poise of prayer as the world whirls and rotates around him.   Dance is born from within the unmoving fire stem as a barely perceptible oscillation;  whose arc, like a pendulum, births a pulse, a circuit or triad – Time.

Winter solstice:  Dervish

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And so from Sound, a wavelength, an OMKARA within or beyond the audial spectrum, a Universe, coheres centrifugally.  A concentric ripple floats out from the core.  It becomes thought.  It becomes mind.

To be the perception within the perceived, let it run down spine like water, as current, to the ground.  The wave in water conducts the current which is “fire”.

OM SHANTI.   Wishing you joy, peace and a Yule log to warm the cockles of your heart, this special Solstice 2012.

Go well!

sailboat logbook

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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.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote also 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). Watch this space.

Other blogs:  (click on image)

Reckless Fruit (2)

Reckless Fruit (2)

Reckless Fruit (1)

Reckless Fruit (1)

Aquariel

Aquariel

..

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. 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/

Bardo – a Buddha-atom Awakes

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What is Bardo?

My understanding of this word, in the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying is:  a state of becoming:  the passage of a change upon the unchanging, as in the I Ching.  Bardos are moments of consciousness.  The dead pass through portals which are bardos, towards the full unveiling of their heart in the moment of their lifetime.  The essence of that life  – like a bubble – is extracted as consciousness, whose quality seeds a future birth.   It is considered helpful for the living to “companion” them in this process.  I believe many of us do so without realising it, in strange moments of awareness.

My favourite photo of Mount Kailas, the sacred home of Siva and Parvati.  Kailas is in Tibet, just north of the Gharwal Himalayan whence the Ganges flows.   The photo in the frame is Marisa at about five years old.

My favourite photo of Mount Kailas, the sacred home of Siva and Parvati. Kailas is in Tibet, just north of the Gharwal Himalayan whence the Ganges flows. The photo in the frame is Marisa at about five years old.  In her teens, she expressed a desire to go to Kailas, but I think this will remain for us a dream!

In this post I would like to share extracts from a Buddha awakening in my journal, early 1988.   I didn’t open it for many years, but the Sacred India Tarot archive work directed me to it.  I had planned to quote just a few images from it, to go in my previous post, SITA 8,9,10 of Pentacles;  but as usual, there is rather more to it than I thought.   Additionally – it happened over my birthday:  I had forgotten this.  

Although pruned right down, I regret it is still a long post, a small book in itself – the anatomy of an awakening – but make of it what you will.

I publish it also, to “companion” in my soul, the recent death – at nearly 94 – of my childhood hero.   I didn’t meet him in this lifetime, but he was interested in Buddhism and the Himalayas, and so this awareness is my Bardo for him, as it turns, as he passes on.   He had to keep still for an extraordinary period of time, and he lived through his death when he was young.  A fellow sun-goat, moon-crab, he was born on 15 January 1919, and passed away in his sleep on 13.12.12.   He will go into the ground for this week’s Solstice.  He was a public figure, and many consider that he “invented” at least a part of his remarkable story.  For me however, his inner life and its expression – like snow “burned off” a mountain peak – was authentic, and felt like myself. It deeply influenced my path when I was 12 years old.  

The drama, and how we manipulate our version of it is –  for us all – a question mark:  life’s carousel, a thread in the overall design;  a way of the Will.  May you pass in peace, through the veils undoing, to the weighing of the heart.   Go well.

Snowdrop

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The Honeycomb Cells of Karma

In January 1988, I did some chanting with a nichiren soshu buddhist neighbour.  I heard her in the early mornings upstairs, and at first I thought it was something in the water pipes.  I went up to see what was going on, and joined in with her.  It felt great, to make this deep voice together, to let it vibrate up my spine-stem.  It was very much needed.

bees j&d6 

I discovered through it, the Lotus sutra teachings.  I soon left the nichiren practice, whose militancy I didn’t agree with.   I had studied a little Hermetic philosophy, but not yet come upon Kabbalah/the Tree of Life.  

The vision was experiential, a “catch-up” with other lifetimes in the practice.   I was being led to awaken soul memories.  I find in it a clarity of how the mind works as a Karmic microcosm.  For me the understanding was a turning point.  Afterwards, I noticed that negative responses from life and people to me had dropped dramatically.

First, here is a gallery – a set of 12 drawings done all at once.  Afterwards I read the Buddha’s teaching on the Twelve Causes – Ignorance, Action, Consciousness, Name & Form, the Six Entrances (sense organs), Contact, Sensation, Desire, Clinging, Existence and Old age/Grief/Death/Suffering.  They fitted pretty well with my drawing sequence.  The sequence follows the natural order of any thought or incarnation. The first two were done with my eyes closed, and the rest are with my left hand.

To enter the gallery, click on the first image, and wait for it to upload.

THE LAW OF THE TWELVE CAUSES

Gallery

11 January 1988 – Karma and The Honeycomb

“To draw is to travel in line an act of faith, which releases Reality.”

It is odd – and delightful – how self’s vantage can change.  Know thyself as a grouping or receptacle for that of life which flows in.  If I’m bad or frightened, I’m a room for that which is bad or frightening, and which reproduces those waves in the life cycle.  So when the bad and the fright have been seen – through analysis, insight or practice – well, that is how self moves into another receptive aggregate.  This means I am not an ego, lighthouse or mast, but a vessel for different kinds of weather.  I attract different Karmas to breed, according to the nature of my magnetic “iron-filings” (mars).  This is a glimpse of the awake consciousness factor in last week’s 12-fold causal chain of life.

Life is attracted through the phenomenon of “cosmic” desire, to those imprinted forces of Karma which require existence, sentience and voice.  There are many such different rooms in each sentient human being.  “Re-birth” is the activating of these rooms whose “iron-filings” attract the energies of light, joy and response.  This happens through the transforming of those rooms which attract the dark and the panic.  If they are not transformed, the dark clouds will stick to them and to the light, like a bat to a window.  Dark is attracted to light, it wraps and conceals it.  The light doesn’t go out.  It is hidden in the cells of the honeycomb.

So my principle is to first explore the nature of the dark, and its sensations, and teach those sensations to cease re-acting.

It is a vessel for all kinds of weather.  Weather is closely bonded to areas of the earth, in the ecological ‘society’ cycle.  To change the earth-body – to garden it differently – is to bring about a different climate in this area.  That is what is meant by Jung’s movement of the seat of self … (and Casteneda’s movement of the assemblage-point.)

Line dance 4.1.88

Line dance 4.1.88

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A little more Lotus Sutra last night.  Shakyamuni Buddha is still widening his listeners’ ears, and hasn’t really started to preach yet.  But I began the chapter on the Treasure Tower.  Tao Buddha has arrived in it to listen to the sutra – Consciousess has arrived, not mere life – so I guess Shakyamuni will start talking now.  You cannot receive the Lotus sutra unless you are a conscious receptacle, wanting it.  Shakyamuni already said, Don’t make offerings to him, make them to the teachings.  So I suppose he’s prepared his ground, what next?  In the allegory of the participation of all the thousands of worlds, all the rooms of his listeners are activated, all the implanted jewels are bursting into flower.

Line dance 2

Line dance 2

Light while it reacts – as in birth-to-life or creative higgledy piggledy – is still dark.  Light which responds and allows information to rest in it, is of quite a different nature – not anxious.  … To understand more of the Law of Life, new senses – or buried senses – have to be awakened and developed.

I see a tree as a tree, but I do not know what else I see.  The forces of attraction and generation antecede birth and sentience.  Soul looks at the room;  Karma is attracted to the vessel – the eternal aggregate glimpses its depository.   I am only at theoretical level, yet just able to catch sight.   This is very wonderful.  Keep asking.”

line dance 3 - 4.1.88

line dance 3 – 4.1.88

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A Lopped Tree

My room changed when the tree’s head was cut off.  A tree is a tree.
This tree’s stumps claw the sky, and new life grows within them.
The sky falls into the space which the foliage once filled.
Wait for the Spring.

Wait for the season of growth.
All answers in its due time.
To see a tree without a head
and know that in this is life, sap and shoots;

to take this into my body and see my soul rise in joy –
I know not why –
from the shadow impression of pain
is to know in that moment the Law of Life;  Cause and Effect are concurrent.

Effect is cause
and fall.

Nature opens.  Who art thou?
The shepherdess tells me
it’s not time yet.
Love not sufficiently grown from sex.

Seeker & Sheperdess

Seeker & Sheperdess

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The Underbeing is perceived these days in terms of the entity looking for a way in to the dream which is Life, and the study of its causal chain or grouping.  My eternal-life is a creature who is groping and not quite awake among the doors and cubes.  It is through the slow enlightenment of this passage between lives, that I will come to find the eye into my history;  principle of faith, not intellect.  Intellect is but a cooperative muscle among many.  I am looking for a way in to the Dream which is me.  Life as known is but garlands of Dreams.  Who is it then, who wanders from shore into that land or sea, and begins to string those garlands together?  Who wanders across the darkness, lit by desire?  Desire and love is the first opening into life.  Food, then people and trees.  Loyalty.

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Sacred India Tarot

Sacred India Tarot

I’m not interested in my physical environment until my inner garden begins through its tendrils, to connect to it.  I do an active meditation into my inner, that she may begin to alter the outer.

The outer is not yet housework but people, my friends.  Moira in Waitrose coffee-shop – talking about problems in the top flat.  The tenant there treats it as a warehouse and flits in and out of the barn.  The result is vermin and problems with overflowing water and decreasing house value when he’s away.

I no longer have to tell people about my faith and my journey.  The principle – its purpose is to provide a vessel for peoples’ positives to fall into;  this cheers them up.  Happiness (relative) is expression – the time of day, the imprint of their own moment of integrity, their smile across the table, they move on this.

They illuminate mine too.  Listen to the world, and the trans-forming goes on.  Elicit strength, not catastrophe.  I do not reject another’s catastrophe, but I seek it less.
(However, I have not quite learnt to talk to my daughter about her father in broad and non-catastrophic terms.  The pain still billows and makes me tense.)

To wish other people happiness, health and connection isn’t much good while there are shadows in my Karma.  These shadows might transfer to them and give them a difficult time towards happiness and straightness.  Physic, heal thyself!

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Drawer 1987

Open room, open door, open drawer for good Karma and Life Law to manifest, open this drawer in my middle, let it resonate and catch the growing things, that is how it Does.

Ask the Law of Life for a little clarification as to this honeycomb room, the cells of Karma, and the process of activating some and not others.   The Law of Life embodies all the laws of dark and light.   It unifies them, so that the dark laws, the negative being an intrinsic part of the high-relief landscape, are transformed, converted, activated to the overall cause.  They become recognised differently.

I do not understand these dark laws very well, except that they are there.  The choice following analysis is to transform them so they are not re-active, but responsive to the over-all.  A hypnotic incantation takes root.   Law of Life, why not?   Invest strength in this.

It is true, that as my father says, life doesn’t want Consciousness.  They collide at a right-angle.  Consciousness wants to sing the law of life.  Life wants to stop – is aware of time – and write about it, or do things.  Life’s ways on top, are very strong.  Life finds Consciousness a bit boring – needs to get on with conditioned-responses across the dark voids, and holding the fabric of green reality together.   But life gradually incorporates BITS of Consciousness … not overnight.

Consciousness to receive the Lotus into Life.  The teaching of the Lotus is the spreading of a great wide space or stillness in the mind;  something comes in which is not grasped by the mind.  Intellect-chatter flourishes – I am not silent – but under it, these things have room to happen.

Room for thee, thou vast flower.  Buddha nature arrives unseen, and makes the garden.

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Law of Life 2 with dharma wheel

January 14 1988 – Age 39 today.

Slight nadir state, because of failure-to-communicate-to-life.   Marion Milner rang up very early, and said she felt we had not managed to exchange something yesterday which was of importance to me in my drawings …

(I imploded at that point.  I had just visited and met for the first time, my mentor Marion Milner then in her 90s, whose books on exploring the inner fact, guided and helped me.  When she invited me to tea, I was overwhelmed by her creativity and bold ways with scissors and paste, to cut up all her hundreds of drawings and paintings, her children, and make them into new pictures.  It was a Karmic shock, and I felt very insecure.  And she was too old to take my wares and needs on board.   She was trying to tidy up “before she pops orff.”)

Solstice Ring-a-Rosies

Solstice Ring-a-Rosies

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I had a problem in the prayer for the dead.  I don’t know many dead people:  Mam, Auntie Appelonia, the Adamses, Mrs Higgins – all of a ripe old age and ready … to what purpose?  And persons in accident or war.  I was told that great benefit comes from influencing the latency of dead souls.

So I prayed and chanted for those I have loved in previous lives, who died – whoever they may be.

Yesterday the feeling began to come – of looking down into this dark, pregnant, cared-for ocean of the Dead.

Today I have it.  The need is to pray for a lost, dead and much-loved child of mine – to give him life, strength and good Karma.   Marion gave me this prayer-bead.   Marion’s litter of paintings and collages are her children, piled all over the house like autumn leaves.

Grief 18.1.88

Grief 18.1.88

I dreamed I took two shopping trolleys to Father Alan Cheales’s mass for the children.  One of these contained Christianity.  The other contained Buddhism.  Alan’s mass or mess was a scatter of people.  I sat down.  There was a woman with white hair, who I thought was Mrs Higgins, knowing she was dead, but then I saw she was someone else.  F. Alan comes to supper next week.  Was this place in my dream the place of the dead?   Who is Miss Tree?  MISTER E?  Mystery!

… My birthday.  7.30pm nearly, that is when my soul Karma is born.  Out to tea with Tara, very drunk, chanted with her, she’s got a sun on her butsudan, grapefruit surrounded by oranges.  Only he who sees takes off his shoes, the rest sit around and pick blackberries –  (Jesuit in 1976). Saw Eduardo the shrink outside coffee-shop in West End Lane, made hi kiss my birthday – sweet swine, so interested in The Creative Process … Tara said maybe I should tell Eduardo to get himself some therapy.

Malo Malo, my sweet astral child from between the stars, THOU ART DOING!  and consciousness is buddha nature coming unseen to read hear the Sutra.

Well I don’t think I shall try to read the Sutra just yet.

My mother rang.

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Incarnations - cosmic fishes

Incarnations – cosmic fishes

There are many, many worlds and lives everywhere all round, like all those shreds and floats of sketches I saw yesterday at Marion Milner’s.  Like leaves in a pool – like an explosion.

There is also the Goodness! A Tishoo! feeling of an enormous uplifting current which displaces moments of time, so there is a sensuously perceived space between and around each tick of the clock, and space around each word.  This is, I believe, the body’s primitive perception of when the conditioned world fragments for a few seconds – it blasts apart – into an intimation of Reality below it.  Each tick of time is a planet or world, and stops.   This sensation came at moments, over the years.

I think now it is something to do with the 3,000 worlds in a moment’s coexistence, the mutually interwoven Stories of Life.

There’s a bed with a dark man with a hat looking down on it.  I can’t sleep tonight because my top-mind is busy throwing out wine – Tara poured me two huge glasses – and with the setting of the Lotus Sutra Law, and the ever expanding Ganges sands of bodhisattvas.  Nearly to chapter 16 – the actual teaching.

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the Law

15 January 1988

I read it.  The Law of Life in chapter 16 – the Life of the Tathagata – is this:  it is not told.  It is the activated Cause for its implantation in the listener:  single mindedly yearning to see Buddha … (in the 12-fold causal chain.)  It is DESIRE – the nature of all Nature being pulled in unison to the vessel of its fulfillment.  This process is awakened within the voice, within the body.

Shakyamuni Buddha’s device is to reveal the impossibility of calculating the time of his own beginning as Buddha.  A Kalpa is the out and in breath of the Tathagatha – from big bang to reabsorbtion.  Inconceivable aeons, billions of kalpa groups, are ground to single particles of dust, which are then dropped one by one at temporally incomprehensible intervals into eternity, to pave the path of history.

This infinite revelation seems to have an effect on sentient cells – to cause them to recognise their own participation in the otherwise indescribable Law of Life.  It causes goodess in the way the river flows, and wisdom, gentleness and reverence in human beings, towards their fellows in life, in the animal and in the awakened kingdoms.

First he shook the earth, and all those ancient and uncountable legions of bodisattvas sprang out of it.  How, if he’d been enlightened for just forty years, did these infinite multitudes emanate from him, how were they led by him?   This he then revealed.

I don’t know why Inifinity activates goodness.  It just does:  awe and reverence and most importantly, faith in the food of being alive.

To glimpse this only starts the change.  It isn’t enlightenment itself.  Enlightenment is when these things become second nature in the vessel, and are apparent to others.  When they are not apparent, they are not yet.  The intellectual activity is not of these.  Not coercion, but obeisance to the slow Law of growth and fruit.

Life is made of laws on top of laws which are not what they seem:  the pregnant void.  But this concept is an intellectualism.  It is not something which I know.  It is a nature which acts on me.  I still conceptualize it, I the bird in its lap.   Last night when I nearly managed to sleep, I found the inner voice of its own accord recited bits of the Lotus Sutra chant by heart.  My life-state doesn’t know any of it by heart yet – hasn’t the nerve.

In Buddha’s parable of the good physician, he uses his own death or Nirvana as an expedient to inspire healing through grief and loss.  If my loved-one had come last year, I don’t think I would have valued him nearly as much as I valued him because he was absent.  It pushed me to grow.

Snowdrops, fox and owl_2

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Latency feel today – tired and lazy.  Began to doze – I am in fall – I became again some long slender stem on a cliff, a stem growing at both ends at a tremendous rate both up and down – root and shoot – heaven and earth, strange purity;  and a fat flower somewhere near.  Also a bit of A Tishoo.  A Tishoo is stop the world.  Then mind gets busy again with its usual phenomena.

Three “Draws”:

The crumbs of the universe its extinction will dissolve ...

The crumbs of the universe its extinction will dissolve …

Crumbs of the Universe.  The baby bird mouth is life.  In the lap, space becomes I which cannot see.  No eyes anywhere – don’t want to draw.  Mind underneath, is the moon and three stars – the Sun to the left:  a most extraordinary energy, apparently without beginning.   Void are the fragments, the crumbs which come to the bird.  Each crumb is an existence, experience of I-world.

Death's bed

Next:  the bed and the dark stranger – a Chinaman I think, because of his hat – beside it.  The bed is a four poster and looks like it is walking.  Curtain and three different symbols, one on top of each post – circle, corinthian and triangle.  This one is about Death.

Sunflower above below

Next:  the long stem with flower growing at both ends, roots in the middle, on top of Karma cliff.  Misty sea and boat, different wave patterns, further down they are wider.  Fragments of what? in the air.  A dark eye-pull flower-explode, bottom left corner.  Life AND death I suppose.  There’s a person curled up in Karma cliff and a sort of volcanic uprush.  Stop-world.

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Alchemy is “grind, sift and mix.”  To grind is to reduce the herbs to insubstantiality.  To sift is to separate and differentiate.  To mix together is the integrating of the first two stages, and thus the Great Middle Way.

Apple is Fruit of knowledge, or love without any core.  Star is infinity, and an owl is wisdom and watch-it.  Oh yes, and “Lovers Knot” – see 12-fold Cause drawings, the one called “Birth”) – is “Lovers Not”, because they are choosing Consciousness, not just the life cycle.  Oh dear, does this mean my sex life really and truly has come to an end?

… Sacrifices to the gods in Homer’s Iliad – I love to read of the sheeps thighs wrapped in fat and burnt, the lovely savour – are feasts which the celebrants share with the gods and enjoy the food.  So when they are burning a good fragrance to Apollo and Athena, they activate their own good cells and life-channels, as the community eats, so as to attract the life-currents.  Cause is alignment of sensation.

Ros Bieber came with a birthday card of a drunken Elephant and a book of Chinese short stories, and threw me into confusion with the Freudian view …  … I am writing to my song, my soul, my afterlife, my between-life, all this community of the hidden history … the rhythms of my life within their (your) great dark dwelling, my Malo-child (astral-creative shadow) was born alive.

soul berthing - 6.1.88

soul berthing – 6.1.88

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Loyalty to life and to a shared reality, comes out from somewhere between the worlds.  When I glimpse something of what lies between worlds – as for instance when I am depressed, disconnected and non-functioning, like yesterday – it makes this planet a little more dear to me.  Welcome home:  unity of spirit embodied.  As do glimpses of eternity.  This is how one becomes a buddhist and learns to value life, no longer wishing to quarrel.  Life is the leaves of the Underbeing, and welcomes me back.  I can’t see why people should disagree if they have the faith which grows on this tree.

Break Ice – 17 January 1988

It seems that hands start to touch which were implanted in last fall’s drawings.  Things join, as coats of Karma are shed.  To share is life;  not to share is death, enclosed by destiny’s garment.  My drawing for Ros last night, started last night as a don’t-know, and isn’t turning out as expected.  I didn’t have a plan, except not to use my private code symbols in it.

Hades and Chinaman

Hades and Chinaman

It is about breaking the ice and thus a shared reality.  The Chinaman is in it, as a wisdom-man or death.  Death as advisor has a shepherd’s crook.  One part of his coat is dark with the grain of the river or sands, and the other part is Light, this opening.  The drawing is branched by left and right hands touching across it.  The left, as if out of ice or through broken glass, has a consciousness-kraken in it – a deformed man or blind baby gropes up through the glass case to release.  The right has a person in it, and is a lifting force.  The Chinaman death-life is the transformer;  our connection.  To the left is a bird with lifted wings, and the sun.   Ros has a lot of heavy Karma and repetitive-strain injury, so I don’t know what she will see in it;  but her own home begins to implant peace and her victory.

A time comes when I activate my darker suffering-world or container, in order to transform it – when the light-principle is strong.   The important thing this weekend is to touch and share with others, to leave go my foot-holds, knowing at last they are there, and will receive me again.  My helpers gave me life.  So does death.

Break ice.  In a Chinese story, the water under ice is Yin or the feminine unconscious, and the world above ice is Yang, or male conscious.  I found this later, after beginning the drawing for Ros, and thinking it was about glass.  So … I’ll stick a few bits of newsprint on it for a change…   Breaking glass or window is a desire for life through the pane.

Tenancy  – 21 January 1988

I dreamed I was moving back into the flat in Greencroft Gardens where Marisa was born.  The neighbouring flat was neglected and needed care and occupancy – the thrill of new space and how to live in it.  I’m a tenant of a block of flats.  Am I a tenant of someone’s body?   How large rooms are when they are empty.  This one was enlarged or widened since I was last here.  The previous tenant left something on the stove – a large wide container with a little jar inside it, containing an inch of something that looks like bovril or date syrup.  The flame is on underneath:  I turn it off.  Gas taps.  A door behind, leads into a whole extension or scullery of the kitchen;  in this room is what used to be, in my dreams, the sealed room.  It is now sealed no more.  The wall’s been knocked down.   But it isn’t liveable in;  it is full of useless structure, like old airing cupboards or a water tank, and there are clusters of timber-and-wattle along the walls, raw substance within plaster, like nerve or muscle groups – or the multiple wiring clusters inside an airplane’s cockpit.  They are all disused.  The roof over it is naked;  no ceiling.  I see gaps in the tiles, the rain will come through.  There’s no room for life in this part which used to be sealed.  All it gives is space for cosmic lumber.  Am I to be responsible for the roof?    How can Marisa and myself fit in here?   Indignation, I want to hold on to my home with four rooms, the present one!

Later on, I was asked by a buddhist woman with long hair and a big nose, to participate in and commit myself in some Activity (communal).  “No, no!” I wailed, rather hysterical.  “I’ve got to get where I live sorted out first!”  Where do I belong?   Panicking, no money.

Karma-frame:  am I going into a confined mess again?  But to dream about occupying new or occupied flats, is the self-knowledge of Karma entering life-form – the reactive containers of life – and not knowing if I shall fit into this body which has been vacated for me;  trying to plan my occupancy, knowing I’ve come down on the scale, nostalgic for what I’ve left.   For I am hovering in the realm of the causal chain of existence, hovering over the many boxes of life, wondering which one is me.  Settling gradually like an insect, looking for the scent of sweet.

At source-point are Karmic responsibilities.  If the pattern is recognised and responded to here, upstream (like from higher up the hill), it does not merely react to the “flats”.  It changes them.  No longer am I a victim in destiny, but a rowing partner (boat).  To affect these energies at source, is to affect them NOW;  so they do not need or have cause to proliferate their repetitive dismay in terms of body-life and the wings and falls of fortune.

All phenomena of life and consciousness being inter-related, each moment or problem/position is a potential birth of my soul.

Buddha and Osmosis

Buddha and Osmosis

The soul is that which awakens within the nerve-structure of Karma, and recognises the continuity of this sentence to Earth.  The soul cherishes the vessels of life as they rise to perception, recognising how these are imprinted by the dark and light of consciousness.

I have no wish to persuade people to become buddhists.  Whatever they recognise and awake, is sufficient to them.

What is my need today?  To pray to Jesus.  Jesus is what was given of God to humanity – (and damaged.)  To pray to and within the Law of Life is an incredible blessing, but it appears to me just now, as so vast and “inhuman” a concept, like a wilderness of aeons, I begin to see what it implies, and would like a friendly human-form god to relate to, to praise, thank and confide my fears.

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Alan Cheales O.P. 1985

Father Alan’s Visit

Father Alan came last night.

We chatted a lot but not “much”, because he’s not on my wavelength with the new drawings, he doesn’t like them.   But he called me “single-minded” and himself a priest who cannot be “single-minded”, much as he’d like to, because he’s got all these duties in life.  However, we “saw” each other and exchanged something.  We are fond of each other, and Alan isn’t a proselytizer.  I did eventually inform him that I was practicing Buddhism, and he said I’d chosen a good moment for my announcement, because this week is the Church’s Ecumenical week, and how does Buddhism relate to Christianity?  I said for me it developed from it and is the same thing – Buddha even told the same parables – because wherever in history people awake, it is to the same bedrock truth.    I said I found my faith easier to practice on a day-long basis in Buddhism than in Christianity, because in Christianity there is a feeling of remoteness or separateness, even with him, Alan, getting us all to join in.

Alan knows a little about Hermetic philosophy.  He says he knows nothing, but I suspect he knows more than I do.  He said the Hermetic writings discovered in AD 400 were absolutely authenticated.  I’ve always thought of Alan as a scholar, but he does have to spread his mind over a lot of people.  He is still enjoying Speakers Corner, said he might use a thing or two I’d said when he’s there next week.  I said I learn from everyone I meet.  We had a super bolognese which I cooked, Alan said it was the best he’d ever tasted.  He went up to see Marisa, who was rather busy. He told me again he saw Mr V (her father) outside his house cleaning his car, and Mr V stared at him.  Alan dislikes Mr V because he “lives on an island” and Alan has no room for his brilliant mind, he sees Mr V as destructive, marooned and a manufacturer of grief, and he has no time for people who waste their lives in this way.

Alan has forgotten that he himself received me into the church.  “Did I instruct you?”  Being received (just before Marisa’s birth) I said, was being received into the family, and a very wonderful thing for me.     I meant – being received into Life.  That is what it was – life and my baby girl.  Catholicism awakened in due course my depth reality.  It is still a “father”!  Hello, Alan Cheales.

He says in his sermons, no amount of darkness can put out a candle.  To begin with, we discussed manic depression and homosexuality a lot, because Alan had been watching TV, and has a gay nephew.  “Hermetic” later, made Alan talk about the Gnostics, and a programme about them which covered too much ground to be more than superficial – the media can barely outline the matter – but was interesting.  We ended the evening by agreeing that many atheists have more faith than believers, because it is faith in oneself, in life, which is the fundamental principle “and too many catholics,” said Alan “don’t put life into their faith.”

A religious habit or security doesn’t “cross the gap”.  God’s house is often full of empty routines.   Christianity is really an enormous challenge;  Buddhism practices within the gap.  My faith needed a lot of strong branches to hold.  Alan recommended Monica Furlong on Thomas Merton for me to read, “but Thomas Merton is more of an Ascetic than you are!”

The Sermon on the Mount was the Buddha’s cause-and-effect Law of Life.

Priest and Oak 2000

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23 January 1988I Hear The Buddha Sound

Dreams are active vacuum-beds or “tea-cups”.  They attract questions, energies, and whatever strata of life is of key interest at the moment.  It depends on the eye which sees and lets them exist.  I dreamt I was returning to my house, and found to my great annoyance, that the builders had been and lowered the level of the outside stairway so that to walk under it to the alleyways you had to crouch.  I moved aside the zig zag screens around their work, and went into the changed space.  I hated it.  I couldn’t move or walk properly.  The enclosure was menacing, difficult and claustrophobic, like the passages I have to crawl through to be born – even though it was only a couple of yards, with daylight at both ends.  My centre of gravity was disarrayed and immobilized.  I didn’t progress, but complained – like Alice when she grew too tall.

(I was stuck at birth – deep transverse arrest.)

born to be free - lotus root

born to be free – lotus root

I suppose this is how soul feels when it gets into a body, are there going to be forceps next?   What a drag!   Perhaps … the work of alignment – easing into the new shape I must spread into.

Climbing out - second birth

Climbing out – second birth

The value, I think, of relating to Karma at its “source” or historic point, rather than to its present-day life-event form of repetition, is that it gives it energy and sentience at an earlier level.  Thus it doesn’t need to feel itself by repeating its difficulties in the present day phenomena.  To let them resonate in the subtle-creative spectrum, catalyzes them there in consciousness.  They don’t then have to reverberate into obstacles or horrible anxiety-creating problems now.   My studies help me to remove anxieties from my daily life, by allowing them to express and map themselves further back – at a sort of source-point.

When the knot is seen and interpreted from my true level of Reality, it doesn’t have to reflect into my life situation.  It is allowed growth and change, at the root.

In the dream about L’s wife with black curly hair, there is a feel of space having been cleared, as on a windy day – in relation to him, as to everyone else.  My bad Karma always expressed itself in terms of jealousy, isolation and the discomfort of ego’s performances.  Ego-problem there is in the dream, but not jealousy.  Not any more.  The freedom is implied, to move around and be real.

Splendid dream, at some time before or after these … which I cannot describe, as it was in another level altogether, but was in terms of being the actual Law of Life in the line-movement and shade of a drawing.  As I half woke, I heard a most extraordinary and wonderful note or cosmic tone, of the Universal Eternity.  It was outside time.  It rested and passed and faded like the long-resonating song of a bell.

This turned out to be a passing lorry – every sound in all the worlds is the primordial atomic OM, and liberates for ever.

Another vehicle or two gave a remnant of this Voice, as did long tides of bliss in my being-body, but I was rapidly surfacing, so it was for an unending moment only.  How good.  Surely I will find it for ever.

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Sacred India Tarot - Siva tests Parvati with a Mask

Sacred India Tarot:  Siva tests Parvati with a mask.  They are very near Kailas.

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Postscript

In the Buddha teaching, no individual awakes, becomes enlightened, dies or is reborn.  The event occurs through a confluence of “aggregates” – clusters of Karmic potential – which flower.  The event is one of many, and it happens all the time as Life – but we mostly don’t notice it.

The “I” for working purposes, is the tendency of life to become coherent – an apparent individual –  and to adopt congenial memories as its own.   Sometimes the memory thread stretches back in vivid recall through many a birth, identifying with many a period in history.  The Buddha is said to have recalled all the aeons of Consciousness since the big bang kalpa and inconceivable aeons before … as NOW.   But it is still a creation of the mind.   Whose mind?

A Buddha-nature enlightenment is a subatomic interaction – a disintegration in an energy-field whence several new particles – the sacrament released – are born.

It is sacred. Every expansion of Consciousness is the sacrament.

I thought at the time I was enlightened, but of course “I” wasn’t!  The particles are still approaching mutual harmony.  

What I call the God-cosm, prevails.   The enlightenment itself is a constant.  It is Reality.

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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.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote also 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). Watch this space.

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. 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/

 

Sacred India Tarot Archive: 8,9,10 of Pentacles – Buddha’s Teaching & Mahanirvana

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Continuing the series following the creative process of The Sacred India Tarot Archive by Rohit Arya and Jane Adams –

water falls in arizona

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Rohit’s Notes 2003 on SITA 8 of Disks – the Angulimala episode.  

“… A forest path with the calm and smiling upright Buddha being threatened by a wild looking bandit who is wearing a garland of human fingers.  He brandishes a sword, and he wants Buddha’s finger to complete his collection. Angulimala is physically exhausted from chasing after the Buddha and somehow never managing to catch up with him.  Buddha converts him and even leads him to enlightenment, but that lies some time after our scene!

“… We would like to see the Buddha as he is always shown, the long sari like robe he is depicted in. Angulimala –  the finger necklace he wears round his neck, is core; and a sort of wild desperation, a recklessness that only comes upon those who were once good and respectable. The two figures are likely to take up all the space, so compositionally I don’t think we can squeeze in any background details. The entire drama plays out in a forest….”

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Jane’s Notes – Angulimala was an unhinged sadhu who collected the fingers of celebrated sages and wore them in a mala around his neck.   Naturally he sought the ultimate trophy.  The Buddha however, smiling like the Mona Lisa, contrived to walk always just ahead of the violent sadhu’s effort and out of reach.

We have a saying here:  “to walk just one mile an hour quicker than the incoming tide, is to be in the world but not of it;  to carry the Great Work;  to remain awake.”

When Angulimala’s consumerist greed for enlightenment was all played out, he surrendered and became a devotee of the Great Middle Way.   This story is a vivid example of the accelerated Karmas in the vicinity of a Perfected One.  The noble Buddha Nature is Tathagatha of the cosmic aeons.   No “individual” dream can grasp this, until it starts to dissolve into Individuation of the Whole.

Sacred India Tarot - the story of Buddha and Angulimala

Sacred India Tarot – the story of Buddha and Angulimala

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Correspondence:  Rohit to Gautam Sachdeva, 2003

“The Eight card should have been a very difficult card to draw, but Jane has solved all compositional problems by completely eliminating all background clutter, and just keeping the two principals before us.  The contrast between the man of violence lost in his rage, and the calm of the One who is Awake, is remarkable.

“The turban by the way, is very accurate for the time period.  I especially love the touch of the orange robe that Angulimala is wearing, presaging his conversion and salvation as a monk.

“I said it before, and I will say it again, I am not going to get between Jane and her stream of inspiration with the clutter of irrelevant instruction. She is doing a great job with what I am telling her, and this pack is going to be an all time classic, not just in Tarot, but also in the field of Indian mythology.”

Visual reference for the teaching of "Sangha"

A visual reference for the teaching of “Sangha” – also for the original conception of Knight of Disks, a picture of Boddhisattva, the Buddha in the Making.  However, Rohit later substituted the Face of Glory, Indian mythology’s Green Man, for Knight of Disks.  The Green Man accorded better with Buddha’s temperament, well earthed in the nature kingdom.  See the next post, in this series.

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Correspondence:  Jane to Gautam – May 2003 

“Dear Gautam, we just seen Nikki (Gautam’s sister) for tea, and thank you very much for the beautiful copper Sri Chakra in its protective case, and the leaflet with it.  For me this is a most serendipitous gift, connecting directly with some work I’ve been doing.  I am very touched.  Nikki told me also how these Sri Chakras are “charged”, and gave us news of Yogi Impressions’ spiritual portal.  Thank you also for the bank draft of 100 …

“I have done two more pentacles, and will try to send them to you tomorrow, or at least over the weekend.  I am pleased with them. 

“The four court cards will soon be done.  Please send illustrations and notes for the next Suit as soon as you can.  God willing, the minor arcana will be complete at the end of this year.  With warm regards to yourself and Rohit, and to your mother – Jane.”

Copper Sri Yantra Chakra.  An auspicious gift, as its energy field is particularly earthing or the cosmic lattice.  Copper is the non-resistant metal of Venus and of electricity.

Copper Sri Yantra Chakra. An auspicious gift, as its energy field is particularly earthing of the cosmic lattice. Copper is the non-resistant metal of Venus and of electricity.   It is another version of the Wheel which symbolizes the Buddha’s noble teaching.

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Suit of Pentacles/Disks: Creating Card 9 – Sangha and the Flower Sermon

Wildflower at Nether Stowey

Wildflower in my mother’s garden at Nether Stowey

The story of the Buddha’s Flower sermon is well known.  Here are Rohit’s Notes for Card Nine: 

“Nine – the silent transmission to Kashyapa of Zen, and the firm foundation of the Sangha. The Buddha is on the left of the card, a body of monks facing him, with one particularly intelligent face being Kashyapa.  He smiles, as he has just understood Buddha’s transmission of Zen by holding up a single flower in his right hand.”

snowdrop buddha

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And here is the card:

The Sacred India Tarot - the Sermon of the Flower

The Sacred India Tarot – the Sermon of the Flower

Jane’s Notes: – Sangha is “the community of the wise.”  Rohit and Gautam asked me to put Ramesh Balsekar’s features on “Kashyapa who had the understanding”.  They both knew Ramesh well, and admired his teaching.  The object was for The Sacred India Tarot to touch upon and honour the teaching in all its forms, in the universal field.   As it is not a good portrait of Ramesh, I include here, two of my drawings of him in bhakti mode:  his Buddha nature.

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Ramesh Balsekar, bhakti

Ramesh Balsekar, bhakti

Ramesh used to say that there is no Guru, until a devotee recognises him as such.  The Guru – dispeller of darkness – is created in a special spark of recognition:  the understanding, which passes between the two.  Wisdom is in dialogue:  wisdom is the relationship.

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Ramesh at Rest

Ramesh at Rest

I remember when I drew this one, that Ramesh’s facial features flowered like a mandala.  The penciled lines and folds below his eyes, radiate as rivers and the ripples do.

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Suit of Pentacles/Disks:  Creating Card Ten – the Buddha’s Maha-Nirvana

Rohit’s Notes in 2003: – “The Great Nirvana.  The texts mention again and again that the Buddha lay on his right side like a lion, and taught his disciples before breathing his last.  A somewhat crowded composition, as all his monks were crowding around him.  The picture is a stylistic rendering of the great moment.”

Disks buddha 10, ref

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Sacred India Tarot - Buddha's Maha-Nirvana

Sacred India Tarot – Buddha’s Maha-Nirvana

This was in some ways, my favourite of the suit.  Drawing this, brought me a feeling of great serenity.  I understood that the troublous “10” of each Suit, is in fact its full manifestation during a moment of transition:  the transformation we often dread.  Transformation is the movement of eternal Life.

Transformation is BARDO in the Tibetan book of the dead.

Sacred India Tarot 10 of Arrows

For a quick preview on this topic, the SITA Ten of Arrows/Swords – sometimes considered the most destructive of the deck – shows the dying Bhishma transmitting the Laws of wise Kingship to his heir, Yudhishtara.  He achieves his true Dharma at last.   It is a point of change.  The whole of his chakra spine, pierced by ten arrows as he lies dying in his BARDO, awakes.

Wisdom is a conversation, never a monolog.

This story is from the Mahabharath.

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Correspondence: Rohit to Gautam – July 2003

“Feedback for Jane on Pentacles last cards … I really have nothing much to add about any of the cards as they are exactly what we need for the packs.  They are excellent work in no uncertain terms.  The Nine card may need to be flipped transversally, so that the Buddha is handing over the flower with his right hand instead of the left one, as that is regarded as culturally suspect.  But the composition itself is perfect, and any imaging system on any computer can easily do what we requre, so there is no problem there.”

(Jane: I seem to have managed to change his hands with the flower, myself.  I don’t recall doing this.)

“In the Ten card, I particularly like the addition of the turbaned man, as the death of the Buddha was a great loss to the common people as well as the monastic community too.  The serene withdrawal on the face, is remarkable.” 

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Tree tao

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Thus far, the creative process of those three Pentacles.

Wisdom is a conversation, as revealed in cards 9 and 10.  Awakened conversation is pragmatic and down-to-earth, never a mere “blissing out”.   Awakening participates in the universal Transmission … which never began, never ends, and is all ways.

In my next post after this one, I would like to share extracts from a Buddha awakening in my journal, early 1988.  There are sometimes glimpses into the transpersonal.   I had planned to attach it to 8,9,10 of Pentacles, but there is more of it than I thought, and even after editing and pruning, it is a bit long.

Here is something from it, experientially, which stays in my memory:

The Cosmic Note, February 1988  … a feel of space having been cleared as on a windy day, in relation to him as to everyone else.  My bad Karma has always expressed itself in terms of jealousy, isolation and the discomfort of ego’s performances.  Ego there is, but not jealousy.  The freedom is implied, to move around and be real. 

Splendid dream … which I cannot describe, as it was in another level altogether, but was in terms of being the actual Law of Life in the line-movement and shade of a drawing.  As I half woke, I heard a most extraordinary and wonderful note or cosmic tone, of the Universal Eternity.  It was outside time.  It rested and passed and faded like the long-resonating song of a bell.  

This turned out to be a passing lorry – every sound in all the worlds is the primordial atomic OM, and liberates for ever.  

Another vehicle or two gave a remnant of this imprint, or Voice, as did long tides of bliss in my being-body, but I was rapidly surfacing, so it was for an unending moment only.  How good.  Surely I will find it for ever.

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Do readers sometimes hear music of this kind, in their dreams?  Is this a common occurrence?  Please comment below, if you have.   The music or tonal integrity seems to arrive fully formed, from a spectrum far beyond my capacity.

21 musical j&d6..

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For other Sacred India Tarot posts, look under Recent Posts, or Archive of All Posts in the title bar.

Rohit Arya

Rohit Arya is an Author, Yogi and Polymath. He has written the first book on Vaastu to be published in the West, {translated into five languages} the first book on tarot to be published in India, co-authored a book on fire sacrifice, and is the creator of The Sacred India Tarot {82 card deck and book}. He has also written A Gathering of Gods. He is  a corporate trainer, a mythologist and vibrant speaker as well as an arts critic and cultural commentator. Rohit is also a Lineage Master in the Eight Spiritual Breaths system of Yoga. 

Earlier posts about the deck, including the first 15 Major Arcana archives are in http://aryayogi.wordpress.com   The deck is copyrighted (c) 2011 to the publishers, Yogi Impressions Books pvt, and available also on Amazon and internationally.

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Jane Adams

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 also 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). Watch this space.

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. 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/

Today is a Special Day

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1 snowdrops

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12.12.12 today … completes a series in the cosmic clock.  10 October 2010;  11 November 2011;  12 December 2012  –  but there is no 13th month!   Today is very special.

2 Kabbalah 1989 Binah

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This painting is called “Binah”, which means “the understanding”.  At the bottom is written BEREISHITH – the Beginning.  The Divine Child Genesis gazes into the dark profile of the aeons’ reflection, rising to complete the great Circle of the Light.

It is a fourth-dimensional image.

Many are our projections onto the 2012 solstice – the completion of the Mayan calender, the opening sphere of Aquarius.  The actual miracle of this moment passes almost unnoticed.  It is beyond our language, and independent of our drama.   Picture language draws near.  This recent Tarot oracle reveals the quality of a Now, and its past (left) and future (right.)   21 is Now, 12 inverts it, and 6 is half of the full 12 in The Lovers.   Through a silent night, holy night, the portal to each other opens.

5 Arcanum 6 Lovers

4 Arcanum 21 world

3 Arcanum 12 hanged man

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The Hanging Man (who walks contrary to the world) and The World are the two most profound Arcana of Completion in the alchemical process.   These two Keys portray the ascending and descending triangles of the Sri Chakra Yantra … and of the Shield of David, or Seal of Solomon.  Key 6, the Lovers, applies the understanding in Tifareth.   What a Fruit!

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6 lotus flower

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The mind stops and enters yabyum, the lovers.  A Rainbow Buddha is in the Tree of Life.  Time’s wheel strikes the moment.

Oracle of solstice. Ora, oasis approaches this year’s solstice.  This is profoundly real, striking the ora, hour, a moment through the clock’s face of Real Aquarius.   Alignment flows the ease of being.   The force is imperceptibly vast, like gravity.    What is gravity? – connectivity.

7 balsa boat

I carved this balsa boat for my grandmother’s birthday when I was 12 or 13, and packed it in a glass box with cotton wool.  The vessel goes on sailing through the clouds.  When she opened the gift, she said, “Annapurna in cumulus!”

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The child of the turning page (below), was drawn in 1954.

It is but the page which turns.  Read on;  breathe onward;  peace, the solstice blessing, as our unmoving axis turns the worlds.

8 child 1954

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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.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote also 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). Watch this space.

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. 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/

Human Landscape – a Portrait Gallery

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Following my portrait-gallery post, last June:

A collection of portrait drawings and paintings done many years ago.  Most of these were commissioned. Some photos of my old favourites, have lost their colour!  To view gallery, click on any image and wait for the carousel to upload.

Further down the page below the gallery, you can follow the artist’s story through the pictures.  Nowadays I do rather less portraiture, as other kinds of creative work engaged my concentration.   Portraiture was for me, a marvellous apprenticeship to humanity – a lifetime in itself.

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The first few portraits date from the 1970s …

1 Dave King portrait '73

Dave King, architect, Liverpool University.  His wife Sue was my neighbour and best friend – we laughed and cried so much together.  She died some years ago.

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2 Self portrait, 1973

A self portrait from the early 1970s.  I had a large bedsitting room in Greencroft Gardens, where I danced and painted, pained and partied.  In the background is the drawing below …

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3 Helen Ede in Edinburgh

… My grandmother, Helen Ede in 1974, at her final home in Jordan Lane, Edinburgh, with a view of the Pentland Hills through the tall window.   She rests in the middle of a sock for “Old Bonesie” (my grandfather).  She might be listening to Bach, or thinking of Hamlet and the open seas, or worrying lest there’s an earthquake at Reading.

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Sketch of Helen Ede

Another sketch of Helen Schlapp Ede …   she was archetypally beautiful, sour, sweet and fragrant.  All through her long life, male concert pianists fell in love with her.

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5 Beethoven plays

and an early study of Beethoven, bent over the battered keys as he tries to hear.

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6 Jim Ede in Edinburgh

This is Jim Ede my grandfather, in Jordan Lane.  In old age he exchanged his sartorial cottons for warmth, and sported quilted jackets, to my grandmother’s disgust – till she began to wear them too.

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7 Heidi in Autumn

Heidi in Autumn, painted in 1973, when she was only fourteen – a very old soul, and turning on.  To her right is a painting of my brother Simon, listening to Emerson, Lake and Palmer.

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Harcourt Curacao

Harcourt Curacao, a gent about town – circa 1982

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8 Chris Norman

An old farmer – Chris Norman, my father’s boss:  the chief manager of a group of Somerset farms owned by Showerings the babycham people.   His wife Hilary commissioned the portrait. The colour has faded from the old photograph.  He was tetchy and cross about having himself painted, but  I settled him in his den with the racing form and cigar, and the portrait was a success.  A farming or domestic matter alerts him – a trick to capture life.   As soon as the “connection” happened, I worked at tremendous speed.

There is a story about Karsh’s bulldog photo of Winston Churchill.  Carefully constructing the pose, lighting and psychological tension of the “smoking gun”, Karsh then reached forward, removed the great man’s cigar from his lips, and pressed the shutter.

In those days, I worked entirely from life.  This portrait of Chris took perhaps a long afternoon, leaving me exhausted and exhilerated.

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9 Teresa Keinan, Israeli Embassy

Teresa Keinan, at the Israeli Embassy – a very strong woman.  She found a spiritual satisfaction and serenity in doing the ironing and keeping a kosher house.  She said it relaxed and disciplined her taut, enquiring mind, and reminded her not to take life for granted.

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10 Joseph Yankson

Mr Joseph Yankson in West Hampstead – from Ghana.  The regal attire and the lion, were a happy touch.   A painting, a great mountain to climb – a conversation needing no words – a humanity.

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11 Mary Craig

Miss Mary Craig, headmistress of Bishop Fox’s School in Taunton, where I did my A Levels.  Years later I was commissioned to paint her on her retirement.  It was a privilege to spend some “adult time” with this woman of character, care and understanding, and to smile over old memories while she smoked.  I was a heavy smoker also.

The characteristic chaos behind her was set up by my sister, who collected “Miss Craig” objects from around our mother’s house in Somerset, and strewed them along the chest of drawers, to let them tell their story.  On the wall is an old map of Somerset.   The research for a portrait’s background is like a wander through google, or the antiques road show, the glee in whatever turns up.   We are each a “surface of the brain and heart” upon a vast hinterland.

Mary Craig at Wade Deacon School, circa 1952

Mary Craig at Wade Deacon School, circa 1952

This photo was supplied 13 February 2013 by Drey Cole, another old pupil.   To see our correspondence/Comments, click on the painting of her, to open.

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12 John Harley

John Harley at seventeen, listening to the Dark Side of the Moon (Pink Floyd).  He is now a gifted art teacher, Unitarian minister and youth worker.

I had great difficulty with this painting.  I unwisely sat him against the light – liking the effect –  with myself at entirely the wrong angle, groping in the dark.  One should have the same strength and quality of  light on the work, as upon the sitter, for it to flow.   But I get sparked off by what happens when the light shines “through the lamp”.

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12a Marisa

Marisa, about eight years old.

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13 bela hatvany

Bela Hatvany – an early computer genius and macrobiotic enthusiast.

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14 Sketch of F.Alan Cheales

Sketch of Father Alan Cheales, a natural rebel, and one of my early mentors.  He celebrated a childrens’ mass in the Aquinas centre at St Dominic’s, the “working mans’ cathedral” in South Hampstead.   He cared for scallywags and didn’t mind applying Christ’s teaching imaginatively.  He had strong gardeners’ hands, an actor’s presence, a commonsense compassion, and was much loved.

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15 F.Alan Cheales

This is the painting I did for Father Alan’s congregation – it hangs at Blackfriars Hall, St Dominics’.  Behind him is his “right hand lady”, Teresa Higgins, and the kids mill around while the grownups drink coffee.  Alan was a member of the Meister Ekhart Society, knew his Jung, and did not get on very well with his Bishop.   At Speakers Corner in his medieval white and black robes, they knew his ringing voice.  It was his spiritual frontline.  He – an Aries – loved hecklers.

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16 Eric Shipton

Eric Shipton, one of my early Himalayan heroes … on Nanda Devi or Everest in the 1930s.  Or he might be exploring a blank on the map, in the distant Karakorum.  Shipton disliked large expeditions.  He was an ardent and sensuous lover of remote topographic arcana “upon that mountain”;  finding ways along the  Shaksgam river to the legendary Snow Lake and Shimshal pass.  He travelled with Tilman, Auden and Spender (brothers of the poets) and a few Sherpa friends. No expedition into unexplored country was worthwhile, unless it could be organized on the back of an envelope.

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17 Mother and Daughter

Mother and child.  Her name was Andrea, and we became good friends, during this.  She was a successful interior designer.  This drawing captures for me, something of the miracle of being a mother.  The child is awake and fully formed:  her destination, still sheltered, at a right-angle to her mother’s:  the newness, and the parent’s slight loss of vitality.

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18 Little girl

Andrea’s daughter – very characteristic of my work with children in those days.  I worked very fast, and these two childrens’ portraits were done in perhaps 20 minutes each.  It was like being an athlete.  Children are easier than adults to draw, because they haven’t yet developed their masks.

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19 Young boy

A young boy.  Both photos have lost their colour and crispness.

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men, car and child

Men, car and child (1983).   My bundle of joy, of course.

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20 sketch general geoffrey 1

Sketches for a painting of General Geoffrey Howlett, commissioned by the Parachute Regiment in 1988.

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21 sketch general geoffrey 2

I spent about a week with my sitter, then brought the painting home to finish it over the next two months.  The General was living in Oslo.  I was flown there in the Queen’s aircraft from Northolt.   A small plane truly flies, tossed through the clouds;  frosty gins and tonics appeared;  the pilots let me sit with them in the cockpit for the spectacular Norwegian landing.

Winter was coming in;  the Scandinavian night sky – a brilliant violet-indigo depth among the stars and falling snow.  I lived it up with the diplomatic community in Oslo – a nightly circuit of joyous European dinner parties through every embassy in the city.  It was fun and far removed from brussels-sprout bureaucracy.  The guests’ gift-wrapped presents to their hosts were re-cycled next week, and never got opened.  Each embassy kept a quantity of them in the cupboard, pulling one out at random as soon as the furs were on, and the car at the door.

22 sketch general Geoffrey

When I painted someone, I became very close to their whole family, as I absorbed subliminal impressions into my visual archive, and listened to their anecdotes about my sitter.  It is a unique intimacy. It focuses on essences, loved ones, losses and family jokes:  a strangers’ privilege.   The artist is “alone”, and yet privy to what makes these persons tick, and in love with it all.   Then, like a gipsy, I packed up my gear and hit the road.   Sometimes we kept in touch.

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23 general Geoffrey Howlett

This is the last big portrait I would paint, for a very long time.  He is wearing his “blues” and all his gongs and insignia.  By 1988/89 I broke through the crust into my interior path’s dharma, and had begun to study Buddha, Kabbalah and Alchemy.  I got an extraordinary pleasure from painting General Geoffrey’s medals and gongs.  The details and symbolism were carefully researched, and to paint them was a meditation.  I applied the same attentive resonance later on to esoteric diagrams and sacred geometry.  The painting was three foot long – almost life size.

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24 Rosemary

This is Rosemary, head-teacher of a prestigious girls’ school in Kent.  This was commissioned for her departure, as she was head-hunted for a school in St Albans.  Again, the bulk of the painting was done from photos – in 2009 – and at my home.   I had a great deal of stress and trouble with it, though it came out well in the end, and the snowdrops are a tour de force.   Rosemary’s cross with a diamond in the middle “centres” the composition like a mandala – an axis for “toutes directions” through the window into the room.

I painted Geoffrey also as a mandala – the flow of vital expression around him is picked up by the brush and palette knife.   A painting is filled with living geologies.

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Jane Adams

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 also 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). Watch this space.

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. 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/