Watching Myself and Krishnamurti – Part Three

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Sacred India Tarot - Babaji landscape

Sacred India Tarot – Babaji landscape

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As many readers are aware by now, we in the UK have difficulty in accessing and posting in WordPress, for the last fortnight.  I only managed my last 3 posts with flexible patience and workaround – it keeps getting stuck in the website/internet-provider (any) interface. The connection gets dropped.  Engineers are working on the line, so to speak.   So if you have difficulty opening a wp blog, that is why. I wonder if this post will get through.  It slipped unexpectedly into my new Krishnamurti series, this morning in my journal:  the nature of the oracle, while butterflying around in K’s energy field.

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My dear Companion of the light!  All I write to you about these days, is housework.

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News:  I de-congested the tool cupboard yesterday, and sewed a long Velcro strip into the Cube which joins the Upper and South faces.   That was very hard work.  All it needs now are small fasteners for W/N and N/E edges.   I took “Little Jeep” (two wheels) for his free service at the bike shop.   It was hot and sticky, and rained in the night.   WordPress was very stuck yesterday.  I altered K’s ear (brought it a little closer) in the Dissolving the Star drawing, but couldn’t upload it.

You who are my Companion of the Light.   Where are we today?  What is the awareness?

Perhaps to sit quiet, but pictures roll out the ball to awake with.  Where does the ball come to rest?  This morning, let’s do a SITA oracle, as there is an enthusiasm in facebook for it – a new Indian friend.  Out comes the shrine-box with Babaji and the Himalayas – the water bringer from the skies.

Sacred India Tarot

Sacred India Tarot

Beloved Companion, what is our moment now?

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Just as I began cutting the deck with my left hand, I recalled that Manasi (in India) posted on f-book the Wedding of Siva and Parvati card, with Brahma in the shrine officiating;  and she said all the cards are doors opening into her inner temple – or something like that.

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Three cards –  who appears at centre?  Brahma the Emperor, card 4 – the same as in Siva and Parvati’s wedding, the 9 of lotuses.

In the BOTA deck, the Emperor portal leads us – via the Cube of Space’s northeast corner edge – into the interior diagonals which pass through centre, and open the inner enquiry of Life.   My handiwork on the Cube last night, brings this up for me.   It is a way in.   He echoes Babaji’s stance, but one leg descends to touch the ground-water, near the swans … like Buddha’s hand during the Enlightenment.

Sacred India Tarot 4 - Brahma

Sacred India Tarot 4 – Brahma

Brahma is seated on Vishnu’s naval-chakra dream:  Vishnu is the lotus root.

Brahma’s face looks like Krishnamurti’s, who was ‘in the Vishnu lineage’.   Brahma is a fountain – the fountain splashes into the dark blue sky behind his shoulders.   That is the feeling when my morning snake gently rises;  and where K burned when his different dimensions rubbed sparks together.

I read a post about Quetzalcoatl yesterday, and commented.   It is fascinating and inspirational.

The medium in front of Babaji is earth-ground, because he is of the skies.   The medium in front of the Emperor is a cool lake, because he is fiery. The ground in front of Babaji is cross sectioned through the soil, and is a rising wave.

The green-yellow landscape around and behind him, is fluid like the sea and sands, with wave crests.  It is very beautiful to be in the Indus civilization – the mystery of Saraswathi.   She – the SITA Priestess – is Brahma’s wife.   Swans float creamily around them both when the mind is lucid and quiet – the waters.  The ground.   The elements.

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Saraswathi with swans

Saraswathi with swans

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A lotus grows before Babaji:  on that same lotus, Brahma sits:  the lotus grows on a stalk from Vishnu’s navel:  Vishnu’s bed is the cosmic Serpent.  And just in front of the dreaming Vishnu-serpent-sleep, the ground where it meets the water, ripples and turns green – as the Babaji landscape.

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Sacred India Tarot 2, Saraswathi the High Priestess

Sacred India Tarot 2, Saraswathi the High Priestess

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The Emperor – Brahma Creator – bestows educated abundance.   His consort Saraswathi is a Vedic woman, before caste and social systems oppressed her.  She is at ease, coming through her golden sand-water environment like a supple snake with the ground it undulates along. It was in the days before the river dried up.

The backs of the SITA deck have this old-gold sadhu colour, with the Sri Chakra on them. Now turn over the card to the left – it is The World Shakti.  Her womb is the Sri Chakra, and she dances/is penetrated by a Sivalinga with a rising red snake from triple coil.   She fountains like the Emperor, and in her four palms are yoni-seeds.  Around her is a circle of six lotuses, the sixth one – she is with child –  being the Sri Chakra Yantra bindu:  the core of the Universe.

Sacred India Tarot - Babaji, Shakti, Brahma

Sacred India Tarot – Babaji, Shakti, Brahma

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The Elder Indian Mysteries are very beautiful.  We praise them, alive and singing, within the materialistic effluent of nowadays.   That jingly crust will pass;  the youth will reclaim its heritage and wonder. And now turn over the card to the right. How strange!   It is Rati Queen of Lotuses.   Originally, World Shakti was painted as the Queen of Lotuses:  Rohit moved her to Major Arcana 21, and asked me to paint a new card for the Queen – here she is.

Sacred India Tarot Shakti, Emperor, Rati

Sacred India Tarot Shakti, Emperor, Rati

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This is breathtaking.   The ‘apparent random’ of a triple cut, done three times across a deck of 82, unveils their artistic relationship – a unity.

Brahma the Creator, with Kundalini-Shakti to each side – the continuity – how does it feel?  Transcending my usual housekeeping and worldly worries, particles join together by that miraculous agency which ‘knows their story’. This demonstrates Reality – the contact which silences the talk.

Even at Brahma’s feet/foot touching the pool, the mirrored swans glide to meet each other as a heart shape forms. World Shakti gestates the Kundalini.  Queen Rati holds the snake easily, like a gown she is slipping off;  she might at any moment transform the snake to a hard bright arrow for her casually held bow.  She is pure shape shifter.

It is wonderful to behold the Mystery.   For me it is just another picture of K’s childlike amazement at the way things are, and his longing to ‘educate’ and ease peoples’ minds.

Behind the Mystery broods Babaji in his Himalayan earth-river.   Babaji is the “deity” of the deck – conduit of the whole pantheon, for the Sacred India Tarot.   In the background, ancient rivers descend through Himalayan foothill strata:  he is their recollected Consciousness.

The recollected Consciousness is a shape shifting clarity … now.   It has no thing, and everything.  It is transparent.   All the books wrote of it, and it has no book, the pages dissolve to a fountain afresh.   Krishnamurti and Ramana talked of it, and taught Self enquiry.   We must do our own, for the doors to open.

The SITA deck tells stories in a magnificent way, as in Rohit’s book with the deck.  A peep into the pile under each of the three cards delivers further vivid symbolism and narrative.   While awakening itself is unfurnished – the Here and Now, the wave of the sea in my face –  my subconscious child loves pictures.  They are portals to the interior Temple.   With that awe and beauty, my nature falls silent.   The Cube falls open into the Great Rose – and who ever heard a Rose say anything?

O Rose Cross, thou art a Kiss – the kiss of Life. When I cradled and watched my newborn daughter’s face, there was silence and space and love.  This is the connection.  The eternal bond with and as the Self, makes parents of us all.

prince george alexander louis

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The heart of Krishnamurti’s teaching is a warm silence, companioning a friend.   Again and again he repeated – do you stop to look at the flower, or hear the bird, without naming it?

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Following J.Krishnamurti

Following J.Krishnamurti

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Here is the FACEBOOK link to the Sacred India Tarot page ….  https://www.facebook.com/SacredIndiaTarot?fref=ts

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

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/

Watching Myself and Krishnamurti – Part Two

These 3 sketches are of K not long before he passed away

This sketch  – see also the end of this post – is of K not long before he passed away

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Continuing this month’s reflections with K – a fertile ground.

 1 Krishnamurti profile

From Journal – 9 July 2013

I try not to deny things, and often labour the point, as I write.   I have no cotton wool for my precious preserve and self image.   In life I struggle along, at basic psychology level, trying to turn to face the music, face the current – the soul’s welcoming.  

Now picture the current;  the onrush of water in a canal after the heavy lock gate loosens – that surge comes towards me, I look at it directly, stand still, unrestricted;  and my breath slows down and opens to the abstract core of the event – its nuance and feeling.

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Pithy tree of Life

Pithy tree of Life

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 My manner is not firm enough.  My manner is conciliatory and seeks to understand, until certain buttons are pushed – then fury.   Behind the incipient fury, I cannot be firm.  There is fear and vocal paralysis.  There is scar tissue – pre-judging – and the damage that does.  The human spooks in my nature – spanners in the spokes – are powerful, and only change with painful slowness.  They go back further than my conscious reach.   They are subconscious.

WHAT IS THE COLOUR OF THIS SITUATION? THIS FEELING?  The trigger?  Good question!   Practice what I preach.   Feels dark, somewhere between indigo and brown.

Keeping still with my trigger, is trans-formative: awareness without chat-camouflage.   The Light – pale primrose white – enters my dark cave with the Thirty Verses, Quintessence of Instruction.  (See earlier post, The Mythology behind the Thirty Verses.)  Read them carefully.

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The Ferret and the Himalayas

I finished reading Lives in the Shadow.  I guess any luminary or work with the Light carries a quota of Shadow in life.  Ramana had his devotees and the cauliflower on his arm.   Accept the shadow.  I know what mine is.

Krishnamurti’s shadow was his fear of telling the truth – a furtive boyhood thing, as he was punished at school.   It grew into paranoia, and the meticulous Rajagopal became a spook.   The paranoia grows like a tumour on failure to be truthful to a close friend.   Paranoia believes in lies, especially in one’s own.   Messengers of light carry big shadows in the bag.

Here is a story, as I see it at present:  In the Californian Ohai valley, Rosalind, Rajagopal and Krishna, with young Radha, were a brave and lovely ship a-sail. It took its chances.   The ship’s course was inevitable, given the souls they were, their sensitivities and their place and period.  The shadow in the combination escalated due to Krishna’s human frailty and messianic mission“I”, which won’t declare itself.  He consigned his personal i to the unconscious, he said it has no existence or memory.   So it grew in there, unregarded and developing its data base, until the decades of enmity happened – and the vast legal costs – the waste.  Different astral bodies inhabited Mr K, like the continents he roosted in.

In 1910 when K was a thin boy in Adhyar, the Theosophist Charles Leadbeater caught sight of him on the beach, perceived a pure ‘egolessness’ in his aura, and groomed the boy to be a Vehicle for the Messiah, Maitreya.   In 1928 – his Saturn return – K rejected this role and declared “Truth is a pathless land.  I want no followers.  Be the disciple of your understanding.”

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GALLERY – I have been a little hesitant in including this 1987 sequence.  It seems rather disrespectful, but it tells the truth.  I was hopping mad with K in those days, and with the way I felt his Speaker had hijacked my parent and made me mute.

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In 1986, when K died, his fear and fantasy around the Rajagopals was unresolved. During  the same period and after – due to paternal preachings against the “I” in my childhood – I felt K was my enemy.  K remained my “enemy” until I learned about him through reading Mary Lutyens’ books, which Bruce Macrae Smith gave me.   What an extraordinary tale!  With a joyous appreciation of him, and of my father’s path and its perils, I forgave.  I discovered myself.  

Lives in the Shadow published five years later, was a further exposure.   It was rich, to love K’s truth and be simultaneously heartbroken with his lies.   He lost his way with his loved ones, but he went on Talking.   The vehicle went on Talking round the world – nothing stops that – and being well tuned.   He died feeling isolated.  He said in a rather crackpot way that a great force or Master lived in him during his life time, and would not return to humanity for hundreds of years;  because no one had understood or was able to practice his teaching in life.   He suggested it had all been a wasted effort.  This was an arrogant pathos in the old man.  He forgot the many he loved and who loved him, behind the Shadow, and who practice his teaching.   He is human.

To this day I both love and am irritated by him.   It is a mixed and vivid emotion with the pampered Speaker whose influence bombarded my teenage years – (“I ?  What can you mean?”).   It is full of landscape, light and acceptance.  At the 1974 Brockwood gathering (a series of 3 posts), I observed that I and other souls fall passionately and painfully in love with each other around K – the disturbance in his energy-field.  I knew the laceration of the nerves.   When I – much later – read about his process in the spine and head, everything fitted into place. 

The vehicle for World Teacher does not dissolve when he cuts the ribbon of the Order of the Star.  It becomes “en-ghosted” and powerful – kundalini discharges through his stem like a marginalised fairy godmother.   There were two or more agendas in full flower, from the deep Karmic past.   K’s template was Conflict.   He spoke always of Conflict and of Fear:  and of the tide whose seamless movement in and out, has in it “the essence of conflict, which is peace“.  I think he felt that speaking of conflict and fear “together” with his listeners, might dissolve the tendency in himself.   I used to believe – similarly –  that the transmission through my journal/writing, keeps me out of trouble.

Well, spirituality is not a safe straitjacket!   The contact highlights life – sharper and sometimes more distressful than ever.  You take it as it comes, or you pile on yet more light, to hide it.   I know how easily I hide behind lies and evasions.

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Worshing a deity and making him cross

Worshiping a deity and making him cross

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K’s life and failures are an extraordinary and illumining lesson for me.   He is among my most precious Stones in philosophy – the love of wisdom.   Radha’s book – he was her other daddy – gives his full flavour, tooth and nail – like a Californian orange in the sunshine:  and how like him in many ways my daddy was, when I was growing up.   I chuckle at the familiar mannerisms.  Peter began to follow K’s teaching in about 1961, when K first spoke in London.

K loved children.  He was a child himself.

As K grew old, and more shielded by devoted friends and adherents, the fruit turns a little sour – there is a sour vacancy in his eyes, his presence and his vanity.   So I am making marmalade!

My parents have a shadow which is very difficult for them both to reach through, and talk of.   They are close friends, but the tension is there.   I have many things which are desperately hard to say.  They wriggle away under a rock when I try to find them.

So K’s life with the Shadow illustrates something we all have, especially when we are trying to grow up and become more human, more open, more truthful.   The personal-i is a wounded ferret.  She thrives on gaps in consciousness:  she slips out of sight – she thrives on my spiritual spells to deny her existence.   She is always here, popping up for a good wail, or – her favourite hobby – sewing Shadow coats for unsuspecting folk who try hard.

So this moment itself I wait by her hole – the ferret’s hole – to catch her by the nose and tail.   Not punitively:  but to see her coming into the light.   She is “I” – the toothy predator, like a furry snake.   How she shines, silvery on the ground at dawn.   At the ferret’s hole, I try to remain attentive – to catch her when she manufactures Shadow and does her Talk-stuff and practices fear.   I.   I.

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Finding a furry snake

Finding a furry snake … between a waterfall and piano keys.

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Self enquiry awakes response-ability at Home.   The quest ultimately dissolves personal i into a wide-angle-lens cosmic I:  the un-altered being.   Ramana’s teaching of Self enquiry reveals my vasanas.   It is their nature to come up:  and Self enquiry observes them, like the Buddha does, dispassionately.   None of the great Teaching Rivers diverge from the Source.

In K’s Shadow, he grew to resent so much his early teachers and protectors, that he couldn’t see this.

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7 K2 photo by fosco maraini

K2, photo by fosco maraini

Now, as I get my Himalayan glimpse – the Source of the Rivers – my ferret gets the chance to scurry out of sight again.   The trick is to hold them both in the view – ferret and Himalayas.   The i and the I … “two dudes agree not to fight over the steering wheel” – thank you, Jeff!

Meditation watches the ferret – at any time of the day or night.   Watch the road.

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And watch the spiritual camouflage!  Be cosmic-carrot mindful:  the interior stars in the stem, as gravitational centre ground.   The carrot is not in the sky, but in the Earth: and orange like California oranges and the Sun.

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Consulting the ‘secret dakini orace’ uncovers my thought – a present moment – in picture form.  This one shows an armouring, a goal and a letting go.   The cosmic carrot has the chakras on it:  kundalini’s wheels.   Taking up Arms is the god Krishna, about to rescue the dharma.

dakini oracle "cosmic carrot"

dakini oracle “cosmic carrot”

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And “Cutting Through” is a way also of going through, with relative ease.  Or being passed through …

Canal Lock Gate

It is hard to see through
our wounds tending to meet each other.

Love waits
for waters each side to level,
the deep gate to open
for the passing through
deliciously.

from “Homer Rows” 2004

Have faith in and value the effort which living takes, along the canal – don’t worry about all the creative projects I am not doing.   Remember – I have a limited idea of cosmic time, depth and management.  I am the small dent in the rim of the jug, through which it pours.

I achieved two more drawings of Ramana yesterday (i.e. 8 July) – with great difficulty – and the post about the Thirty Verses delighted a few readers.  Alan of course was thrilled. The thirty verses themselves are SO BEAUTIFUL.   I feel more “certain” or sure of my home ground, when working with the Ramana elder window and its teaching.   This is not surprising, as the only position of authority I ever held, was Hon.Sec.Treasurer of Ramana Foundation in the 1990s, and editor of Self Enquiry.   With this role, I was ignorant and bossy.

The difficulty with spiritual teaching, is carburettor management.   Little i gets a rest when big I flows:  but afterwards, the engine is flooded.   This leads to depression or inflation.

Centre Sefiroth in tree of life.  Tifareth is the conscious Self or observer.  The path connecting Yesod (personal self) to Hod (mind) is coloured orange, and has on it the tarot key The Sun.

Centre Sefiroth in tree of life, with tarot keys on the paths. Tifareth(Beauty) is the conscious Self or observer. The path connecting Yesod (personal self, Foundation) to Hod (mind, splendour) is coloured orange, and has on it the tarot key The Sun.

Tifareth in the heart of the Tree – the Sun growing oranges – receives and feels EVERYTHING.

Facing Fear … a big fish is swimming up, which I have refused to deal with.   It is the attitude of we humans to our various Nemeses. Consider this, as if I wanted to attack Iraq, faced my fear, and then took wise counsel not to.   Consider this, like all the meddling in the middle east – what we brits and eus and uses raised against us, and among itself internecinely, because we could not see the picture, we just saw the oil and the wealth rising and started to engineer barricades and frontiers among the old desert tribes.

Doesn’t this happen in any relationship ?

Watch the attitude.   And make peace here to begin with, by being conscious.  Various wild cards drift among my inner cities.  Recognise them.   Then there is dignity.

BOTA key 20

There is an interior condition of co-existence which does not snag and snarl.  Remember in my body which is alchemy, the sunlight, the Hermit’s black dragon, the chyle, the red and white soldiers, the arterial roads and the cities.   It is all the play and tension of life, the truly broad band, the ferment perpetually, through my body’s standwave, as the same ferment in all places. (Perpetual Intelligence = Key 20, red cross).  Look at my box-side placards of Fear.  I fantasize my End, my closed-upness.   What a fake thought, a fantasy, that is!   Stand up tall, and leave the coffin.

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20 judgement - Version 2

Krishnamurti all his life, faced and discussed Fear.   He acted from fear when he and Rajagopal fell out – it was deeply rooted, and deeply painful for them both.  But his way of observing Fear, is my Lighthouse.  Fear blinkers me in friendships, but I try to remember K’s view, and to face the music.   The observer is the observed.

There was a wonderful beauty in K’s early life and mature manhood, and it isn’t altered by the more crooked landscape it became.  When I saw him in ’74, he was already bent a little to one side, as if by the denial of his shadow in California, and the strange way that he was cruel to it.  The shadow built up substance each side of the pond, as KWINC and Krishnamurti Foundation consolidated their separate boxes of enlightened non-organization, argument and admin.

We humans face our species-poison, every which way.   And yet the weather today is clear and beautiful.

The insight when it opens, is the river, the river, the river, the teeming magnificence of the Light and Shadow and all the baggage:  and ways to navigate, in the stern-spine:  the tiller of the contemplation, the rock and the sway, the flood and flotsam, the Darkness shot with stars.

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boat yoga spine crab

boat yoga spine crab

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Then my body relaxes, and there comes a natural Yogic slow breath, like the sea.

Ramana Maharshi never said to force things.   Of course we as human life carry almost more poison than we can bear.   Yet still we are life, and we remain consciously alive, if we just manage not to set up riot shields against things we fear, and create enemies.  Krishnamurti taught me that I am what I consider to be “the world”.   It begins here, not out there.  Facing the fear is Liberation – the cup turning over:  raising the glass.   This has a knock-on effect through my interior cities – the organs of life.

The fears are legion – including armies of harpies, judgements, lacerations and so on.   In the middle ages, penitents had no alternative but to lash their own backs.   Have I not seen time and time again, that what I fervently know is right, I most often fail in?  And don’t we see teachers with their private difficulties?  Isn’t it the fate of idealists, and of priests and politicians?

Evolution is slow.  It isn’t easy to trust it.  The one all encompassing lifetime on the job, is a particle in a string of raw pearls.

My vital energy is often in a depleted state, either that or “normal”.   It doesn’t go manic, these days.   Sometimes it stresses out, adrenally, or when trying to troubleshoot.   The energy bank is not a graph which determines my health.  I see now, that when I have no energy, it means my body and psyche need to rest, and have no choice.   A real soldier isn’t rushing around with shield and spear.   A real soldier stands at ease, and guards.   A soldier observes the field, like a lion after his nap.

To sum up:  refrain from making enemies.  The great beauty of K’s liberation when he was young, would be and is a life long intense struggle:  the upkeep with his body.  That is the way it interacts with earth-beings.   So he had to speak and speak and travel and create schools to educate young children – the urgency in his eyes and fluttering hands.   He needed to work it out, again and again and again, through the inertia.

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K with pupils at Rishi Valley school

K with pupils at Rishi Valley school

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Well this is all interesting and unexpected, and reassures me because it rose without my volition but of its own accord with my willingness to face a certain machine and not run away again.  When it rises of its own accord, it is the Magid, with a higher, deeper view of the country.

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13 dakini 44, 34, 54

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Dakini oracle 34 THE LINEAGE TREE, with Unicorn to the right and Heart Drop to the left,  doesn’t show any wild cards rushing around.    Heart Drop illustrates the ancient, flowing, white-sand hinterland to the stupa and the ruby.   The Lineage Tree is the buddha’s rainbow body – the Self.  The Unicorn in the tree is sanctuary.

Often when we consult the Magidim or the Oracle, we don’t see the Truth, but what we wish to see and hear.   … like the Theosophists with K.  On the other hand, the still, small voice in the well which is peace, tends to reveal a True condition below any surface melodrama.

Reading about Krishnamurti –  the Mary Lutyens books now – is illumining.  It was as much my spiritual path as my father’s.   It formed my thought.   It presented the Vedas and Ramana and Buddha in a language of here-and-now intense enquiry … outside the puja parlour.   K’s meditation was to walk in the country or by the sea;  to explore the deep sculpture of his sacrament – the thought – sacred beyond any definition.  He was set up by the Theosophists for thousands, millions, to flock to hear and read him:  and so he cast off the knitting and became the needles.

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14 K on the sands

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The dakinis of Buddha in tree, unicorn in tree and heart-ruby in front of a Tibetan stupa, are the Battery of the soul, lit up.

This post is inspired by K, and also by things which other bloggers write, along similar lines.  The lighting up of the battery (see comments on The Lighthouse Keeper part One), diminishes the small-i of its own accord.   Give attention to the current rather than to the so called problem and its literature.  All problems lead to the Current, which is why teachers and sages ask for questions, to get them going.  It is why K travelled around the world to give talks, rather than stay quietly in one place.  Great souls include the currants in their cake!

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K at a last talk in Saanen

K at a last talk in Saanen

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Attention, as K might say, is to the river of life, among whose waters the small troubled “i” floats. 

Many years ago, my father caught sight of K with a little old lady in a sari.   She was distressed.  He – himself a little old man – took her to a window seat, sat her down with him, with his arm around her, and ignored everyone else.  He encircled and heard her with his merry brown eyes, his gentle laughter and his total, eager attention.   This says it all.

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16 krishnamurti at gstaad

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For other posts on K, see under Categories in the sidebar – ‘Krishnamurti and Coastal Path’.

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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

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/

Watching Myself and Krishnamurti – Part One

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K at Brockwood gathering, 1974

K at Brockwood gathering, 1974

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This series of posts continues last year’s Krishnamurti and Coastal Path sequence –   which you will find under Catagories in the sidebar.   Krishnamurti is perhaps the deepest and most prevailing influence in my life.   I want to go on watching and walking with him in my blog.   Actually, these thoughts should be titled “Watching Myself and my Father and Krishnamurti.”  Peter went to K’s first UK gatherings in Wimbledon in the early 1960s, and returned to Somerset all fired up.  I was eleven or twelve at the time.  My teens were dominated by his teacher K, whose iconoclastic thoughts he practiced on his family at mealtimes.   Thus, my difficult windows to life were kept wide open – a love-hate paradox of awakening.   

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The Refugee with a Silver Spoon

I’ve been reading Lives in the Shadow with JK.  This book was lost for a year, then I found it in a cupboard.   K is my “spiritual thriller” again – next I can re-read the books by Lady Emily and Mary.   I wanted last year, to complete the Watching Krishnamurti series, with a post based around the shock of Lives when it plopped into our pond in 1991/2.  It was during the early days of Ramana Foundation UK.  I think the best raw material for this post, might be the letters my father and I wrote to each other about it.

It is a pity Radha Schloss doesn’t quote any of K’s letters to her mother directly – just relays what was in them.  Perhaps there was a legal knot there, which K or Rajagopal (her father) would have tied up tight in KWINC (Krishnamurti Writings Inc).

I just reached where the K/Rajagapol quarrel starts to be particularly distressing and breaks the heart.  How fragile and easily poisoned are peoples’ lives in the soul.   I feel scant sympathy for K during it.  He was being wagged by his Theosophical training, which he denied.   He talked all the time about Fear, and he couldn’t turn to face his own fear process, it was somehow barred to him.  He couldn’t face Amma Besant in his background.   He lied to Rosalind and to his loved ones.   The early training as the Vehicle, would fracture him into two or three continental particles without a communal nucleus to bond them.

K with his 'theosophy parents' Leadbeater and Mrs Besant

K with his ‘theosophy parents’ Leadbeater and Mrs Besant, late 1920s

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K experienced life so intensely, that the memory base for situations and countries he was not standing in right now, had no relevance.

It makes no difference to the wisdom he often spoke, and his tender observations on relationships which inspire me to this day.  I said to my father once that people want the icing on the cake without the currants, sugar and flour of the cake itself.   That is how people regard spirituality – anaemically.   Now I have the whole fruitcake!

Lives in the Shadow:  Lives in the Soul:  the bow-wave builds up an enormous contrary force, when there is denial somewhere.   I don’t mean just denial of the love affair with Rosalind Rajagopal, which in those days had to be handled discreetly.  I mean the denial and refusal – or inability – to face his friends and tell the truth about many things:  also the way he – or the compromised Avatar through him – manipulated the sugar icing.

It is the old story of power and everyone deferring to him, believing him to be beyond reproach.   What is the end result?   Henry VIII, Head of the Church, in some form or other!

K was a lonely man when he died.   He thought no one had understood what he said.  He cut himself off from hearing the truth with souls who were close to him.   It was his destiny, Maitreya trained; his hatred for Theosophy was understandable.   It made him unable to reconcile his revolutionary teaching with what the Vedas say eternally.   It cut the roots.   Wherever he went, he was a refugee with a silver spoon.  The silver spoon is the primordial and ageless wisdom.   He could not and would not cast it away.   He expected everyone else to cast it away, and to follow him.

Here follows my father’s poem –  Follow My Leader!

In childhood’s time
we form in a line
and love to play follow my leader. 

As youth comes on 
we sing the same song
and still play follow my leader. 

Sisters and brothers, 
fathers and mothers, 
all love to follow a leader.  

This fact in our life 
leads often to strife, 
for a wise man is seldom a leader 

and he who follows
knows only the shallows; 
his is the way of a pleader.

They only are strong 
who break from the throng
and make life itself their teacher. 

So if you would 
be a real man alive, 
please listen to this, gentle reader: 

Stand on your own, 
face life alone 
and never play follow my leader.

Peter  Adams
North Devon, 1980s

There is “an independent science“.

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Peter & Jane  copy

And here, in 1992, is some correspondence.  Peter wrote to me:

“Have finished the Radha Schloss book.  It was quite a shock, but good to have read it.  Shock not in K’s affairs with women (I had guessed this, and was aware on an interchange between him and a lovely Indian girl sitting by me once in Wimbledon), but in his deceptions and fears and anger, and in that ridiculous and protracted and unseemly court case.  But if you look at some of the early and late photographs, you can see it all there – an arrogance in youth, and an old woman’s petulance in age.  So it was his Karma you might say, which he did not master. 

“I think Radha did not quite understand him about memory.  You cannot blot memory out, but by disregarding and not using it, it rusts, becomes dulled.  When K said he had no memory, he meant he did not pull it out, look at it, use it.  It was there, but quiet, and so in time very faded.  What he meant was that memories of childhood had for him no significance.  Sensitively written on the whole, and certainly a very just squaring of a very fancy picture.

“It is much to her credit that Radha made nothing of the late Mary Zimbalist affaire, of which she could have been very bitter, as Mrs Z took over her old home and re-vamped it in very expensive style.  Radha only refers to her as Mrs ——- which I thought was admirably restrained.   Love to you and all – Peter.”

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I wrote back:

“… re Radha Schloss and Krishnaji’s memory!  – Yes, he didn’t pull it out & look at it, also I feel that the dimension of Krishnaji as a whole outside Time, put forth pseudopodia or parts of K-self into time, and Time is a fragmenting situation.

“Consciousness (my view) has great difficulty in remaining integrated in the context of Time which is generated by the world (and which is so easily upset.)  Consciousness forgets parts of itself, as if those parts don’t exist, because Krishnaji-Consciousness cannot be wholly present in the temporal form.  So not only did he not use memory, but also symptomatically he appeared to deceive people, because he couldn’t remember or wasn’t interested in who they or others individually were, or had done on this or that side of the ocean.  The In-tense is HERE.  So this caused confusion and conflict around him.  Though – interestingly – he maintained a continuum of constant letter writing between different regions of the world, with the Lutyens, with Rosalind, with various others.  It reminds me a little of Jim Ede’s mania of correspondence – Jim and K born in the same year more or less, there were 4 planets in Gemini including Pluto – an awful lot of letter writing in the sign of the Twins! 

“The Consciousness generates local conflict as a sort of breaking of the water or molecular lattice of life.  K – most remarkably I feel – undertook to be in a relationship with conflict, and stayed in the thick of it all:  the dense Western mindset.  He didn’t retire off to a cave and loincloth, as he many times wished to do (romantically perhaps).

K dissolves the Order of the Star, late 1920s

K dissolves the Order of the Star, late 1920s – “I maintain that truth is a pathless land...”

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“The court case K v Rajagopal, agonizing and futile as it is to read about (it made me cry) is an instance of the discomfort of life and consciousness when mixed.  The pain pangs in the very long term, bring forth Fruit.  K had an enormous interest in conflict.  He stayed with and in it, as with a wild animal, looking into it.  I feel that everyone involved in the case was stretched to their own capacity.  I found it painful but very salutary to read this book.  It gave an added depth to my K picture.  It showed me how saintliness is forcibly projected onto people like K – and it limits them grotesquely.

“But the measure of greatness or truth is not success or being ‘totally pure’, for these are value judgments.  There is the whole impact of K –  his thereness – which made me feel much compassion with him, and with everyone who knew him – including myself by proxy, because I feel what happened in every life which contacted his.

“There is some strange, long-term alchemy in K being dropped into the waters of the dark century – this era.  How could he not generate upheaval and white waters?  What do people want, the icing on the cake?  In myself, it was (with difficulty) to hold simultaneously the treasure-distillation of K, with the monstrous pain of that litigation … as TRUE.

“So I’m very glad to have shared this book with you, because it seems many people flung up their hands in dismay – just as they did when he cut the theosophical umbilicus.   They wanted to see only one side of the cube – But there are 6 sides …

“Have you noticed that K’s head shape bears a remarkable resemblance (type) to representations of Siva and Buddha?   Much love from Jane.”

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K at Rishi Valley

K at Rishi Valley

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Peter replied,

“Interesting is what you say about only parts of a total consciousness precipitating in time, and therefore never a whole functioning.  This would suggest considerable discomfort and tension, even conflict.  I have not your fascination for reincarnation or other lives of being conscious, being too pre-occupied with somehow trying to live accurately now, and to come to grips with the facts;  but I would love to know.  

“Perhaps I left an important part up there or down there, and am finding it difficult to manage.  As I said to Mary when she mentioned I seemed to be making some progress –  I really need to, because I started much further down the ladder than most!

“Yes – you could say Peter is an alchemist, in that realising that everything is the expression in different ways of the same energy, he is basically given to trying to transmute base energy into higher energy.  That is the human task.

“I like very much what you write about K.  Very perceptive, although I never gathered from anything that he ever wanted to retire to a cave and a loin-cloth.  Quite the reverse.  His dialogues with people were meat and drink to him, and speaking/teaching was life or living for him. 

“Yes he was interested in conflict as a human problem, but I am still astonished how easily he seems to have become involved himself.  I do not follow this.  Was it an attempt at a crucifixion?  an experiment?  a mistake?  Or did it just happen?  He does seem to have ridden on a very wobbly bicycle a lot of the time.

“I really like your challenge – ‘what do people want, the icing on the cake?’ – that is good.  Few people can stomach real cake, they have not the digestion. 

“Yes – there is a resemblance to the portrayals of Gautama.  Large, finely shaped ears with prominent lobes are one of the body marks of a Buddha, as are the finely chiselled features and the rounded limbs – the rather effeminate body.  I was interested in the photograph in the Radha book of K at the sea holding a sunhat behind his head – breasted and rounded, he might almost be woman.  And like most men with much woman in them, he craved the company of women – not just physically, but because woman is profounder, more direct, more in contact with fundamental energy. 

“Yes – I am pleased to have read the book, which has given me a plateful of cake with the icing I have always carried about.   

“By the way, somewhere I think in one of the Commentaries, he just mentions that he is walking on that path that was once trodden by ‘the greatest teacher of them all.’  I believe K was much influenced in his early studies, by the teaching of the Buddha – his teaching fundamentally is Zen Buddhism, and I have wondered (I am sure he wondered) if he was an incarnation of the Buddha.  This frequent talk of his being the vehicle for a tremendous energy sent down to earth, puts him in line with the Gurdjieff teaching of Higher Beings trying to direct and influence humans, which all links up with the Catholic speaking of angels and spirits.   In fact, quite a lot of my discarded – but still there – early (Catholic) teaching I find turns up in one form or another in quite astonishing places.  Wouldn’t K be surprised!

“The last book of dialogues I bought, and am just launched into, is terrific stuff.  A great deal of very direct, punchy talk, right from the centre.  It is as good as anything.  You must read it. 

“Have just done 3 days sitting quite successfully (vipassana).  Some interesting things came up.  They don’t stay with me, but the affect does.  It is significant.  The legs protested and were often an agony.  The body is a mixed blessing, but is here to be loved.  I do not find we are anything without it.”

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Peter at Ventonwyn - 1956

Peter at Ventonwyn – 1956

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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

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/

The Lighthouse Keeper – Part Two

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tintagel merlin

 

17 July                         PART TWO

I discover some thoughts in blogland which convert the esoteric learning curve and fascination, to Humanness, compassion, right living, mindful presence … which is what they truly are. They are atomic particles from a goldmine – the miners in the mountains, as the alchemists say.   Language slips away, into the hard graft, the Way of Life and love.

And I find another post, on moderation – enrich your life with simplicity, enjoying technology efficiently, but without excess.  The wealth is here and now.

I try to stay near the Hermit, for he is easy to visit across the starry water, and to find, and to cool my mind.  Enoch and the Well – see the post before “the Lighthouse Keeper part One” – was a profound contact.

The Hermit’s cottage is earth lined;  walls are minimally dressed, a plaster wash maybe, stone-flagged floor, and bits of rug.  When I go inside from the sunlight, I can just see an open fireplace for the kettle, and the table which sages and teachers have – the noble grain is scrubbed white.   There’s a bench and possibly a chair or two.   Enter this room at any moment, without even crossing the water:  a brief impression of the lake in my mind.   I am here, within the summer drone of outdoors.

9 hermit - Version 3..

The Hermit is my Tarot Arcanum 9, and sometimes he looks like this.   He doesn’t  reveal too much.  Impression of a person of great delicacy, able hands.   His presence is a sweet altitude in my breath.

When I drew him in my Arcana in 1991, I was giving up smoking.  His is the Tarot of the Will: the deep impenetrable power which picks up life and helps to overcome old addictions, however painful it is to do so.

There is an absence of the sharp smoker in my breath;  an absence of other attachments also, as they wore away.   They become light cloths or rags – the sun burnt holes in them –  they do not matter.  Yet I feel a little bereaved of my romantic intensity. Sometimes there is a “flip-flop” – as Ramesh Balsekar would say – to a momentary surface sceptic, who lost that fuel, and feels tired.

The Hermit is the well:  the well of depth, delicacy, wonder and becoming.   His blue cap is YOD – I need the concentration.   I get scattered easily.

bota key 9 hermit

I cannot see many disciples rowing across the lake with groceries for him, but I suppose he has them.   Each is like myself, and feels uniquely connected.   He is yet Self- sufficient – our sense of “all-oneness” alone.   Between the physical and subtle worlds, he doesn’t need much to eat.  Like Master R, he is fueled by oats, honey and fresh water.   I am sure he keeps hens too.   He keeps bees and makes strong cider from his fruit trees.   He is actually quite busy.  Profoundly Virgoan, he manages to grow and grind enough oats and wheat for his bread.  There is some for visitors.  He is busy! – he is a smallholder.   Yet he has the gift of the Magidim, to increase his present supply – the well never empties.   He handles in this Way, the physical environment, by touch.   I can learn everything from this, bringing it back to accompanying my loved ones.

He is maintained physically through his well fed students.   We give him manifestation.

(There is a high Law in Creation (Beriah), which in the lower astral worlds (Yetzirah), gets perverted to vampirism.   Vampirism is not just the Dracula tales of old. It rampages through relationships, the media and the commercial world in the collective subconscious, and generates imbalances.  Its fuel is ignorance and greed).

But the Law between student/disciple and the Inner-plane being, is the Law of love – a two-way current of regeneration.   As Ramesh Balsekar used to say, there is no Guru until the devotee discovers and makes him so.   Guru manifests in dialogue.  Guru takes shape and eternal fluid form, according to the desire for interior peace.   Guru is not a person.  Guru is a sanskrit word, meaning “dispeller of darkness.”

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Magid

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The interior contact established, is Antakharana or pipeline for the Maestri.   It is the conduit whereby an electron orbit of life, jumps to a higher one.  Through Daat – union on the Tree of Life – the quantum leaps.  Profound distress is often the prompt.   Out of the depth we cry to thee, and we leap.

When we find Guru, the dispeller of the dark, we pray together.  That means, there is an interior birdsong, the light of the Holy One … through the sap of each tree in the countless forest.   My Hermit’s eyes are amused; sometimes blue and sometimes brown.

“Find what you are gifted in, which no one else does, or is;  and develop that.”
Peace Mercutio!   and gratitude.

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Swan of Brahma

Swan of Brahma

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Now I love the Hermit, who is Hermetic mercury.   He combines in his fragrant person, the Cube, the staff of Asclepius (one snake), the caduceus (two snakes) and all those quivers of the quick silver.   The highest region of alchemical mercury is the golden cube Tattva in the Sahasrara lotus “above my head”.   The nectar is collected in the third eye, which bows like a swan through Sushumna, to the heart.   My heart is a Sun with wings.   The staff materializes down through the lower chakras, and meets like a root, snake-entwined – the lovely Kundalini.   It is silent.

Sacred India Tarot Queen of Staves - Radha Ma Svaha

Sacred India Tarot Queen of Staves – Radha Ma Svaha

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Kundalini awakening opens inexhaustible secrets of the Universe.  They burst up through my column in a fountain of “write”.   There is no end to the play of the Fountain – the j h v h pulse.    As I grow older, I discover the silence is all the secrets of the Universe, and nearer than my breath.   Access to them – the key – can be turned to love or to self-inflation:  to Life or to live-backwards which is evil.   Of themselves the Mysteries are neutral – they get converted to human feeling and to Old Issues, expediently.   There is no end to Nature’s cosmic abundance – the empress:  wisdom and folly.

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The Empress, Arcanum 3

The Empress, Arcanum 3

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The note in my mind just now is A-sharp – violet:  the meditation key.  Though my Hermit contact is so personal, I feel I can and should share him.   Why?  because the inner hermit is Archetypal – a type of home coming..

The lovely Kundalini is a Rod stuck into the ground:  she twirls like a distaff, spinning yarn. We are individually suited to perceive objective Teachers or subjective ones.   I am of the subjective type.  I develop my picture story, as an artist, a maker of windows.  However, their symbols and associations within my field, are an ancient Common land.  It is free for all who have the heart’s entry.  A fluid, shape-shifting firewall is not static.

Being a subjective type, means I co-create:  that my creations when mature, reside on the astral plane for other souls to access.  It gave me a lot of responsibility, to define over the decades, what it entails, and how to edit, and how to sieve the wheat from chaff.   There were and are deep wounds in life.   But the Process is a shining farm-labourer, carrying the sheaves for stacking, in scratched hands.

Wheatsheaf in the shape of letter GIMEL, with labourer in the field

Wheatsheaf in the shape of letter GIMEL, with labourer in the field

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Sometimes my entire lifetime is joined together, all the impressions as  One.   Fancy admiring farm labourers when I was a child … because they showed me the essence of the Great Work which I would engage in – the Will.   Our soul knows infinitely beyond what we think we know, or are taught.   I have the same knowledge now, extending into the future.   What is it?

bota key 3 Empress - Version 2

What do I know about my Self?  and the farm labourers carrying wheat?   There need be no verbal answer yet, but how does it feel?

Harvest and fertility.  My drawing of the wheat-sheaves stacked together, forms a Gimel.   But Gimel is the potential harvest of the Priestess.   While the Empress is Venus, and pregnant among standing wheat, the Priestess is aligned with Mercury.   The Priestess of the Moon is aligned with Mercury because she keeps the shrine swept, and holds the memory.   The shrine, a cave in the earth, is Virgoan, and thus Mercurial.  Recall and respect the Shrine in my everyday doings.

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What is my knowledge of the future?   Rather than speculate, which the surface-mercury does haphazardly and with fear, build and sweep the inner shrine each day:  creation – a conscious performance.

Where I am coming to now, is the job of the personal shrine.   This is the one which makes the contact.   Organised shrines administer the contact by committee to belief.

The personal shrine is a holy place.  By whatever means, it enters the wide world, beginning HERE.   In Halevi’s zodiac wheel, the 6h house (Virgo-ruled) is “Operation”.  Virgo as the shrine, and as the cosmic secretary, operates:  “le opere” are the works.   Transmission – as on military ships – is a morse-code operator.

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Cosmic clock - wheel of the Zodiac, by Zev ben Shimon Halevi

Cosmic clock – wheel of the Zodiac, by Zev ben Shimon Halevi

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My personal shrine suffers a continuing breakdown of shallow pride.   When we accept the job of Lighthouse Keeper, we accept this.   We live in a tower which shines at sea.  By hook or by crook, my dark tower of pride, my cracking seedcase, transforms to a tower of alchemy.

GALLERY – to view, click on any image and wait to upload

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A tower of alchemy – (and make of it precisely what I can) – shines across the sea like the Hermit’s lamp, and the vessels out there can see it.  The Hermit stands on a mountain guiding souls up the path:  the Lighthouse keeper stands in the sea – Hermes walks in the sea, carrying a globe and Staff –  the same.   I shall get submerged again during the day, but I write this, as always, with the commitment to transmission, here and now.

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Two illustrations from Alexander Roob’s Alchemy & Mysticism

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A note on HARPIES – when passing between Scylla and Charybdis:

When I look at my harpies – the spiteful scolds –  they stop what they are saying.  If I look at them, they cannot speak or screech.   Give it time.  They look horrible and hot and carrion, and they might change colour.   Mine are black like crows, and after a while they turn greyish, they start to fade and get weak and meaningless.   Harpies do not thrive on being held in the air and looked at.  They thrive on swooping – just as I am dozing off – and pushing and stabbing and being heard and believed.

valorous strength Emblem 2

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Dawn complaints drift slowly apart, like heavy clouds.  The nectar is a little stream on the hillside, as I touch up my recent Tarot reflection – a visual poem in itself, within Death and the Empress to each side.  I like the way the Priestess and the Hanged Man peep through the firm positions of the Chariot and the Emperor – I love the colour scheme.

Tarot reflection, July 2013

Tarot reflection, July 2013

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I am depressed about the human monkey and all its unhealthy persuasion.   Deeply so – I have to wrestle with it all the time.  My small old fashioned sermons to myself are mocked by the disturbing glitter of DNA-meddlesome-technology.

Yet that genetic engineering stuff, the ‘playing god’, is itself ILLUSORY.  I see this now.   It is a trap – a religion even – capturing worshippers, consumers and fearful adherents.   When my Hermit helps me to awaken, I have perspective;   I see a scale of values.   I see the utter seductiveness of the monkey game, which has no understanding of the Great Game of cosmic balances.   The monkey game believes and fears, that we humans are all alone, spearheading the universe and bent on self destruct.   That primitive dark-ages concept prevails.   I feel something other, beyond and behind and inside the box.   Is this too, a daydream, a denial?    Who can say?

The one thing which is sure, is the Good.  The essential human values and friendship.  The right from wrong.   It has an utterly different flavour from anxiety-default-mode – or ambition – which crowds and occupies the race’s big brains.

Parallel worlds touch and mutually thrive.

The hanging man overturns the conventional occupation.  “Go on walking contrary to the way of the world.   Lift a stone and I am there”.   The hanging man upends the nightmare. With my Hermit in the cottage, is the moment smelling of bees;  eternity. Choose eternity!

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bees j&d6

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**

My adventure invites fellow travelers.  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

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright (c) janeadamsart 2012-2013.  May not be used for commercial purposes.  May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com

The Lighthouse Keeper – Part One

This is a two-part post – a couple of mornings in my journal.  I’d like to share with you, my inner journey to a Hermit in his cottage … one of the soul-Teacher’s archetypal faces.  He feels like a personal ‘lighthouse keeper’, but actually he resides in our common ground.   I like what he said to me, about bubbles and the river.

Here’s part one:

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Glade, 1986

Glade, 1986 – I painted this out of doors. Some of the slanting branches, verticals, and contours in the ground suggested a cube standing on its point.  I called it “a tumbling cube”, long before discovering “the Cube of Space” – it was a way of entering, and seeing things.  To the right, is a lens or an eye, looking in.  I left it so, because it felt authentic at the time.  Sometimes there is a dazzling gleam like that, through the branches.

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Preamble

In a guided meditation, You, my teacher … are whoever I wish you to be.  Yours is the changeful face, when I lie on the grass today, watching the clouds as they break, disperse and unite :   Master R?  Ramana? Dr L? Yeshua? Sarah?  Zofia …?

My drawings and and fantasy are wishful thinking, BUT – the contact made with an ‘answering activity’, is unmistakable.   Your faces appear from the universal Self behind and beyond the mask.   I am human and I love to love, to connect, to be inspired and change my mood.  And I feel depressed, but my boat stabilizes as I sit down and start to write – I begin to feel connected again.   The inner, deeper, higher plane comes to the daily habit like a fish.   The love is touched.  It is the height, the breadth, the depth …

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Solomon's Cube

Solomon’s Cube

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There is a room of the soul, this thing and place that we are, with its symbols, diagrams and treasures, where we gather, where one of us lights the candle.  It is ANCIENT and familiar.  The perspective far outreaches the human monkey, and it just goes back and back.

The Magidim are guides and teachers of the Light.  You are my convenient belief system;  yet when I turn to you and ask, a certain perspective shifts;  so you are Real, and not just what I believe.   Through the interaction here in earth, you are more than the names and shapes in the clouds.

I long to apply the wisdom and understanding to daily life:  my field.   So my interest in astrology fades a little.   I have on my plate two challenging situations for “the Compass”.  I found from experience that when I peer at the astrology transits, it doesn’t really help my loved ones, though it gives me some perspective.   So don’t waste energy.   I am just looking.

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compass-musicians by masonicfind.com

compass-musicians by masonicfind.com

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You are my underlying compass, you point to the north.  This symbol gives me peace, through regions of despair or nonsensical hardship.   There is more erosion …   sorrows about the human race.  My hope, energy and optimism diminish, and so I have to go deeper.   I am SAD.  It doesn’t matter.  This too shall pass.

You rest in the fluid, trembling a little, like the Hanging Man, and point to magnetic north – the mysterious occult Earth of Uriel – the Fountain in the letter AYIN, meaning ‘the eye’.   I feel a subtle Fountain of Life inside.  You are the Compass, Compassion – the Crossroads.

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Grand Trine chart, 17 July 2013, 6.33pm London

Grand Trine chart, 17 July 2013, 6.33pm London

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Last week, on Wednesday 17th, a Grand Water Trine of Jupiter, Saturn and Neptune came into resonance.   Saturn is flanked by the Moon and Dragons head in Scorpio.  Saturn is the elder, and the Moon is the young child.  A Saturn-Moon contact is often found in the charts of sages and seers.

Jupiter in Cancer, his sign of exaltation, is flanked by Mars, Mercury and the Sun.   With Sagittarius rising, there may be through 11th, 7th and 2nd houses, an easing of our relationships in the group soul, a ‘making room’.   Neptune rides in his own ocean sign, Pisces.  Jupiter in Cancer and Neptune in Pisces both suggest, “Think big.”  The Grand Trine echoes last summer’s Grand Cross tension on the same date … in a profoundly auspicious way:  a subtle Event, or butterfly-wing.   Problems surface on the road, to be cleared, for the Way to blossom;  then we wake one morning, and life is simpler.    On the 17th last summer, I walked above the Chess river, swollen by the rains, and my pocket phone rang at that moment:  a quarrel ended.

So open arms to the beautiful Grand Trine in Water signs, during this dry summer.  The ‘frequency’ ripples through Earth’s subtle body;  through the tiny limbed antennae that we are.

The Triangle and Tetrahedron are nourishing forms for the soul. Fresh water rises to cleanse my dark pond.   To see these forms, to feel them to the life, I need to be at rest and alert.  I become so, when I write …  it floats.   The Yogas converge, gently.

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The Journey

Name and face are immaterial;  yet they are luminaries.  About ten years ago, I was taught an interior journey to the Inner Teacher:  as follows.

I ride a long way through the forest till I get to a small lake.  In the lake there is an island.   A boat awaits me.  I scull across to the island, and the cool living water seems full of little fireflies like the stars.

I beach the boat, and walk up a path between fruit trees to the Hermit’s home – a cottage with very low eves and a blanket/curtain hung over the front door.   The curtain is raised, and the Hermit appears … and this is yet another face in the clouds, a Celtic Merlinesque one, the merry blue eyes.   He was nudging me last night.   So here I am!   It is as good a way as any, to come to the Inner Teacher.   He is called Menes, the inner hermit soul in Avalon.   But … in the sound of Avalokiteshwara which is like a river … he is my Boddhisattva.   Here I rest, to take in the fragrance.

The eternal being stands at his door, an old bearded man in a grey stuff robe, and welcomes me.   Bodhisattva.  I’d like to be a bodhisattva, in the Buddha of compassion, those who come back to Earth to shepherd particular situations.  It is what I do.   But he stands at his door;  it is hot and sunny outside …  it is cool and velvety within.   To me, he shines and I bathe.  I stand and bathe.

Beauty is Elder wisdom.  Silence, among the bees and birdsong.   He keeps bees.  There are hives.   My heart is full of need, so I lay my head on his feet.   Surrender the problem to the Holy One who IS the way, infinitely beyond my small parcel.   Did I bring anything – an offering?   I brought my heart with birds in it trapped, who want to fly.   So we have an understanding:  to open the cave of my heart for the birds to fly.   It acts before words.

Soul talk is timeless … an instant.    He lifts the curtain further, and we go inside.   He offers me bread and honey, and water from the lake.   The lake has many deep earth colours, and sometimes reflects the sunset or the dawn.   The lake is the Mysteries, because when it is illumined by the sky, I cannot see below, cannot see into its depth.   Everything is encircled by Mystery.  Trust this – and don’t struggle to work things out.

The encircling Mystery as a fact of Life tends to subvert courses of study.   They had their place and time. They trained the mind.

So – I ask him:  How do I – or what is training my mind now?   To keep the focus, the lens?  To polish the smear of life’s perils and disturbance and grief from the window?   Am I losing the plot?   I feel I shed my securities, they drop away.   My studies kept me happy, and still do, but to a lesser extent.  My studies help concentration, but I am no longer acquiring knowledge.

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Ring on table, Rosicrucean Emblem 9

Ring on table, Rosicrucean Emblem 9

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 He says:

“Do you want to stay in a bubble, or do you want to flow as the river?   No course of learning is permanent.  They are means to an end.   The end breaks open the graduation cell, and you feel the world rush in.   It bruises the nerve ends.   I say to you – keep swimming with Providence.   The landscape by which you find me, is roped and ridged with hills and valleys like water stirred by the wind, or ripples in the sand, or waves in the sea, the grain in the wood.   The hills and valleys have woods, villages and fields.   Convert the solid to fluidity:  be at home in every element – the tumbling cube.    Keep learning to listen, and ascertain your friend’s need, a situation’s need, without fussing and without suffering:  be flexible.  Be still.  We assure you – you are never without our regard.  You are never without the guide.   You have not strayed.   Where can you stray to? 

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redqueen

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“The oak tree – with the red queen pulling Alice along – is too vast to be run past, however fast you run.   The oak tree is your entire life and understanding.

“Consider this – study and working on yourself, has little time to stand and gaze at the oak tree in all its glory.   Be this the lesson of the present year:  stand, raise your head and look –  a deer in the forest.    We packed you full of learning.   Now receive.

 “Discard glamour, and embrace the Good.”

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circumpunct

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I feel restored.   I have the silver key – the stillness inside.

At this point, my silver key and the Hermit’s silver key are in touch, and converse;  speech is unnecessary.   There is mutual reflection – the Self.   I am aware of his staff, the serpents, the caduceus, the quicksilver.   In his cool dark room with scrubbed table and fireplace, these are potent as the Ankh, the staff of life.   They nourish my soul.  They are not clung to.  They give.  And they are FOR giving.

FOR give, you said?

“For giving.”

What you give …  Will you please help me with my blundered talk in life?   This needs more practice than anything.   I get anxious and I say too much, trying to complete and make my point.   Also, trying to make amends.  Telling myself each time, to say much less, to keep it simple, the engine still gets flooded.   What to do?

“It is like the oak tree.  The oak tree is life.  Keep going.   Climb up it sometimes.”

It is time to leave now.   I will be back.     A heart-tune:  a shared musical note … what is it?  It is – and I guessed right – A-natural.   Indigo-violet.   The Intelligence of Administration:  the GVPh or physical body in the trunk of the Tree:  the World dancer:   The Akasha Tattva is an indigo oval, with a darker one inside.

The Hermit in his greyish green earth mantle, is surrounded by the Akashic darkness.  His foot treads a shining snow.   He is secretly on the heights, even on a summer island lake, busy with his bee keeping.   He has a honey smell.   It is the nectar in the herb garden.    Keep the little lamp alight.   It has all I need, for the lamp is the Cube, the Seal of Solomon, a solar hexagon,  directions of the Compass.   The World Dancer is the Compass, high, deep, far and wide.

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hermit - Version 4

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Touch third eye.  And return to the boat, and row back across the lake to the greenwood and my horse.  And come down the Tree!

My tokens:  triangle, tetrahedron, circumpunct – (the lake around the hermit’s house) –  The deep root of the oak tree, planted so long ago, that it is all my life.   The compass.  The way to the north shows where the other ways are.   x x

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Sun steed

Sun steed

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To be Continued /…

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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

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 – Enoch and the Well

This vivid dream, in 1976, revealed an interior contact, as it deftly stripped away the veils.   It is the source of my symbolism with the well, the wood and the root;  insights which I find also in the I Ching.  “He” gave me later in the narrative, a teaching on the cosmic Law of Sacrifice, which I woke up with, and never forgot.

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The Wisdom of the Fool by a Well (1988)

The Wisdom of the Fool by a Well (1988)

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 Dreams No.140,  14 July 1975

I’m speaking with someone called Enoch.   At a round table we sit, initially with some other counsellors.  At other times a car drives around the area under discussion, these wild orchards.

The name Enoch carries an emphasis from Biblical hinterland.   It is perhaps a collective name for elements of humanity, which conquered death.   But this man is called Enoch Powell – the politician who has strong views on immigration.

politics-conservative-party-conference e.powell

When people or birds – and cats! –  seek entry into a patch of land which is already occupied by others, they are immigrants.   To emigrate is to depart these shores, but as an immigrant you are an invasion to me, until we agree.   Indeed, England’s island history is tempered by issues of invasion and conquest.  Then this discussion around a table, with a view to a patch of land, is about space – the interior space, the balance of fluidic densities between neighbouring cells.   “What do we accommodate?”  “Are we idealists?  Shouldn’t we be more honest with our limitation?”

For a moment now, I see on the curling mossy boughs of the old orchard trees, heavy fruit rosy and golden, the way it pulps down into deep dewy grass as the summer cools.

The political stance on immigration lies at the heart of Enoch’s private nature.   It is where he is vulnerable.   It makes me feel important to be seen with this eminent and public figure.   Enoch is a powerful man with sharp pale eyes and pencil line moustache.  His physiognomy is gaunt and open, his wide jaw reminds me of a vigilant mastiff or lion.   His manner of speech,  impassioned, informed and forceful, is difficult to ignore.

Is he wearing cosmetics?  –  yes he is!   I kept looking, to make sure.   He has black eye-liner traced under his eyes like a sign of his feminine nature.   Yes, for he protests about history and about national rape.    The black eyeliner, a feminine contrivance for emphasis, is a chink of doubt in his intellectual armour.   I think I see his Achilles heel,  his secret fear of losing substance or integrity.   We are being driven around the outskirts of Buckingham Palace grounds, and the topic under sustained discussion is:  “What shall we do with this green-space?”

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bluebell time at broomlands

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“I don’t agree with you there one bit.”   That’s the lively Liberal dark haired lady from ‘Islington Cares’.   “People should go where they like.   We all can go wherever we like, and feel the need.   Young people from the inner-city should play in these wonderful grounds, our national heritage.   It’s criminal to hide them away from the under-privileged.   Would you deprive our youth for the sake of an out-moded institution?   Who needs the space to grow –  the Royals or the people?”

“Madam,”  replied Enoch  “we were discussing private property.  Would you like your house to be broken into and occupied by squatters?”

“That’s not the point!   Buck House isn’t private, it belongs to the nation.   What hypocrisy forces the tax payer to support a public institution – our sovereign Family as you put it – and have no access to the – the sanctuary this family enjoys,  on the grounds of –  privacy?”

“We cannot afford to indulge in politics,” said Enoch.  “I’m not concerned with liberal philosophy but with human values – the real values, if you hear what I say.   With reality, madam! –  our  bastion of integrity.   The monarchy represents to ourselves this value, and therefore the need for its own terrain.   Apart from that, think of the pressure of public life upon these people.   Think of the personal sacrifice they make of their private lives to the postage stamp,  to the symbol of moral stability in this country,  look at it, I beg you!   Doesn’t it cry out to you for the human right – to a place of refreshment?

“You are not realistic, madam.   Do you advocate rape – of our national heritage, the remaining legacy of poets and sailors?   Will you allow burglars and opportunists to despoil and pollute this place?   Have you no heart?”

“My dear Enoch, you must move with the times, we are not discussing nasty criminals but young people – the birth rate.   Have you no heart for the nation’s young,  its children,  and the problems of the inner cities?   This is the young orchard.   And it has no room to grow!”

“Madam, our cities are overcrowded through our poor judgment of the ratio of population density to available land area.   That is why I spoke out against opening our doors to the incoming tide of our Imperial guilt.   Did we treat our immigrants well?   Have we accomodated them humanely?   Look within and ask yourself.   Did they come off the Windrush to a warm welcome, or to a bigoted colour bar?   Did we keep Hitler out,  to let ourselves be conquered by hypocrites’ oath to a swollen Commonwealth?   The sins of our fathers indeed come back to find us.  But I beg you again,  let us protect the soul of our country from further rotting.   The wilderness which lies within the heart …”

“Oh,” said the romantic dark-haired lady  “yes, in olden days everybody had some wilderness to wander, and even some mystical feudal superstition to keep them busy, but today it’s the young, those young people from all the big cities whom you would deprive of the right to leave the streets and take solace in Nature.   Who else has the right to see the laden fruit in those orchards, to walk along the shady paths?   But Enoch, your party and policy is no longer in power.   Times have changed.   An act will be passed …”

Enoch’s face is dark with grief.   “If you do that,”  he says  “there will be nowhere for anyone to go to.   There’ll be no place of such nature left.”

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Queen with child, 1956

Queen with child, 1956

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The grounds of the palace, are enclosed by high and weathered walls.   Within this boundary extends a sylvan oasis of landscaped gardens, and un-mown meadows. Through the woodlands, birds call –  a place of rest and mystery in the heart of the city.   The rougher and more untamed regions are the area under discussion;  here are gathered, in a shaggy garland of luxuriant wild orchards opening one into another, many old trees that slant hither and thither in haphazard rows.   They bear apples, pears, cherries and plums, self-pruning.   Around their knotty trunks grows a profusion of deep sorrel, buttercup, pink campion, royal blue scabious and thorny briar rose;  and foxes trace a magical maze.   Here the butterfly flourishes.   It is a fragrant and secret garden.   It hums with near and distant song and silence.

This is the soul which Enoch feels belongs to us all,  and should therefore be kept inviolate,  and which the liberal dark haired lady feels,  for the same reason,  should be open to the public.

At first I thought she was right.  Enoch’s immigration policy was never popular.   People should come and go,  nibble the fruit in these orchards,  sit and dream or have sex in the natural arbours,  sniff the thorny roses and spot Royals.   Anyone should be able to go there,  to go where they like.

Enoch’s personal distress became real to me.   The domain where time stands still is a reality within each one of us, which is not easy to access.   Here we grow and breathe among the tangled web of our fruit,  our convoluted petalled fragrance of the wild rose;  and only those should enter who are invited.    For it flowers and opens, from a dark and winding stem of thorns.   The pathway among radiant trees and flowers is a briary labyrinth in which the foolish or unwary,  or mere litter-spilling sight seers, get lost,  stolen or strayed.

Should we crowd that end of the enclosure?   It is the private part.   The liberal plan parades a crude ideology.

Enoch noticed that I’m turning from the eloquent dark haired woman to him to listen.   My ambivalent point of view seems to interest him, but there is nothing I can yet say.   She crowds me out.   She talks all the time, there is much, much that I feel and would like to say, the pressure from my heart like unripe fruit on the bough,  I feel for him,  I want to tell him this but not to gush or take sides,  and I don’t know how.  So I am silent.

As I understand it, Enoch would suffer in himself so acute an unhappiness if the Act were passed in the palace grounds, particularly the sacred area of orchard growth, that as in Blake’s “Elegy”: –  “O Rose, thou art sick;  the invisible worm that flies in the night in the howling storm,  has found out thy bed of crimson joy:   and his dark secret love does thy life destroy!” – he too would sicken and die.

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roots at broomlands

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It is to do with guardng the fertile and sacred wood.   Wood and water work together into the fourth dimension as an osmotic cycle.   The welling growth from under the ground to the warm rays of the sun, along a series of neighbouring fluidic densities, is a series also of changing texture in time – through the tender pliability of young stems to the rigid oak,  and what the old tree returns to earth from the sky.   This is the “now” in a river’s movement of many centuries.

In matriarchal land husbandry, the kings must die, and their seed as generations rise and fall;  but the wood is the terrain of life,  the concentric rings of time,  the uplift and downfall of the waters.   In the wood is drawn the Akashic record for all seasons. This is one of the closely guarded mysteries.  A druid, to her nature true, may approach the power and knowledge which lies hidden in the tree, wisely, and with love.

Then Enoch is a guardian.   Only those may walk in nature’s temple who earned or inherited, by their effort, the right. The wood and the water are a well – the deeply sunk root to the high, flowering branch.   Wood and water well an oasis in the mental life.   Our rulers are an elected sense of purpose, but also a private source of refreshment.   How hungry we are for the gutter press, their domestic difficulties.   And when so much is cut down, so much is given out,  how essential is retreat,  for them:  and for ourselves.

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mary queen of scots exiled from france, on a ship - 1957

mary queen of scots exiled from france, on a ship – 1957

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Enoch may be Powell, the unpopular and forceful politician who cares more for principles than for votes,  but who and what else is he?    He asserts an individuated view.   He is  a rugged individual.   He is any individual in any time or climate of everyman who, when over-run with the mere ideas of others,  dies.   The politician is a mask of convenience for a messenger.

The Person behind the mask is universal. “I am.”  How much of this commodity is sacrificed to the mask?  for the sake of being “available”?

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goddess with swan - 1956, copy from Leonardo

goddess with swan – 1956, copy from Leonardo

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Our dialogue has now become an intimate one.

“I have myself studied sacrifice,” he told me.   “I made, over long periods of time, very many years, a special depth study of all shapes and forms of sacrifice.   When my interest was anthropological, I was drawn to consider first the primitive form,  the votive offering of animal vigour from within the tribe to heaven,  to protect the tribe.   The more valuable the victim from the physical world, the more it focused the source of protection and strength.   Adonai takes the first of the fruit and gives back Himself.  This is psychology.

“You can see then a rate of exchange,  a currency.   It is the equilibrating of fluidic density from one plant cell or dimension of our universe, to another.   See what comes back in faith.   You can see the human victims on Mayan pyramids, the sheep and goats of the Hebrews, the bulls of the ancient Greeks,  and the bodies of early Christian martyrs.   Now, how would you yourself define sacrifice?”

“I think,” I said rather stiffly after a while, straining to hold his attention to my empathy and not wake up in my bed –  “that it is the gift.   I think the sacrifice transfers my attachment to earthly opinion.  It goes to a higher and more subtle sense of gravity.”

“Then,” he said  “you are the chosen container of your sacrifice.   To sacrifice is to give faith to the laws of renewal within you.   It is the offering to the Universal, what I, or you, have earned, and the willingness to change station in consciousness.  Each living heart contains a mystery, which should be guarded – the ability or willingness to do just that.   This element alone is taken alive to heaven.

“In the law of reincarnation, the Tree grows up to heaven and descends as fruit, as seed.  Each leaf put forth from the stem, the woody capillary, is unique.  The seasons are the fountain’s rise and fall:  the tidal breath of Adonai.

“In some forms of sacrifice, a pleasing fragrance is burned from the entrails of animal power and pride, to favour the ruling forces of Nature and persuade their alignment to a human cause.   In the Iliad the gods themselves sat down to feast with the heroes.   But in other forms of sacrifice a Man falls from heaven to earth like an apple to enrich the ground plan.   This, like golden leaf-fall, or treasure from the tree of life,  is the Messiah.   He ‘falls’ into the autumn of each year or cycle of human history, to teach it.

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sleep - 1987

sleep – 1987

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“And,” he went on,  “sacrifice is the slow and welling growth of new wood from the old.   Sacrifice metamorphs the butterfly from chrysalis, the snake of wisdom from many essential skins of ignorance.    Sacrifice is metanoia – the turning – of self’s wisdom from the personality’s temporary possession.

“This is difficult for you to understand and for me to tell.   It is not ordained by a limited mind like ours.  We touch on matters, which the transcendent plane inverts.   To sacrifice, or give away what we have,  is to receive it,  is to be the receiver.   To die is to be born.   To live in light, I cast away concentric rings of the darkness which defines me.

“I have studied these things so deeply, over so great an epoch of time, have given so much of my attention to this independent science,  one body after another,  that if I chose, they could make me a Doctor and put me out to grass.   That would be a solution to the political problem, wouldn’t it?   But in fact, so much have I suffered for the royal art, so much outgrown, sometimes prematurely given away, or died to, that I came to cherish a little too fiercely the remnant I have left.   This is the hardest part of all.   I should have hung onto the old witch-doctor, to salve these old scars on my stem of life;  my devotions and denials.

“Do you understand?   That place where the fruit trees are – is one that I WON’T give up.   It is my childhood.   It is sacred to me.”

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A fairy godmother, 1957

A fairy godmother, 1957

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Enoch Powell is still wearing cosmetic eye-liner with a curious consistency.   Perhaps this is so as to underline his point of view.

“It is very good,”  he says in his former voice “and very necessary to study an independent science.   But do not let the philanthropic philosophy philander you.”

His skin is brown and tanned by the sun in the gap between his trousers and jersey, his hair is black,  he emits to me a masculine vibrancy and seems to be turning into someone else.

Enoch is the collective name of an ancient gesture:   “he who walked with the Lord and he was not:  for the Lord took him.”   His thoughts on sacrifice are like looking into a well of water.   Everything is upside down.   I look down into the well and see, around my reflected shadow limned in light in the quiver of still water, the sky above.   What is above is in the depths of the earth.

The Hanged Man in the twelfth Tarot Arcanum hangs by the left foot smiling, from a wooden crosspiece over the well.   Why?

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12 hanged man - Version 3

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Who is in the well?   We look up into each other. You returned to earth head first,  to give it fruit,  to be born to die. I can see my earth-brown shadow, deep in the well of life, but not the features, against the light.

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With hindsight, I find the political awareness in this story interesting, pre-dating the decades of Margaret Thatcher’s market-forces policy, the Wales marriage, Prince Charles’s global network with the ecological and humanitarian emergency, the social turmoil, consumerist inflation and collapse.

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Dancing goddess, on the Heath Extension

Dancing goddess, on the Heath Extension

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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

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 – the Royal Lotuses (2) – Kama & Rati

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Lord Siva on his Tao

Lord Siva on his Tao

Notes by Jane & Rohit on The Knight of Lotuses – Kamadeva

Kama is the deity of desire and lust.  His interaction with Lord Shiva was picturesque, to say the least, and is followed through cards 4, 5 and 10 of this suit – (see earlier posts in this series, under Categories in sidebar).

I cannot find Rohit’s notes to me for creating the Kama card.  Originally, the Knight of Lotuses was to be Pradayumna, who is now the King of the Suit.   The plan changed when I drew and sent to Rohit, two versions of Kama’s wife Rati.  The first one got promoted to the World Shakti in the Major Arcana.  The second one required a consort:  so Rohit commissioned a new Kama – naturally the Knight.

It was important also, to show that Kama was restored in full glory, following Siva and Parvati’s marriage.  During their yogic courtship, he was incinerated for his effrontery.

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Sacred India Tarot, 5 of Lotuses - Siva destroys Kama with his third eye

Sacred India Tarot, 5 of Lotuses – Siva destroys Kama with his third eye

You can see Parvati’s terror as the kundalini Shakti overshadows her.   This is a picture of the raw subconscious forces which our love-affaires and relationships arouse and “front”.

After Siva and Parvati settled down together on Mount Kailas, the story – like lines drawn on water – merges into the love-play of Kama and Rati in full bloom.

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photo credit kamadevan.webs.com

photo credit kamadevan.webs.com

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Rohit’s Notes on Kamadeva, from his book with the deck:

“…The power of desire is a prime moving force in the universe.  Without desire, there is no karma/action.  Unfortunately, the strongest desire is lust and, even more unfortunately, it is the easiest to inflame.  Kama shoots shafts that are burning flowers from his bow of sugarcane.  This odd imagery indicates the juicy, supple, sweet but unyielding and fiery nature of desire.  Flowers as we pretend not to know when we gift them romantically, are the sexual organs of plants.

Orchid

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Neither Kama nor his imagery is subtle about what is desired and in what measure.  It is the sheer irresponsibility of the pleasure principle, its wilful disdain for consequence of repetition, so long as it gets what it wants.  Hence he is named Gridhu – sharp lust!  

“As the Atharvaveda says, ‘The well directed arrows of Kama, winged with pain, barbed with longing, with desire for the shaft, pierce all hearts’.

“Yet the power of desire is a great good, being the force behind civilization and culture, the first impulse of creativity.”  (NB the identical creative/spiritual/sexual root).  “‘Kama was born the first, both the power to provoke and gratify desire.’  His name Iraja signifies his birth from cosmic waters.  His power to enkindle enthusiasm as well as passion names him Darpaka – the Inflamer!  He is called Samantaka – the power to destroy mental peace, to denote what happens when passions control one.  Desire as Kama fascinated the Indian mind for its many triumphs over the best of intentions.  

“This card in a reading … … Falling in love.  Potentially very promising and normally a fabulous future, but the shadow is very strong in this card … …  Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

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Jane’s Notes

Central to this theme, is the Lovers card in the deck.

Sacred India Tarot card 6 - The Lovers: Kaccha and Devvyani

Sacred India Tarot card 6

When lovers first meet, there seems to be no shadow at all!

This card tells the story of Kaccha a divine Prince, and Devvyani, daughter of the king of the demons.   The psychology is subtle.  Between them, the ‘sugar cane’ bow buds into almond blossom:  around them, flowers and orchids push through the ground.   Devvyani lures her suitor with nature’s feral beauty.  Kaccha’s face is modelled on J.Krishnamurti.  He wears on his brow the Akasha-Tejas Tattva – the colours of Saturn and Mars.   He has a passion to fulfil through sensual Earth, but points back to his original agenda or ‘master-plan’, to discover the secret and set souls free.

The card shows the cross-fertilizing and trading of divine and daemonic nectar, fire or energy – the fruit of which is tantrically sublimated in the higher plane.  A razor’s edge discriminates the currency through equal beauties but different densities of Earth and Heaven – below and above – gross and subtle.  There is a commitment, a renunciation and change of plane, through dying and being born again.  The dove in the genital armour is a phoenix, bird of light in the Alchymical Hierogamos.

If K married Devvyani and settled with the demons, the gods would never know the secret their existence depends on.  Devvyani tries to win back by love, what her father lost by a wager.  K was no fool, and he let her down with gentle remonstrance, and returned to his proper region, with the nectar.

You can look up the full story online, or read it in full, in Rohit’s book.

Each relationship is a potential crucible.  The shadow within, as it comes to light and manifests, may transform to love.  The profound Karmic forces of mutual attraction may mature into “right action”.   Hope stands at every beginning.

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Sacred India Tarot - Kama the Knight of Lotuses

Sacred India Tarot – Kama the Knight of Lotuses

Here is Kama in his glory – immersed in  female waters and roots of the blue lotus;  his seminal power erect in urdhvalinga, yogic bliss.   His candied bow is delicious as a seaside stick of Brighton rock.  The soles of his feet receive the power of the ground.   Desire in full fruit is Union:  Self-union, the union of the World and plant kingdom, the lover’s timeless embrace and sharp pull.   The Hebrew word for Union is identical numerically, to the word for Love. In the western Tarot, the symbol for the Lovers is ZAIN, a word meaning both phallus and Sword.  We all have known the sharpness.

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Correspondence 6 April 2005:  Rohit to Gautam –

(this shows the shuffling of places still going on in the deck.  Originally Kama and Rati were to be the King and Queen of the suit.  When the drawings appeared, some fresh thinking happened.)

Sacred India Tarot world Shakti, 21

Sacred India Tarot world Shakti, 21

“I think the Queen is the best card ever done till today, but it is probably a waste for Rati.  We could easily put this up as a (female) World card.  Rati is not so powerful, but we can rename this the Tripura Sundari – essence of feminine supremacy … The male World card could be the Nataraja, not the Ardhanariswara, so we will have two world cards which is okay, Hinduism is conflicted as to whether the ultimate form of God is male or female.  

“The Kama is magnificent, but I think it underlines my point that we have to make him the Knight, as a symbol of uncontrolled sexual and pleasure principle, while Pradyumna, currently Kama reborn, becomes the erotic impulse transferred, transformed into healing.  The switch is easily made.  No need to redo anything.”

(For Pradayumna, King of Lotuses, see next SITA post.  To see Siva Nataraja and Rudra cards, see Creation of the World Shakti & Natarajan and Siva Ace of Lotuses )

“I know this Tantric image, and it is the ultimate female shakti depicted there, so we can use it as one World, the Nataraja becomes the male World card, completing the journey of the Fool – Rudra, Siva and now Nataraja.

“I think Rati needs a somewhat more conventional treatment.  The Apsara with a bow is ideal, as per the Indiayogi image.

Apsara in Krishna temple

Apsara in Krishna temple

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“It will be a slight drag for Jane, but really her (Shakti) card is too powerful, there is also a Lingam which completes the Siva imagery which began in the Fool card.  I think Jane has reached an absolutely inspired vein in these last two cards, the Kama is actually the ithyphallic hunter-Siva who has dalliances with the wives of Rishis in the forest of reeds near Chidambaram.   I think Jane has to be troubled to draw the Queen once more, but it is her fault for being so brilliant !!!”

(NB – 2005 was a difficultyear for me – insomnia, some depression, exhausted and over-reacting to things.  I greatly delayed producing many of the cards.   The project however, was unconcerned it seems, and drew itself along with the available material.   Rohit says in his introduction to the deck, that he in India and I in the UK suffered everything the deck could throw at us in life.)

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preliminary sketch - Rati queen of lotuses

preliminary sketch – Rati queen of lotuses

Rohit’s Notes, 2004

p568309-Khajuraho-Kamadeva_and_Rati

“QUEEN OF LOTUSES – RATI;    In every way, the counterpart of Kama, down to the garlands and bow.  In her case you can dispense with the nipple precaution! She does have a greater capacity to endure faithfully as she waited cycles of time for Kama to be reborn as Pradyumna, son of Krishna. 

“The reference we provide is typical.  The joint picture of Rati and Kama used as reference for the Lovers card in the Major Arcana, may be consulted as reference, and can be used too.

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The Sacred India Tarot, Queen of Lotuses - Rati, wife of Kama

The Sacred India Tarot, Queen of Lotuses – Rati, wife of Kama

Rohit often mourns the fact that “God’s Frozen People” lost the natural state’s exuberant joy as depicted in the old Temples.    Blue lotuses surround Rati also, as she plays with her husband’s bow and lifts the serpent power as easily around herself as pulling away her sari.  No thought as yet of pregnancy, domesticity or the patter of little feet troubles her soul.

From Rohit’s book with the deck: 

“Like all female consorts of male deities, Rati is regarded as the Shakti, the active and activating power of the god’s function.  Rati is regarded as sensuality and voluptuous  desire, a symbol of the sophisticated ethos that made possible the Kama Sutra, as well as the lesser known but superior Ananga Ranga.

“This is the vision of the aesthete as to what constitutes pleasure insofar as it applies to humans.  Yet. the throbbing, pulsing energy of sexual desire also has a spiritual function.  It is by transmuting the sexual drive into Ojas – spiritual fuel – that one gets the skill and power to tackle the higher reaches of sexuality. 

“The raised snake above the head is that irresistible sexual impulse catalysed into the longing for liberation.  It is a yogic triumph she has achieved here – to subvert the strongest downward dragging impulse, and make it a vehicle for spiritual transcendence. 

“Rati was punished with widowhood for Kama’s audacity in provoking Siva.  Yet she refused to abandon hope, and forced the gods to restore her foolish husband, with all the conceit drained out of him.  Knowing that Kama was going to be reborn as Pradyumna son of Krishna, destined to slay the demon Sambara, she took service at Sambara’s palace as a maid, and waited.  A giant fish in the kitchen when cut open, revealed an infant that Sambara had tried to kill by drowning.  Not recognising the child, Sambara’s fate decreed that he not only fail but that he bring up the son of Krishna as his own, with Rati’s help!  

“When the boy reached adulthood, Rati revealed his story to him, and the reborn Kama slew the demon.  Rati finally got a husband worthy of her.

“In a reading: … Potential for deep spiritual transformation … good healers and therapists … great decoder of the emotional web that exists between people….  But might become determined and insistent that all who meet them have problems so that they can ‘help’….  Everybody is not as intuitive as you are, so share your insight where it is appropriate.  Do not mistrust your feelings.”  (Copyright (c)The Sacred India Tarot to Yogi Impressions Books, 2011)

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Ananga Ranga 20 - the Roaring position

Ananga Ranga 20 – the Roaring position

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Correspondence 18-21 May 2005:  re Rati Queen of Lotuses

“Dear Gautam, did you receive Rati safely a few weeks ago?  I had asked you to ring me as our computer had crashed and none of your phone numbers worked either – please give me a contact number.  Anyway, up and running again now, but I shan’t be able to scan anything till the end of this week …   Regards, Jane

“Hi Jane, herewith feedback on Rati.  I did have some reservations re the eroticism of the illustration, though it is stunning.  Given below is Rohit’s feedback.  Warm regards, Gautam.”

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As published - with bra and pants!

As published – with bra and pants!

“Gautam, 
I am very willing to go with the image as it is, as Rati is not in any way important to the religious consciousness, and therefore will not have any potential to cause trouble.  We could add a little dhoti trouser type covering to lower limbs if we felt the need to reduce nakedness, but I think the card is absolutely terrific.  Another magnificent effort by Jane.  The lotuses have come out at a level that is somewhat frighteningly good.  Rohit.”

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Kailas

Kailas

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The Sacred India Tarot Archive, Major Arcana 0 – 14 can be found at http://aryayogi.wordpress.com    SITA Major Arcana 15 – 21 are on janeadamsart.wordpress.com also.   TO BE CONTINUED/

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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

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Jane

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

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/

 

The Mythology behind Ramana’s Thirty Verses

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The material for my next Sacred India Tarot Archive post  contains a reflection on Ramana Maharshi’s Thirty Verses.  I feel it should be given on its own, then followed by the Knight and Queen of Lotuses in the Tarot archive, as originally planned.

The Sanskrit title for the 30 Verses was “Upadesa Saram“.  This means “The Quintessence of Instruction.”  It draws near to the ineffable.  At the same time, it raises the bar in a practical way, for tackling any situation where we have wined and dined out and become a little noisy.    Meditation is Life:  our body and breath are Earth’s gravity.

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Ramana with Arunachala's children, including Ganesan, Sundaram and Mani

Ramana with Arunachala’s children, including his nephews Sundaram, Mani and Ganesan

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The Mythology Context of Ramana’s “Thirty Verses”
first published in the Ramana Foundation UK Journal “SELF ENQUIRY” April 2001

MY EARLIER SITA post, (9 and 10 of Lotuses) includes “The Birth of Skanda” – a colourful Puranic account of Siva and Parvati’s yogic courtship and marriage, leading to the birth of their son Skanda,  who, it was fortold,  alone had the power to destroy the demon of the reactive mind, Taraka asura.  

agni

It will be recalled that Agni, the god of sacred Fire and sacrificial offerings, had been tricked into swallowing Siva’s semen, which burned intolerably within him.   He was advised by Siva to go to a certain pine forest on the banks of the river Magha, where dwelt seven ascetic Rishis and their wives:  the wives would receive the fiery seed,  relieving Agni to return to his natural flame state,  and enable the saviour to be born.

This story, like a crystal, is retold from numerous different facets.   In one of these, it is Siva Himself who visits the unsuspecting ladies, and who, chastising their husbands for their sterile ascetic practices,  gives them the teaching on the laws of Karma which, in our day, we find in Ramana’s Thirty Verses on the Quintessence of Instruction (Upadesa Saram).    The poet Muruganar, when writing this legend in Tamil verse, on coming to the instruction given by Siva to the Rishis, asked Ramana – as Siva incarnate –  to write it for him,   Here first is the setting, and then the Thirty Verses :

CERTAIN ASCETICS in the Pine Forest had obtained great powers by their prayers and sacrifices.  In order to conserve these, their hearts had to be permanently pure, as well as the hearts of their wives.   Siva heard about the beauty of the womenfolk, and resolved to seduce them.   Taking the form of a beautiful young beggar, he invited Vishnu to dress up as a voluptuous woman and accompany him on this prank.    Vishnu went first, to arouse the ascetics.  He excited all of them out of their minds.   They abandoned their sacrifices and ran after the siren as moths fly about the light they see in the night.
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Meanwhile Siva made his appearance among the resinous pine trees, half naked, dishevelled, with begging bowl.   The women abandoned their housework and ran after him, half undressed, begging him to remain there with them.   Siva slipped away into the shadows, and they followed him.

The Rishis began to notice that their rituals became less effective, and their powers were no longer what they had been.   They conferred among themselves.  They suspected the handsome beggar who disordered their wives, was none other than Siva,  and that she who seduced themselves was Vishnu in disguise.    They were enraged.   They conjured up an elephant and a tiger by magic rites, and sent them against Siva.   Siva slew the creatures easily, and took the elephant’s skin for a robe and the tiger’s for a wrap.   They tried likewise in vain, a disembodied head, a giant, a brace of writhing serpents, and fire.   Finally they sent all the waning power of their prayers and tapas against him.   These forces came forth like a mass of fire, beat against Siva’s genitals, and detached them from his body.   Siva, full of indignation, made to burn up the entire earth with his genitals, but Vishnu took shape as the female organs, receiving those of Siva,  and prevented general conflagration.

Moved by the prayers of the Rishis – for Siva is never indifferent to His devotees – he consented to hold his fire, and to give them “The Quintessence of Instruction”.

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cosmic egg - Version 2

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In the closed Hindu universe, described as an egg, nothing is ever lost.  Things are transferred, reborn or transmuted.   The law of karma – literally, “action” – is based on this world-view.  The sum of one’s past actions is embodied in the force of karma, which is considered a discrete, transferable quantity.   One Upanishad describes a mystic view of the sexual act, and then concludes,  “The man who practices intercourse in awareness of this view, takes to himself the good karma of the woman.   He who does it ignorantly, loses his good karma to her.”

Briefly, a host of nuances concerning the fertility of the inner life and creativity, the generative power of thoughts, and the sterility of those who cling to the letter alone, are touched on here.   In the Pine Forest, Siva had excited the women and infuriated their husbands, but he didn’t actually do anything.   He was chaste, and made others believe him to be a lecher, a false ascetic in reverse.   He served as a mirror.   He chastised the Rishis for their dishonesty and barren self-seeking rituals;  he awakened their real nature to them.

Researched from Wendy O’Flaherty’s book Siva the Erotic Ascetic

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ramana with newspaper

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                  THE THIRTY VERSES by Ramana Maharshi

ACTION yields fruit,  for so the Lord ordains it.
How can action be the Lord?   It is insentient.

The fruit of action passes.   But the act leaves behind the seed of further acts 
leading to an endless ocean of reaction :   not to liberation.

A disinterested act, surrendered to the Lord 
purifies the mind and points to liberation.

This is certain:  worship, praise and meditation, 
being work of body, speech and mind,  are steps for orderly ascent.

Ether,  fire,  air,  water,  earth,  Sun,  Moon  and living beings –
worship of these, regarded all  as forms of life,  is perfect worship of the Lord.

Better than hymns of praise is repetition of the Name ;  better quiet than loud; 
but best of all is silent meditation – reflective in the mind.

Better than spells of meditation is one continuous current 
steady as a stream or downward flow of oil.

Better than viewing Him as Other – indeed the noblest attitude of all – 
is to hold Him as the ‘I’ within – the very ‘I’.

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Ramana 7.7.13

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Abidance in pure being,  transcending thought through love intense 
is the very essence of supreme devotion.

Absorbtion in the heart of being,  whence we sprang, 
is the path of action,  of devotedness,  union,  and of knowledge.

Restraint of breath controls the mind like a bird caught in the net. 
This gentle regulation helps absorbtion in the heart.

Mind and breath (as thought and action) like two branches forking out 
both spring from a single root.

Absorbtion is of two kinds:  submergence and destruction. 
Mind submerged again arises:  mind dead revives no more.

With even breath,  and thought restrained, 
the mind turned one-way inward,  fades and dies.

Mind extinct,  the mighty Seer to his natural being returns 
and has no action to perform.

Wisdom turns away the mind from outer things 
to behold its own effulgent form.

When unceasingly it scans itself,  there’s nothing there. 
For everyone this direct path is open.

Thoughts alone make up the mind,  and of all thoughts,  the ‘I’ is root. 
What we call ‘mind’ is but the notion ‘I’.

When we turn within and search whence this thought of ‘I’ arises, 
the shamed ‘I’ vanishes —  and wisdom’s quest begins.

Where this ‘I’ notion faded,  now as I,  as I,  arises here 
the One,  the very Self,  the infinite.

Of the notion ‘I’,  the permanency is That.  For even in deep sleep 
where we have no sense of ‘I’,  we do not cease to be.

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Five faces of Arunachala Siva

Five faces of Arunachala Siva … the “i – i ?”

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Body,  sense,  mind,  breath,  sleep – all insentient and unreal – 
cannot be I,   I, who am the Real !

For knowing That which is,  there is no other knower. 
Hence being is awareness;  and we are all awareness.

In the nature of their being,  creature, and creator are in substance One.
They differ only in adjuncts and awareness.

To free oneself of attributes is to see the Lord, 
for He shines ever as the pure Self.

To know the Self is to be the Self,  for it is non dual.
Knowing thus,  one abides as That.

That is true knowledge which transcends both knowledge and ignorance,
for in pure knowingness,  is no object known,

Our nature known,  we abide as being with no beginning and no end
in unbroken consciousness and peace.

Abiding in peace beyond bondage and release 
is steadfastness in service of the Lord.

All ego gone,  in peace as That alone 
is penance good for growth,  sings Ramana
“who sports in the Self”.

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A NOTE BY ARTHUR OSBORNE:  “The Tamil poet Muruganar wanted to write 100 verses on this theme, but he could not readily proceed beyond 70 verses.  It then occurred to him that Ramana was the proper person to write the verses relating to Siva’s instruction.  He therefore begged Ramana to compose them, and Ramana accordingly composed 30 Tamil verses.  They were subsequently translated by Ramana into Telugu and into Malayalam.  He himself later translated them into Sanskrit;  the Sanskrit version known as Upadesa Saram (the Essence of Instruction) was daily chanted before him, together with the Vedas, and continues to be chanted as a scripture before his shrine.  He grades the various paths to Liberation in order of efficiency and excellence, showing that the best is Self-enquiry.”

Arthur Osborne, founder-editor of Ramanasramam journal The Mountain Path

Arthur Osborne, founder-editor of Ramanasramam journal The Mountain Path

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The relationship of Siva, Lord of the Dance, and seed of fire, with Agni,  god of the sacramental fire itself,  is explored with great subtlety in various streams of the mythological delta.   In some of these stories, Agni becomes the servant, object or representation of Siva’s will.   The fire both creates and destroys.   Arunachala is primordially a “Hill of Fire”,  and the Temple there,  among those dedicated to the elements in Southern India Saivism,  represents fire.   The Deepam Festival of Lights in the winter season is the biggest of the regional festivals.   The flame is rekindled at the summit and at the root of Arunachala, amid general celebratory pilgrimage.   Siva’s ancient Vedic form was as Rudra, the Wild Hunter,  the fiery Archer, who interrupted the coitus of the Father Creator with the Dawn  (He Emerges from the Poem of Ancient Power).

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Agni

Agni – Skanda

The interplay of these currents across the sleep of spacetime awakens paradoxical archetypes of awareness.   They resonate like rhythmic chants of a kind, or music.   The opposites tasting one another, in mutual annihilation give birth.   Ramana, a child of these traditions, points to the fiery heart within us:  our warmth and love of being.

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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

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/

Along the Lane

When I go for walks or bike rides, I absorb landscape patterns, contours and fields, whose small events inform my life as vividlly as any book.

map 2_0001

My bike accident was a spiritual teacher.  It happened HERE, where the lower map ends and the next one begins. At this exact spot, Oakridge Lane becomes a dirt track, if you look just to the left of the figure 15.  See my earlier post on the subject.  I felt a need to continue my journey that had “fallen off the map” – which is what this post is about.

map 1

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First – a preamble.  What is the strength of the soul?

25 June 2013

Strength is supple and able to bend in most directions.   Isn’t that interesting?   Strength is regarded as hard muscles, force, rigidity bearing great weights and pressure – but it ISN’T!   It is fluid, soft.   This fluidity enables my “physical strength” to carry things.   If there is fluidity, the muscles naturally coordinate and run the task among themselves.  That is the principle.   It is the way the stones for Stonehenge and the Pyramids were carried – as on a river.

Struggling along at home with the Cube (i.e. last week) – after stitching in two 24-inch zippers, am now starting to sew the squares of coloured cotton together.   There isn’t a lot of strength for this.   The same principle applies to mental, psychological, emotional strength.

In 1974, 124 greencroft gardens

There was a Kabbalah meditation last night, at Susan’s place.  We visited our Room of the Soul in the House of the Psyche.  Afterwards, we stepped out into her mysterious long garden with its small round lawn, stepping stone path and tall shaggy trees, to sip the wine.  Once upon a time, I lived in the house next door, on the first floor.  I looked up at the big bay window … from which I used to watch Susan’s garden as it then was:  no trees, the ground picked bare by Imre’s hens and his kids.  That first-floor window was my Room of the Soul in the 1970s.  I lived there for six years. It is where  all the dreams – the raw material for my Watershed Tales – were written down.

Life there was very dark, intense and very full of light;  it was a beautiful big room with a grey carpet and a view over the gardens;  I danced, and my daughter was born.   It is amazing to see that place now, and connect.   There is no time.   An unknown soul now has that space.  Yet I am there.

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I had a chat with our teacher about my Capricornian accident two weeks back – banging my knee of course.  I have decided to ride back to the scene, and walk the Bike through it and onward, like one of our Meditations.    The idea of What was it stopping?  What is it telling you?   Watch carefully.   A fall like that is like breaking a veil.

This morning I asked the Tarot for a picture.   The card which came up, is 4, The Emperor – Aries – a Red one, and its faculty is Seeing – the hebrew letter HEH.   I didn’t see the sand and gravel on the road till too late – obviously – but now I must, and go carefully.    The one to the right is The Devil – the “intelligence of limitation and Mirth”; the physical Eye, hebrew letter AYIN.   The one to the left is the Priestess – THE VEIL ! – my deep blue subconscious river that was so rudely crashed into.

Tarot oracle 25.6.2013

Tarot oracle 25.6.2013

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The ride back to the scene, was in beautiful sunshine, up the Watling road which has a tree-lined cycle path and soars away from London.   Later, I skirted a big birdlife sanctuary and reservoir, on the way to the villages.  Above Elstree airfield, a few small private planes droned in sleepy circles. I arrived at last – a bit nervous – to The Spot where I bumped into the light.  It is just to the northeast of Blackbirds Farm.  As it has rained, the dust is now packed solid and trucks have driven over it – big ruts and scattered small gravel.

I stayed there for a while. There is a hay-meadow to the right, fringed with woodland, and to the left, a track leads to the sewage farm.  The spot is just past where the map ends and the next map begins.  The countryside from here, turns deeply rural.  I pushed Bike up the continuing lane.  The tempo slowed to the 1950s;   wild flowers, sunshine, cool birdsong in the  oaks.  S m i l e .  Being so soft is strength – not hardness.  The earthy lane wanders down into a hollow, then up again, then joins up to another old tunnel I know, between the Hill Farm and the Roman A-road north of Radlett.   Buttercups and frisky horses, a little hidden stream and the smell of cow-pats …  I emerged from the tunnel of very old dignified oaks.   Time had stopped.

I fell off my bike last month, because I was going too fast.   The tempi collided.

I did a good circuit – Drop Lane, along the Verulam-Colney River – quiet brown flowing serpent – around to School Lane through the witchy Bricket Wood, then down a leafy footpath under the motorway and into Watford.   Found my way through urban spaghetti and factories, back onto the Watling main-road, just north of the point where I had turned off.   And back to Stanmore;  and then a train, to join R for lunch in Kilburn.

The clarity of the quiet flowing serpent was forgotten.  The past is painful.  Then who should potter along and catch a bus at the other side of the road, but a certain funny old man in his hat … a keen eye for things, but rather deaf.

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What is the essence of a situation – any?   To be still and let it be itself.   Any enforcement with or against it, becomes RESENTMENT.

It is where my esoteric and ancient occult insights and all my learnings, let me down completely – as would any conditioning or vehicle for life.   It is where I fall off my map, and am battered and damaged, this is a place whereof I cannot speak, because it involves others, and is confidential.   There is integrity and love, the honesty in common, but not in a way which I can easily share, or express myself in.

The essence is – there is nothing to be, do, or say.  So try to companion the fact with peace.  I did notice yesterday, that I become less agitated.  The guilt and fix-it struggle is weaker, much weaker.   It is in the past, now.   I could not see through windscreen wipers.  When it flows itself, the words and frameworks all vanish.   But at the time, I forget, or do not manage to remember this fully, and the nonsense goes on.

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Happy woman driving in 1964

Happy woman driving in 1964

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Poor humans!   Only very slowly does it ease.   ACCEPTANCE.  There is a slower tempo.  I wish to adjust mine accordingly so I can perceive and befriend it – like stopping the speed bike and walking and seeing nature.

For instance:  R said she begins to find that Thoughts are a bad hand, and the inner Sceptic is no help, and isn’t telling the truth.  Begin to chill out more.   We are – we have the fact on our plate, like a cold chicken.   The cataclysms which depression generates,  engrave our life.  Like the sun, they plough the field and one day stand as wheat, golden ripe.

I perceive my parental essences, their creativity;   and by contrast, R’s parental essences, their burden.  It is difficult to live creatively, without a view of ‘the bigger picture’ or map, where everything connects.   And yet what help is my “knowledge”, to her?   Just different rooms for delusion!!   The esoteric viewpoint, and its practice, make me more arrogant and anxious.   Yes.

jacobs ladder with Yetzirah queen scale

Sorrow, and no drama.   No words for this;  just ride or walk it along the lane.  So this is Kabbalah.  This is the soul triad on the Tree, with its intense light and shade, and the rough stony path, and the softness with the trees and flowers;  knowledge that strength and power is soft – the silence of the cool river as it slides along its earthy bed.   Nature’s tender force shapes twisted roots, tree-bark and summer-droop branches through un-numbered seasons.   So it is in life, and is the only way to navigate.   My body is soft and ageless when the bones and joints move with sensibility and the breath, enjoy the rotation in the hip when pedalling, and so on.   Recalling this for at least a while, each day.   Life and friendships tend to follow and enhance the body’s way of doing and being …  after a time.

Respect and value another soul’s inclination to solitude and hard graft in this life time – the difficulty of reaching out:   negotiating false persuasions that nobody cares or wants to know.   In all ways, we contact our Self, and discover what is real.

So what did I see, on my ride across the squares?  My inner eye has instantly the truck and the RED post office van (rather old fashioned) which popped out of a dirt-road left turning, and waved to me merrily – I just arrived, and look funny there, with my bike – the place is quite busy, I hear the sounds of work and tractors, unlike the evening quiet when the accident happened.

It’s about 11.30 or midday I suppose.   To the left are local waste-management services:   to the right, an open field of warm grass in the breeze.   Onward, a path up a small hill and then along an old, shady, unmetalled lane:   the soft and timeless power of gnarled roots – the tall oak trees.   I walk along the edge between worlds.   The ride into the next landscape “square” was joyful, picturesque and countrified:  so was the Ver Colne serpent water, and meeting the end-threads of my many walks in that region: and riding around the back of the beautiful Munden estate, through faery forests

It all says, “Look where you are going.  Here is the Emperor in his red van:  the cool Priestess with her buds unveiled;  and the Devil who gets cross with Niggles.”

Don’t be tempted or urged to confront stuff directly.   It doesn’t work, it just collides and turns to lies.   Be extremely watchful of the temptation when it arises, with those whom I care about.  Avoid Karma … and embrace relationship.

I cannot be other than I am.   I desire to see OBJECTIVELY without windscreen wipers.   Inner sight emerges from and after the process.  The processing is just a fishing line dangled in the deep – the bait.   Life is a bait on the hook.   The SEEING is from the other dimension, the bigger picture;  and it heals.   A bigger picture for instance, is a cluster of fields and a crossroads in it, and when I home in with magnifying glass, there’s this tiny figure who falls and gets hurt, and then picks herself up and continues along the way.   I am inside her speck, and also outside, as my visual frame is the wide blue all embracing yet boundless horizon – no spectacles.  I am the eagle and the worm:  the seagull and the fish.   Life on the ground is a rough, stony business;  most often magical as the light comes through the trees and the wind stirs the grass.

I saw some deep violet daisies.  They shone.  Keep that sense of touch open – all the senses.   Hearing, smell, sight …

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This photo was taken in 1968 - my first bike.  He was called Black Colin.  I rode him all over the Quantock and Brendon Hills and lived my map.  My mother and I were reminiscing about him last week, as he was her bike during the war, and she rode him from Edinburgh to Inverness.  He was an old Raleigh, and very strong.

This photo was taken in about 1968 – my first bike. He was called Black Colin. I rode him all over the Quantock and Brendon Hills – an early soul map.   My mother and I were reminiscing about him last week, as he was her bike during the war, and she rode him from Edinburgh to Inverness. He was an old Raleigh, and very strong.

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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

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/

Jack in the Box

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Wood Bird Yantra

Wood Bird Yantra

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In reply to dear Genie’s comment yesterday – I am Inside and outside the box!  Mouni Sadhu devised a contemplation exercise:  study the interior of an empty matchbox till it can be visualised precisely and perfectly :  then study the exterior likewise, every detail.  Then try to fit the two visualisations together, seamlessly.   This practice enables us to think and perceive four-dimensionally.

That is why I love the Cube of Space as a philosophical tool;  and why I struggle to build one in the way I do.   Inside and out.

I discovered while blogging yesterday, that I had sewn the Cube’s east and west squares THE WRONG WAY ROUND!!   I let the photo stand, to demonstrate my perils, mistakes and oversights, and re-cobbled the material in the evening.   It took hours to re-sew the two squares.   I DISLIKE SEWING and all its fuss and fiddle and my sore fingers and poor eyesight.

Anyway, here is the amended construction:

Here in principle is the Rosicrucean idea – a Rose Cross to meet in every heart of Life.  I love rediscovering this, although my arts & crafts attempt is somewhat scruffy.

Unknown rosebud

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I think my best posts are about my problems.  I cannot for obvious reasons draw these out in detail.   But we all share the difficulty of encountering Life, and my way isn’t more “erudite” than a musician’s with her instrument.   I use the Tree of Life and Tarot Keys as coloured lenses.  My problems are Tarot Keys of their own, permitting the essence or “template”  to appear.  It is satisfying to dwell on a circumstance – like painting a picture and gradually filling things in – until suddenly a little lever releases, and it springs into life:  a fully fledged Arcanum.

An Arcanum is an illumined collection of Mysteries.   An Arcanum is a teaching-point:  a paradox:  a living bird just air-borne.

They fly in the alchemical flask.   They are the everyday things

An illustration from Alexander Roob's Alchemy & Mysticism

An illustration from Alexander Roob’s Alchemy & Mysticism

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I decided to follow up “But … there is Hope in the Well”  with  “Along the Lane”;  as I rode my bike onward into the map last week, after bumping into the light.   But materialising my Cube of space, comes in between!

To cut another long story short – I accompanied Jack to Burnt Oak mental hospital yesterday, for him to pick up some pills.  He flushes them down the loo, as they are poisonous: they cause diabetes and worse, and carry the Elf & Safety warning.  But psychiatry’s hoops and loops are navigated as prescribed.   The E U is slicing disability benefits again, while the House of Lords – so one hears – spends £100,000 on redecorating the lavatory.  I feel the fear and distress of disabled persons all over the land.  Briefly … Jack has to play the game objectively, and supply Caesar’s pence – an object exercise to respond not as an ego, but as a statistic:  it is the form.   Inside the form is a crippling anxiety.  Inside the building is a nightmare of contagious fear.   The patients pace up and down the cage, waiting to be administered their poisons and bangs on the head, and sent off home again. Drugs, fear, clinical dysfunction, human degradation and the cheery cleaners – I felt sick.

When in panic, when boxed in, do something practical to earth it.   We went back to his house and began to fill up the renewal form for disability parking – overdue, and by now gone toxic. The local authority’s labyrinthian call centre was clapped to poor Jack’s left ear – we ended up laughing.   The tension changed and settled.   Slowly I remember, again:  Befriend the situation – any in life – adapt, soften with it.  Be sly.   Smile.   Deep inside, the way through is known:  just do it, step by step.

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matchinthebox

matchinthebox

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I went home and spent the evening re-doing the Cube’s east and west.  I am like Johannes Kepler with his ‘dear and diligent readers‘ – each error in his planetary calculus is enthusiastically shared, as integral to eventual triumphs.

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JA JK Synastry

My natal Seal of Solomon – lode-star –  is In the astrology synastry with him.  And look at the mutual lunar-nodes Grand Cross!  And the Uranus-Neptune, Jupiter-Uranus conjunctions …  and his Midheaven on my Ascendent.  In my present life, I studied astrology intensively under his tuition and inspiration:  his music of the spheres, is mine also.

Yet I can’t have been Kepler in a previous life, if I was romping around with Simon Forman in London at the same period (said to be).  I may have known Kepler selectively on the inner and subtle planes.  He was a Capricorn, and so was S.F.  We human beings are mind-stuff.  The solidified texture we move within, and have our being and our stress, is a temporary facet of the world.  We do move freely in and out of each others’ soul, according to affinity, once we attain the gift to realise it conscientiously.

Did we but know !  It is timeless.  It is unfettered by storybook sequential incarnations in space and time.  I may visit Kepler or Master R any moment, if I draw together the vessel to catch the dew, and concentrate.  AFFINITY happens.   The Great Work, and all spiritual endeavour, consists in learning to travel Consciously in the planes and levels.   That means, to quieten and harness my headstrong I-thought process.  And so, freed from the unconscious barrage of the Netzach Hod Yesod merrygoround … a gentle amusement self-defines.  Reality emerges from the mist into shining bas-relief:  clarity.  In Malkuth which is Earth and Tifareth which is Consciousness, Kether the Divine thread stands tall like a Sequoia pine:  the sky within.   Perhaps group ritual work and worship boils down to this.

Young love & Mum

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The Buddha is said to remember all his myriad lives, because the personalized dream doesn’t stand in front, obscure or apparently separate any of them.   And so the Avatamsaka Sutra has countless towers of individual Infinity:  the trees in the forest, each unique, and each containing the boundless forest.   This is life!   This is the countless incarnations!    When I am lost in my mouse-scurry, I see none of it.

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conference of neuroses '87

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A friend who blows wonderful coloured glass, writes long posts almost every day – well, at least 3 times a week, like I did last year.   We of the Illumined – who are stained-glass windows – cannot stop writing, ever.   We let in the light;  It writes us.    I write every day a trans-formation, and blog a few little things from it, which I hope might be useful.  I begin in the morning stiff and foggy, and I feel the muscle warm up, open and loosen, as the interior sun comes out.   It is the same as going for an early run, or a ride.

The musical tone in my mind this morning – I checked on the pitch-pipe –  is INDIGO – A-natural:  Saturn.   Saturn’s tattva or sense of touch, is AKASHA – keeper of the cosmic records:  cosmic memory.

Now, here is the Avatamsaka Sutra.  It is in one of my bog’s earliest posts – no harm in repeating it.   It is an Invocation for Life:

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“THE TOWER is as wide and spacious as the sky itself.

“The ground is paved with (innumerable) precious stones of all kinds, and there are within the Tower (innumerable) palaces, porches, windows, staircases, railings and passages, all of which are made of the seven kinds of precious gems …

“And within this Tower, spacious and exquisitely ornamented, there are also hundreds of thousands … (innumerable) of Towers, each one of which is as exquisitely ornamented as the Tower itself, and as spacious as the sky.

“And all these Towers, beyond calculation in number, stand not at all in one another’s way;  each preserves its individual existence in perfect harmony with all the rest;  there is nothing here which bars one Tower from being fused with all the others, individually and collectively;  there is a state of perfect intermingling, and yet of perfect orderliness.

 “Sudhana, the young pilgrim, sees himself in all the Towers, as well as in each single Tower, where all is contained in One and each contains all.”

 Paraphrase by Suzuki
from the Buddha’s AVAMTAMSAKA SUTRA

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Jim Ede with Gaudier's Bird swallowing a Fish

Jim Ede with Gaudier’s Bird swallowing a Fish

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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

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/