The name “Magdalene” is derived from a Hebrew word, magda, meaning “tower”: a vessel for the second birth.
This morning in my dark night of the soul, I remember a painting I did. Here is its story:
(3 October 2000): “Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness. If I am sitting in the retort, seeing out of the window, the birds of mercury that fly by, are throbbing warm feathered vitalities of the Spirit.
“On Sunday a powerful bolt of feeling – listening to Messiaen’s organ music of Mary Magdalene/Jesu in the sepulchre (No.11 in Livre du Saint-Sacrement) – produced this drawing. Mary M is leaning back into him and giving birth to the Sun, which is still inside her. He appears in the grey dawn when she thinks he is dead: he says her name very quietly, and her heart awakes with joy.
In the night I woke up with foxes shrieking outside; and I felt in myself what was still blurred in this drawing. A “hermes sensation” came slowly over me, with the teaching. On Monday morning I completed it – a cracking dawn landscape, her womb. The rocky cave around these beings became like the original Serpent. Christianity is more timeless with adam and eve, and more esoterically erotic, with the Son being born through Mother Earth, than most of its caretakers might care or dare to see.
“Then last night I dreamed I’d given birth to a baby, and now the pair of us – baby and I – were engaged on the enormous and exhausting task of feeding the baby from my inner body; i.e. to find a position where this could be done, how to hold it and the blankets around us (as Earth): the vast and cooperative hunger of the child.”
“O Night you black wet-nurse of the golden stars! From this darkness all things that are in the world have come as from its spring or womb.”
“The red and the white tinctures of alchemy are in this drawing: the pinkish violet in the rocks around him like the changing of the water into wine. It is a geode, and also the fresh, cold sea.”
19 April 2014
I recall now, that I did the drawing with an awareness of history. Like Jesu’s agony in the garden, foreseeing perhaps the centuries of abuses in his name, the woman bears with the Sun in her labour and return, a knowledge of how she will be suppressed, distorted and demonized, for religious reasons. Deep down, the Yeshua Maria consciousness is alive, two halves of the same seed.
Easter is a family time. On holy Saturn’s day, when all the religious images in their churches are shrouded, I sorrow also – my sense of apartness. It aches sharply through my hands; but the pain brings connection to my creativity. I asked my Tarot for a key to open my day with. It turns out to be Key 0, the Fool: the alchemist: the eternal antidote to depression. To the left and right, I found the Lovers and Soul Strength.
Yes, the stone will roll away and the Son of Man will come out. In this moment the cave of the tomb is Mary Magdalene, as in my painting; and he called her name, she heard, and he came and stood beside her. He is free.
The solace is as ever, my interior world and its precise vision; it wakes through the shutters. Life strides on brightly through the shadows; all is well; there are these passing shadow states. Connecting seems to happen through the passage of pain through my hands – brief and sharp, like lightning – for the creatures of the forest begin to stir – the Glory begins to stir – my resources flow their lifeblood through me, I am in the dawn. The healing is that I am not limited. Don’t get bogged down with life. Keep travelling the mountains and the ravines. Pick me up each time. “If you don’t fight with life, Life takes you up and puts you on her shoulder” … an old Osho song.
I climbed out of the dark night and grasp the bright, sun warmed rock. Be at peace with the turning point, however it manifests: for still there is pain, and the grief of having been unwise, and now my trapped negative nerve is clamouring. Look to the progress of humanity, of human values: courage, honesty, mindfulness and real love.
You see, the Fool travels at dawn, the Lovers are open, the lady restrains the red Lion so he will roar in a different way, he will sing to the dawn. The red Lion is bound to her body softly, with roses. Look to the human values, and mend.
In the churches, the holy images are draped in mourning cloths. If we have a troubling inner issue, we are likely to be crucified on it for holy Saturn’s day. Fall, fall, fall into the dark tomb and rise again as Light. Everything that is preached about this, is theory. I have to do and be it myself, or pass for ever, the buck.
The sound of the sea is unchanging, bringing with it, seals and souls.
May all that we plant and cherish this spring, bear fruit. I wish you a joyous Easter tide!
My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. This blog is a vehicle to promote also my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books). Watch this space.
All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2014. 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/