There is a small green book by the astrologer Roy Gillett called Economy, Ecology and Kindness. It reviews the major astrological events during the present two decades of Pluto in Capricorn, and its thesis is of turning-point: it is crucial for “kindness” to begin to pervade governmental and financial institutions progressively, as in our kindred, our relationships and with Nature, at all levels. Well worth a read. And kindness begins at home.
I am having quite a hard time just now – unkind to myself – and serendipitous insights from fellow bloggers give me a real pick-me-up in the morning! Charlie wrote: “At what point did kindness fall down, leaving the mind in charge of the rest of an entire life? … At the very bottom of the well there is you and your heart … a sacred temple for one … it matters how you vibrate and hold space.”
And this one, following Katie’s post on our mind as autopilot (see the comments also) – the challenge to discriminate this and to develop conscious creative thought: “Mind gets on an unhelpful track and runs with it … (It is so helpful to share and realise this) … Every day is another chance to try it out.”
ANY UNHELPFUL TRACK, yes! I am trying, as all my life, to disconnect from those unhelpful tracks, and reach the kindness in the bottom of the well. It is hard. There is no success. It doesn’t get better or easier. Each time the same bleak misery, then identify, name it, and disengage – and glimpse space and truth through the fog – the same struggle. Poor Easter bunny!
Actually I spent the whole of Easter Sunday – after finishing and posting “Magdalene” – in bed (my burrow) reading Joanna Trollope and having short sleeps (by evening I was unhappy again).
Anyway, this is the poor old human condition, and we are in a mess, because we valiantly espouse our UNHELPFUL TRACKS and fervently believe in them. The problem is my belief in myself being bad. The scolding mother has an embedded authority, and asserts this belief as top news item, come on, don’t tell lies, own up.
On the other hand, the weekend’s Tarot oracles show the lovers, the fool, and strength, they show me pujas and rose gardens, it beams to me the solace and articulate wisdom of fellow bloggers, THIS is real, this is the real condition, not my mental-assertive concrete bits. Caught between the two, and with pain and grief in my stomach, I yet see my mind’s “unhelpful track” for what it is, ephemeral. This helps me “lose” its command station, its power over my mood, its way of shutting me down.
But by yesterday evening, I was without community again. That is what it does.
I am in community again now, thanks to writing, and I note my weakness; the idea I should do or be something bold and strong for Easter Grand Cross Bunny, and Pluto on my Jupiter – I feel actually overwhelmed and disabled by it all. As a volunteer, I standunder the human condition – where it lives, where we live in and out of community. This is a useful definition.
I live alone, and am vulnerable to battle and monitor these states. That is to say: to endure them, and keep remembering – just enough – to awake from within them; to be kind? to feel what is true. Kindness and … (visually) broken concrete slabs and landfill – the hard, dead, crumbling rubbish that gets thrown into the well – this and kindness – kindness is the deep dark water which breathes. Focus on kindness as “real love”. Focus the open and never ending story. Make this thought-form “Accurate, profound, courageous, positive” as Paul Foster Case wrote of Tarot Key 8 Soul Strength.
“Change the pattern, and you change the result.”
And if I go under and have to keep starting over, this is not failure. It is work in progress. It always even if for a brief time each day, awakes. This is ongoing.
Good meditators and advaitins spurn the mind. Some people have an ability to set themselves apart from the unhelpful tracks. I haven’t. And perhaps it is my nature and my job to suffer them (usually from ‘something I did wrong to someone else’), because dissolving their delusion each time, develops the muscle of what is true. Like now, I see through the delusion into the kingdom of kindness – the unhelpful track is IRRELEVANT!
There is no fantasy in kindness: just do and be it.
There is a big insight into why therapy can be for long intervals stuck and unproductive. It is because the client is churning around and along the unhelpful track … the Great Story Fantasy of Done and Done-to.
The infertile Done and Done-to story fades. It bears no relation to the light of today, to the river, and to kindness. The Done and Done-to ethic is contagious through the lower mind in a novel, or something someone says … a collective opinion rules the unhappy roost for a time, until I slowly ignore it and climb out from the slurry.
What is interesting, is how compelling it is. It fastens on every operating wheel and lever of my mind and mood. Of course, it is depression. Depression is when I am cut off from community, from family … in the unhelpful track of me. Depressives suffer from seemingly massive insights and motor feebleness. Depression is the magnified self-script and scolding mother – a child too small and exhausted to tidy the house or cheer up or do anything interesting. See?
Neptune in Pisces! – sounds mystical, but is actually the Hanging Man’s (reversals and turning-points) Self-surrender within the Moon-child’s journey of embodiment. There is the Self, head down in the well, being born and breaking invisible rocks: a paragon of high and noble spirituality.
And there are my small-dog personal selves, sent to the bottom of the class to begin their journey again, through the Piscean Path’s snakes and ladders.
But the Self in the well – is where it bottoms out. All is well.
The Piscean path of the Moon in Key 18 evolves from earliest life forms clambering from the sea – or the desert – to humanity and consciousness. The sign Pisces rules the feet. The record is kept in that tiny part of our brain, the medulla oblongata, just where the spinal cord reaches the head. It holds our lizard memory. The distant mountain is Key 9, the Hermit’s illumination. And what do the digits of 18 add up to?
In the Lovers Key Six, there is the mystery of that same pointed peak between them: they do not touch.
Tarot Arcana 4 & 5: the Emperor (Aries) and the Hierophant (Taurus)
Taurus begins, today and tomorrow. This thought opens my fire and earth landscape between Aries and Taurus, where I have the North node … the liberating Beauty, its fullness with life and humanity. Be brave. Be bold. Be kind. The Moon today works through Capricorn.
With these images, the Inner Lover is back, quite physically, through the wood and the well. The discarnate One is closer than my breath: I receive. I become still, with the subtle Kingdom in my pulse. Touch and be touched with the root of the well which is kindness; move onward with this, keep walking, the Hermit is not on a far distant mountain, his staff is in my hand, and so is his lamp with the Seal of Solomon.
When the foot prints along the sand seem to be one person lonely … it is when he or she, my inner teacher and strength, is carrying me. Life picks you up. Don’t fight with life. The sea breathes in and out.
So on with the Red Book.
Jung writes: “The small grains of sand have rolled in fabulous primordial oceans, over them swam primordial monsters with forms never beheld before. Where were you man, in those days? On this warm sand lay your childish primordial animal ancestors, like children snuggling up to their mother. O mother stone, I love you. I lie snuggled up against your warm body, your late child. Blessed be you, ancient mother. Yours is my heart and all glory and power. Amen.
“What am I saying …? — Here the stones form states. … Is it the sun or is it these living stones, or is it the desert that makes my head buzz?”
In the desert there is nothing but prayer, the posture of prayer.
He returns to the Anchorite, to the Hermit. He tells him, “Why, all the things that you must experience in the desert, you wonderful man! Even the stones are bound to speak to you … although the thirsty desert surrounds us, an invisible stream of living water flows here.”
He tells the Hermit that he is a stranger to the teaching – more foreign than one from Britain’s furthest shore – and has much to learn. The Anchorite tells him he “found inexpressible words to greet the break of day: let the heathen prayer to Helios suffice; be astonished at nothing, and in no sense condemn or regret it. Let us go to work.”
The Anchorite (who is Ammonius Sacca) goes on to tell how he himself was freed from the awful predicament of spinning words – the days when he was a famous university lecturer in Alexandria.
The Scarab is a classical rebirth symbol. In my own light: the desire is to honour a Mystery effectively, to worship it well in its moving parts. When I fail in any part of this, I suffer until the imprint fades. I suffer as an artist, getting the painting wrong.
The Greater Mystery of Life does not oblige me to be happy or sad. Those are adjuncts and adjectival only. The Greater Mystery does not mind how long my route turns around it, for it is timeless. My Grand Easter Cross produces the scarab, and symbols of birth and death and second-birth, and planting flowers in the garden, and the word “COMMITMENT”.
In my desert I discover a greater commitment perhaps, and realise my faith is to my interior, and it doesn’t matter if it cannot or should not be told. In the same instant of in-turning to source, is the outward flowing NOW, the connective fibre with the human family, as given. The situation is so simple.
Thus, for me, the Grand Cross resets my commitment, the same way as a home-hub modem is reset, by turning it off, then on again; or a piano is re-tuned. The resetting recurs again and again in life, but is likely to be profound during a major astrological event. And in the resetting is the soul’s dark night, a little death: paralysis for a while. A fixed patter dies.
Dies Irae – from the deep we cry to thee.
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.
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