Parc y Meirw: The Field of the Dead

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Coastal Path 1991 Series – Part Three

This is a large post, which has been some time waiting.  It arose from within my  Coastal Path terrain.  It was a channeling.  It remained my major milestone, because after writing it all down, I found myself in a different place from when I began.  With it came some understanding with Ramana Maharshi’s astrology.   See also (river water, stone, nodes) my 18 July post “Portraits & Poems of Eclipse for Ramesh – a Revision

(1)  A Meditation on Eclipse

(2)  Ramana Maharshi’s Horoscope:  eclipse, darshan and mutual reception

**

(1) ON ECLIPSE August 1991

IT IS about 9.30 on an August evening in Pembrokeshire, South Wales, and darkness has gathered.  There is not time to reach the top of Carn Enoc, whose tump stands proud upon the dark round breast of the hill above me.  Carn Enoc is a rocky tumulus marking the central or half way point of the St Davids-to-Cardigan ley-line, and very very old.  Tonight I have to return to London.  My tent and belongings are stashed at a friendly snack-bar at the Harbour station in Fishguard, and this is my final expedition, pedaling up the dark Gwaun Valley – where they still keep the old calender: deep fissures in the landscape, unchanging –  to the open hillside.  The legs have had enough.  The bike lies on the grass by the hedge, for I have at last found an ancient site to “travel home about”!  A row of four giant standing stones broods along the hedge, two of them marking the gate posts.

This is the Stone Row of Parc y Meirw, the FIELD OF THE DEAD.

(The portal.  In the background, far left, are Fishguard Harbour and the distant hill near Pyllderi and Strumble Head.  Photo from http://www.megalithic.co.uk)

The sky has that strange radiance of early night that shimmers somewhere between violet and green, and the Moon has risen over the tense and sleeping field of grass, dazzling white and gold.  She is in her first Quarter at the end of Scorpio, so she is one-half of a seed.  “Harvest Moon!” I quote, as I greet each silent stone.

Two months later … October 1991

My guide-book, the Pembrokeshire Explorer, tells me that this row of stones is an astronomic tool for predicting solar and lunar eclipses, which it does with pin-point sensitivity.  It lines up with the summit of Mount Leinster 91 miles away over the sea in the Irish Wicklow hills.  When the Moon setting appears to slip down the righthand side of Mount Leinster, there will next day be here in South Wales a solar eclipse if it is near New moon, or a lunar eclipse if Full.

The priests who exercised this knowledge measured many other phenomena of the world.  It seems to me, this line of stones is positioned in precise angular relationship also to the tumuli on the hill of Enoc, for the fruit of other observations.

Enoch in the Old Testament was He who walked with God.  “And he was not, for the Lord took him.”  The Celtic version of this name is Enoc, or “cone” backwards.  Here’s a co-ordinate for inner reflection, because much Hermetic power is lodged in these syllables.  The stone circles in this country are felt to be contemporaneous with the Pyramids.   Their builders, as those in Egypt, tapped fields of magnetic energy in Earth, focused stellar and luminary observation with the infinite reach of the human spirit, and guarded these openings of the oracular sciences with rings of negative ions to keep away unwary fools.  For they worked in fields outside time.  The bulk of their activity is invisible in the temporal and historical context.   It enabled them to See.

If you are a druid or seer, and you step through the portal into the field of your profession, no outsider can perceive your tools or what they invoke;  because you enter the ‘standing’ current of the electro-magnetic field.  And if you are, say, an ancient Atlantean, you are wise to leave no tangible trace of your knowledge, for the structure of the atom is potentially lethal to those who are merely curious or hungry for power.  You enter the field of operations where Time is not.  The work is an intimate relationship with the local climate, as with planets of the Solar universe which encircle their nucleus.  When each phase of this work is done, you “close down:” to ensure no unlawful spillage.  You keep away trespassers with rings of repellent power – it sends them to sleep.

It is thought that the magi of ancient times practiced a technology which integrated static electricity with  the prana or breath of Oriental teaching.  With it they could influence the relative weight of quarried stone, so as to transport its mass to a sacred site.  The laser focus of the spirit, entering the heart of the electro-magnetic field, can alter and manipulate its relative densities.  The prana is vital cosmic current, as intercepted by each individual organism.  That is to say, the prana breathes the individual, not the other way round.  My outbreath is the inhalation of cosmic prana;  and when I breathe in, the ALL exhales into me and gives me life.   Thus JHVH breathed out into clay to form ADAM:  this word means Earth.

And so I seem to see these great stones transported substantially – though with token physical effort and organization – upon a cushion of this vital prana or cosmic breath, like a modern hovercraft, or a floating raft of logs to roll it down the river.  Dark blue stones from the Preseli Hills near here were transported to Wiltshire, to build Stone Henge.

Various experiments have demonstrated that a person in a state of deep concentration becomes physically less dense – that is, actually lighter.  If he or she sits in a chair, four friends with a spontaneous concert of will, can easily raise him up with their fingertips – this I have tried, and seen for myself.  The relationship between gravity and the vital current is less predictable than it seems.  A meditator rises.  Isn’t it astonishing how lightly our physical body can be taken upstairs, a pair of lovers flip positions,  a gesture flow like water through an arm, a dancer through one small equilibrating movement?  Only the molecular substance of flesh, fluid, muscle, is inert – or death to the dance within the atom.

The forgotten yet simple skill could enter the dense gravitational field of stone, and let “I’ become its vital sub-atomic current;  here we have a concentration of material which, when conscious, changes its weight.  The stone may be made to move with the living coordinate.

Dattatreya, the Guru of Nature, the elements, and every day  

So also, we have sculpture, the forms and presences of the gods.  We have the Gothic cathedrals of the Templars, in which mass converts to light.  The density, the groundweight of the flying buttresses to each side, maintains the opening of the ogive or soaring arch, taut as a musical string.  Feel the vault of Chartres, how it opens upward like the bud of a flower.  The buttresses and pillars are guylines.  They peg its soaring tabernacle to earth.  The Masonic science of the arch does not lean-to upon itself.  It keeps the art of light, of birth, just opening outward, like the bud, like fingertips in prayer which touch.  The gravitational pull is inverted:  stone is pulled heavenwards, like the way our spine lifts in the Alexander technique.  And so you go in, and you open your eyes from the ground.

This is an example of how the gross weight of stone converts to consciousness – a temple which cannot decay or fall.  The cathedrals were built along the same principles as the stone circles – using pegs and lengths of string to mark out interlacing circles and their vesica pisces.  The Master gave the architect a sacred blueprint.  Solomon’s wisdom entered the rock.

 Seven branch Star

Old tales around more ancient stone circles are told:  at Rollright, some of the stones from the circle of silence “travel” down to the stream at dead of night, to drink.  Water and stone.  Moses struck the rock with his staff of authority (priesthood, the meaning of Aaron) and the water of life came forth.  This water is consciousness.  The staff is the Rod.  During the initiation of Moses, JHVH said to him “What is that in your hand?”  Moses replied, “a rod”.  And JHVH said “Cast it upon the ground.”  So he cast it on the ground, and it became a serpent, and Moses fled from it.  But JHVH said to Moses “Put out your hand and take it by the tail.”  So he put out his hand and caught it, and it became a ROD in his hand.

Polarity –  triple staff/caduceus

 The rod, in Tarot (a spelling of Torah, the Law) sprouts and becomes the Suit of Wands.

 Polarity – Mercury, staff, mandorla

The Serpent power or kundalini, of Yoga, is likewise the vital current through Earth’s ley-lines or subtle conduits.  It runs through the meridians of acupuncture in ancient medicine.  It is called in many cultures, the Dragon which encircles and defends the gold or the Grail, and has to be tamed and subdued.  Every site of sacred power, every mound, tower or ring of stones along a ley-line, is an outlet of the Dragon.  Legends of the saints who did battle with Dragons, are tales of those who were learning to master their own raw unconscious.  They learned to spear the visionary ego at every outlet of sacred science.

(The root of this word “science”, is knowledge.  Self knowledge.  When dogmatic, it becomes an organised religion, whatever the white coat it wears may believe.)

Polarity – Nodal ourobouros

 The same Serpent power is the ascending and descending Node of the Moon.   At these antipodeal points north and south of the Equator, the lunar orbit around Earth intersects Earth’s orbit around the Sun.  The Nodes are known as the Dragons Head (north of equator) and Tail (south).   Their position on the ecliptic moves clockwise or “retrograde” around the zodiac, taking just over eighteen-and-a-half years to complete a full circle.  The Serpent in a circle devours its own tail.  If you are able to take your Dragon by the tail – the tension which is coiled up in old habits and reaction – and let that river of power straighten … you flow with your Dragon’s Head or ascending Node, to create new fields of reality.  You may be used like Moses, as an instrument.  Your destiny may materialize in or as a tide of history.  Or, to use another analogy, an old wound may heal.  The healer’s art, like the priestly chrism or power, taps into this Nodal electricity.

In yoga, the serpent – encompassing a dimension beyond that discussed – is coiled at the base of the subtle spine at the root chakra, like a wheel.   She is led to rise, straighten and open through five intermediary chakras or wheels up the subtle spine, to the “wheel” of the thousand petalled Lotus at the Crown.  The Eastern snake is thus charmed up through seven  chakras of the body.  The coiled serpent at the base of the spine – our plant stem – is the root, deep in dark earth.  When it is purified and naturally uncoils like a fern in spring, the “white” current flows without impediment, like a laser beam.

Chakra

The word chakra means “wheel”.  The chakras are waves which emanate concentrically from their subtle centre.  Karma – the inertia-momentum of action – is similarly a centrifugal coagulation of an impulse around itself.  The impulse traveling outward cools, forming the ego, I-story or crust of the world.  The hub of the wheel is motionless, around which all spins, all radiates, all consolidates and changes.  The hub of the wheel is its heart, its secret fire – magma in the roots and veins of Earth.

Solar eclipse takes place when the New Moon is conjunct to the Sun along a precise alignment of lunar and terrestrial orbital paths.   The Moon’s disk which is normally effaced during this moment in the greater light, then moves across the face of the Sun, cutting off its light.  For a short time, a small portion on the day-time hemisphere of Earth then experiences partial or total eclipse – darkness.

Rahu northnode 2. ( For earlier version of these two drawings, see my post “Sacred India Tarot :  Creation of Chandra the Moon, 18 August”)

Lunar eclipse happens when the Full Moon is in opposition to the Sun along a precise alignment of lunar and terrestrial orbital paths.  The Moon is then exactly the other side of the Earth.  The Dragon as Earth’s own shadow eats or extinguishes the light of the illumined full Moon at night.

 Ketu northnode 2

To our “two eyes” of Earth, the indescribable vast discrepancy in the actual size and distance between the two lights, appears as two “pennies” the same size in the sky … whose periods regulate our life.   Isis and Osiris, in long ago Egypt, portray the cycles and the phases of the light, as Earth’s axis tilts around the sun.

Only an act of inward imagination can begin to differentiate the star – its size, depth and unending radiant centre – from the mirror of its cool earthbound satellite.  Our coinage is the surface or apparent measure of things.  The root of the Sanskrit word maya is ma – to measure:  the skill or art of measuring the immeasurable, thus an impossible feat.

Light is our protection.  When the light is eaten up by an approaching shadow, a hole or opening of darkness is created in the psyche.  At this time, some signal enters through a blind eye and takes root.  It seems the magnetic field of Earth is particularly vulnerable or sensitive at these fluid points where the planes of our sun and moon may merge.  It loses during eclipse, a screen.  An unpredictable cosmic current or ray may enter this nodal channel, engendering a clairvoyance of darkness or of unknown quantity.  And so, open to sinister interpretation, the eclipse would often portend flood, invasion or plague.

Cosmos

Eclipse may equally prophesy the coming – like a thief in the night – of a saviour or Kingdom of righteousness.  Light has a subtle and furtive way of creeping up on the disciple.  The zen method disorients his three-dimensional habit or view of the world by means of koans or mental paradox – “to hear the sound of one hand clapping”.  Wisdom does come like a thief in the night.  It is not a parade of visions or anything to boast about.  Wisdom removes vainglory.

An accurate prediction of an eclipse issues a warning to citizens and farmers and kings to see to their psychic and physical defenses and make sure there is some reserve in the granary.  But an initiate receives a visiting card – an increment of Reality abiding beyond the known co-ordinates of space and time.

Orbits 1988

 An image of this arises as I write –  a convexity which is actually a concavity.  Something which appears to be solid, yields infinite and vertiginous space.  A wall of darkness is a channel.  The river may be read to flow in both or all directions.  The planes of the worlds dissolve.  The matrix of reality fragments, like torn shreds of paper on which a story is written.  And through the floating and faded static of those white shreds with black signs, appears the unknown field of yet some Being other.  Time on a clock ticks regularly.  But sometimes it seems each tick stops around itself.  Then everything bursts into a slow motion sneeze.  There is no end.  No beginning:  and thus no progression.  The shreds of white paper with the pattern of the writing breaking apart, were a molecular skin or surface to watery element immeasurably deep, and this molecular lattice is flaking away …  like the skin of a snake.

Chronos in rings and DNA, 1988

 Snake.  Water and Stone.

Look into the eyes and stillness of the snake.

Look into a river flowing by.

The strange solid fluence of the water is a wall of itself.

What is this, but a flow of stone?

 kundalini shakti, 1988

The nature of flowing water is a very great mystery to me, looking into it, placing my hand down into it.  The whole river, the wall of it cold, metallic, sings every shining living contour of stone over stones.

The song and substance never ends and never begins.

Yet everything can be dropped into it.

A path of gravity or falling object, cross-sections one instant of Time through the wholeness of the river which is timeless – the fourth dimension.  Our world, our story, our vortex, is a minuscule fraction of the river, an instant.

Lovers at Buckland Filleigh

River through woodland.  River through countries.

River, dark and secret, dark brown is the river, golden is the sand;  and put your ear to the ground.

Where does the snake “really” begin or end?

You cannot say, for the snake is not his head or tail, but the ripple along all his atoms over the earth.

Now take him by the tail.  How that ripple writhes the whiplash, body and soul!

Yet I AM the body of this snake, straight and true, for I wrestled the Angel, and became the source.

I am then always, all ways.

To use an old expression, we flip as “Heads and Tails” for destiny, the currency of sun and moon on the back of our hand which is earth.  The Dragon describes a circle of 18.6 years around the zodiacal ecliptic.  At his tail south of equator, he depletes his vital force;  and at his head north of equator in the antipodeal or complementary zodiac sign, he restores it.  Head to tail is a flow of nectar nourished by the earth:  union.  The Dragon’s Head is “turned towards” the sun or source-light.  The Tail is empowered by the akasic residues or past-life memory – that is, reflected or lunar light.

Dinosaur egg

In the old lore, the Dragon bites and eats up the Sun and Moon.  This dragon of the earth is a black hole in the sky.  And they must make much noise with the beating of drums and shouting and dancing, to frighten him away and let the maidenly lights come free.  When there is no eclipse, the plane of Moon’s terriestrial orbit tilts across Earth’s solar orbit.  Where the planes intersect is called the Node, north and south of the equator.

At a time of potential eclipse, the lunar orbit merges and comes to rest upon that of Earth’s own journey around the Sun.  Sun, Moon and Earth lie then along one identical plane.  The teaching seems to be of non-differentiation:  Unicity:  the underlying circling of all things.  Those things which are different have melted or emerged into those which are the same thing.  The resonance of the worlds is one note upon a string.  But like the monitor of a failed heart, it registers no blip, no pulse.

Circumpunct

This, to the life of the personal mind, which thrives on the differences of all notes, orbital planes and operatics in relation to one another, is DEATH.  It is anathema.  It is very frightening.  The sky is livid.  We don’t want this unity, this expiry, this harmony of silence.  So we must sing and dance and put on the electrodes, perform an intensive-care of disturbance and distraction, wake it up, get it moving, jolt.  Frighten away that intensely transcendent and all enveloping existence consciousness, inimical to the local livelihood of life.  Move the electric spark.  Move it.

And the body re-emerges and fights on.

Yes:  for our light is our life’s wavelength, its spark of warmth and sentience.  Earth is the blanket which shrouds the light;  the shadow of Earth.

**

Out here in the Field of the Dead, upon the whitened grass, the Node where orbital planes cross and incite eachother, is the Dragon’s quiver:  the friction of ascending and descending current.  So also do violent ascending currents of warm air colliding with banked droplets of water release thunder and lightning, opening the heavens.  In an aeon of falling rain in our planet’s “pre-history”, here’s a glimpse of the origin of life.  Organic life comes forth in the rub of it, a spark of Genesis into the clay.

O angel

Rainbows.  Consider now rainbows, how they are made;  the crock at the end of the rainbow, ungrasped.  Clay is the vessel.  Gold grows there through the coloured prism of rain and sun.  So long as we seek it over there, so long it lightly laughs and mirages us.

Snake.  Water.  Stone.

Stone is the metal of living Earth, polarized to her magnetic field.

When a homeopathic remedy or essence is repeatedly diluted, its molecular substance dissolves to an atomic potency – like the dissolution of the I-thought into the Self.  Ramana Maharshi said:  “All know that the drop merges into the ocean, but few know that the ocean merges into the drop.”

So it is with the magnetic property of stone.  The blood of stone is her metallic vein; an ore extracted from Earth has a measurable pulse or current.  But in stone as a whole, non specialized, the current is diluted to quintessence – to a subtle trace.

The soul of humankind might enter the soul of Stone, if attuned to the quanta of its auric field.  There could be a fluid exchange of relative densities for certain concentrated purposes.  I somehow feel this is so, and is a forgotten art.  From the core of stone’s atomic lattice, there emanates like a flower’s scent, a wave.  Like the blood of a snake the heart of stone becomes warm in sunlight, and seems to pulsate like an egg.  This intuits throughout our subatomic world an unobstructed intercourse of all things – a potency.  Eclipse of Sun or Moon in the Field of the Dead, is a key to this understanding.  It affects subliminally the polar bias in the stone.  The worlds, the elements, may enter one another at this time.  “Oh, ye are Men of Stone!”

Loaves and Fishes

Water conducts electricity.  If you are damp the shock is greater.  Water conducts the current between the lights, male and female.  The Snake is a coil of copper wire.  The copper-serpent has minimal resistance to the flow of ions or current.  It is coiled tightly around a magnet to amplify the positive and negative polarity, and generate power.  It coils around the rock.  An electro magnetic wave is like a concentric ripple traveling through water into which a pebble or leaf is dropped;  like rings of time around the golden core of a tree.   Travelling in every direction from source, a round-wave harnessed into a two-way cable or filament manifests as heat, as sound …  or as a body (with all our history!)  In the vein, that wave registers the pulsation of the poles.  It spirals through transformers condensing the charge.  The “resistor” is thrown into high relief and specialization in a series of interactions.  Voltage channeled along a high-tension conduit is converted into available gross energy, such as speech.  (See my 21 August post, Odds and Logs, near the drawing of Dakshinamurti.)

Electro magnet ’88

Yet I sense that the power which has not been harnessed, but quietly emanates and flowers is, though subtle, infinitely greater.  It  encountered no “resistors” to slow it down into manifestation.  It has no sheath, cable or garment.  The multiple conduits in the biological, mental and industrialized world are of a very different order from the emanation pure in Spirit.  But it requires a refined and purified perception to realize this.

The stone is still and compact, a composition of space.  The atomic lattice is dense, and yet infinitely spacious:  it is.  It has a primordial emanation.

It is like one who sits very quiet, very awake, very still.  At Eclipse.

In esoteric parlance, evolutionary souls form an astral “copper serpent” or subtle collective body – a powerful tool or symbol of redemption.  Moses revealed it through the Rod to the children of Israel.  Jesus – JHShVH – surrendered himself on a cross of four elements – JHVH – and was resurrected from the tomb of rock, through this medium.  It comes to the aid of awakening between incarnations, and thus between all the lines of life;  and every time our thought falls silent.  There are and have been always bodhisattvas who offer or train their body to channel the Copper-serpent.  They gave to it their vital force, not mere lip-service or worship.   They recognize the cross, the lamb of God and the tomb which opened like a mother’s thighs, as the process here and how, spiritually and psychologically, unfolds.

Copper is the metal which is ruled by Venus.  In the highest spectrum, this is Love.

 **

 In the Beginning … (granite rocks from St Agnes, Isles of Scilly) 

So here I stand at night in this Field of Death.

I am opening to sky and tall grey stones, and dance a little because I am happy or moved, but otherwise unaware that such a stream of ideas is storing itself to later flow through my recall of being here, when I start to write it down.

I register my surroundings, the Moon in the clear sky, a possible relation of the site to Carn Enoc itself, and the vague hearsay that this line of Stones was used to measure the eclipse.  That is all.  This sounded interesting, and drew me here to get a feel of it.  I have no idea what I am investigating, if anything;  I am simply pleased to be here, it was a tiring bike ride up the Gwaun valley, and perhaps “they” will tell me something if I am quiet for a few moments and put my ear to them, each one.

The Pembrokeshire Explorer mentions an old folk tale of the Ladi Wen – the White Lady.  She wandered white about these fields at night.  For thousands of years it was enough to know that she would kill any fool who strayed near the plain grey giants.  “She wanders far and wide in her monthly journeying about the sky;  wayward, she returns to her original resting place only once every 18.6 years.”

The great stones rise like sentinels from a banked hedge.  There are four of them, and they are rather curiously squared-off.  I did not stay for very long, but I put my ear to three of them for a moment.  The place is remote, with a narrow lane running by the field.  Before farmland tamed and desensitized it, this could have been a place of power that strings of generations might shun.  The contour is broad and bleak.  The half-moon sheds a Scorpionic witch’s intensity over the entranced field.  The slopes fall away into the steep dark dells of the Gwaun valley where (I’m told) they still keep the old Roman calender.  And the eye is drawn upwards and along the skyline to the stark tumulus of Carn Enoc about a mile away.

“Enoch walked with God;  and he was not, for God took him.”  (Genesis Chapter 5)

Then Enoch (whom some say is Thoth, the  higher Mind of Egypt) dissolved into the plane of God.  His hill here is used to measure the eclipse.

 A Capricorn glyph – a hermetic Divinity

**

..

(2) RAMANA’S HOROSCOPE

“One who sits very quiet, awake and still. At eclipse.”

“His face is like the face of water, always changing, yet always the same. It is amazing how swiftly it moves from gentleness to rock-like grandeur, from laughter to compassion.  So complete does each successive aspect live, that one feels it is not one man’s face, but the face of mankind.”

Arthur Osborne

(See “Visit  to Arunachala 1993”, 22 June 2012 post)

17 October 1991

I did not know, during my visit to the Field of the Dead – (the Book of Unity?) – that I was about to hear a lesson about the solar and lunar ecliptic plane particularly relevant to my discovery of the teaching.  After I got back to London, I found out that when Ramana Maharshi was born, his Sun and Moon, in Capricorn and Cancer respectively, lay along the lunar Nodes.

This looked most interesting, and was further emphasized by his axis of Will or Midheaven in the same place.  I was enchanted to see this, being a new devotee, and myself a solar Capricorn and lunar Cancer.

I’m slow to comprehend things, and only today – more than a month later – the penny drops.  I have not investigated the geometry of eclipse before.  But as I wrote all this yesterday, (see previous pages) I vaguely remembered seeing something.  On a hunch I got out Ramana’s horoscope, to check.

(This is of course, a western or “tropical” chart – Earth’s orbit around the sun, within the Solar System – and identified with seasonal archetypes.  The Indian Jyotish zodiac is projected upon the actual constellations and their archetypes, outside the Solar System.  Due to precession of the equinox over the last few thousand years,  a 26-degree gap widens.  In Jyotish, Ramana is  in Sagittarius, with his planets placed accordingly.  In practice, the two systems differ in emphasis and cultural nuance, but the character reading adds up to the same.  It is like two sides of the same leaf, which appear different.)

**

I saw, in the light of what I had just discovered and learned, that in his astrological map there is no differentiation between the plane of the lunar orbit and that of the sun.  His birth (during the annual festival of the Sight of Shiva on 30 December at 1 am 1879) took place at a time when ALL THREE PLANES OF CONSCIOUSNESS – the Trinity or tripura of Earth, Sun, Moon – were dissolved into One:  what he called the Self.

This is the divinity which lies – like the staff – along the Midheaven axis of his birth and realization.

Only a few of the major aspects are shown here.  There is a remarkable beauty in the Venus/Mars opposition.  Venus and Mars-with-Pluto are in each other’s signs.  This is called a Mutual Receptivity, and as they are in the signs where they are weak (antipodeal to the signs which they rule), conventional astrologers shake their heads.  But who was Ramana?   Was the way he abandoned his family and married the Hill, auspicious? – particularly in the Indian culture, where each generation of a family risks the curse of an unproductive sadhu?   But look – the precision of the interplay suggests the intensity of Ramana’s darshan, his expressive eyes, and the Siva Ardhanarishvara – a vibrant marriage of male and female – in his silent presence.

No music could express it better.  See Arthur Osborne’s description of his facial features, on the previous page.  Libra – the sign inviting reconciliation, relationship-of-opposites and harmony – rises.  The Midheaven axis and lunar nodes with Sun and Moon, passes through Capricorn and Cancer, the polarity of the Family of Man:  old age and the child.  There is an archetypal theme of nativity.  The light is seeded in the darkest hour of night, at the lowest point of the year.  As the moment of alignment to the ecliptic plane passes its peak, this child of exceptional promise is born.

 Siva Ardhanisvara – Lord whose half is Woman:  copyright (c)The Sacred India Tarot by Rohit Arya & Jane Adams, Yogi Impressions Books, 2011

**

The Moon when Ramana was born, was full, and about to wane.  When they were carrying Shiva into the temple in the darkest hour of night, the little boy was born nearby.  At that moment, with 21 degrees Libra rising (western tropical astrology), the root and flower of the Midheaven melted into those merged lunar and solar planes.  Whether or not the moon itself came into earth’s shadow at that time, the ecliptic planes were unified, quiet and still.  The realization flooded the boy at age sixteen, with an intense encounter and journey through the field of the dead – the death of the personal mind into a pure, unpersoned livingness of “I,  I” everywhere.  He lay down on the floor in deadly fear, and “died” in full consciousness, remaining awake and aware.

Young Ramana

 On another occasion, about sixteen years later in 1912, a devotee was with him.  They were returning to Virupaksha Cave on the hill Arunachala after a bath.  Near a place called Tortoise Rock, death again  dissolved all the planes:

“The landscape in front of me disappeared as a bright white curtain was drawn across my vision and shut it out.  I could distinctly see the gradual process.  There was a stage when  I could still see a part of the landscape clearly while the rest was covered by the advancing curtain.  It was like drawing a slide across one’s view in a stereoscope.  I stopped walking  lest I should fall.  When it cleared, I walked on.  When darkness and faintness came over me a second time, I leaned against a rock until it cleared.  The third time it happened, I felt it safer to sit, so I sat down near the rock.  Then  the bright white curtain completely shut off my vision, the head was swimming and the circulation and breathing stopped.  The skin turned a livid blue.  It was the regular death hue, and it got darker and darker.  Vasudeva Sastri took me to be dead and held me in his arms and began to weep aloud and lament my death.

 “I could distinctly feel his clasp and his shivering, and hear his words of lamentation, and understand their meaning.  I also saw the discoloration of my skin and felt the stoppage of circulation and breathing, and the increased chilliness of the extremities of this body.  My usual current of awareness still continued.  I was not in the least afraid, and felt no sadness at the condition of the body.  I had sat down near the rock in my usual posture and closed my eyes, and was not leaning against the rock.   The body, left without circulation or respiration, still maintained that position.  This state continued for some ten or fifteen minutes.  Then a shock passed suddenly through the body and circulation revived with tremendous force, and breathing also, and the body perspired from every pore.  The colour of life reappeared on the skin.  I then opened my eyes and got up and said ‘Let’s go.’  We reached Virupaksha Cave without any further trouble.  This was the only fit I had in which both circulation and respiration stopped.”

 “Ramana Maharshi and the Path of Self knowledge”, by Arthur Osborne

 After this happened, in his thirty-third year – (and malnourishment could have been a contributing factor, but the soul’s response was pre-emptive) – Ramana Maharshi began to enter the physical world fully, to speak, to cook, to build, to bind notebooks and to participate in the life and work of his devotees.  His sahaja Samadhi was by now in truth unchanging and unconditional.

AFTERWORD – Who is interested in eclipses?

When I was small, my mother woke me one night and carried me to a window to see an eclipse of the Moon.  “It is very beautiful,” I said. “Can I go back to bed now.”  In the morning, they talked of the eclipse.  I was very angry, why didn’t they wake me up and show me?   I had slept so deep, there was no trace of this event on my conscious mind.

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Here is a picture I painted at school, of my family on holiday:

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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 my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.  

I write, illustrate, design and print my books.   Watch this space.

Tom’s Torch of Time – an Olympic Relay alchemy

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Children of the World 2007 – a drawing done for the Human Rights Aid Foundation

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Here is the Olympic Flame during the Games.  204 children, one child accompanying each nation’s team, carried a bronze petal towards the  creation of the complete torch flame.   The petals when lit, lay as a great mandala over the ground.  As national diversities emerged into unity –  like stamens of a flower – the mandala rose to form the Olympic torch.

Here is the flame from within it, looking up.

My earlier post, Reflections on the Grand Cross (22nd June) touched on the Cardinal Crossroads (17 July) of Pluto in Capricorn, Moon in Cancer, Mars in Libra, Uranus in Aries:  tensions and responses through the antipodeal frame of solstice and equinox.  Many astrologers and seers speak of a profound tipping point;  the relay-release of the old Mayan Great Circle, or frame of time, into the “new” Aquarian Great Circle.  They see violent interactions, and all kind of things.

Our projection onto 2012, when boiled down to essentials, may amount to the handing over of the Torch of Time, through time and space: through the dream.

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Four seasons electron figure-eight

Intense pressure is suffered in a myriad different ways, collectively and individually, as human conscience passes the midpoint of a cosmic “8” – the figure of infinity;  itself a crossing-point of the unbroken Circle.   The dawn of “something new” has no adequate prediction.   The dawn of “something new” is through the neck of the hourglass.  It reflects the old, yet differently.   A young gangster kid may be inspired to break through into athletic training and fellowship – a local quantum leap.  These things happen.

Few of us have the “dancer’s training” to bend and yield and flow with it.   Yet truth is found when we look within ourselves, rather than outward onto the shifting persuasion.  This inner truth is sometimes surprising.  It is like having a view from above, rather than from inside the street’s canyon – to see all the streets, all the connections, the city and its fields.

And … for instance … a TV camera inside a helicopter records a hand-over of the Olympic torch down there in a London street …  or a village …  or a coastal path or remote, rainy field.  The place is lined with flags and inaudible cheering;  a small white clad figure approaches another in the rain;  there is a pause while the flame is stabilized, then off goes the new white clad figure, her arms uplift with joy, her hair down her back;  she seems to float, she is heavy and yet she flies.  She runs like an early Picasso Grecian dancer;  and the ancient happiness punches up into the sky.

I was moved, by something deep and archetypal.  Till then I was “an Olympic sceptic” – I saw chiefly, an extravagance far beyond the British purse, its one heritage being the “greening” of an industrial desert – a reclamation of toxic soils.

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Torch bearer (1955)

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Every carrier of the flame was stirred, carried into an unexpected dimension, and so were the watchers, along its 8,000 miles.  (Or was it 80,000 …?)

Astrologers view the Grand Cross and London’s exact alignment with it, with traditional pessimism.   Yet I also perceived the coming of all the nations together in an estwhile centre of the Common Wealth:  Greenwich meridian 0.  There is a civil vulnerability;  Isn’t there also the potential for a progressive release;  a different gesture?   Alignment with whatever the stress, converts it to an asset, and flows.   It is an art of life.  The forces which move us are so much deeper than we know.

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Leda & Swan (1957)

The euphoria of the Olympic award in July 2005, was swiftly followed by the bombings.  The wake gathered in Trafalgar Square to say “we shall not be defeated, and nor shall we hate.”  In all our minds is that vigilance with the shadow which accompanies the light.   Yet in the passing of anniversaries, the replay of patterns, history “reverberates” beyond our fears.   In the bigger picture of the cycles, there is so little that we actually see.  What we think we see is feudally enclosed by our conditioning.

All we can be sure of, is that we cross again these points, but with a turn of the spiral, rather than a closed circuit.  Thus is Nature and the growth of trees.   The spiral is tight with our history and apprehension;  yet still it is the Great Spring – a planetary kundalini Yantra.   Watch the world, and turn inward;  see “the point of intersection, time with timeless:  an occupation for the saint.”

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Draw a Yantra

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A Kabbalistic meditation this week:  the PRESENT.  The present.   A Present, like a gift – here in this room with its pictures and things, in this block of flats, the noise of cars and trains going by each side, in this neighbourhood … within the event of the Olympic Games in London.  Mostly, this Present is the busy, tiny, teeming moment’s turmoil.   Sometimes this Present is an entire aeon, or aeon of aeons … the Buddha’s breath … NOW.   Into NOW, the tiny things melt for a moment.

What different clocks!   And we can go anywhere.  We can go to before the big bang, behind where all this began …  nothing.   No thing.   Silence.   Space.   Conscious.   The focus of an emanation which is Light – a point – expands.   Let there be Light, and all that becomes.  The tsim tsum is this beginning of the whirlings, gilgalem, the polarized pulse of atomic gravities, so tiny, which turns – the great wheel of the Milky Way – in one of its spiraling arms voyages our little Solar System.   The Vedic gods I realize, with their many arms, are GALAXIES!

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Cosmic egg and wood grain

Then a trip through history, geologic and human, evolving through NOW, always now, to the re-absorbed aeons of ions into the point:  no thing.   Kalpa, the Great Breath.  And open your eyes into this room.   Thou art God.   TAT TWAM ASI.  AHIH ASHER AHIH.   And make the tea!

Time is multi-directional, and also inward.   Time is a petalling flower – each petal is a local clock, and they grow and fall away, and new ones come;   each petal is an electron circuit, a planetary orbit around the stamens of the Sun.

This brings me to Tom’s Torch … and its hundreds of bronze petals.

Thomas Heatherwick, the architect of the Olympic cauldron, is the grandson of Elisabeth Tomalin, who died aged 99, this year.  Elisabeth carried in her tiny, intense, twig-like frame, a century’s history:

http://www.thecnj.com/review/2009/102909/feature102909_01.html

Herself a Jewish refugee from world war 1, Dresden and the Holocaust, she met Jung in Switzerland and made her home in England when she was young.  She worked as a fabric designer for Marks & Spencer, then trained as an art therapist, and returned to Germany in the 1960s, where she pioneered her work among students whose parents had been Nazis, to heal their soul.  She released their creativity through dream interpretation, using water and sand.  In one of her visions, she inherited the link in an unbroken tradition of doctors, whose root was in Israel – this was a comfort to her.   Her story is extraordinary, as the above link shows.   Here is one of her last embroideries which she gave me.  Her hands could not control a brush, but could still sew.   Embroidery, for Elisabeth, was a tapestry of the soul, the colours of lifetimes, in and out:  the flowering landscape of the inner thread.

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Figure of Eight, by Elisabeth Tomalin

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Elisabeth’s burning quest for connectivity, and the wholeness of the soul, made her a difficult companion, to herself and to all her friends.  In her daughter Stefany, her grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, that powerful river of the lineage survives and flows.  Her grandson’s imagination is prolific, since childhood.   He is the architect of the Seed Cathedral in the Shanghai Expo, and of holistic buildings patterned on the flow of wood and water, in Britain and all over the world.   He and she were close.

Tom Heatherwicks Seed Cathedral

The Great Work of Alchemy is stealthy, and many of its hands do not know what they do.  Time’s great petals are brought to form a mandala, each is dipped to combine an Olympic flame.   Young persons and athletes without celebrity, brought Tom’s bronze petal-buds each to each.  It is beautiful to remember how the flame traveled around the land, from the Giants Causeway to Trafalgar … villages, lanes and towns, by horse, by boat, by wheelchair, by abseil and by bike.  It atavistically moved people, one didn’t know why, culminating in the great, converging relay.  It is ancient, as the beacons on hills, the messengers along ley lines who carry fire in nests:  the elder earth energy.   It woke something.   Until I saw it, I had no idea what all the fuss was about.

Tom’s Torch – the Miracle

The mandala of the petals of the flame lay on the ground and glowed.  Then every stamen was raised up, like a carousel on stalks, till the One Torch merged, flowed and burned for the world:   Tom’s torch of Time.

The horizontal yantra rose into the vertical stem.

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Torch bearer (1954)

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A Summer Grand Crossroads brings many, many nations together in a world city, to compete, befriend and celebrate;  to pass through each other, and begin to transcend the little cult of the individual – through stretching individual capacity beyond the barriers.  There are problems, furies and triumphs.  We are villagers.

The weatherman on TV last night, announced with relish:  “The weather is improving.  This weekend, for the closing Ceremony, we may look forward to a Bright Gold Medal in the sky!”

Crossroads are places of meeting.  In their centre may be planted a tree, a seat, a garden, a gossip, a conflict, or even a sacred space.

What is my Crossroads?   What is your Crossroads?

How does the river flow and feel?

Even if we in the British economy, suffer “an Olympic Hangover”, this too, shall pass, and is part of our character. Likewise, we chuckle at Danny Boyle’s opening Ceremony, a radical departure from the tradition of the host country to boast about itself.

It is important to recall the  surprise of the revealed Symbol, signifying yet something other, always.

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Sunflower

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Relay – Centaur, Athene and Child (1987)

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Solomon’s Seal:  Flower of Life

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The fire of our Sun creates the light of the world.  The seed creates the form within the Mother Consciousness.  Here, the children return the Flame to its source.

In the seed and the flame is the essence of our humanity. They light the Tree of Life.

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Snowdrop:  In touch, across the Seas (1988)

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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 my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.  

I write, illustrate, design and print my books.   Watch this space.

Alchemy: the Work

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Girl, 1954

A few days before I went to the Brockwood gathering in 1974, I read and copied out in précis, this chapter about Alchemy in Jacques Pauwels and Louis Bergier’s book The Dawn of Magic.   It influenced me profoundly, in combination with the Krishnamurti awakening.   It describes in essence, a Sadhana, or way of truth in life – whatever form this takes:

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“The Philosophers’ Stone thus represents the first rung on the ladder that helps man to ascend towards the Absolute.  Beyond, the mystery begins.  On this side, there is no mystery, no esotericism, no other shadows than those projected by our desires and, above all, by our pride.

“But just as it is easier to content oneself with ideas and words than to do something with one’s hands in suffering and weariness, in silence and solitude, so is it also more convenient to seek refuge in what is called ‘pure’ thought, than to struggle single handed against the dead weight and darkness of the world of matter.

“Alchemy forbids her disciples to indulge in any escapism of this kind, and leaves them face to face with the great Enigma … She guarantees nothing except that, if we fight to the end to deliver ourselves from ignorance, truth itself will fight for us, and in the end will conquer everything.  This perhaps will be the beginning of true metaphysics.

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Ribbed sands of the sea:  Eigg

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“The alchemist, working over many, many years, maybe a lifetime, and endlessly repeating each stage of his experiments so that it be open to cosmic combinations of rays and magnetism (sacred patience and the slow condensation of the universal spirit) mixes in a mortar three ingredients, an ore, a metal and an acid.  He then heats in a crucible this mixture for ten days or so, slowly, and then dissolves it in an acid under reflected (polarized) light (sun or moon) – then evaporates, then re-calcines the mixture.

“After the first phase, perhaps several years, an oxidizing agent is added, maybe potassium nitrate, and continues the endlessly repeated operation of dissolving and re-heating, waiting for a sign.  Which appears at the moment of melting, and may appear in the form of star shaped crystals on the surface, or in a layer of surface oxide which forms and breaks up, revealing the luminous metal in which can be seen a reflection in miniature of the Milky Way perhaps, or some of the constellations.

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Universe

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“He removes the mixture from the crucible, allows it to ripen, protected from air and damp until Spring, when he resumes what is now ‘the preparation of darkness’.  He puts it in a receptacle of rock crystal hermetically sealed, and heats, regulating temperature and conditions minutely to bring the mixture of sulphur, carbon and nitrates to a certain degree of incandescence, but without exploding.  The mixture contains enormous energy.

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Sky in October

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“He continues heating and cooling for many years to procure thereby, an essence, the Raven’s Wing, the darkness.  The liquid is fluorescent.  Then he opens it in the dark, and the liquid solidifies and breaks up, forming new elements. 

“He washes the dregs in the receptacle with triple-distilled water – the water of Life – for several months.  The water of Life, the Elixir, is thought to eliminate ‘heavy water’ in the organism which ages it.

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View of Rhum, from Eigg

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“He next starts to combine the new unknown elements that have formed, grinding them and melting them at low temperatures with catalysers.  He can thus produce alchemic silver, copper and gold, and at length the philosophers’ Stone, a substance which dropped into melted glass, turns it ruby red, and gives off a mauve or pale violet fluorescence.  This Stone or ‘projection powder’ of itself can bring about transmutations in base metals to precious stones.

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Jewel

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“The most important aspect of the Alchemist’s pilgrimage is his own transmutation, within his soul.  His endlessly repeated small operations engender what is perhaps partly a state of profound meditation, and partly the imprint upon his psyche of the transmuting matter itself.

“He establishes a new relationship between his own mind which from now on is illuminated, and the universal Mind, eternally deepening its concentration.”

Precis on Alchemy from “The Dawn of Magic” by Pauwels & Bergier.

See also my earlier post in this blog – Alchemy & Self Enquiry.

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Flora 1956 – copied from Botticelli’s Primavera

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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 my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.  

I write, illustrate, design and print my books.   Watch this space.

Watching Krishnamurti (1) – 1967

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Krishnamurti in the tent at Brockwood, 1974

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This is the first in a series of impressions of Jiddu Krishnamurti.

I was exposed to Krishnamurti’s teaching from the age of 11, when my father became a student. 

When we were children, there were two things we mocked our father incessantly about.   When he arrived back from a London trip, we left for him, in the front door porch, cartoons of tangled high-brows sitting cross-legged with bubbles coming out – I MUST NOT THINK.  Some of the bubbles contained CND posters – another of my father’s commitments.   K’s bubble was blissfully blank.   We kindly allowed my father a reduced activity in his.

In his bookshelf among spines of philosophy, fruit management and violin playing, lay a very slim little volume – “Who Am I?”   This too, prompted roars of childhood mirth.   Inside the book was an old photo of one of those white-haired Indian saints, sitting on a rock with a kettle beside him.  He had beautiful deep brown eyes.  So did Krishnamurti.  I remember remarking this especially, and searching through the bookshelves for more.

Krishnamurti’s influence on my teens, gave me many existential difficulties.  After leaving school, I traveled with my father up from Somerset, to Wimbledon Town Hall for one of the early Krishnamurti gatherings:

September 1967

Even lavender passes into the air, in the end.  One should be brave enough to move all the time in tune with the present.   When I’m alone in the City, I look for what is behind, and my eyes are in front.   I should like to feel, and only then write or speak.

When Krishnamurti sits and speaks, the whole of him to his beautifully shined boots, quivers with his message – to Be.  It is as simple as that.  But we would rather make life difficult, and hide behind it.

My father sat downstairs, next to a friend of his called Ralph.  I sat up in the balcony among rich old ladies, earnest businessmen, young Indians and hippies, a few cranks and intense women.   Next to me, a man with a big nose in bright purple trousers watched, as I sketched.  We got talking about Art and God.  His name was Barry Fantoni, and he was more or less running the Sixties scene at the time, and painting a portrait of Beethoven.  We exchanged addresses and wrote some letters.  He became an intermittent but kindly friend.

Balcony, Krishnamurti gathering at Wimbledon, 1967

(“Barry” is just behind the Afro, to the right.)

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Shortly after, amid all the bustle below, a distinguished small figure with brushed-over silver hair and nut-brown, clear cut features, ascended the improvised platform.   This was Himself.   As the hush swiftly dampened the shifting crowd like an asbestos blanket, he sat down on a narrow chair, exquisitely dressed before a barrier of microphones, moved his hands a bit beside him, and waited.   This one little person concentrated all the Unity which was lacking in hundreds.

Then he started to speak.  Microphones, tapes, were adjusted;  then all was still, before him.

It was all familiar stuff … but from K himself, this time.  He is at peace when he has no fear.  I found it hard to stop thinking about everything going on, and to concentrate.  The essence radiated out before him.  I feel we are all diseased.

He only answered two or three questions at the end – mostly from an American moustache, who didn’t understand his concept of “discipline”.  Then he got up and walked down and out.   He never speaks for more than an hour.

The next day’s Talk, I sat downstairs.  I shut my eyes and his beautiful words probed my being.  He spoke of peace, violence and the gap between the observer and the observed.  He said there isn’t one.  When people asked questions, he only showed them that he had already answered them.

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The drizzle spat from the sky.  I love to associate certain areas of London with … Putney with Joe, Battersea with Ben – and yet how dare I, why must I, after hearing Krishnamurti speak of the paralyzing, destroying power of image and association?   No!   Sentiment is not worth sorrow.  Romance shines in every moment, if one is open.  I mustn’t be afraid to turn my back to the luscious past, for its glamour only bleeds to death.

Yet the torment, the sentiment, the turmoil, won’t stop.

September 1967

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A Poet & his Daughter 1968

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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 my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.  

I write, illustrate, design and print my books.   Watch this space.

Yeshua and Magdalena

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The Last Supper

This was inspired by the Chalice and Blade symbol in The Da Vinci code some years ago.  The core of this book, which moved me, is that the Grail is not an altar to posses or seek in isolation, but an open and eternal secret in the ethical art of life and love.  The same invitation is in Dan Brown’s other thrillers also.  Leaving the centre empty, so the light flows in – is the Grail!   The mystery is in the heart of life’s family, around which the world buzzes.  It grows a Seal of Solomon, the lily in the field;  and for me, no more need be said.

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Yeshua and Mary

This, and the portraits which follow, was commissioned by Anne Dorcas in Montreal, in 2006, within a series of the Ascended Masters.  The Hebrew “Yeshua” spelling is JHShVH – which means “JAH Liberates”.

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Rabbi Yeshua

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Our Lady:  Shekhinah

 From Matteo di Giovanni’s Madonna of the Girdle, in the National Gallery

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Yeshua and Magdalena

“Magdala” means in Hebrew a tower, and in Alchemy and Kabbalah, a vessel to catch the dew of heaven.

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Mary and Gaia

An “Earth” meditation – our global community

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Archangel Rafael

God’s Messenger.  This drawing was done a little earlier, at the same time as The Last Supper, above

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Jesus (in the distance) by the Sea of Galilee.

 These two sketches were done in about 1968.  See also my poem When Yeshua went up the Hill to Pray, in the earlier blog, “Portraits and Poems of Eclipse to Ramesh – a Revision.”

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“Loaves and Fishes”

Yeshua breaks bread with the outcasts

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Madonna and Child

Copied from a book of Renaissance art when I was about 7

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… and a tree-of-life spirit!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My adventure invites fellow travellers.  I am a poet, an artist and a seer.  I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.  

I write, illustrate, design and print my books.   Watch this space.