With Christmas we are thresholding Capricorn – the thresher of the Dweller – for the midwinter Solstice came late this year, on the 23rd. This morning in north Somerset the sky is as eggshell crisp and blue over the hills; the sun rose in fiery gold splendour and the parcels were opened. And the light will begin again to grow.
Mac Macartney’s book “The Children’s Fire” deeply touches me in his un-mapping of Wales. Along the numinous borderland of Druidic Albion, through wet leaves, frosty nights and carefully concealed firelight, refuse was chucked at Mac from cars, but also he met the ageless kindness from strangers. Mac’s odyssey towards pre-Roman Anglesey turns my nose and antlers towards the re-wilding movement. In the tiny pockets where this starts, a seminal abundance collects. The outlets are not many nor yet large, but the pressure underneath them is great, for human has cut back, tamed, tarred and scarred, regimented the ground and stamped out the witch. The magical force concentrates around the vents like the tiny proportion of liberators in the mass human entity.
As Earth rotates so the core magma passing centrifugally through geological planes converts to nature’s irrepressible force and beauty; Gaia, the greening.
Look at these sacred geometries in the dance of planetary time and space (read more; this https://ecohustler.com/technology/winter-solstice-fibonacci-and-earths-alignment-with-the-galactic-core/ is fascinating about the present alignment of Earth’s polar axis to galactic centre at solstice) – the real world we live in; the living texture of astrology. Behold the cosmic patterning which silences the interpreter!
My inner eye opens again to perceive the spheres, the Suns; their shape and energy. Pockets of florescence, like nutritious energy-balls or bath bombs, explode and fizz “in the air”. Dandelion clocks scatter angels with one blow. When nature’s tide reclaims the urban-industrial blotch, she could do so beyond expectation like the breach of a dam – the vigour and abundance will astound. Who knows when or how this happens? It seems unlikely in regions burnt by global warming – and the forecast even there is unpredictable. Where a branch is pruned, many sprout. It will probably happen as the human population drops – at any time during this century. Our DNA is coded collectively; in harmony with natural forces and formation, the population may start to physically decrease. The DNA is omnipresent, lacing the human form with the molecular evolution, atom to galaxy.
Consider also the vital DNA in the gut, its garden, and the old alchemists’ wisdom of the black dragon, the white Chyle and the red and white roses. By roses, I mean the instrument of life in the blood. All the teachings now say, put your hand on your belly, breathe into your bum. Consciousness of the Solar plexus and intestinal wealth cancels the old ignorance which chucked it into the road. It means valuing this organ of the body and the substances passing through it which are acted upon by enzymes to release nutrients and the Sun. In Heaven there is no dirt. It is not random that pure sexuality flows tandem with the gut. The Tarot Hermit – Hebrew letter Yod – rules with his lamp the whole region, darker than a cave; the galactic night of his mountain peak.
My Solar-return Moon this year is the Hermetic sign Virgo, in 2nd house. Just now the sun comes into the room, and on my “altar” is a tiny spark of light – the facet of a gem between Yab-yum lovers. It echoes and earths the candle flame above it, about a foot away. I feel sleepy and still this morning. In the night I was awake a lot – perhaps a download; the pressure of Nature’s fountain through “outlets”.
The natural outlets – dolmens, temples, stone rings and streams – flow beneath the urban grid on sacred Albion and bide time. Lifetimes can pass in the dreaming. The perennial magic in this land was long crucified but will sprout – according to the cosmic relation beyond the window of history we teach ourselves. I will contemplate Britain’s underground occult river. Planted in the generative mind, the holy places will manifest. The human need begins here and there to work with nature not as a mere resource but with profound cooperative care and love.
In a wildish orchard near Chesham, a large animal sat quietly like a cat and watched my presence with long large ears, wide apart on slender neck, probably a deer. Long minutes we watched each other, without movement and at a distance. Near the farmhouse behind hedge and gates, the creature sat in the long grass, alert as the dew; my solstice messenger.
With the wisdom that comes through here, I can focus on the re-wilding initiatives under the defiantly ailing human crust. The ailing human crust, solid as it seems with its cities, infrastructure and disease, is a collective dream we subscribe to. There is a choice. Subscribe to the magazine or media-misery with its shiny photo-squares or cultivate through nature’s Imagination the spherical “bombs” of consciousness; the subterranean limestone rivers, the enormous abundance of leaf, flora, bacteria and fauna behind the human bungalow. Imagine the dolmens, the stones and druids. Many druids reborn nowadays are in the work. Come here to refresh myself and drink when I get tugged astray with grief – come Home. I live in the physical dream but I move with the metaphysical (supra-physical) Malkuth – subtle, secret and unlimited.
Here is Origin – the mountain peak down which flow as rivers the messengers throughout human time. When the vision is open, I see – in collective resonance – the human form symbiotic with the Garden and with the beasts whom in another dreamtime it dominated and decimated; whom now it seeks to name and nurture, for they are our body. The DNA serpent is our awakening to this fact. Genesis is timeless.
Come now to embrace the indigenous Dreamtime which encircles the human game which “got spoiled”. The Dreamer runs back and forth in time’s great landscape.
What spoiled our terrain? The primary-school level of quarrelling. Our future is not in that. Our real future is that nothing can stop the human genome from growing up to take responsibility. We grow out of our age – about eight years old at present. Nothing can stop humankind from maturing, any more than the seasonal pulse be stopped – to live and grow with trees and earth and the animal kingdom, the fragile husbandry of climate change and the art of living; for it hurts us too much as a species not to. If all I read on my window is war, starvation, nightmare media and consumer pollutant chaos … know that I see but darkly through the glass; changing my focus from surface glaze to the inner eye, I may see the starry constellations in the raven’s wing. I may glimpse through the murk a mountain – each snowflake a unique hexagonal crystal; the living fact of the water I drink.
You may feel and be the awakening of wings within your spine.
I feel as I rise into this, that the urban pollutant around our Earth is a dying genre; it seems to intensify politically, but it is dead matter, a crust to peel away. The crust, unconscious of origin and of the new order, completes its own time. Through it – in places imperceptibly, in other places outspoken or persecuted – emerge like green-shoots through the ground a new Homo Sanctus; the children already are born. Imperfect we are, and painfully struggling, but persistent.
I don’t see this happening all at once – though in historic time it appears sudden and cataclysmic – there is a process of friction during which the worn-out strongholds increasingly collapse and the apparently weak prevails. The “weak force” of gravity in physics exists (like homeopathy) virtually beyond the power of sophisticated instruments to detect. Yet I guess as single gravitons unite with others, they condense into orbital waves which curve spacetime around stars, supernova events and planetary systems. The force of attraction between ourselves as human beings, the mating instinct, has this infinitesimal origin. And I feel that the magnetic mating instinct itself evolves towards Eden.
Such is cosmic consciousness – a quantum leap. A single starling cell flying into the dancing cloud of thousands, millions in the Murmuration, enters the higher Intelligence: the geometry of I AM.
Or consider the bees.
The raised frequency level is not to be confused with the herd instinct in the market force or the lower “fear” vibration which conventionally governs the world.
Population explosion? Visualise an immense tidal flow of racial varieties, Karmas and the surface tension of our suffering to cross-fertilise the gene pool – the nature of the tide leaves its deposit on the beach and flows back into the sea; then again it comes. Gaia does not tolerate indefinite excess – just enough to force us as Her cells to change and realign. There are seasons and there are times; there is growth and there is contraction – Hesed and Gevurah on the Tree. The universe breathes rhythmically, in greater cycles.
I am aware again now of our collective waste’s potential to transmute rather than to dump; of nascent technologies which rediscover and re-state the old alchemical wisdom with transmuting matter. The human core potential to waken is limitless. We are each a Solar-battery, still dormant. The potential to biodegrade our ocean waste with the help of the Sun is limitless; the intention is coded in old alchemic texts like algebra in modern physics. It is encoded in our body, in the conscious threads of DNA we share with stars.
From “The Glory of the World” …
Observe, how the seeds of all things that grow,
like grains of wheat or barley, spring from the ground
by the operation of the Stone and influence of Sun and Moon ;
how they grow up into the air,
are gradually matured, and bring forth fruit
again to sow in its own soil.
The field is prepared for the grain, being ploughed up well
and manured with dung well rotted ;
for the earth consumes and assimilates manure
as the body assimilates food
and separates subtle from the gross.
Therewith it calls forth the life of the seed
to nourish with milk
as a mother her infant nourishes,
to increase in size, and upward grow.
The earth separates the good from bad,
imparting, as nutriment to all growing things,
the destruction of ONE thing
Hermetic Museum of Alchemy, 17th Century
Any slight shift in worldview, in the personal consciousness, helps activate the ancient new science which is already manifesting. The contagion travels from one to one; it pops open with the quantum hop. Communities cannot wake up without ourselves as individuals – you and me – who can, who will, and who do.
I feel at such moment with the pain of our brittle dream around us, we yet approach the threshold of reality. Look within. Be still and let it breathe.
When placed in its natural soil
and rained with dew from heaven
and roused to life
by warmth of the Sun and Moon,
it produces fruit, the way of its own kind.
These two sowings are our Art.
The Sun and Moon are grain
put into our soil, a soul and spirit,
and such as are the father and mother
are children they will generate.
Hermetic Museum of Alchemy, 17th century
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. See also Aquariel
All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2020. 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/