Thursday, May 15, 2014

Alchemy of the Soul

This is the first page of my book, Alchemy of the Soul.  Coming Soon.

Page II
When would everyone else talk about the ‘big people’ who are all lit up but whose appearance only silhouetted the back drop of the canvas my mind fell into?  Didn’t everyone entertain them and wasn’t it one of the most fulfilling camaraderie’s to experience those who stood tall as trees pour their genuine love in mutual praise as if every choir song wrote itself from this cause?

I thought surely that since I had such a tendency for mischief and finding my way into odd adventures that something then must be wrong with me.  Other people somehow weren’t thinking like me, but maybe I was just bad.  I was so bad, that no-one was allowed to share this secret that existed in every page I turned and followed on my adventurous sojourn through life.
Who would discuss the fairy fields I found as surely others did too?  Who else knew about the circle around the trees in the woods that shifted and sprinkled star dust?  Who else entertained the large beings of light that would appear after praying opening the vaults of heaven?  The smiles on their faces and the glint in their eyes infusing me with love and contentment, letting me know that they enjoyed watching me entertain them singing and dancing? 

Surely once I got one more A, one more gold star, finished first in one more contest, then….then the game would open its doors and the cast members would reveal their true identity.

The sad thing is that one risks losing their freedoms just for mentioning the world that is real and more alive and vibrant then the march of superfluous reality that seems to have seduced the masses into plastic images and celluloid dreams, of contorting the deep forest into packages of exactness whose only hope is to replicate the new and improved image being craftily lighted and cascaded around their thirsty souls.  

What a webbing; all sticky and sweetly perfumed again with some replication of the natural bounty that would adorn the temple of our beings with layers of truth; the kind that marches down the halls and lights up the senses with the purpose of being alive.
Why be here at all if the care isn’t taken to wonder?  To take the train on the dark night and wake in the valley of the gods who have been coaxing and guiding us all along?

This is my world; it is as it has always been an adventure of strange beliefs and hidden knowledge.  I feel like Moses in the desert, parting the red sea of life; opening the book one living word, one page at a time and learning the meaning I somehow already know.

There is magic afoot, it is under every stone and shimmering on the waters….it is dancing on our rooftops and howling in the wind.  It creaks down the halls and breaks down silence until it spills loudly into the room and stands between the moments of disbelief like a lighthouse forming from the mist and gloom.

I am yanked back into the strange reality like a naughty schoolgirl, made to play the game with scolding eyes and sometimes worse; while the mystery drips from my veins and disappears into the cracks, waiting for me to rescue the life I was born to live and reveal.

This is my attempt to take you in and reveal what sorcerers have been burned alive for sharing, madmen have caught shards of along the way, and stories that hold power have hidden in their pages, if one learns how to listen ~ and has the eyes to see.

nce there was, and once there was not, a girl who walked with giants.
I am this girl, and I will start with a walk in the woods.
They stand all around us, sometime alone and more powerfully together; our guardians who symbiotically breathe into us the life we exhale and are rivers of wisdom.  We need them, they need us.  Excitedly I crept into the canopy of autumnal glory; fiery reds and umbers crisply painting the baby blue skies and the lemony sun drizzling down in shafts of warm surrender.  My heart beating in a rhythm with my breath, dotting the air with invisible ink, as the forest shifted and turned opening secret panels, her voice grew louder.
Each cracking branch underfoot a lever to the magic code of the great Cathedral.
After a weekend of teaching about aromatherapy and Total-Sensory-Healing, it was time to pay homage and give my thanks and praise to the author.

They didn’t disappoint me.  Thoughts of the class tumbled through my mind, my notes, the comments from the students and the look of realization when their eyes lit up with discovery; I thought about the temple.
We discussed how the light of the sun, pours itself into our world and the garden of nature drinks it up with praise.  How every morning, we can see so much of nature line up ready for the sun to peak over the horizon and paint a new day.  Shrieking in rays of tangerine and citron, or gentling into the cottony tufts, the pink and yellow rose peels herself open and cranes her stem and bouquet to follow the sun, the aubergine meadows turn and stare, the periwinkle lilacs dance with the wind and arrange themselves all day, into the countenance of the sun.  Never questioning whether it would be better to be some other rose by any name, or a poppy that may sleep us wide awake.  While Beethoven paints this praise on notes of joy, Claude Monet reflected water lilies to capture the reverence that tacitly exudes the gnosis of the divine.

As the memories peeled back pages of wonder, my heart began that trance drumming, in the glory, I wondered and asked again….why was so much opening and revealing to me….and then I heard the clear whispering of that watchful place inside of me, It is the time of REVEAL-ATIONS”……It almost dropped me, stopping me dead in my tracks.
Having my full attention now, one screen shot after another ran like a daisy chain of electricity lighting up the images and thoughts safely stored for this turn key moment…the word meant what it stated, to reveal, and like so much that had exposed itself in momentary glimpses before, it was multiplying now into a continuous stream of knowing…that indeed, we are living in the time of not simply the frightening stories sewn as a testament, but as a blooming under an exuberant golden sun, were we to follow his steady guidance all day long too.
We were being taught about our ‘essence’…and that word I had shared the meaning of so many times, would reveal even deeper; her majesty’s secret service.  Esse, comes from the Latin, ‘To be or to exist’.  Itor their essence.

We were being taught about our ‘essence’…and that word I had shared the meaning of so many times, would reveal even deeper; her majesty’s secret service.  Esse, comes from the Latin, ‘To be or to exist’.  It is a fundamental meaning or truth, of where one lives….or what brings us alive.  Essential Oils, from esse and olere; meaning ‘to emit a smell or to be fragrant’ is comparable to the fragrant mind of being as one opens up their own book of life
I have long believed the sacred act of anointing as the art of becoming conscious, to take to the skin, the captured essence of distilled light, and bring to the surface the light of ones own being.  Immediately in the act of anointing, we vibrationally awaken the corresponding light within as the individual essence is enlivened to bring forth ones truth, their purpose.  As I walked now more slowly, those thoughts melted into each other like soft butter and I looked down at the fence corralling me safely into the hilltop.  There in front of me were two words; one was the word ‘Essa’ carved into the top plank.  Next to that, just one more word was carved, Gypsy.  I have never seen another word carved before, and there is not so much carved into the lengthy line of wooden planks, not another marking etched in yards and yards of fencing as I searched through the rambling timbers.  Just those two words, essa/esse and Gypsy wrapped in the descending yolk of the sun in the canyons below and beyond.

Here is the definition for Essa as found online:
This is an Arabic name for males which means shine of sun. It is also the name for Jesus.  Slang; Puerto Rican version of "dude" or "guy" as in: “Yo essa, whats up?”
Essene or as Philo refers to the name: Essaioi; as the Greek form of the original name that according to his etymology signifies "holiness". 
I try to be a servant of the Most High, in my human form that is flawed.
To this, we can add the "Tetragrammaton" which is the four letters "YHWH", derived from the verb that means "to be", and is considered in Judaism to be the proper name of the God of Israel used in the Bible.  
Gypsy, for me comes from Egypt and represents the black earth, or black land.  It is often referred to as being ‘occult which means hidden’ since it is blackened earth from the fertile Nile and represents a lot of what we know of as mystical. These strong origins, or at the least, a long history of practice in Egypt form the basis of the unbound book called the Tarot, which we also find the word Torah and orat-e..  The land of ‘Khem or Chem’ as it is known, means the black land and is the root of chemistry and alchemy.  In my own belief and alchemical knowledge by now, the master known as ‘Jesus’ was teaching these very secrets along with Mary Magdalene and they were ‘gypsy’s’ teaching the Essenic knowledge. 
The word essential comes from the Latin "esse" (to be or to exist), where "essene" stems from the Aramaic word- asayya- meaning physician, which corresponds to the Greek word - essenoi and at once denoting something essaios: that is something secret or mystic. In fact the group known
as the "Essenes" was called "the theraputate".
That these two words are together is beyond profound, and they were there just for me to find on this day; written by the secret hand of the universe.  The use of essential oils has been dated back some 5000 years ago, because of residue found in clay pots during excavations at Karnac and Thebes; we know they were used as medicine and in the process of mummification.  There is the jar, which contains the ‘sacred oil’ for anointing that is kept for use with the Ark of the Covenant to transform mere mortals into angels.  We know that in the story of the New Testament, two of the three gifts the Magi bring to the newly born savior, are Myrrh and Frankincense and what are they brought with? They are accompanied by something else of great value, gold.  We also know that Jesus is anointed by ‘Nard’ oil, by Mary Magdalene.  I will go into the deeper meanings of those essential oils in later chapters and most certainly, one of my guide’s, Mary Magdalene.
This is how life speaks to me, how it winds me down a path of discovery to stand literally atop a small plateau in the valley and make me her private student.  I went over the part in class when I talk about the body as a vessel, the bottom hips and belly more like a bowl and the head like a vase and the vision of wine sparkling in a glass as I twirled it, once again begged me to look deeper.  Things catch my mind like fly paper and stick one thought to another till the page is full and weighs me down lest I find some way to release it onto a stage, a page, an ear who can witness with me, such exotic fare that is not yet found by my eyes or ears in the symphony I find it playing my own world.

Wine, the first miracle of Jesus was at the wedding feast. His mother Mary (always with me, with us) comes to her son Jesus/Jeshua and tells Him there is not enough wine left for the wedding guests.  Jesus responds “Woman, why are you saying this to me? My time has not yet come.”  His mother told the servants, “Whatever he tells you, do it.”

Now you see, here is where I think a lot of people get lost by the false terrorism of screaming banshees who thieve them into worrying whether the story is real or not.
To me it is a silly consideration, robbing us of the deeper truth that is hidden far all who have eyes to see.
The real question to be asked is not if, but why?  Why on earth would the first miracle performed in a book of testimony that has waged wars and conquered multitudes and yet eludes the ‘masses’ and even I am sure the very elect themselves from its treasures, be a story about making more wine for a wedding feast?  Even in the commercials, the boast is that their ‘special grape will not be served before its time’.
Why is it not Jesus time yet?  Still he listens and those who are ‘serving’ wisely listen to the mother Mary. In John 2 the story continues:  6And there were set there six water pots of stone, after the manner of the purifying of the Jews, containing two or three firkins apiece.
7Jesus saith unto them, Fill the water pots with water. And they filled them up to the brim.
8And he saith unto them, Draw out now, and bear unto the governor of the feast. And they bare it.
9When the ruler of the feast had tasted the water that was made wine, and knew not whence it was: (but the servants who drew the water knew) the governor of the feast called the bridegroom,
10And saith unto him, every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine; and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine until now.
Now, I think about how we are made up of water, over 80% of our bodies is mostly water.  Even the earth spinning on her axis mysteriously contains an almost equal amount ~of water in her surface.  We are told in Genesis or from the beginning…that we are created from clay, from the good sweet earth and that we are vessels ourselves to hold the water ~ that God Breathed life into our nostrils with His own breath.

And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” Genesis 2: 7

There we are ~ made from the dust, the earth….and breathed into life just as we must let a good wine breathe too.  All of it sewn together in my mind as the warm air cocooned me.  The clay vessels are symbolic of us and our own water bodies inside the temple.

I sat down and put my hands on the earth, as I had learned to do to feel her support and to feel her rise up to meet me as she always did to support my ~ our every step of life.
I felt the Erie Indians walking around between dimensions while not 20 feet away their own vessels slept secretly beneath under the softly rolling sacred burial mounds.

So too had I wondered about my own tribes who swam lifetimes before me and into this being I now inhabited.  The fighting tribes of people who spent their lives dry over differences when only the wrapping of the same breath inhabited us all.  I needed to rectify both my Christian upbringing, and the distant path of the Cherokee Indian grandmother on my father’s side. The ground I now walked upon and came from wrote a different prayer, one that combined both.  I needed to honour both, to contain the truths of one while respecting the traditions of the Native Americans who knew the earth as a living being, and lived life as a payer.  This is what came about:

Our mother earth, who gives birth to us, who nourishes, supports and sustains us, and holds the waters that nourish, cleanse and connect us reflecting back who we are; under the father sun, who strengthens, guides and enlightens us, I pray  by the power of the holy spirit that the great creator’s will, Thy Will Be Done through me; and I give thanks for the breath of god, who fills our lungs with air and life, and lifts our thoughts and our prayers up to the most high with the winged ones, and by the power of the Holy spirit returns to this earthly vessel which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom and thy Queendom come, ON EARTH AS IT IS IN HEAVEN, give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

That prayer didn't really open itself up to me, until I started to say it this way.
Then I realized why it was the Lord’s favorite prayer.  Even though I have embellished it now, that is what it took to realize what the prayer actually meant.

I believe that is how in part, the mystery of the first miracle revealed itself to me.  We are such a disparate people.  We all grow from the vine ….

Anyone who has lived long enough has trampled the grapes of wrath.  We find the bitter sweetness of sorrow to be a wisdom vein that has been intravenously feeding our spirit~
To reveal to us the meaning of our lives and who we are…..

Now, the Mayans call this the ‘time of the great revealing’.  When I looked into the word ‘Apocalypse’ what I found astonished me, because I hadn't thought of it in this way, but always in the fear mongering sense, when it actually means: ‘the thinning of the veil’.

So what is happening right now is a ‘thinning of the veil’ and as this peels back, like all the layers that we also have been ‘healing’ in ourselves, it reveals things that have been right in front of us all along.  This happens on every level, just like the layers we have been healing.
...To be continued
In the meantime, here is a news story on my near death experience:

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Full Moon In Scorpio Has a Bleeding Heart

Today, the moon waxed into her full brightness in all that Scorpionic shimmery luminosity at 23* at 2:18PM EDT.  First, she glided up to Saturn/El (Lord of the Rings) as he in reverse sided up to her when they met at his 19* of Scorpio.  Like waves cresting they rise up together lifting up the heavy weight of the emotional ballast capsizing the less sea-worthy.
The sun almost feels jealous of the two, sitting in all the wealth and possessions of his Taurean lair, drenched in the decadent trappings of his Venusian dream.
You might ask yourself, if you miss what you don’t have, simply because it isn’t there to have and to hold.  If that one more thing, might just bring the happy ship toward you before it departs for the deeper waters of Scorpio’s abyss.
If you have a cleaner spirit, than you don’t miss what you don’t have, simply because you are enamored with all you do.  You take stock of the wealth around you, knowing it came from within.
Ahh, the pearly gates.  They beckon us towards a shiny, happy people.
But that somber tone from the Lord of the Rings, has laLuna bound and gagged as she drowns in like a tempest in a tea cup.
The Cardinal Cross is moving into a T-Square that still has plenty of tension, as we wait for what seems like the other shoe to drop.
Jupiter/Zeus is moving forward and he isn’t about to look back, and he is taking no prisoners, as those who have decided to use an exit strategy, drift away like sail boats into the horizon, leaving the rest of us to fill up with the moon, and fall into that sorrowful longing, knowing each day will bring a reminder of what we had, and what we will now miss.
I lost two sisters already to the horrid disease that has ravaged far too many, and whose name I will not dignify with a capital c.
I look at their pictures, and see them drifting away, imagine the horrible pain that sat inside their chest as they were eaten alive, far too young.
In a retreat space in New York, the birds were singing, leaves greening around us and sunlight shaking
sparkly showers through the branches; I sat with about a hundred people or so, who had all made our way down the path to the clearing with the rows of benches we now found ourselves gathered together upon.  We were expecting a seminar to take place, and enough of us had made the mistake of believing it was to happen shortly.
As the time ticked on, we started to look around and realize, we might not be experiencing any such thing.  So many disappointed heads, turned downward and expressions that matched.
One of the people in the group I was with, said, ‘Glo, get up and sing a song’.  When others heard this, they turned and started the chorus of appeals for me to sing.
I accommodated and stood up and sand a couple of songs A cappella, to a rounding and raucous bout of applause and appreciation.
Afterwards, a somewhat distinguished looking woman approached me and told me how surprised she was at how good I was.  “It was as if you were channeling another life” she told me.  I stated that perhaps it was me tapping into my journey beyond this world, when I died so many years ago and returned.
She told me that her father told her, that once you go, that is it, no memories and people all forget about you.  I was shocked.  Dumbstruck really, that someone would say something even remotely like this, let alone repeat it as if it was now fact.
I have been visited by all the people that I love who have crossed over, in dreamtime and in the waking state.  They have all helped me in some form or another and let me know they are still with me.
But with all of that, I still miss them all in the physical world.  My sister Barb will never drive up in her silver car and I will never hear her laugh as if she has stopped breathing….because she did take her final breath.  Even though I was with her, as was my entire family to help her cross over, and I am grateful that we know how to take someone to the River Styx and wave goodbye as they are welcomed into death’s loving embrace; I still miss her.
I still miss my sister Kathy’s sweetness, that caring person who would drop by out of the blue with some odd gift, all of which I still have, because she couldn’t help herself.  She thought of me and wanted to share something.  But, I am achingly glad that the pain of her world has ended, and that she has found comfort.  But my heart still aches like a lead balloon that I will never be able to swallow.
We all know our parents will go, hopefully for their sakes; they go before their child, which was not the case with my father, who had to outlive his oldest girl.  I will always be able to see his eyes, looking right to my soul every single time, and finding a way to warm me up and make me feel as though I was so special, that his life depended on what I had to do in this world.  Of course, he had that effect on a lot of people.  But that doesn’t change the warmth and charm of his Leonine wit, smile and love.
And I won’t ever be able to replace, my dear friend Marcella/Esmeralda, who was my go to person to confide in and ask for advice.  Always delivered with assurance and a healthy dose of unthinkable humour, she could bounce a thought off the wall quicker than bullet, and it always went straight to the heart too.
This month, my good friend Robin saw her father off to the other side, I am glad I got to enjoy his boyish flirtations, and hope he found the youth he seemed to believe he still had in our exchanges.
The list is long, it gets longer as I get older, and I cannot go through all the souls my life has been blessed with, who have gone on…ships into the sunset.
Their sales grow smaller and smaller, until at last, the good sweet earth parts her skirts and takes them in, the sweetness wafting around you like a parting bouquet.
These squares, crosses and blood moon eclipses will bring down the elevator, and many will get on to take that final ride.

This full moon, isn’t quite so lusty as a Scorpio Full Moon can be, not with the leaden weight of Saturn/El making sure that she never forgets, time waits for no one.
You can lift those spirits with ArcAncient's Sensual Healing or help take down the swelling with WiseWoman Roll on.  For those tricky conversations, make sure you anoint the throat chakra and wrists, and/or diffuse with Communications.  see: