The Universe is a Garden of Secret Wonders.
“What I tell you in
darkness, that speak ye in light: and what ye hear in the ear, that preach ye
upon the housetops.” Mat 10:27
“If thou love to hear,
thou shalt receive understanding: And if thou bow thine ear, thou shalt be
wise.” ~Sirach 6:33
The Universe is a garden of
secret wonders. If you look, at any minute
she will part her skirt, pull you into her rich soil and whisper secrets to
help you find your way home.
At every turn there stand sentries, guardians of the gates
and banshee’s to flood you into the tangled and odiferous bowels of despair and
torment; lest you lose sight of the higher and noble calling, the skeleton key
that will allow passage.
This is the majestic texture of our world, often in plain sight
the grand design arouses the inner visionary in us who knows the way~ if that
voice can rise above the din, the decadent and the superfluous sheath that is
every bit as real as every layer beneath and below, above and beyond this
dimension. To negate one is to negate
all, to negate the very self that yearns to be found, rescued but above all,
heard and loved. Love is a complicated
thing and at the same time, like the universe she created, she is a marvel so
simple one has only to sit inside her listening and ever present watchful
embrace and let her carry you into bliss.
But here…here is where you may find yourself sleeping….and
once again wake on some precipitous and
craggy cliff, with only the crisp air as company, while the mind gallops off in
search of itself, and the heart of all that matters waits for its consort to
catch up and surrender to her embrace once again.
I am a girl born on the
seventh day of the seventh month, one of seven children and whose name begins
with the seventh letter in the English alphabet. My world has never been one as simple as it
appeared to be to others. In youth, I
wondered why I must leave the richness of my forested mind, for the more superficial
world everyone else wanted to play with.
All of it thrust upon you like a strange car wreck, or an obvious game I
had to wake up in, but what would it take?
What special code or learning must I figure out to unlock the treasure
map, and have everyone take off their masks, and congratulate me for unraveling
the grand play too?
I tell you this in complete honesty.
For the longest time, I peered into eyes, wondered what part
of me was not good enough, to be taken in to the grand illusion that everyone
was playing. Why did they act as if no
one else knew the secret world that was hidden in the veins of the leaves that
danced around us, mesmerizing with brocades of changing colours like swimming
chameleons inhabiting the world?
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 I prayed which opened 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 with my 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 than 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.
They stand all around us, sometime alone and more powerfully
together; our guardians are rivers of wisdom who symbiotically breathe into us
life and we exhale the breath they need.
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 lemon sun drizzling down in
shafts of warm surrender. My heart
beating in rhythm, my breath, dotting the air with invisible ink, as the forest
shifted and turned, the secret panels opened. It is then, that Her voice grew
louder. The voice of the earth, called by
many names, but I know her now, as Mary Magdalene.
Each cracking branch underfoot becomes a lever to the magic
code of the great Cathedral.
Can you see? Can you
hear? Maybe you forgot how to listen? This book is written in my attempt to help
you hear that voice, that voice that will help with your own…
Alchemy of the Soul
The Arc of the Ancients,
A-Limbic System
Chapter I
Once there was, and once there was not, a
girl who walked with giants.
To be continued....
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