| (Relationship spread, Cat People Tarot.)|
|Our little Page of Cups (see previous story below) has now grown up. As the water of water, I embody the essence of femininity, for yes, gentle readers, I can reveal that she equates to myself! |
I look quite youthful for a mature woman, or so they tell me kindly. Here I find myself in my native element at last, and everything goes just swimmingly! I haven't had to give up my fish tail to walk, and dance, as on daggers on dry ground, in the foreign elements of air and earth. I feel untouched by pain and tragedy when I dive deep. My best friends seem the dolphins (earth's 2nd most intelligent species, after us), who also hold the secret of ch'i, breath, and how to hold it for up to 1/2 an hour at a time; they have also saved my life in a moment of shamanistic spiritual emergency, by reminding me to breathe! They also laugh and play and communicate with each other all the time, and perhaps I, as the mermaid, telepathically with them? I have become a marine psychologist, to the cetaceans, you see, but do not always feel sure which of us amounts to the counsellor, and which the clients. I can tell you, you can establish some sort of telepathic link with such species through guided visualization/meditation. And remember not only to breathe, through your pain and crises, but also, like those angels called dolphins, to see life as a game!
|The loss of my first love, as described in my first story felt like another death, but I have now become so used to the constant transformations of "little deaths", that death has become another dear friend to me. I can even affirm that, galactically speaking, the power of death guides me! Clearing away the old to make way for the new, death seems the cosmic sanitation engineer. Unexpected changes, losses, failures, all cause an abrupt change of the old self, and not necessarily physical death, though I have found myself on the brink of suicide a few times. It can come in the ending of a familiar situation or friendship, or the loss of income or financial security. Either way, it always spells the beginning of new era.|
|I found the true love of my life in a truly grounded shaman. |
His grounding cord plunged deep into the crystal core of Gaia herself, grounding and centering him.
His recommended spiritual practice amounted to performing the Qabalistic Middle Pillar ritual on a regular, daily basis, to receive the white light in at the crown of the head, the lavendar at his throat, the yellow at his heart, purple around his loins, and to see the black earth as a small sphere beneath his feet... ADONAI HA ARETZ! LORD OF THE EARTH! (his true mantra). He took refuge in visualizing pyramid power around him daily, and knew that the kundalini fire cannot burn you, if you properly "earth" yourself .
|I found his company a respite after the heady adventure of the Knight of Cups, like a rest after illness which allowed me to recuperate. He felt to me a haven of calm and repose, not saying much, but his solitude refreshed and replenished me. We often retreated to his island hideaway, in temporary seclusion, for a bit of quiet R & R. We had a stormy crossing in his little curragh, a leather boat like St Brendan's, of the long 'navigatio'; the waves rose high and threatened to engulf our tiny bark, but the power he summoned remained with us, and the little feather he placed as a meditation focus, with a small seed of amethyst, remained unruffled on the deck. The sobering energy of the white light he invoked made our tiny boat into a haven of calm and safety, even as the sea and the winds continued to moan and roar. He made even a fragile little boat tossed on the high seas into a temple.|
|How many times I thought I had spiritually "come home", from the early "born-again" fundamentalist days, to becoming a "born-again pagan" and Sufi adventurer. Sometimes he had the prophetic zeal of Elijah, which in turn consumed me, to "come home to a place I'd never seen before". Do all these "born-again" phases amount only to "just phases", unlike my "feminist phase" which has remained with me lifelong? And yet look at me, now that the goddess Hera has awakened in me, as even a "born-again wife", when I never thought myself the marrying kind before! Do they all just amount to deliria of Elijah's fevered imagination, yet more mad "chariots of fire" drawn by the tigers of wrath, painted on the walls of his island-cave and refuge, glowing eerily in the firelight? Could it just amount to another hobby-tiger, this new bee buzzing in my bonnet? We did everything in a whirl, from Zenith Pleiadian colour healing to Sufi whirling, drunk in the mystic "tavern of ruin". "Elijah, Elijah, what do you do here, keeper of the flame of the heart?" I ask.|
And he answers, "Anything, anything, as long it keeps the fire of the heart still burning."
Only the transmuted gold will survive, when we have passed all the straw through the fire.
*I fell into a burning ring (or abyss) of fire...*
|And yet one day he sent me away, wanting a more complete solitude. That drove me into severe depression, and even thoughts of, and attempts at suicide. Dark night of the soul: give me enough rope, and I will hang myself, or take enough Tolvon to go to sleep, permanently. Transit or return of Saturn, the greater malefic? She seems such a beautiful planet, with those rings; only sometimes she just feels her distance from the sun, as the love of her life. I had to take the long view, get a cosmic perspective, even put on a Leonard Cohen record to cheer myself up. After all, what would this separation mean in 200 years?|
And yet he says he continues to think the World of me, and I still mean the world to him! But he continues to see himself a servant of all Gaia's children, working for the liberation of all sentient beings.
He didn't like the cool blues of Tom Waits, said it seemed too sexual, but then at first I thought the same about Ephemera, saying they amounted to mere "porn-girls", when he thought their music the purest of the pure... De gustibus non disputandum! The blues, or "song sung blue" seem only for those who, like Cat Stevens, "never knew what love is, until they got hurt" (The Hurt). Funny thing, though, listening to or, better still, playing them, you don't feel all that hurt, although they seem all about hurt. "And before you know it, it starts to feel good" (Neil Diamond, Song Sung Blue). You can even play cool blues on a broken guitar with one string missing, and you don't have to appear black, to sing with a black man's voice (ask Tom Waits, or even Elvis!) ...Still, ours does seem a 'funny' sort of marriage, doesn't it, with him still thinking of me as his soror mystica and all, and in an even 'funnier' way, I think of him exactly the same way!