Tag Archives: beliefs

Judas Iscariot

22 Sep


I follow the thread of the tale.
I see it has wound its way,
Ever present in the history of the soul,
Through the passage of time
Connecting each word,
Each paragraph,
Each chapter,
Into the fabric of a life.

In its meandering it has taken on a glow.
A gentle, quiet glow of effervescent silver sparks.
And if you look closely you can see them pulsating,
Like tiny explosions, one after the other,
In an electric display of miniature fireworks.
Yet there is no heat. It is cool and calming.

And as I follow this storyline,
Passing it gently through my hands,
I come to a place where I feel and see an anomaly.
It is as if the cord is broken, but it is not.
I can feel the gap and there is a definite break.
But no matter how I hold it or pull it on each side,
The apparent gap stays the same as if joined by an invisible link.

There are no sparks here, there is no glow,
Only a seemingly empty space
Representing a break –
But refusing to act as one.

I am intrigued.
I go through all the thoughts I can possibly find in my head
To explain this phenomenon.
Ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous,
The only one I can find that makes any sense
Is that there must be something there,
Its just I cannot feel it or touch it.
I have no sense that can detect it.
Therefore it must come from a world
Other than the physical one
I am inhabiting at this very instant.
Perhaps in that world,
Only the missing link can be perceived,
And the rest of the cord, which I have in my hands,
Is not visible there.

So now what?
My active imagination then begins to wonder
What lead am I following?
Whose strand of life is this?
If I could know that,
Maybe I would have a clue to that other world.

I feel a great sense of sadness welling up inside me.
As I hold this cool, feather-like strand,
I sense its loss and longing.
I sense its wishing that things could have been different.
I start to feel that it is trying to tell me
Of something that happened,
Which was unavoidable, destined and inevitable.

I sense and hear the anguish in its voice
Of how events were written into the history books
Long before they occurred.
And it sings to me the sad song of its fate,
Caught up in the rotating planets
And the coincidence of its being there,
Synchronizing with the juxtaposition
Of the earth, the sun and the moon.

And it whispers to me,
How in that unconscious moment,
When, hidden from the eyes of the seeing world,
The soul of a betrayer slipped into a next door world
To avoid the karmic debt of an allotted task.

One cannot move between worlds without a dire consequence.
Only he who has good reason is given the choice
To abandon all experience
And erase all memories of existence.
Only one who has the strength of Titans
Can accomplish this kind of task,
And only one who has earned the grace of God
Can expect to survive the challenge.

The strand becomes quiet in my hands.
I feel it is looking for past memories
Somewhere in its lost history.
Gently, I make a loop.
I bypass the gap allowing the two sides to touch.
I fashion a knot to keep them together.
It looks unprofessional and unwieldy, but no matter.
I feel a quickening in the cord
An electricity and a renewed vigour.

I get the impression
That an unexpected reprieve
Can come our way sometimes.
Not quite perfect,
But enough to allow us to move on
And pass the hands of destiny.

I get the feeling that we all once,
In some way or other,
Have had to swallow a bitter pill
And suffer the consequences
Through no fault of our own
Except the circumstances of our birth.

I begin to understand,
That for one such man,
An appointed task of such heinous proportions
Fell on his shoulders,
And that only the desperate measure of an eclipse
And a portal to another world,
Could save him
From the madness
Of bearing his destined guilt.

[Judas Iscariot, due to his lineage and destiny, was the only possible candidate available to be
selected to play the part of the betrayer. In the story, which needed to unfold, only the unique planetary alignments and his own mystic capacities could allow him to escape the epic karmic debt
he would have had to have incurred: by him being there but not being there, at the same time.]

Light

5 May

I sink into the soft featherbed.
My weight lowers me down and snuggles me close to the soft linen bed sheets.
The feather-light down duvet whispers its warmth over me
And creeps into each and every air pocket it can find
So I am enveloped in a cocoon of lightness and warmth.
As I drift into the hazy dreams of sleep,
I forget my connection to reality,
And here, with no control,
I am surrendered to the protocols of other worlds.

Exactly when and where do I find this point at which I exit my reality
And enter this other world?
Exactly how do I access this dimension?
Exactly which parts of me accompany me into the new state?
It is so intriguing:
Realizing that I have this ability to step from one state to another
Like a magician.

I know only two keys to this locked door:
I have to shut my eyes
And I have to switch off my mind.
Only in darkness and absence of thought comes sleep.
And it is at the instance of achieving a sleep state
That the portal opens and I transform into an ethereal being
In another world.

When I come back to this world,
It is almost always that I become vaguely aware of myself in my bed,
And then I open my eyes.
I may remember the other world or not,
But I have remembered enough times to know that
I have lived in dreams.

So now I wonder.
Is it like a contrary mirror that when I open my eyes to wake here,
I have shut them there.
When I become conscious here
Have I become equally unconscious there?
Maybe the reality is that I never sleep.
Maybe my perceptions of the reality of my dreams are distorted
By the different laws operating in the other dimension.
Perhaps my experience of the oblivion I feel in my deepest sleep
Is merely the cancelling out of two opposing emotional vibrations
Of equal intensity.
Perhaps life on this inner plane
Is similar to life on the outer plane
Where sleep patterns are necessary to keep a body revitalized and replenished
But the spirit is always moving and conscious.

So then, perhaps consciousness is just a wave –
A kind of binary pulse that slips from one dimension to the next
In an irregular pattern.
And each pattern is unique to each individual.
And perhaps this pattern of being here and then there,
A slipping in and out of our own physical form,
Is like a light being switched on and off.
But the light does not disappear.
It just moves from one room to the other through the switch –
Its just that we can’t see it going through to the other side,
And we can’t control anything there.

I like to see where I am and what I am doing.
I like to be aware of what is around me,
And I do not like to be cooped up in a dark, dingy room
Feeling sorry for myself.
Light brings good cheer and understanding in my life,
And I can always feel the worth of a place
By the light that surrounds it.
What is this connection between my mood and light?
Why are the two so intricately entwined?
Why is it that the long nights of winter feel so heavy on my heart?
Is there some connection between the light around me
And my consciousness in this physical world?

Does the darkness around me echo my footsteps
In the corridor between my sleeping and waking worlds?
Does my psyche recognize the shadow of the sleep portal
In the shadows of this world?
Is the grey winter drizzle found in the path
Between one dimension and the next?

Perhaps for us, our real darkness of heart and soul
Is found in the transition from the consciousness
On either side of our existence,
And it is at this node where, for a time, we are lost to ourselves.
And perhaps this loss holds a fear, which is reflected in the physical darkness
Found in our earthworld.
When we sit at this node,
The crossing point from one place to the next,
Perhaps for a split second we cease to exist.
We are interrupted in life,
And we are separated from that which defines our existence:
The consciousness of light!
Perhaps it is the perception of light on all levels
That defines us as living.
Perhaps the secret of life is being able to be aware of light.
Perhaps light is the life force
That burns its way through our eyelids
And reflects itself into the retina of our eyes,
Nudging the mind into movement
And stirring our souls into breath.

Perhaps light is, by definition, life
And the ability to be conscious of it and unconscious of it
The duality of existence.

[Light is energy, a force whose inception cannot be pinpointed or discovered. It is more intrinsic to being than breathing. Our consciousness is an expression of light. Perhaps the more sophisticated our consciousness becomes the more light we are able to perceive. And as we grow in this super conscious ability, the less darkness there is in our direct experience, until at last, everything is light and we become so absorbed in that light that we become that light. And perhaps, it is at that point that we can say we have found and experienced God.]

The Soul – the true story of the sleeping beauty

4 Apr

Heart on fire.
Aflame, wildly aflame with the energy of Creation.
A towering inferno of white light
Incomprehensible in its magnificence
Awesome in its radiance
Its vastness way beyond the limits of the mind’s capability to imagine.
Vibrant with all-encompassing, self-certain belief in being.

Hasten yourself to me now.
Enter the hallowed portals within and destroy the rusted chains of past destiny.
Cut back the thorn forests encircling my castle walls.
Hew down the impenetrable, iron cladded wooden ramparts that guard the enclave.
Seek out the entrance to my tower,
I beseech thee.

Fear not the statued guards, washerwomen, dogs and servants.
Fear not the feasting courtiers asleep in their plates
Nor the king poised in mid-proclamation.
Find the staircase and climb, climb,
Climb to the very highest turret.
Find me. Find me asleep,
Transfixed in the spell of incalculable years.
Unbind the serpent coils that wind round me,
Choking the very breath from my body.
Find me! Find me O Prince of Light,
And wake me from the bewitching enchantment.
Kiss me; kiss me with the sweet softness of love and understanding.
Wake me; wake me from this mystery.
Bring me back to the world of life.

I have slept too long.
In countless dreams I have searched for you.
In countless forms I have longed to meet you.
In vast regions I have sought your sound, your light
But to no avail.
I am numbed in the paralysis of deep dreaming.
I am lost, buried in the embrace of a deceitful suitor,
Led into bondage by the drugged wine of illusion.

Only you can save me.
Only you can find me.
Drawn and directed by your heart, swollen with love and longing
Only you can you fight your way to find me.
Only your courage and sacrifice laid bare for all to see
Can slay the demons that encase me.
Only you, against all odds, can whisper those treasured words in my ear
And call me back from the waking dead.

[The soul’s journey is long and arduous. Bound by the four walls of creation, it seeks relentlessly the refuge of God. Ever hidden, ever present, the Ocean of Life tosses us on the stormy seas of existence.
Clad in beggar’s robes we see not our true reflection in the mirror of the world.
The radiance of the soul is beyond measure. Shrouded within each of us is the light of a thousand suns. We are hidden from ourselves to keep us trapped in the universe.
Oh that we could realize this and discover the awe of our own being!]

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