I feel that i’m at a turning point. A threshold-point, on my timeline through the akasha. Where I have opportunity to move deeper into the Mythica, further along the rainbow road to the Prime World.
Everything is in place. I have constructed the resonance chamber of the online platform such that I can maintain and focus my energies on the more exalted version of my potential self, one even more grounded and balanced between my earth and sky. Where I may at last step away from the forge-space of the computer and the building of the outer temple and put more emphasis on what exists within.
If I didn’t know my self after all these years, i’d say it was ironic. That I teach the mechanics of changing the inner state to change the outer, yet feel as though I only just coming to address some of the muddier and wilted aspects of my self … yet I know better. I had to build the Mythica. Create a structure in the ‘outer’ world that would allow me to temper my mystical gifts. That granted me the ability to hold my shape, to actively sculpt the shape of the self from an anchored position.
I couldn’t do this, when I was a childe. There wasn’t a sense of it. Of a stable sense of self. Everything about my reality would change, drastically, like a flickering candleflame. I needed something to ground me. To help me make sense of the onslaught of sensations that defined my world. To organize the information into a coherence, such that I could make myself coherent. Thankfully, after two decades of work, she’s built. And in the act of that building, the action of striving for coherence in the only way I could, i’m at last able to express the energies that have been churning in me from the start.
In accordance with that, it has to come through the journal. At least that’s how it’s feeling right now, and moving through the mystical world is all about the feeling. About divining one’s way through the experiences of one’s life, gradually discovering the inner compass of one’s True North, their heart’s desire made manifest.
For me this occurs as a deep desire to share the magical World. To give the Gift that I was given, access to the mystical octaves of reality, to others, bringing my piece to the foundations of the world of our shared Awakening.
To do that, I had to construct a device. A way of grounding out my magics as well as providing space for others to do the same. A yogic device that transformed the consciousness of the Author and the Reader, made from the vibrations of true-magic, of authenticity and regality. Such became the online platform. The very thing i’m writing in at this moment. A temple where, surrounded by the reminders and reflections of the real mystical world as i’ve encountered Her, the people (which includes me) may find transformation. A remembrance.
It’s through this remembrance that we heal. That *I* heal, where i’m able to articulate that subtle intention of change and transcribe it, leaving golden bread crumbs in the shape of my story that illuminate the alchemies that changed my world for the brighter. Such was the building of the online Mythica, a publishing platform that documented the real journey of transformation, that revealed our part in the Great Story and roads we walk to a new reality.
And now she was built. My words ring out across the etheric architecture, across the websites and the worlds. I have created the timelines, the Academy, the ways and wonder of illustrating the mystical world. The armature, forged over many years along the Quest, is built … and there is space at last to breathe into what wants to bloom.
It is time. And so I consider – What is the highest version of my self? Who do I wish to be in this next chapter of my life? How do I wish to illustrate that into being?
I go for a walk to answer the question. While the past version of my self would have sat at the computer and contemplated the answer, the me i’m choosing to be in the Now would go outside and intentionally invoke a trance-state, holding the ideal of a new manifestation.
So, I go. Like I did yesterday, it’s not a spell i’m unfamiliar with. Everything we do is essentially about changing the impressions in the akasha, changing the substance of our self to match a new pattern. It’s the basis for all alchemy, all yogas. Everything is about something becoming something else.
There are challenges along the way. Distractions. Repeated sensations in the body which play out as thoughts and points-of-view. To face them requires mindfulness, a sense of what energies are playing out within our form and how to shift them. In my case, it plays out as a drifting mind, of ideas sparkling across my mindseye related to the site or my writing. And while I appreciate and honor them, they’re more of the same, the same repetitions that have been swirling in my form, gradually forming the Mythica and the reality that i’ve been living within.
So I focus. I feel into that archetype, that still-forming ideal into who I want to be and the kind of reality he lives within. I put on some music and slip into trance, the better to loosen the attachment to who I have been being on the way forward. In this I wonder, not for the first time, as to what is the most effective way of transforming my reality. It has never felt right to simply pretend the trauma and the patterns associated with those traumas, don’t exist, yet there is always the question if speaking about them resurrects them into being. A silent tongue does little to silence the voices within, and it is they we must dissolve in order to be liberated.
I shrug my shoulders, and continue walking. Breathing into the action. Into the feeling-tone of that more sanctified, more ritualized and devotional version of myself. As I do, the olde wound surfaces, and I consider my relationship with God. A crunching sensation arises in my midsection, and my nose wrinkles, remnants of that resolving mistrust.
It’s always been about the relationship with the Creator for me. About my reaction to what it’s taken to clear the impressions in the transforming Age. There had been so much grievance, so much distaste and inner question over my place and purpose within the Incarnate, where I had felt forsaken, abandoned, and subsequently enraged at what seemed a nearly impossible task, whose rules were set by a greater force I remembered yet could not fully embrace. Of course, this didn’t change it when my shape shifted and I became what was necessary for a sacred experience. When my avatar-state kicked in, and everything shifted to the brighter. In those moments, I was fine, resplendent with the Light of the Beloved, doubtless in my intentions and flush, defined by the gravity of that moment.
I changed. All the time. Moved from end of the spectrum of spiritual clarity to another across an ocean of hyper-surreal emotional states. Where my very sense of self, the thing around which everything else arranged, would shift and change beneath my fingers, losing distinction as I drifted, seemingly without control, across the space of the akasha.
The Mythos Reminded
As I return, Misty declares that she is feeling a movement to the nearby watering hole, the same spot on the skin of Gaia that she brought me to when I first arrived in the realms of Austin. At first, i’m not sure about going, yet I remind myself of my goal to shift, actively, into a new realm of being.
Immediately the Universe reflects my movement, as we get to the springs and I run into a young firehaired lad, Thomas, around thirteen years of age. Soon into our conversation, he asks me if it’s offensive or wrong to shape his voice into an Australian accent. I consider it a strange question, and simply reply “No, it’s not offensive at all. It’s creative. Shaping a new song with your voice”.
And he blooms. Immediately starts imitating an Australian tone, and doing it well. Catching his inflections, the bass and rhythm that I associate with the australian peoples. To meet him, I shift into some of the voices that move through me, the Scottish and southern preacher characters that lair within my inner story, and we smile together, feeling the juice and creativity flowing. In the underlands of the Mythica, I feel the ancient bardic, the reincarnate pattern of the red-haired Thomas, meeting me in the fields of the modern myth.
It shifts me. And just like that, everything changes. The conditions change, and i’m in a whole new reality. One of inspiration, storytelling and joy. Where I feel the myth and magic all around me more deeply, radiant through the trees and the sacred land.
Misty smiles. “That’s what they’re repressing” she says.
“The free flow of creativity. Children are being taught that it’s offensive to imitate”
“Really? We were just having fun.” I reply, somewhat incredulous.
“It’s part of the control.” she says. “The repression that leads to disease.”
“Huh. I hadn’t even considered that”.
And it’s true. Those kinds of vibrations don’t even exist in my reality. They’ve never really landed in my conversation. To me, meeting Thomas was an act of modern mythology, running into the current incarnation of a more bardic, storysong emanation through the Divine Mind, where he and I meet, as adventurers in that modern myth, by the artifices of stone and architecture that have sprouted up around the healing pool.
I bow to the lad, and give him one of the last cards I have in my wallet as an invitation to the Mythica. Soon after, we walk down the stone steps, and encounter another avatar, this one calling himself “Logan”, who introduces himself into the conversation between Misty and I.
Immediately, my eyes are drawn to a glyph, scrawled on his arm. It feels potent, full of intent and energy. It isn’t a casual tattoo. Inquiring, I ask him, “Is that the World Tree on your arm?”
“No” he replies. “It’s Mjolnir, the hammer of Thor.”
I nod. Of course it is. These kinds of things happen to me all the time. It’s part of my Aspect. The quality of the Divine which moves through my avatar. Wherever I move in the world, I inevitably run into avatars like Thomas and Logan, beings who carry the patterns of the ancient and new worlds moving through their forms.
Curious, I ask Thomas about the nature of the glyph. He explains that he needed it, as a symbol of Strength and Power, to help him move through a dark period in his life.
After we share, Logan reflects that his “mind is blown”. I can feel the mythos of it, Misty and I as traveling avatars of divination and magic, meeting this young warrior by the side of the water. Like the firehaired Thomas, such is the the way Story unfolds, more constant than the shifting tapestries of time and culture.
Taking Care of the self
As we settle into the sycamore trees, I feel into my body. Into the subtle landscapes of my form. Immediately, weariness and pain communicates back to me, and I must face the feeling of weakness, the inner tendency of self-judgment for actions done that have led me to this condition. I remind myself that it is only in the past 2 years that I have managed to forge together the splinters of my self scattered across the winds, where I have gone through massive transformation, my powers aligning as I have made my way from the chaos and uncertainty of the Shattered Kingdoms en route to the Commonwealth.
I drop into the Water. My body aches to move, yet I know this is the healing. That I have been graced to return to the pools and to feel the aina moving through me, softening my muscles and mind. A clarity is coming, one hard-earned after the many years of trial on the Quest, where I am seeing more and more how I have been living my life and how I can change it.
“Let’s go check out the trees over there” says Misty, and I pull myself up, and head over to a beautiful area, flush with sycamore’s and their roots moving across the surface, separating the water into little pools that run over and into each other. A vision comes to me as we stand there, seeing the aspect of the World Tree pushing through, the smallness and necessity of our placement amongst the trees and the Green, literally walking on the roots and branches of that arboreal estate.