"Baptism at Beloved" – 2011-8-12

The Books of Fae

2016-10-13 – "Baptism at Beloved"

"…One of the most intense moments of 2011 awaits me as Ciardha and I travel the sideway highways of the Mythica to the realms of Beloved, the mystical gathering of avatars on the sacred Ley of western Cascadia, one that demands my devotion to the Divine Intelligence that lay behind all of my movements on the Quest. …"

Opening Ritual

One of the most intense moments of 2011 awaits me as Ciardha and I travel the sideway highways of the Mythica to the realms of Beloved, the mystical gathering of avatars on the sacred Ley of western Cascadia, one that demands my devotion to the Divine Intelligence that lay behind all of my movements on the Quest.

I can feel the energy shifting as we approach the site of Beloved, the tones in the subtle realms influencing and inspiring the conversation I share with CIardha. I mention this to him, speaking into the essence of what I feel we are doing, divining our way through the ripples in the ether that are our many realities.

The Messenger

The luminance throughout the fields of the Beloved festival is palatable, with incarnates arriving from all across the various pantheons to share Love, to share Light, and participate in the ritual of embracing life.

It is in that moment that Fateh comes up to me, his eyes blazing with Divine Light.

“I was told to give you this” he says, handing me a potion. Feeling the inertia of the Presence moving through the space, I drink it down, adding to my already enhanced canvas of inner perspective.

It had been a night of many medicines, a melody of different colors on the prism of my gaze. As with all things in that numinous space, there was a sense of providence throughout, that I was being painted more than painting the substance of my point of view.

Gaze of Shiva

It is in that moment that Fateh comes up to me, his eyes blazing with Divine Light.

It was beautiful. Magical. Transcendent. I could feel the colors of the people, the vibrations of their thoughts, their beliefs and boundaries as solid things in the overarching Oneness of everything. The smiles, the hearts, the movement of a million million wonders happening in a chorus that was somehow chaotic and perfectly ordered all at once. It was glory.

Then everything imploded.

I had to get out. To get away from the noises, the stink of the diesel, the screaming colors. With each thrum of the bass beat I could feel the drums of my ears being pushed out of shape, sending waves of pain bouncing across my skull.

Journey to the Underworld

There is a moment in the fugue when I remember a scene from the comic Promethea, a sequence illuminating her journey into the Underworld.

I come upon a guitarist in my wanderings, as if standing guard on the descent from the mountain that held the festival.

He doesn’t even see me as I dance, feeling myself unadorning the various aspects of my material self. Letting go of the Dancing, the Song and the Story, pushed deeper down the incline towards the Water-deva that I know can heal me.

(excerpt from 'Promethea', by Alan Moore, J.H. Williams III and Mick Gray, published by America's Best Comics)

I am reminded of the chapter in Promethea when she undresses herself to the telling of the tale of the goddess Inanna's descent into the underworld, feeling myself in my own version of that story in the letting go of the qualities of my identity as they exist in the world to travel beneath, into the depths of my self and it's structure, to commune with the deva that exist at the base of all things.

The Baptismal Waters

It is standing by the Water that I realize, I am to remove my clothes, get into the flowing current, and make my way to a particular spot, cast in moonlight, about 30 meters away …

Met at the Gateway

Once again the sacred trio meets me at the threshold, their light shining like a beacon of faithful service across the underlands.

Maestros and Magi

It is standing by the Water that I realize, I am to remove my clothes, get into the flowing current, and make my way to a particular spot, cast in moonlight, about 30 meters away …

Yet this is the new magic, the modern myth revealed in it's glory of colors, the energies of dreaming crown anchoring themselves in the curves and swirls of rapture in dance.

It’s the textures. always the textures. The play of light that moves between the people, the colors and radiances that move within the space.

Magi in the Morning

lush with baptismal energy, I wander through the fields of Beloved, filled with Light. Here, I am led to grant my 50mm 1.2 lens, an expensive and worthy piece of glass, to Kyer Wiltshire, my fellow witness to the World of Beloved and more.

Such is a grand confluence.