“Bards & Beasts”
The Woods of Tahingaard
Open then the space of bright
feel the sacred mystic light
The wonder of that sacred sight
the world seen through the threads of light
In this I hold space for my own healing. My own part in the collective unfolding back to whole, for there is truth to my grievance. To the frustration of all aspects of the Divine Self experiencing the human condition. To that innate sense of discomfort, the distortions in the ethers that embody as the trauma and difficulty of the Incarnate plane at this time.
I see it. I see it so clearly. With compassion. At least, in this moment. In the shape that i’m being and it’s vantage upon the Creation. It is the wisdom itself as well as the resolution of my contest with the perfection, the deva aspect of myself seeing the threads of the aka and their melody simultaneous with my human frustration at the blossom of God’s timing. I longed to be integrated. To have healed the schism within at long last.
It reminds me of a spell I would cast with my magomancy, shifting the rhythmic of the DC character Jason Blood’s transformation into the demon Etrigan into a more angelic virtue, wielding the gravity of the mantra in a brighter light – my shift from the mundanity of human perspective to the altitude of angels –
“GONE GONE THE GAZE OF MAN!
ONCE AGAIN THE ANGEL GRAND!”
I’d cast it, to myself or to the deva, whilst walking the woodlands of Tahoe-Tahingaard with North, feeling how the shape of the invocation changed the shape of myself. How it shifted me, sometimes subtly, sometimes thick, from the surface of the world into the depths. From the confusion of mortal incoherence to my celestial aspect, granting me respite, if only for a little while, from the hammers of the ethers.
How I loved that space. How I LOVE that space. That clean, shimmering expanse. When the locus of my land sits in the chambers of the Kingdom. I loved the way my Words opened my way.
It didn’t last. At least, not then. At one moment or another i’d shift, losing my access to myself and feeling the weight of the worlds burying me in it’s din. At some point the rhyme of the spell would bring it’s opposite –
“LOST LOST THE ANGELS GAZE ….
ONCE AGAIN IN HUMAN HAZE “
… and I would fall, losing the gravity of my position in the Akasha. Losing my grip on my own highest aspect and plummeting into the incoherence of the human world, a thing far removed from my natural state of being.
I have a lot of compassion for my self in this way. For Peter. For the immensity of pressure between the Earth and the Sky. It has been a deep lesson, reminding me of the truth of everyone’s Divinity beneath the clay.
Dan Walsh
Kirsten Rose
North
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