“Swords of Shamballa”
"Swords of Shamballa" – August 12, 2007
2007-8-12
The Books of Fae
2007-8-12- "Swords of Shamballa"
"…As I make my way to the realms of Shamballa as they occur on the octaves of the earth plane I experience a clarity for the first time in the reading of the maps of the surface world. As I do, I plot a journey through the woodlands, drawing on the strength of the aina to empower my forward charge …"
I remember these moments deeply. I was moving, being able to understand a map of the surface plane for the first time, trying to find my way through the forests en route to the towne of Nelson across the border into the free colonies of Canada.
Sign of the Phoenix
Once again, the sigil of the Phoenix comes to me, falling from a pack of oracle cards I had acquired at the local new age store. As it did, I felt that sensation, that of the burning within, it’s movement rumbling and stirring along the threads of my nervous system.
August 5th, 2007
This is new experience for me, as I had never been able to comprehend or digest the presentation of surface maps of the world. To be able to look at a map, to even understand it on a basic level is a novel thing, happening thirty-seven years into my life. It speaks so deeply to the neurodivergent way in which i've experienced the world and what has defined the maps of the Mythica over time.
I wonder then, is it possible to avoid the highways of the Mundus completely? Can I intentionally make my way to the realms of Shamballa using the maps of the surface world?
August 7th, 2007 – The Underwater Forest
I shift between the realms as I paddle out to commune with the tree people, feeling the brushstrokes of my paddle upon the water, following the ripples left in my wake. There was something there. Something the deva were showing me. The tree was still, yet the water was rippling. There was what it was, then there was how it looked, in that rippling reflection. I considered, what was the relationship between the inner and outer world? If everything was a reflection, what was the landscape of the inner path? What was the nature of wood in the water?
There was something there. Something the deva were showing me. I breathed, allowing the energies to flow through me, solid and flowing. A tree in the water.
It is a subtle feeling. So subtle. Teasing at the very edge of my awareness. Beneath the surface of the underwater forest, I can feel the luminance of stars mirroring their celestial cousins in the sky above.
Many years later, I will realize that this is a nexus point on the Quest relating to the revelation of "Trees in Water".
As I make my way to leave I discover trash left behind by the people, the metal canisters disrupting the flow of the ley lines through the space. It never ceases to amaze and disgust me how humans pollute their environment, or how I find myself led by the deva to places where my hands are needed to remove their filth from the land.
Totem of the Wolf
The paths of the Commonwealth start to make more sense for me as I navigate my way to the Shamballa festival for the first time. On the way, I find a picture of a wolf that looks exactly like North, and recognize it as the essence of him, meeting me on the Quest.
With the kind woodsmans help in navigating my way out of the rough trails of the forest, I stop at a local deli for a bite to eat. As I do, my intuition draws my head leftwards, and I see a painting, one that looks as if It could have been a portrait of my beloved North.
Interpreting this as a sign upon the Quest of his presence, I purchase the painting, putting it up on the dashboard as a radiant glyph.
Temple of the Rose
The stone magic is so far from my sense of self, it is often difficult to hold in my mindseye. Yet here the threads are woven true, radiant and held in resonance by a centralized sphere of rose quartz.
Such is the works of the temple-maker, Copper Chris, who had shaped my elvish armour at the base of Mt. Elphinstone, and his temples were strong things. Made of clarified geomancy in grids of elegance and fine.
Magi of the Mythmaker
I give McLain a reading with the cards …
The Right Use of Power
I have found the mystic city of Shamballah. On the surface plane, it takes the form of a festival called ‘Shamballah’, yet for me, as always, such occurs as a movement through the underplanes of the Mythica. Here I am to encounter the Mud Buddha, and be Recognized by him as a King. It is here, also, that I open my Voice; letting my soul shine; and go through deep redemptions with the deva of the water. As well, I put down my swords, wishing to connect more with the People …
As I sing, one of the people there comments that my voice is so loud, so expansive, that it is overshadowing the music. I am annoyed with her, at the feeling of being shut-down. Immediately, a massive sense of self-judgment, of fearing that I have caused suffering and am in the wrong use of power, slams down on me. It’s crushing, hammering inside of my in endless rhythms. I go to the Water deva, to clear it from my field ….
- Dancing. I am dancing then, feeling the beautiful royalty of the Pirates and the Elves, clad in shimmering reds and golds when I encounter a being I consider the Mud Buddha. “I am just a man” he says, his voice rough and scartchy from his cigarettes. “But you … you are a King"
I’m annoyed with being asked to be quiet. And angry at myself for judging the girl who spoke to me. I feel I must atone. In the subtle planes, the reflections of my thoughts, the judgment, the inner frustration, hammer from the inside-out, my awareness of their presence amplified by the potion.
I realize I must go to the Water, aligning with the aina to cleanse the subtlety of my being and free myself from the inner assault.
The Mud Buddha
Many times in my devotion to Terpsichore have I recognized that there is a high court of dance, a way of working magic and nobility through the shapings of the body that speaks to the fluidity of one's language with life and it's implied nobility of character.
During the dancing, I encounter an asian gentleman smoking cigarettes.
“I am just a man” he says. “But you, you are a King”
In some of the Old Ways it has been said that one cannot name themselves a king. That they must be named by another, recognized by the Land in some manner. Such things are not bound by language, for the shape of things is fluid. A crowning may come in a word, a glance, or in the hint of the breeze on a subtle mind. It is not the outer form that matters most, for such is the vessel for the essence. The quality of gnosis that reflects through the myriad of mirrors on the surface of the worlds.
talking about the ladies of Elphinstone and how we’re all connected …
speaking more on the glyph ….
It is so beautiful, to see the glyph work of the northern elves flush once more. Beneath the surface of perception, lines of radiant light pulse across the land, invoking the essence of the sigils across the network of ley.
Ladies of Elphinstone
Return to the Holt
After the drive, we take the ferry across the waters, heading towards the Elphinstone Holt ….
The Fire of Art
August 16, 2007 – The World Above, the World Below
I intersect Carl Bridge on the Path as I pass through the City of Portals. Here, we speak about following the maps of the World. As I have always been, I am thankful for the Earth energy that moves through him as in the underlands of the Mythica, I sense myself absorbing, gaining access to that elusive quality of groundedness such that I may at last read an Earth map and divine it’s meaning with constancy.
It is so fascinating. I’d never been able to truly grasp the maps of the surface plane before. While they remain a reference for many moving their way across the surface plane, my difficulty with their limitation of presentation has been a lifelong thing.
Flush with innocent interest, I try to map my way through the forest, off the main roads, towards the realm of Shamballa.
Carl Bridge
Copper Chris
Hjeron O'Sidhe
Joelique MacGregor
Kelsey Faery
Noah McLain
Ocean Ulantia
Wendy Neverland
Responses