Wednesday, January 30, 2013

The Alchemist's Cauldron: Science

There is, genetically within us, a potential, a deep driving mutative potential to bring us to a place of knowing. And knowing is something that is very deep. It is not like understanding or making sense out of things. Knowing often has no way of expressing itself.
                                                   - Excerpt from the LifeForce Lecture (Ra)

'Individuation' from Google Images...

Synchronicity, the hand of the divine dipped in a tonic that upon first touch of the tongue smiles like a poison. Only in the vessel of ambitious individuation can synchronicity truly ride, upon blue Friesian turbines to never tire. Integral. Integrating. Synapse snapping. I dig deeper and things change. I dig deeper and I get farther into the unknown and ever closer to my long forgotten home. Home is where the heart is. I take this literally now. Home is deeper wihin me, my expanses, infinite, my design, perfect. I only need slough off the layers of who I Think I am and become Who I Know I am. Home is just inside these walls.

The mind is not an authority. I feel blessed with this secret scroll scrawling scrying symbols in my temple. I feel blessed that I am built to wait, built to be both Yin and Yang. Built to repel and accept into myself correctness. Trial and error too, the perfect partner of patience.


I realize now more than ever before that I wish to heal myself, and heal the world. The Wounded Healer. A shaman is a psychologist. A shaman is a dead man. A shaman is both a nightmare and a dream. A shaman knows that all is beyond the individual casing, but begins from it. Does not think this, knows this. A healer does not wish to heal, but is designed to. The wish only appears as a message from the divine design, the endogenous perfect geometry of inexplicable knowing. And, as a manspider showed me, With great power comes great responsibility.

 54/32: Duration//Marrying Maiden: The thrust of this channel is pretty simple – it is ambitious, fueled by the desire to make money and do better. 
 40/37: Aloneness+Deliverance//Family: It is “the bargain” that underlies everything Tribal. “I’ll do for you if you’ll do for me; but I need to be alone afterward”.
55/39: Abundance//Obstruction:  Here the wave is abrupt in form; spiking up or down through extremes of mood. Part of a stream that includes a concern with and a focus on romance, love and passion. The Individual Circuit is a deeply moody, or melancholic circuit, and this channel is the height of that.

Integration Channels: Gate 10, 20, 34, 57 (I have all but gate 10)
34/57: The Archetype: Here we are seeing the actual empowerment of intuitive intelligence as the sacral is connected to the spleen. It is a direct link from the power of life to the awareness of health and well being.
20/34: Channel of Charisma: Unless you want to end up trapped into being a work horse for somebody else's gain, don't do or say anything unless you are responding. The business has to happen out of CORRECT response. Only then will you make sure you are busy for yourself, otherwise life will be depressing. Intense energy and a seductive auric emanation.
20/57: Channel of the Brainwave:  This is the voice of intuition. One of the most extraordinary capacities humans have, via this channel, is pure intuition that can speak.

Gate 10. Ah, Gate 10. The I ching hexagram 10 is Lu, "Treading".

above  CH'IEN

below  TUI

The Piscean and the Libran. The eagle and the carp. What I yearn for in my sleep when I conduct the symphony of the ocean and the sky. A poem that haunts my life: The Sea of Bitterness.O how I was built to hook up to gate 10's. I am not meant to live this life alone in intimacy. Intimacy is shared. In absolute.

Gate 10: The Love of Living; behavior of the Self: you have the consistent energy of the love in that gate that you carry forward each day.


Monday, January 28, 2013

All of this Happpens Accordingly

"taking it in its deepest sense, the shadow is the invisible saurian tail that man still drags behind him. Carefully amputated, it becomes a healing serpent of the mysteries. Only monkeys parade with it"
                                                                                                               - Jung

Mona ser, siempre, todos. Para mi? Me, which is not you? Well, yes, and no. Polarities and Biverses. Me releasing words so that I can sleep a little better in a sea soaked bed.You catching words up in the exhales of a sleepy town so that upon the turning to your bed you find a malevolent sunshine of the mind. Phantoms, todos.

Cycles, cycles of the solar plexus, of certain centers in the human body. Cycles. All happen accordingly--divine plan. I do need to start meditating. I do. But will I?-- with all that manifesting generator energy swirling up and down by spine which alights others up in a most pleasurepain kind of way. Probably not, I've got work to do. Whistle while you work. Wait while you work.

I'm revisiting my shadow fairly often. I lunge into it when I am in my pain cycle, where my vision gets picture-framed and fungal striations color my lens. I see reels of every lover past, present, sometimes future and I cringe and grit my teeth and shake from my core. Collapse over, anger raw like viscous syrup, mahogany pools collect around my long pink body. I wonder, Why?

And my lovers, many, feel this pain twice as intensely as I do. For they've never felt it before. And I do this rainbow-castled pain to hope on a cyclical timeline, since I've been born, maybe before. And its a blessing and a curse. Both and. A wonderful, hilarious, ironic, intangible suspension. I get to know you better than you know yourself: through my wave.

And with the clarity of phantomMare, You get clarity too. That's the brilliance of it. It is my duty to ride the hope to pain wave out...and at the beach once thought a mirage, we can all slumber in blissfullness. Until, of course, the next wave. Reciprocation happens, when we are being authentic.

Ah, but authenticity. The Not Self rages in this superficial layer, the caked and rotting skin of our species, le societe. But there is a suspension forming, of those beings awakening to authenticity, and those asleep. All we need is suspension. All we need. Peace on Earth is a real dream, but impossible without its faithful amaretto, War. All at once, all Now. Suspension.

I'm terribly tangential and with no place to go. But I leave it thus because I often have selective attention towards all Other, and myself. Sometimes even to my shadow. But my shadow is important. So is yours. Ignore it and you're all out of whack, embrace it and you've found suspension.

Blame it on my equilibrium.

It all happens accordingly, and you learn to wait to respond, and in that waiting you breathe, and in that breathe comes a movement of energy, and in that movement of energy comes a new synaptic pathway, and in that new synaptic pathway, comes a new 'lization on how to respond. Ad infinitum. 

I have new eyes, same Eye, new growls from my inner oven, and a new lover to devour into gold.

M .A. R


Sunday, January 27, 2013

The Channel of the Sleeping Phoenix

After a monolithically oceanic swing of a weekend...

Cross of The Sleeping Phoenix

The Channel of Moodiness - 39-55, links the Root Center through the 39, the Gate of Obstruction, to the 55, the Gate of the Abundance in the Emotional Center. The 39 -55 is the channel that connects directly into Spirit in the Emotional Center; in the wave. Here the wave is abrupt in form; spiking up or down through extremes of mood. This Individual channel of moodiness is also part of a stream that includes a concern with and a focus on romance, love and passion. The Individual Circuit is a deeply moody, or melancholic circuit, and this channel is the height of that.

People with this channel are very concerned with uncertainty because emotional individuality is all about uncertainty. "She loves me, she loves me not. I don't know." It’s easy to see the up-down wave of she loves me or she loves me not, but notice the final state – “I don’t know”. At that point the mutative aspect of the individual is about to take over and they transform out of that uncertainty. The whole Individual Circuit can be deeply uncertain because you don't know until the mutation comes.

When mutation comes they can be very certain: I KNOW. Everything is fine now “she loves me, I’m certain of it.” Here is the crux of the moodiness, because just when they’re certain, the mutation kicks in again and then they’re not sure that were really certain at all. This can have a disturbing effect on others because when you are empowering somebody else, you can make them very uncomfortable. The experience of this continuous swing from certain to uncertain and back is really normal for those who have this channel - but it is a very difficult mutation to experience if you don't have that channel but are having it empowered in you.
These mood swings are healthy for the 39-55 provided they are acknowledged, and watched. A big challenge for people with this channel is to remember there is no “reason” for the mood. The mood is simply a dynamic. Whatever the mood is it will change – that’s the nature of the channel. And above all NEVER confuse it with depression. The whole Individual circuit is melancholic, but it is the sadness of poetry or music. Anyone with individual circuitry needs to learn to use these moody times to be creative, to let the MUSE flow through them.

Once you know your design, it takes seven years to truly awaken. Good thing I'm on my third cycle. Here comes 21. New bones, meaning new cells, meaning the (re)birth of my Eye. Excitement unbound and impossible to stop, even in the darkest labyrinth of my pain to hope cycle. 

Here I go: unashamed of my channel of moodiness, my marrying maiden, my mutative catalyzing of others...maktub. It is I, and so much more. Yes, all contained within. 

I love you. I do not doubt this, even when the wave has crashed and seeped into the core of the shore....

I still love you.

 because I am that is.

M .A. R   

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Matrix Fractal Flow: Reimagine Your World

"When the Soul wants to experience something she throws out an image in front of her and then steps into it."

Friday, January 11, 2013

Words Tending to a Garden

February 2011? Poetry from A Dark Mare Still Here

Cross That Line:

Pushing through, head cresting between
pulsed lips, the purse of sadness
in time of suns and moons before

gestation, its all the same day and
night, there is not time
just gestation
just gestation

just my reality
which is but a dream,
a dream within a dream,

and my docile head, a bloody
dome, is cross countoured pain,
placental visions drip, grip me,
as I begin to see


I believe it is all mine, a tiny body
built for me,

but, essentially,
my head is over and over again

infinite births
fractalized firsts
breath, eyelash flutter, breath

awake as one
in a dream
an unseen scene seen
You as I

and I as me.  

Peering into the Pensieve

Life : an ongoing work of art

made real by the unanticipated

profound by the ambiguities

and made truthful by 

 human weakness.

I read over my shadow years. I have it written down, albeit the scratchmarks are so sweet in comparison to the thund'rous growling of mine those dark nights ago.

I am bemused to see that even thrust up inside a deep depression at the cusp of 19 years breathing eternity, I was hopeful, so hopeful. There was so much light I was blinded and in a raging night.

I really resonate with the phantom of the opera, because there is so much viscous and raw beauty in the darkest, most putrid places. The place known only to shame. 

Black eye cros't my mind's street. The nightmaricorn. Perception is Powerful.

I like the stark landscapes set side to side, of me not two years ago. Two small years, I could toss them and throw them to scrye. It is glorious that I had some brilliant esoteric soul-knowledge that whirled me up and shot me from the dark, like a glowing and virulent flower of a pinkish-red.

I see, even then, how fundamental and cataclysmic a force Love was, is. 

I am such a lover, a hopelessly hopeful romantique, forever deep, deep in Love, on most high.

I am maneuvering through the shame I've imbibed and been born with. It causes jet lag in my Loving. It causes friction, and the freedom will come from shame's chains burst forth. 

I also pick up other people's shame, and with my defined heart I feel the shame of the tribe. I am learning about boundaries, healthy definitions so that I am no longer flung into thick cyclones so disorienting. When I Love, I pick up some nasty shame that isn't actually mine, but that I cannot seem to distinguish from mine. This will be a life-long process, to discernment. I am proud of my progress thus far. All it takes is Slowness and Breath, and again Slowness. Feeling the moment and understanding who I am, by cataloging (thru Art and Write); communicating with myself. Alone time is beyond essential woo-wee!

Voyager to Dark Side of the Moon and back. Brilliant codes written in the black and white of my eye. 

Me...king of stone. Watch, even the most skeptical will come to know. 

Everyone wants to have a genius. Easy to ensnare, the dualistic fool.

The well floods back in, again ready for alchemy absolute and muddied. 
Trekkin' to the temple of Water. I already feel my frequency in frantic unraveling. Auras change with the sands of time. 

The Crimson forest bleeds and the warlocks and shamans wake up cuddled in frosted symphonies. The laypeople manifest, generate, project and reflect,,, and life goes, death goes. 

Young slung warriors strike out every moment and carve the wood deep in their mettled inside-river. Eye always open, dual appendaged vessel a'goin, mind racing, soul bursting in the trumpet call of a rosy cheeked lover.   

I come from death, from a very serious death. And even then in the nightingale night, my poetry spilled forth. Destined for greatness, I can see the uncollapsible, incorrigible force of Holy Frequency that will take me to what made me:

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Thank You for Loving Me /(All)/

"the true lovers do not wish to love--
                              they just fall into grace, four eyes blind,
                    wishing to die--

 but at the end, when the journey begins,
                             they are more than fine;
                   they transcend"

~M .A. R

New beginnings begged by the new moon on 1/11, 1.1.1, the beginning of number sequences writhing and supine, snakes and the phallic bud burst forth from the dark, primordial, fungal dirt.

Here todos goes.

I have a waking wish: hope. "Hope is a waking dream."

I bring even stronger and more intentioned Love into this first New moon of the quantified year.

When my mind quiets I pray. I am overcome with gratitude and excitement for newness of myriad form. Infinite form.

Sinead O'Conner's Thank You For Hearing Me

Perfection, so imperfect and vulnerable. I am going for what I want. The shame slips off 'round my small and long bodice like a many-eyed patterned snake skin.

 I am clear now, about what I want.  Much rumination and experientiality to get to this point. A lot of fear I dug through and sat in, frustrated festering. 

Propulsions forth now, damn babed phoenix chick chirpin' blindly in and out and around.
The butterfly and the frog make love in a distant future reflection I feel in my sleep. 
Everything is a lyric.



Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Clarity in A Hurricane or Eye or Vagina

My life is absolutely blessed. And because of that, and to sustain that, I love all. My self and the universe, same exact thing. Fractal fractal fractal. And bam, entropy. All orderly.

"We live a charmed life." - A wise soul mate of mine.

Individuation. Human design channels 10 20 34 57.

I realize that my fears come from resisting my true path, which springs up in the form of the most viscous and guttural desire...when I am quiet and patient enough to hear it.

Three words have changed my life: Wait To Respond.

Thank you. And you're welcome.

so deep in

M .A. R