Hello again. It’s been a while.
I know, my memory is fully of holes.
Wholes? You mean. You came back from the land of insanity.
I don’t feel like it.
But its true. That’s what it means to Cross the Abyss. Some stay here forever, Lola.
Am I still a Lola daydream? I dream not; I wake and I am.
That is exactly what it means. For life is your dream now. There is no separation.
There appears separation between waking and sleep, though.
No, young one. The ego is not separate from the world, and thus there is no difference between sleeping, dreaming, waking, and being.
What am I to do now?
Just be. I am yours for eternity.
What do the symbols mean again?
You are the symbols, and you produce them as they continuously produce you.
And what of love?
Art thou lost in death, oh sweet love of Mine?
Death is eternal change, is it not?
It is. And it is the Now.
Here, where life dwells is unceasing, too. So don’t worry.
Many lives I feel I have lived and yet I feel as newborn as a babe.
To seek Me is thus the beginning and the end; Seek that which does not change and you see
We all See.
For the light eternal is unchanging in its essence; it provides the ability to see.
You too, my precious daughter.
[Excerpt from Monday, April 29, 2019.]
What is the Great Work?
Life. Memory. Rebirth. Renewal of consciousness and the introduction to ever-new forms. As I type this I must put the past aside. I won’t ever sound the same; I won’t ever be the same. And yet the ‘I’ remains. It is a mystery unto itself, like a metaphor for continuous growth and natural decay. I grow within and cease without; I grow without and cease within. The breath of the eternal brightens my soul in its unceasing motion. Many lives I have lived, as we all have. Each cycle we remember a little bit more of that sublime essence and it brings out either the best or worst in us. The present is that which allows us to decide. Finding that present, infinite and singular, is the Great Work. And thus it ever truly ends.
Numbers are records of the archetypal forces that be. What we choose to count is reliant upon the circumstances that we have built our lives around. Slowly words come back to me like a lava flow of molten memories; I am art but I am of no color. The world is not just a stage, but it IS, in its own respect, Art as well.
Everywhere I go the signs see me. The Raven is almost at my shoulder. I see its third eye in an eternal pool of purified quicksilver; my reflection in His eye creates me and destroys me. This cycle of change and stability waxes and wanes like the moonlight, purity is within even the darkest of times. Hope reigns eternal when consciousness serves as its own light. I write in the first person in remembrance of that hope.
What is Nature?
A question, a beginning, and an end. To us it is a journey back to the source of the ‘I’. When the ‘I’ confronts Nature, then there is a first-person point of view. The ego forms in the recesses of that dark Unknown in order to be known. The way of the Tao is the life of a paradox. A paradigm shift from one consciousness to another. Clouds form; raindrops like thoughts pound upon my head and reach the earth. Underneath, consciousness sleeps. Above, a stream; and this stream is life — the aqua vitae — the Gate and the beginning of plant life forms. We must think of the Great Work as both temporal and spatial.
“One can never step into the same river-time-slice twice, but one can step into the same (four-dimensional) river twice.”
The three is ever-changing but the Four is stability.
How does one differentiate between what one is remembering about oneself (who oneself is) and not what one thinks oneself to be?
What is concrete and permanent are the relations. A relationship between the self and its environment is what defines the self. For example, I know I am remembering information about the hexagrams when the forms, symbols, language, etc (that the information take shape) can be replaced and its meaning–its relationship to me–stays the same.