A Dove and the Wand ©

Sunday, November 17, 2013

     I fell quickly into a state of deep sleep whereby I could not recall exactly how or when I slipped into unconsciousness. I dreamed I was in a room full of people, many whom I did not recognize. In fact, the only people I recognized where my earthly parents who stood quietly aside one another. There was an older man whom everyone had his or her attention turned towards who called me forward. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, but my parents’ eyes were the ones which bore into me, as if attempting to sear my skin. Unfortunately, this sensation was very familiar to me and it did not come as any surprise that it emanated from them. The older man instructed me to pick a white dove of my choosing and obediently, my eyes scanned the flock before me. My attention was drawn to one particularly wild dove that decided to fly towards me. As it drew close, my arms reached up over my head and with a gentle grip, I was able to wrap my fingers around its strong and smooth body. The dove calmed down within my grasp and ceased flapping its wings in order to allow me to observe it closely. I admired just how large it was in comparison to the others. I noticed the dove had a small square thin piece of wood strapped to its back and I was immediately curious to examine this object within the confines of my own private space.
     An older woman standing near my parents began to comment the entire group about my knack for consistently picking a perfect dove. Her gossip chatter echoed in my ears. I shifted my eyesight in her direction while turning my head towards my parents only to catch the expression that swept over their faces. This expression disturbed me, as they appeared too taken in by what this woman had to say about me, though I stood on the opposite side of the room. After some time, my parents walked towards me and soon, my father took a seat beside me, all the while keeping his eyes fixated on the dove between my hands. In an instant, my dad tried to grab the dove from my hands. He tightened his grip around the doves’ neck in an attempt to asphyxiate it. He tried prying it from my hands, but I did not give in. I bellowed a demand for him to let go. Finally, I pushed him away and the dove spread its gigantic wings thereby encasing me while shielding me from my father, at which time, it transformed into the figure of a young child who smiled at me before returning to its’ previous form again. I noticed how the sounds of commotion were silenced and soon, the room, along with the dove and I began to fade, leaving these people behind.
     The dove disappeared and soon I was seated amongst others within a small room located inside of a large hall (temple). We sat while expressing the excitement amongst ourselves as the day had finally arrived for us to receive our magickal implements. There were some who were going to receive implements made of iron while others were to receive wands. My colleague, an esteemed friend of mine, was called in to the inner chamber before me, to stand before an old mage who patiently waited for every one of us. Each person entered through one door only to exit the inner chamber from a different one, and by the time my name was called, I was eager and too nervous about the entire process. I entered the inner chamber in the same fashion as others and found the old mage wearing a long simple grey robe. His hair was white as snow and like a child I wondered about exactly just how old he was. I then spoke up and asked him which implement corresponded to me, only to find myself apologizing for my explicit eagerness. Instead of admonishment, I found the mage smiling at me while gently transmitting the word “patience” into my mind. However, he did manage to arch his white wiry eyebrows upwards as if equally eager to present me with the implement. He turned around to face the table behind him and reached for something that was entirely obstructed by the frame of his body and elegant yet simple grey flowing robe. He turned again to face me and I saw that within his hand he held the wand of water. I was taken aback.
     He informed me, as a courtesy, how my colleague and confidant received the wand of air and how she too would be surprised to see the one I received. I proceeded to ask him how the wands were constructed of which he happily explained, tough at the expense of those whom waited to be called. He outlined the specific colored candles of the elements and the process by which they were charged and burned and even showed me how the wax of each one was loaded in layers into the base of each wand. He also made a point to explain out how the final color loaded would indicate the element of the wand itself. I found our conversation very informative and engaging as there was much more of process to discuss, a process I have never heard or read of before. The mage was careful to explain how the element of each wand was never displayed on its’ exterior because the true power of each implement lay within. The mage dismissed me after some time, though he took delight in such a conversation, and I exited only to find my friend waiting for me all along within the greater hall. Together we walked out of the hall while chatting about the future of our lives within the magical order. I then heard the voice of a woman speak to me from afar as she expressed her happiness in me finally being a part of a magical order I could grow into. The woman’s soft voice became more distant and soon, I, along with my friend standing at the entrance of the great hall began to fade. I then awoke.

Releasing the Five of Cups ©

     Reflecting over the image of the five of cups during the course of the past month has brought to mind the need to release something once and for all or at least part of it so that we are able to move along towards enacting further steps for releasing that which drains us of our energies and talents. The five of cups is now, at least in my psyche, conjoined to the prayer of Saint Joseph which urges us to work “…with detachment from self…and the account which [I] must render of time lost, of talents wasted, of good omitted, of vain complacency in success, so fatal to the work of God.” You most certainly need not be a devout Catholic or even “Christian” to appreciate the overall sense of this prayer (modify as you see fit) and when staring at the image of the five of cups across my table, I wonder, what is it that is not being said? What is being avoided? Why is this person unable to detach?
     In wanting so much to preserve something from the past, can we truly move on? Also, will our personal success be ever tainted by that which you are trying so hard to keep close? This is not a new concept by any means, but it is one that we seem to set aside for we are not comfortable in confronting our own fears and regrets. We want to paint a smile on our face and repeat affirmations on end for promoting positivity. However, the regrets are still there and hence the positivity we want to manifest is cloaked by the dark feelings of times past, of talents wasted, of energies usurped which become fatal to our life’s purpose. There is a reason why the figure within the five of cups is draped in the dark cloak of resentment.
     Yes, there is always something we can preserve, what we deem the silver lining in the dark cloud, but if we are the dark cloud holding on to those upright cups or even worse, ignoring them, then what good is the silver lining if all we can focus upon is what once was. Who we were, is not who we are, and who we will be is certainly subject to change. How we evolve to remove all these cups altogether, well that is a personal journey, tailored by none other than yourself. So how do we clear the table and our energetic being?
     I suggest we start by reflecting over the matters as well as the players involved over the years which have brought upon this state of resentment. You are zapping your energy when you tie yourself time and again to the people and surrounding circumstances which have drained you. The bleeding heart cannot sustain itself, something has to give. We must seal the bleeding circuit in order to sustain substantial positive flow. The process of releasing these regrets is not exactly invigorating. In fact, is can be quite the opposite, but this will only be temporary as you will feel a return of your divine energy, a spark which ignites within you. When I look at the five of cups, I ask, what/who is it that I am not letting go? What expectation do I keep which covertly fuels my regrets?
     For example, I spent a series of evenings where all I would dream about were certain individuals within a specific situation/scenario in the past. These “dreams” did not pop in out of nowhere as I did take a proactive approach for creating a personal ritual for the release of said regrets. Each evening following the ritual, my soul would rise as if it were being pulled into a portal taking me back in time, to the specific place and time, whereby I was able to reexamine the “evidence”- that is, the events as they took place- a regression of sorts. The process was extremely active in that I could feel my physical body beginning to exhaust itself, though it “slept”, though my soul carried on with its current mission. Upon “waking” I felt utterly exhausted, as if I climbed a mountain. I continued to experience this similar journey for nights to follow. I felt heavy whenever I tried to ignore the experience, only to find myself thrown back into this vortex the following evening. The exertion of my energy was incredible.
     In conclusion, the message came through as vividly as my soul travels. I reached the deduction that was well overdue, thereby removing the heavy dark cloak of regret along with the false hopes of “all is not lost” (a typical interpretation for the five of cups). What I came to understand was: I did not need to keep trying so hard to preserve that which was so opposed to me. By removing the cloak I removed excess baggage and finally felt lighter. My time to super charge had arrived. As a final point, I cleared the table once set for company whom never appreciated the feast to begin with. And so, we can come to understand the mainstream interpretation of “not all is lost” for the five of cups, which has its place, when held in proper context. When looking at this card in proper context, what have not you released in your life? Perhaps now is the time to take inventory and shed the excess baggage that has accompanied you for so long.
   

The Angelic Doorway ©

We can become carried away with problems, issues and the overall chaos surrounding rough times that we become dissuaded about how and when we’ll receive the guidance we seek for our current issues. The truth of the matter is, you already received or will receive the guidance, though it may not be in the manner by which you expected. And so, this month’s entry is dedicated to expectations of the spirit kind.                                                                                  

 Why is it that when we hear, “spirit will guide you” or “spirit will communicate with you” do we assume that spirit literally is going to appear before us like the ghost of Christmas past to take us on a journey that is otherworldly? Do not get me wrong, this can and does occur, but if it does not for you, it does not mean you are any less connected with divinity and the ability to hear, feel, see or know what your next step should be deep down within yourself. Even when we are having an otherworldly experience, be it through astral travel, a dream, a vision, the knock on the door when there’s no one there, we may not fully understand why we are having the experience, until sometime later on, be it the near or distant future. You do not have to literally converse with the great aunt from beyond the grave or woken up (some time’s abruptly) in the middle of the night/wee hours of the morning to receive her message. Why? Because her message (I am using the great aunt from beyond the grave as an example) may come through the book which fell open to a certain passage in your favorite book or through a glass cup which shattered without you knowing exactly how. And no, these experiences are not “poltergeist phenomena” which I am describing. I am simply describing the types of signs we receive but often ignore. When you ignore the signs, you lose touch and end up hitting the off button for your intuition. Then we ponder, why have not I received any messages or signs? Why have not the angels communicated with me? Why has spirit abandoned me?                                        

You have not been abandoned and you do not need to be a magister to come to terms with the fact that you are being guided. You must surrender yourself to the greater power. This sounds totally cliché, but what this means is that you need to stop trying to control how it is you become receptive to the messages which spirit relates. The star card offers the advice of maintaining our faith and keeping our hopes, as well as dreams, alive. This is not, by any means, a simple task, especially when we are facing trials, pain and “suffering” but, it is doable. You may think spirit (or the angels; or both) may have abandoned you and are not listening nor wanting to help you. This mentality is such bullshit and it prevents you from manifesting your true life’s purpose or simply, a desire to do something you have been thinking about doing for a long time but have not been able to do because the world around you keeps “bombarding” you with more trials. The truth of the matter is you are letting the world around you bombard you with matters that inhibit your ability to manifest your desire.  

Case in point, I recently had a “dream” where I accompanied a person who was experiencing many trials in their lives. In this dream, I had the opportunity to walk beside the person and take in their daily routine, which was very chaotic and full of hassles. Walking beside this person I felt tired and at times, confused. I did not know if this person was arriving or going and the person walked about life in circles. This felt super chaotic to me and I felt like I was swept up and trapped within a whirlwind of some sort. I tried to speak to this person, but they could not hear me. It was at that moment, that I pretty much yelled as loud as I could the following: “Angels, show me that you are here and are willing to help and protect me.” Within seconds, the sounds all around me were muted and ahead I saw an oversized arched wooden doorway. On the surface of this door, two birds appeared. They flew in out of who knows where and prostrated themselves upon the door, facing each other. Then, the two birds, in a synchronistical fashion, opened their wings. At this point each bird morphed into one large wing together forming the symbol of two large angel wings! When I saw this I felt a loving warm energy gather within me and I yelled: “thank you angels for listening and showing me that you are here.” I remained standing before this doorway, taking in the fantastic coloration of the wings before everything began to fade away.                                               

I woke up with my head feeling a bit fuzzy as the name of an angel came to me. This was the angel who showed me its’ wings. I carried on with my morning tasks but could not shake the image of the wings nor the feeling I had when the wings appeared. I was an amazing experience, but I wondered, why in the heck I had this experience. Later on that day, I received a private message from a viewer who is an absolute darling and whom I have chatted with once before. She shared something with me and soon I knew why I saw what I did. I was able to relay to her a personal message of hope and faith. I experienced a sense of knowing that this dream I had was in fact about her and that she desperately needed to hear a few things, one of which was the very details of the dream itself. The angel whom appeared was the angel whom would assist her in manifesting a certain desire. She was (is) in fact going through some difficult times, but overall, I have complete faith that she can turn this situation around!

However, it is not enough for someone to have faith and hope in you because if you cannot see the hope which is prostrated right before your eyes, then no one can put an end to your current trial(s). Remember full well that having hope is one thing and that to implement changes/guidance with full hope, yielding favorable outcomes for your desires, is quite another. For my last example, one of my viewers recently shared her personal story of triumph because she followed her intuition to run with a divinely inspired idea from her boss at work which yielded her phenomenal results. To paraphrase the comment she shared with us on YouTube this week, she said “…she trusted her intuition that the idea was divinely inspired, though it came from her boss!” So you see- you do not need to see spirit or the angels with your physical eyes in order to feel when an idea/project/endeavor is divinely inspired. And, so, I end this month’s entry with a personal call to maintaining one’s hope. Look to the twinkling star above and harness its’ power to provide light even in the darkest of times.

PS: I have composed this on Saturday, July 26^th, 2014- the new moon in cancer…a good night for star gazing indeed!

To Tarot or not to Tarot?©

     From time to time I crack open The Pictorial Key to the Tarot (in full color, Causeway edition) by Arthur Edward Waite and read not what the “meanings” of cards are, but rather, what he himself regarded as the “proper” use of the tarot. To him, the 22 major arcana belonged in a class of their own, while the other 52 cards were accessory to the first group and therefore, rather unimportant. Mr. Waite makes it a point to stress, throughout his work the frivolity of using tarot other than for “higher” means, such as the purpose of seeking and even clarifying spiritual truths. On this point I do not argue, because the majors can in fact be utilized for this purpose, as I have experienced on my own (no, I am not tooting my own horn here, please do read on). However, when it comes to the minor arcana, the 52-cards Mr. Waite frowns upon, I wholeheartedly believe they too, serve a valuable purpose, one which Mr. Waite, in my opinion, closed himself up to given that tools of divination, for him were “…a profanuum vulgus…”[1]
     However, this article is not aimed at breaking down each and every of Mr. Waite’s words along with his ranting’s about Levi and many others whom he chops down with the sharp edge of a machete (might as well call it a “sword” since we are discussing tarot here), to which he was within his own right, given that tarot was not readily stocked at your nearest bookstore back in the early 1900’s. This article (short entry is more like it) has its’ intention on stressing the importance of making tarot your own. Reading the book in its entirety, there is one point permanently embedded within my neurons, and that is -the importance of making tarot your own. You are going to read books upon books, released almost on a monthly basis, covering the same information about tarot card meanings and the imagery. You will read about creating spells with tarot, using tarot to write and how to manifest the things you need. Do not get me wrong, you can do all of these things, but before embarking on these uses, you must make the tarot your own.
     Tarot is a journey. It is not reading a book and regurgitating what you have read to fit the cards before you. Tarot takes dedication and it can be spiritual, but this second point is not a requirement nor does it make you a “better” reader. Tarot can be uplifting and inspiring. Tarot can be a good slap in the face whenever you need a reality check. On this last point, I can testify and expand upon, but not within the confines of these margins in particular. But before tarot becomes any of these things to you, you have to begin the journey to make tarot your own. I cannot do this for you and there is no course (well there are some very good ones out there, please do not take offense, no sword jabbing here) that will make it magically happen for you. In fact, the more courses you take, the easier it is for your mind to become skewed and even confused. You can even lose your voice and style, at least I know I did for a little while, until I was able to find it again (many people will not admit that as they drive through life super sizing their ego). If you can remember one thing, tarot is about finding yourself. You find your voice, your style and your own interpretations of tarot.
     I say again, you find your own interpretations of tarot and as you journey along, those interpretations will expand and become quite diverse. There is not one set of interpretations which are proper, giving you the green light to pass go and collect $200. There are base interpretations and that is about it. The base interpretations are merely shells of the possibilities which truly lie within each card. Each card, whether major or minor arcana, is significant, at least to me. If this is not the case for you, then that is fine, just be sure that your feet are firmly on the ground when you make such statements. Examine each card carefully and prudently before shooting off what the card means. This takes time and patience.
     Above all, it takes dedication. There are a myriad of books out there and tons of correspondences which you may reference. I have to be honest, it is not crucial for me to rely upon correspondences when performing any reading. Such information comes in handy from time to time, particularly if you are feeling “stuck” for a moment and wish to expand upon one card in particular, but I do not find it to be the only gateway for having the cards open up to you. And yes, they will open up to you when you are ready.
     So we are back to square one, asking ourselves, to tarot or to not tarot? That is indeed the question of the hour. You do not have to tarot for the purpose of divination. You can tarot for purposes related to appreciation of art, history, philosophy or just plain old collect tarot decks because that is your hobby. I respect each individual’s choice to tarot and happily listen to and read from those who have taken these routes with regards to tarot. The bottom line is this, you can tarot in your own way, and it does not have to be for divination purposes. Unlike our comrade in spirit, Arthur, who absolutely despised using tarot for divination due to his quirky views regarding it, mostly due (I infer) to his own close mindedness and obsession about divination being related to “darkness/evil”, we can utilize tarot in a manner of methods previously described within this article. It is ironic how Arthur was bothered by the task of assigning meanings to each tarot card, and found the task “below” himself yet, as we fast forward many decades later, we find ourselves in a bit of a renaissance regarding tarot. Personally, I am thankful for the revival. Society evolves, our spirituality is ever evolving and our views along with our attitudes change. Change is good and variety is the flavor of life which is my view, very opposite to our friend Arthur, who states, “…the divinatory art is at once artificial and arbitrary…in the highest degree…the allocation of a fortune-telling aspect to these cards is the story of a prolonged impertinence.”[2] This is quite the statement from someone whose deck would become the most recognized, bought and copied in the decades which followed.
     The crucial ingredient for achieving success with your tarot practice/study is making tarot your own. Remember, that our friend in spirit, Arthur, was not a fan of divination, which makes the task of creating our own meanings for each card, all the more important of a process. Neither I, nor anyone else can do this for you. There are a plethora of books out there addressing tarot meanings to the tune of Arthur Edward Waite. These books serve as fantastic jumping off points…but that is about it. The rest is literally up to you and lies within the palm of your hand. How you chose to tarot or not is entirely your personal choice.

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[1] Waite, Arthur Edward, The Pictorial Key to the Tarot (New York: Causeway), 42.

[2] Waite, Arthur Edward, The Pictorial Key to the Tarot (New York: Causeway), 287.

Adieu to the Magical School ©

The following entry is based on a dream which occurred the evening of Monday, November 11, 2013 and is the sequel to my previous entry (The High Priestess and the Rite of the Sash).
    
    The time arrived for my group to head over into the hall of darkness in order to discuss an ongoing issue that was affecting our organization in its entirety. I hurried along with the others while taking care to take along staff. We entered the hall with reverence by keeping quiet. We wondered what it was we needed to do next, as we stood there feeling as though it was necessary for us to fight against something. The question was: who or what was the something we needed that we needed to stand up to? I headed off towards a short row of chairs placed alongside the wall. A sole window which was floor to ceiling length looked over the mountains. I kneeled then sat, leaning my staff against the rough surface of the stone wall. I closed my eyes in meditation, waiting patiently for instructions to come through on my next course of action. To my surprise, all was silent as there were no instructions. I found this to be peculiar and very different from all the other times I have been in this place. The moment I came to this realization, a voice in my head spoke loudly yet calmly informed me to stay put where I sat and to remain silent, no matter what it was I heard from this point forward.
     After some time, I stood and faced the group ahead of me which faced the front of the hall. I wondered what they were contemplating and saw two large cages which hung drearily by chains from the stone ceiling. The cages were built to hold a number of people at one time, but I questioned why they were here and who brought them? One of the younger women in the group, dressed in a white robe jumped into the cage while encouraging others to do the same because according to her, “this was the only way to find a solution.” I watched as one by one, my colleagues jumped on board into the trap set by the unknown person(s). After all these years together I wondered why no one in the group bothered to ask, why these cages were set up. I could not come to an understanding behind my colleague’s irrational decisions to jump into something whose origin remains a mystery. Once neatly tucked inside the cages, a dark robed man appeared. He seemed to be an elder of which I have never seen around here. He walked by while looking straight at me. I fixated my eyes on his and acknowledged him with a nod. I took care to move aside as he continued to approach the cages. A true air of darkness embodied this elder, but I obeyed the voice which advised me earlier to remain silent and observe. His presence was intimidating to all whom were within his vicinity. He then proceeded to address the hall. He admonished my colleagues for being incapable of understanding why they were summoned to come here to the hall of darkness, furthermore stating they would remain trapped in the cages of ignorance for an eternity. I found his following phrase quite peculiar as he mentioned how “they were worth their weight in gold.” Sadly, the exact measure of gold was extracted from the vaults of the Magical School we attended. When I looked through the large window overlooking the steep mountain sides, an image of our village at the foot of the mountain appeared as if I were watching a reel of film.
     I heard cries from afar as the students realized how the Magical School had officially gone bankrupt. There were no more funds to sustain it, nor could students continue their magical studies. Overall, the scene was grim. One of the high priestesses in our group mentioned how this was bound to happen. Pools of tears formed in her eyes as her disappointments were now made visible. After seeing this revelation, a door opened which afforded me the opportunity to descend a stone stairwell which connected directly to the school’s village below. Students moved about in a chaotic manner and despite the hectic nature of the emotional environment, I located one of my former colleagues whom I absolutely adored. I told him that I loved him and that all will turn out fine, but as I spoke with him, his appearance began to morph from that of a man, to a young man until eventually I was staring directly at a child. He became immature and at the end of it all, I no longer found it viable to effectively communicate with him. Realizing this, I said goodbye and though it hurt so much to do so, I let him go. I saw how he too became caught up in the hysteria of the moment. Meanwhile, I had no other choice left but to walk away with the metallic sash gleaming about my waist. There was no more to accomplish here. All had been taken, greedily. It was time to move on.

The High Priestess and the Rite of the Sash ©

As recalled from a dream the evening of Monday, November 11, 2013.

     I stood in a hall occupied by many women who have undergone a vigorous training program of which in the past I had been awarded the black sash. The procurement of this sash was not without its tribulations and in order to attain the honor of wearing it, one was to pay the ultimate price by demonstrating one’s merit. As I stood there staring at the dreary dark cloth which contrasted with my peach toned inner palm, I heard the name of someone else called forward to receive the same honor. A cold stillness slithered into my chest. Without looking up and any further thought, both she and I drew swords. Within two strikes, my opponent laid on the ground before me. With eyes closed, I could see the crimson of her blood permeating the ground beneath her. I did not feel particularly accomplished with this act, but I knew this was the one sacrifice whereby liberation was attained for both either the survivor or the sacrificed. Making and abiding by oaths taken long ago, we have all come to much understanding the manner, the way, the path of moving forward. No other alternative for surpassing this grade existed. In battle we met, in battle we parted ways. The body on the ground opposite of me was carefully wrapped and removed. Good bye old comrade. With chills still coursing through my body, I prayed to the gods I did not have to repeat this ritual, which others have had to in the past. Only the elders thought determined if this trial would be necessary. A battle won? There was no winning, only moving, and certainly such sacrifice was for naught.

     I looked down only to see I wore a black robe, a color as rich as the midnight of a new moon. The new day was met with a fresh assignment within the temple’s hall. Unlike before, I was charged with handing out degree sashes to new awardees and come to think about it, I could no longer recall my previous job. There was a beautiful tray upon my hands, where neatly folded sashes of varying colors from white, black, deep blue and yellow laid. Each one bore its recipients name. While I distributed white sashes, members in the hall hailed each other with cheer. On occasion, I disseminated a black one, which members acknowledged with reverence. I continued along in my task wondering which sash would be designated to me. And then, without further ado, I remembered the chill in my chest and thought, “Would it be the black one again?” Recipients, upon occasion received it more than once and I thought: “how would I feel about repeating this sacrifice?” I silenced my mind, as there was no point in a matter that was clearly out of my hands. Either I would receive the sash of sacrifice and fight yet again, or I would simply fail. There was nothing else to it. The possibility of receiving a different degree also existed, but I knew there was no point in thinking further about the matter. In either case, the elders have decided on the matter a long while ago. There was nothing else to ponder.
     Next to me stood another one of my companions who shared the same duties as me. On occasion we would glance at one another, wondering what laid ahead for us. The time arrived for her to call my name & present me with the new sash. She looked on her tray but could not locate my name or the sash. She and I exchanged dreaded looks leaving me with only one option on my plate left- to approach one of the high priestesses. I made a quarter turn to the right and proceeded to walk towards one of the high priestesses to ask her if there was a misplaced sash. The Priestess smiled with both her mouth and her eyes as she touched my right hand. She asked me to look through the batch once again. I nodded and walked back to where my companion stood. In unison, we searched amongst the multicolor sashes, hoping to locate the one with my name pinned onto it. Before reaching the end of the lot, I found a silver metallic one with my name pinned on. I was breath taking in beauty and design. However, this sash was made to be worn over the shoulder and across the body. Instead, it was to be worn around the waist. The front center portion contained an unrecognizable embroidered emblem. Beads were sewn around the image and hung from threads which when worn generated soft bell like sounds. The Priestess instructed me to wear it as she explained to me how she had this made especially for me. Her smile brought me such warmth and I began to briefly dance about the hall. When I ceased my dance, the ceremony came to a close and I happily went about my scope of work for that day within the temple.

A Clean Slate

Based on a dream entered into my journal on Sept 9, 2013

     I was asked to take up a unique research assignment. I, along with others was asked which symbols signified death for us. In other words, when we think of death in general, whether the actual physical passing or deity associated, which symbols were most prevalent to us. In order to fully mediate over the subject of death and its’ symbols, our professor suggested a visit to the graveyard where we would sit beside various headstones. We were each to choose a particular headstone, one that felt right, one that would be conducive to this type of work. We walked through the cemetery entrance, while the professor remained outside, watching. No one knew exactly why we had to choose a headstone, but after a considerable amount of time walking and perusing the endless stones and epitaphs, I finally found one that was welcoming. I could see my classmates spread about the cemetery, all of whom have generally settled on their stone. I sat down upon the grass and stared into my lap. I said absolutely nothing and come to think of it, I heard no chatter from my colleagues either. The professor at the cemetery’s gate was preoccupied with his own matters, most of which were administrative in nature. I sat there, wondering exactly how long I would have to go about in this as my eyes rolled up and down, staring one moment at my lap and the next at the headstone. I was not there terribly long. Feeling the grass beneath me, I thought quietly about this project and these supposed symbols, when finally, I saw something stirring within the headstone itself. There was a slight mist over the surface which then disappeared. The engraved epitaph was gone as if the crevices of each letter were filled in. Talk about a clean slate, it could not get any cleaner than this. I saw symbols which flashed upon the surface of the glassy granite. The symbols revealed were the following: a red rose, a bible (sacred book), a cross, various musical instruments, keys, a set of dice, dominoes, a perfectly tall black top hat and of course, a skull.

     I scribbled down each of these symbols as they were presented to me. I knew it was time for me to leave, as the stone no longer portrayed images. I stood up and headed back to the cemetery’s entrance. After our gathering, we walked back together, speaking enthusiastically amongst ourselves about our personal experience. The following day, I was driven to begin writing my findings, while a number of my colleagues teased me about my level of interest to begin my research paper. I ignored them and continued to work through my project until its completion. Sadly, those who teased me were the very people whom continued to put off the writings of their experiences & findings. The professor watched me from time to time as I wrote into my notebook, as I hardly lifted my eyes or pen off the page. After an extensive period of time, I completed my work and soon rejoined the group. In a matter of minutes, my colleagues were already chatting of their next planned venture. I agreed to accompany them just so that I could take my mind off my work for a little. We left only to arrive, at my dismay, to a place I have never encountered before. This place was disordered and filthy. People who resided in this area decided to live a soiled & dirty life. There was a rule prohibiting bathing, yet that rule did not seem to faze them. In fact, they preferred the filth and stench!
     I spotted a water fountain some ways away and felt impelled to jump into it and bath myself. I did so blatantly disregarding the posted rule prohibiting it. I felt the cool & clear water run down over me. It was refreshing. Others looked on and watched me but avoided this water fountain. I motioned to a man about my age and invited him to join me in the water fountain. Apprehension was written across his face, but in an instant, he too joined me and rejoiced at the feeling of the water that washed away the grime that had built upon his skin over a considerate amount of time. We invited others nearby to join us, and to rejoice, but they did not dare to do so out of fear! They were afraid of a sign with an outlandish rule, a law which no one enforced. These people had the opportunity to bath and cleanse themselves, but instead, choose to remain soiled. Was it really this easy to suppress free will?
     Though bathing was prohibited, there was a limited time it was allowed. I watched as these people flocked to the public bathing area. To my complete disbelief, these people bathed themselves in unclean water. I did not comprehend the reasoning for bathing in the murky pools of water, when the option for clean water existed. I watched this absurd spectacle and tried to understand the choice of this society. It was at this moment I arrived at an epiphany. These people chose filth because they refused to come clean. There would never be a clean slate for them unless they chose to will it.
     Having come to this conclusion, I departed the fountain and walked away, leaving this ludicrous scene behind me. Eventually, I came upon a small clean neighborhood. There was an intimate shop located at the corner which seemed peculiar, peculiarly intriguing indeed! I walked inside and was drawn to an area of scrolls. I sifted through various documents and objects on a waist level shelf when an empty space along the wall behind the shelf in front of me a scroll appeared, hanging on a rusted nail. It was fully extended, revealing the image within. The image was that of the high priestess. Beneath her image there was a phrase in script which read: “secrecy in circle.” I smiled and thought, “well that sure is the absolute truth!” I called on the shop owner, an older woman, and inquired about the price of the scroll. She smiled and said, take it, it is yours. As I lifted the image from the nail and rolled it back up again, a unique long necklace appeared in my hands. The shop owner suggested I take it for my use. She did not utter another word about the origins or its’ particular use and I did not feel it necessary to ask. If fact all was secret in circle, then I would find out at my own time. The necklace was long, made of both silver & brass metals, beaded with sky blue stones. The necklace had a large pendant of which the image of the high priestess was engraved. I put the necklace on and held onto my scroll. The shop owner smiled and disappeared. I took that as my cue to leave. I headed out the door and immediately awoke.
  

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