Tag Archives: angel

… how I met my angel …

I was always drawn to subtle light, not the blinding bright one, but the humble light that searches and elevates hidden beauty in the shade … the stray beam on a patch of peeling paint, a spark of sun in a puddle, the amazing transformations of shapes and colours created by a tiny shift of its direction. I love how light sculpts the garden through morning mist, how it paints cloud landscapes, how it slips through the frame of a window, teases the shadowy folds of a gauze curtain, or how it honours leaves by flooding through the gaps to jewel the ground. When I took to squinting through the branches against the sky, I discovered their negative pattern – appearing like a distant universe.

Even as a toddler I’ve been mesmerised by the musical dance of light across the forest floor, any shifting shadows on surfaces, and, occasionally, I imagined strange new forms in a light and shadow show. This was not particularly encouraged by my parents, who thought my weird imagination was a bit over the top, too vivid. So obviously I shut up about these impressions, and any odd thoughts that crossed my mind..

Maybe my angel was annoyed that I wallowed in being lonely, but lacked the grace to acknowledge her being there, all the time. Anyway, she decided to introduce herself. The vision came while I was under deep anesthetic trance for a life-saving operation to remove a dysfunctional appendix.

I was around eight years old.

Waking up in in pristine white room, wrapped up in pristine white bedding, the first thing that flooded into my mind was the crystal clear memory of meeting my angel.

She invited me to follow her along a corridor; she was luminous, with translucent wings. She opened a door. While I was reviewing this instant in the pristine white room, I had a physical sensation or relief. She had opened a door.

The scene repeated itself in that there were many doors dividing the corridor, and one after another was opened with a soft nudge by my angel. She was basically telling me, ‘You don’t need keys; doors will open for you, if and when you want to, be it forward or backwards, future or past.’

The vision relieved the pressure of rejections; foremost felt from my father’s secretive psyche. My grandmother had warned my mother that her son was a closed cupboard. My angel suggested I had a choice as to what door I opened, and when. Opening a door backwards, I eventually I found that my dad’s cupboard protected a deeply sensitive romantic.

My next door is ahead, and it entails fully embracing the process of continuing with the writing of my third novel – ’Mesa’ – the most challenging project yet, especially since I’ve no idea where it will lead.

To come back to my angel … a spirit guide every individual has, though not necessarily perceived … it is a being (no matter what you call it) offering intimate rapport. In various cultures there are different terms for this guardian, be it angel, the Green One, understood as an ancient pagan spirit of the wild woods, or ‘Khidr’ in mystical Islam – appearing from nowhere when help and advice is needed, most often not the rational kind.

  1. G. Jung says Khidr reveals not just the greenness of the chlorophyll within the leaves, not just the sunlight / water responsible for their nourishment and liveliness, and not just the (secondary) green ray of light that is refracted as the “middle-pillar” within the light spectrum, but also the (primary) undifferentiated light of a pure and altered consciousness. For Jung, Khidr resembles the inner self.

In that sense, one could say, Khidr helps us to adjust traditional maps to our present individual territory. When you think a little about it, you’ll probably recall the moments in your life, tiny as they may have been, when an angel being changed your life for the better, even when it required a disruption of your expectations. And think of the angels of dear friends who are on a wavelength with yours and support your best intentions.

Ideally, we find our kin over the years. My use of the imagination, distinct from fantasy, was often affirmed. Particularly the ‘The Creative Imagination’ Ibn ‘Arabi reveals as The Science of the Heart, influenced the writing of my novels (info. on my book page.) Meanwhile, you may like my short essay on the subject.

My short essay, inspired by Henry Corbin’s book ‘Creative Imagination in the Sufism of Ibn ‘Arabi’ … English edition by Princeton University, 1969 The Science of the Heart – written 20 yrs ago https://courseofmirrors.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/science-of-the-heart.pdf…

One of some related post on this site is from July 2020 … https://courseofmirrors.com/2020/06/07/alone-with-the-alone/

The image above is from a print depicting Khidr, given to me by a Sufi friend.

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… love …

Little My - Tove JanssonLike me less or more, I’ve no qualms sharing that my persona hosts a little devil, an entity suspicious of principles, endless re-branding of what is obvious and free, including pearls of wisdom, and annoyed with much else in the world. This little sprite is my soul’s guard, my bullshit detector, and my Cara (friend.) She mocks hypocrisy, sanctimonious attitudes, power games and manipulation. Every now and then this sprite, like Tove Jansson’s Little My, when enraged, oversteps a mark and creates wanton conflict with my otherwise gentle nature and, at times, too trusting persona.

When a resolve is needed but not forthcoming, I resort to tools of remembrance – head-clearing techniques that calm the mind. Sometimes this works beautifully, but not today, when, of all subjects, I intended to write about ‘love.’

I’ll go ahead anyway, stating that the illuminating intelligence we call love is a core reality inside us. Words are kind of inept, but Rumi got it right.

‘The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.’

Rumi (translated by Moyne/Barks)

Irrespective of the despair and suffering experienced around the world, there are plenty of instances when people realise love moves in cracked hearts, and the sun dawns – things are the way they are because we observe them that way. This is our creation, our prison cell and our freedom. Fear may kick in when reliable walls suddenly dissolve, but equally, a realm of exquisite frequency can transcend the exacting laws of dense physicality, and stun us with the simplicity of an underlying truth. People wary about being laughed at keep silent, others start creeds, and there’s the occasional genius – the teacher, artist, writer or outsider, who convinces with plain yet startling expressions of the intelligence living inside us, the one being, pulsing through life’s revolution with wings of beauty.

What, I ask myself, would ensue in the unlikely event of every conscious being on this planet becoming enlightened to this deeper reality simultaneously?

I am interested to know what you think …

My thoughts go like this. In the temporal physical world, at least, friction yields energy we can use and direct. When it comes to the psyche, maybe we need to look at the yearning for love as a means to expand consciousness rather than a goal that promises the laurels of eternal life. Life is eternal without this nonsense of enlightenment as a goal, because, think about it, anything that has achieved wholeness stops becoming. A perfectly ripe apple that drops to the ground does not magic itself back to its branch, a new dream begins.

While appearances overwhelm and dazzle us with joy, pain, suffering and confusion in ongoing fluctuation, we can, at times, become aware of this soft rippling breath flowing through the visible and the invisible universe, sustaining the beauty and intelligence that life is ultimately animated by. When this love spins its hidden silver thread through us we are inspired. Angel - Der Engel - Woodcut for H C Andersen 1888 - smallerEven my little devil is charmed when our angel appears, serene or with a humorous smile – ah, you remembered, hello again, eternal child, welcome to warmth, elation, wonder and respect for all differences. For a while there is no judgement, no right or wrong. We’re moving in a vastly different dimension, of which the visible world is just one expression.

Various traditions propose or speculate on a purpose to life, but ultimately we create our own purpose by committing to a path and changing its meaning on the go, only the intelligence of love seems to be a constant.

The separation between past, present, and future is only an illusion, although a convincing one’ – Einstein

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… oh my sweet, crushed angel …

Maybe I was inspired by a  dream last night, but for some reason the painting of Tobias and the Angel, its story, and this poem by Hafiz waltzed into my space this morning .

Tobias and the Angel - Andrea del Verrrocchio’s workshop

Tobias and the Angel – Andrea del Verrrocchio’s workshop

   My Sweet, Crushed Angel

You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Trying to hold hands with the Beautiful One.

You have waltzed with great style,
My sweet, crushed angel,
To have ever neared God’s Heart at all.

Our Partner is notoriously difficult to follow,
And even His best musicians are not always easy
To hear.

So what if the music has stopped for a while.

So what
If the price of admission to the Divine
Is out of reach tonight.

So what, my dear,
If you do not have the ante to gamble for Real Love.

The mind and body are famous
For holding the heart ransom,
But Hafiz knows the Beloved’s eternal habits.

Have patience,
For He will not be able to resist your longing
For long.

You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Trying to kiss the Beautiful One.

You have actually waltzed with tremendous style,
O my sweet,
Oh my sweet, crushed angel.

From ‘I Heard God Laughing’ – Renderings of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hafez

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/learning/teachers-and-schools/teaching-english-and-drama/out-of-art/stories-for-use-in-class/tobias-and-the-angel   – the story of the Tobias and the Angel.

And I just re-found this lovely post about the ‘Tobias and the Angel’ painting …. posted some time ago by Katia  https://scribedoll.wordpress.com/2011/08/21/odds-ends-trust/

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