Tag Archives: Moon

July 4, 2012 · 11:08 pm

… the recycling of unease …

Merciless downpours – I occasionally dash between strings of rain to trim the green jungle in my garden and pick a handful of wild strawberries. Tonight, looking east, the sky is grey. And not a leaf stirs, due to the full moon. In the next room a brilliant sunset reflects in a glass-framed painting. And as I look east again, a high cloud is blushed in rose-colour. More rain announced. It is the wettest summer in my many lifetimes, of late a tumultuous time. I was indirectly affected by a trauma, not mine, not my story to tell, though I’m proud of two dear young people who dealt admirably with the fallout of having their flat in London broken in. Several flats in the same block were crashed into with crowbars within the span of two hours and in bright daylight. Picture the scenario: you leave your home for a short while and return to find your front door broken and all means of communication, including the creative tools needed for your livelihood – gone. The logistics of solving the problem are, to put it mildly, overwhelming.

I bemoan the motherly welfare state and the infantile moral consciousness it feeds. I observe signs in my relatively crime-free little town. As an illustration, the other day in a car park I observed a woman tossing an empty plastic bottle from her car- window before she drove off. Her children in the backseat looked on. What motivates careless behaviour? What jumped to my mind – probably a negative mother (state) dependency, a resentment of mother’s permissiveness, having being patronised and cheated out of meaningful relationships and been entranced by the material world.

Next day I visited a car boot sale in search of world-objects for my sand tray therapy work. A young girl spilled coins from her purse over the stall while paying for a trinket. A few coins fell to the grass. A boy behind her casually covered one of the coins with his foot. He didn’t even smile at his clever trick. His face was blank. This chilled me. Without parents to model self-respect, how will children become psychologically independent individuals?

We all experience the acceleration of change. The changes in my lifetime eroded structures of meaning that carried values I held dear. Change is however the only constant. Navigating change without straining our nervous system and by implication the nervous system of our planet is a challenge that requires an attitude of self-respect and tolerance: the ability to bear contradiction and confusion.

While collisions of mythologies storm all around us, we have the elation about the Higgs particle, indicator of a Higgs field. The single-minded work of a scientific community including 20 member states is remarkable, I’d be proud to be part of it. But wait, many more billions will now be spent on search for super symmetry (SUSY). Imagine what could be achieved if even a tiny portion of this budget would go towards exploring the autonomous postulates spouting from our collective unconscious, in other words, exploring the underlying structure of the human psyche, of which the visible particles populate our dysfunctional societies.

Light is both particle and wave, and though we can only observe one at a time it is one light.

* * *

What In The World IS A Higgs Boson?

http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/07/04/what-in-the-world-is-a-higgs-boson/?src=un&feedurl=http%3A%2F%2Fjson8.nytimes.com%2Fpages%2Fscience%2Findex.jsonp

An interview with Dr Lisa Randall, from last year but more informative

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/12/science/physicists-anxiously-await-news-of-the-god-particle.html

Sandplay therapy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GD6PPwUlgGM&feature=related Not me

http://sandplayvideos.com/sandplay-therapy-training

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Tagged as awareness, car-boot, change, children, crime, Higgs Particle, inner conflict, Moon, parents, photography, rain, sand-tray-work, self-respect, welfare state, young people

April 30, 2012 · 10:42 pm

… solitude …

Weather-defying, I had my first Pimms with ice cubes this year, imagining warmth, sun, swinging in my hammock under apple blossoms, listening to birds, walking barefoot and having friends round to watch the sun go down and the moon come up. The Brits are fed up with the rain. More than darkening the sun, clouds also obstruct the brighter aspects of the mind. Signals from the noosphere get muffled, or so it seems. There remains solitude, a tranquil space where questions arise, and thoughts have space to dream and play without being overstimulated. Allow your children periods of solitude and they will come to value it later in life.

I mulled over a question these last days, not for the first time. And an answer came, an angel whispered it into my ear while I slept – if all incarnated beings living on this planet were enlightened at the same time, the whole developmental cycle of the psyche would collapse, and consciousness would expand into a new matrix all over again. I’m making no claim to truth, angels can’t always be trusted. But the message seems to be – all is well-tuned as it is.

This is what solitude does to me – I get answers that beg more questions, like, what about multiverses? My body lives in this house in England that is at times difficult to maintain, but my mind also has another house, an interior house, free from mundane pressures, a house that exists in a dimension invisible to the physical eye … built from bricks of meaning rather than clay.

Here to the Noosphere, an interesting concept: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noosphere

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Tagged as apple blossoms, birds, children, clouds, cycle, hammock, imagination, inspiration, meaning, Moon, mystic bewilderment, nature, Noosphere, outdoors, photography, rain, solitude, sun, tuning, unique moments, your unique frequency

November 6, 2011 · 2:24 pm

… the moon has my brains …

Watch out for the moon – born just before its fullness, my brain is in turmoil at least once a month. Two voices in particular get a little edgy with each other. The astral world has strange denizen and intermediaries that are energised by the moon and push the wagon. And since we are part of the elementary fabric of the universe, we must deal with Gaia’s wisdom, held by Elemental Beings of ethereal matter that turn good or bad only when influenced by our will and our so-called superior intelligence.

‘Harmony is boring’, huffs my warrior.

‘It’s lovely,’ says my saint.

‘It puts you to sleep.’

‘Yes, I know all that, but still … ‘

‘You lose your wit.’

‘I’m not always in the mood for wit.’

‘Having a little regression, are we?’

‘Stop messing about, you could do with a rest.’

‘Perhaps, once the battle is won.’

It’s about my writer’s block but I won’t go there. The argument is essentially about energy: fast versus slow, strong versus soft, active versus receptive … and the Elementals do their part, having fun with conflict. Elemental beings are at the root of our mythologies. We re-framed them as psychological patterns. Sadly, most sciences reject that spirits inhabit nature:

… to this day, many people still believe in Elementals – they are those who practice Witchcraft and/or follow nature-based Religions …

By demeaning the oldest denizens in the world, and their ancient language, science is missing something vital, the whole plot.

My saint loves beauty stretched out in space. My warrior loves beauty too, but from the highway, the perspective of speed, where everything appears surreal and exciting. When something has gained a certain momentum it takes time to slow down, while the slow needs a nudge and arousal to speed up.

Difference causes much sadness and suffering but also much joy and celebration, like when anima and animus clasp hands and dance their wild dance together it sure is something to behold.

We have gained a greater understanding of psychic dynamics. Early on different energies take on a psychological mantle, are interpreted through the complex emotional games parents play, the kind of love they exchange, what one or the other value in us or reject, messages deeply absorbed are translated into behaviour that form relationship patterns. The child gives parents enormous power. Too often a desperate effort to belong polarises and splits differing voices inside. Dialogue is cut off. But without difference our creative potential runs in dead circles and consciousness cannot spiral and expand.

The Daimons of the elements – related to earth, air, fire, water and ether are of an ethereal, semi-corporeal essence – these spirits appear in myths, fairy tales, fables or poetry all over the world. They have many names: fairies, devas, djins, sylvans, satyrs, fauns, elves, dwarfs, trolls, kobolds, undines, goblins, banshees, kelpies, giants, dragons, werewolves, vampires, pixies, stone people, genies, angels – and many more. They have been seen, feared, blessed, banned, and invoked in every age.

So beware, Elementals are amoral, neither good nor bad, unless influenced by the human will. They respond to intention, to vibrations and sounds. They are nature’s instinctual intelligence that lives in our blood, cells, bones and all around us. They form clusters and groups of emotional patterns that attract similar. Why do families and tribal groupings fall apart? They resist difference, and radical change. Peace can’t be peace unless it is dynamic. Today we need more sophisticated ways to deal with conflict. Beyond being or not being, life is about becoming.

We talk of being stressed, obsessed and depressed. We talk of projection, transference and countertransference, the law of reflection and mirroring. Let’s hope we learn fast and get the crowd inside us listening to each other, which is not the equivalent of agreeing but a matter of respect. And let’s re-appreciate the instinctual and intuitive intelligence of nature’s elements in us to inform our reason.

Spirit without psyche has no container …

Psyche without spirit has no direction …

* * *

The image, ‘Twilight Gods, is by Arthur Rackman

I just found this lovely site: http://www.heavenschild.com.au/moon_phases.html

And here the site of an accomplished friend: http://www.melaniereinhart.com

the mysterious object, part three

… Memories awakened, of a time when it was possible to gaze straight at the venerable light-giver without being blinded … in the dark sky, shone the light-giver’s mirror image, pale and beautiful, shimmering, and stirring a deep longing in those who witnessed the phenomenon. The gentle orb puzzled minds, since it changed shape from night to night and periodically disappeared, only to re-emerge, gradually waxing from a sliver to gentle fullness. Some saw in the orb another divinity; others rejected this, not wanting to betray their bright and bountiful divinity. The two kinds of worshippers did not see eye to eye. More secretive circles formed, and stories spread. Ever now and then a night-walker claimed having been touched by the silver light, though was unable to explain what possible benefit there was in being touched by this new mystery? Incredulous stories spread, which were laughed at by the now established beneficiaries of ingenuity and industry, and the few night-walkers who sincerely tried to share their experience were regarded with suspicion and ostracised.

Let us relate just one incident, as told by witnesses, to give you a sense of the mystery. One night, or so it goes, a group of seekers gathered on a flat rock above a deep pool of water to watch the full silver globe in the sky. To their surprise, a perfect replica of their beloved object appeared in the still water of the rock pool, beautiful, beyond words. Everyone present gasped. One young woman who resembled her great, great grandmother, Lila, the famous light-seeker, was ecstatic with joy. ‘This is it,’ she exclaimed, and jumped from the rock’s ledge right into the glowing reflection.

The silver scattered and rippled out into circle upon circles on the water. The others looked on in astonishment as the soft light gathered itself back once more into round brilliance. Night’s divinity re-assembled its fullness, still quivering with the gentle, undulating movement of the water. There was no sign of the young woman.

To break the tension, all started talking at once, expressing in so many words and shouts what they thought they had witnessed. With the noise going on they did not hear the footsteps. Quietly, from the darkness around them, the young woman reappeared. Her skin gleamed and glittered, as if she had absorbed some of the mysterious light. Her friends inundated her with questions as to what happened, ‘What was it? No answers came, she had lost speech. Her silent gesture however firmly impressed itself in each men and women standing there on the rock and seeded in their memories forever more. The seeker pressed her right hand to her heart. She had many silent followers, as had many like her from there-on after.

~ the end ~

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Tagged as metaphors, Moon, mystic bewilderment, short story, sun, unique moments

May 21, 2011 · 12:04 am

the mysterious object, part 2

They teamed up. One seeker reached out towards the light while another stood opposite, waiting to catch the object. The trick failed, of course. The light simply passed out of reach sideways. Next the idea came to form a circle and to slowly close in on the light. These events were set up with great attention to detail. Groups formed to practice the ritual, hoping for the big moment. However, as could be guessed, the instant all hands reached out … the orb floated upwards, just beyond the longest arms. Societies of light-seekers formed. They had fun working together, though a number of groups developed strict rules and complex theories about the light. To differentiate themselves from the now commonplace light-seeker, they called themselves truth-seekers.

Over time, the mysterious bright object moved higher and people grew taller, their limbs stretched and their spines straightened, all because of their deep longing to touch the light. Plants, too, reached upwards. Shrubs became trees and people climbed the trees as soon as the glowing object popped over the horizon. The cycle of its appearance could now be counted upon. Once the orb passed higher than the highest tree, the most innovative, and therefore the richest of the communities, employed the lesser endowed folk to fell trees and build tower-like wooden structures. Before the approximate time of the light’s arrival, the builders had to leave the structures, while the owners climbed the towers to await their chance. But no matter how daringly the height of towers progressed, the wonderful orb of light floated consistently out of reach – higher and higher it moved, growing in size, and increasingly warming the planet. New animal species appeared, and new plant, some of which were farmed and produced rich crops.

The towers found more mundane uses. Other curiosities were invented, all with the aim to get closer to the mystery. The glowing object was now the guiding principle in peoples’ lives, a new divinity, replacing all others. The divinity was adored so much people avoided darkness. The span of days brought riches, and was obviously good, while the span of nights reminded people of their dim past and aroused fear. Whatever could not be seen clearly became suspect. Persistently, activities were focussed on understanding the light and finding ways to somehow touch it and partake of its power.

People who ventured into the nights were considered odd and generally mistrusted. However, one such night, had you been there, you would have witnessed a most marvellous event, and you would have heard cries of joy and astonishment resounding over plains and hills …

Continued: https://courseofmirrors.wordpress.com/2011/05/21/the-mysterious-object-part-three/

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May 19, 2011 · 9:36 pm

the mysterious object, part 1

My paper-clearing war continues. A delightful SHORT STORY surfaced, written many years ago. A little editing and presto. Enjoy the installments …

* * * *

Once upon a time, not far from here, a planet was veiled in semi-darkness, and the stature of man, woman and child was crouched and bent. Their diet was meagre, consisting of crushed insects and raw plants. And for warmth they huddled close in their caves or grass huts. What gave them pleasure was ironwood, the rarest of plants, valued for its warmth-giving qualities when chewed. Those gifted in finding the plant were called light-seekers.

One such light-seeker, a young woman called Lila, was renowned as an ironwood huntress. She would disappear from her settlement for many sleep-cycles, driven by the promise of yet another encounter with the red glow of ironwood, her reward alone, since the glow vanished once the plant was broken. Even so, there was honour in bringing home the plant – the community would celebrate with a feast of warmth and good cheer.

Our story begins when Lila had been hunting for three sleep-cycles without her usual success. She sat and bemoaned her bad luck when she was overcome with awe at the sudden appearance of a bright object, no bigger than the head of a newborn. As if teasing her, the object drifted almost within her reach. The glow of ironwood paled in comparison to this astounding light. Colours sprang up all-round. Insects were drawn to the warmth, their tiny bodies shimmering. Lila gazed in wonder at her hands, which were doused in gold. Yearning to touch the mysterious object, she crouched carefully towards it, but the light receded, and each time Lila advanced, it receded a little more. Often times she lurched forward – only to grasp air. Lila spent her entire strength chasing the small orb, stumbling along, oblivious to all but the brightness ahead. Whichever way she turned, the glow was before her, always just out of reach.

When Lila was discovered by the people of her settlement, her condition aroused much interest, since she was sharing her strange experience in delirium. Words so spoken were held to come from divinities, embodied by water, plants and insects, powerful spirits known to visit people in their dreams. So it was that the light-seeker’s revelation spread instantly throughout the tribes, and great portents of meaning was attached to the glowing object. Everyone was convinced it really existed. And sure enough, soon people begun to see the orb, and in turn felt compelled to touch it. They fared no better than Lila, yet their desire remained, undiminished.

Eventually some clever minds devised coordinated methods … to be continued.