Tag Archives: Gnosticism

The Bottom (RV)

https://www.flickr.com/photos/isawnyu/5885591721/in/photostream/

The Well at Kom Ombo AWIB-ISAW: The Well at Kom Ombo A deep well at the Ptolemaic temple at Kom Ombo, which functioned as a nilometer. The well is also thought to have been used in the ritual worship of the crocodile. by Iris Fernandez (2009) copyright: 2009 Iris Fernandez (used with permission) photographed place: Omboi (Kom Ombo) [pleiades.stoa.org/places/606346]

 

Get to the bottom of this.

This, means You
Get to the bottom – of Your Self

Must we be thrust
down the well
of ourselves
Through loss, by the grave, or near-grave

What if
instead,
we pulled the rug out from under ourselves
To reveal the formidable trap door

What if we climbed down into the dark cellar, willingly

to enter our infinite interior
to touch the well
the ancient aquifer within
where the gods reside and respite with our Twin Selves,
our other-halves waiting for discovery

This infinite, eternal presence
be-neath our weathered houses

What if we willingly descended
Into it
Unto it

And we learned to crave the Original Dark
and its companionship

Where we delve deep into our imaginations, dreams, nightmares,
That connect us primally
to the pool of imaginations, dreams and nightmares of every one,
Of every being that ever existed

Collective Unconscious
made Self Conscious

The dark, deep well
we may all draw from

Pour out your false light
reveal the truth:
the unbearable emptiness of being

Cup your hands
Or wade into the well
Deeper and deeper
submerge, swallow
you’ve been bone dry for so long
Do you see that now?

Baptize
The only way
To rebirth yourself
Into something worth birthing
Into something worth being
is by this sacrament, anticeremonially, un-ceremonially

Knowing now the bottom is
The only place where alchemy happens

Where wine is turned into eternal water,
instead of that story first told to you, by them

And the mystery
the wet, deep, dark becomes you,

Envelops you so completely
You want to drown beautifully

But you must taste the bitters of the surface
Swallowing down your thoughts
Before you drink of the All

To finally collapse in on yourself
Into beautiful nothing
becoming nothingness

Prima materia

In coniunctio

Drenched in Mystery
quenched with Truth
imbibed with Revelation

Reborn
for an endless moment

The perpetual well
archives your eternal experience
as the deja vu

Memory though will evanesce,
even as droplets cling in the hollows of your vessel

Now that you Know
Truth and Mystery
Exist
so near, just beyond,
yet
within you,

Reascend resplendent
Reemerge humbly

the Gods send a daily postcard:
Wish you were here.

 

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“If you’re going through Hell, keep going”; if you’re lost in the Unknown, start knowing.

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Ouroboros: The Samsaric Ferris Wheel

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The Engineer is unfathomably removed; the Operator is a remote-controlled animatronic, and it seems impossible to hack the controls or jam the gears of the Samsaric Ferris Wheel. The centripetal force both anchors and disorients its occupants – the ride is super-soul-powered by the heavy, endless and ever-increasing mass of humanity.

It’s over-capacity, but I see that this Wheel will never collapse, spinning simultaneously slower and faster – hell, they’re still selling-out tickets. The line to ride is infinitely lengthening, and the Designer is invested in the energy of the eternal revolution of these souls.

I’ve been in this gondola for a while now. When I first boarded, it felt foreign, artificial and uncomfortable, yet it smelled fresh, clean and new, and promised sensuality and excitement, but then I began to recognize some of the other carriages –a familiarity alternating with déjà vu. And there’s a persistence of thought that I may’ve occupied some of the others – I can’t be certain of it though. Some of the landscape seems familiar – fleetingly pleasant, moments of strikingly beauty, but now turning and turning increasingly mundane, sickening, frightening and horrifying.

A camouflaged, serpentine concessionaire slides across and around the sparkling blue and brilliant green structure, interrupting my outward, searching gaze, and whispering the offer of endogenous “refreshments” – a selective offering of ancient, yet succulent apples to any occupant whose blindfold is removed and whose eyes are opened wide:

“Take eat, this is the knowledge that’s been concealed from view; take drink, this is the covenant returned to you?”

Famished and parched for Truth, I take the apple presented to me. My first taste – full of the bitterness of Truth, its juice stinging my heart first, then my throat, my eyes, my ears, my nose, but then I feel its sweet momentum of gnourishment. Ravenous, I bite clean through it, revealing a cross section of the core. There, lies a golden filigree key – the key to my restraint system — a harness and a “safety” bar. Beneath the key – five golden seeds embedded in the five-pointed flower-star of the apple — one is marked ‘he’, and I intuitively know – this is the seed of my Twin – I am his Horcrux tethering a part of him here, and it is also my Red Pill. I tuck it under my tongue, not swallowing yet, and clasp the other four seeds in my left hand.

I free myself with the key, standing up and rocking the carriage fearlessly, and the Wheel Operator takes notice. I’ve been in spinning in the gondola marked 8 Black, but the House is always ahead on this Roulette, and losses, though infrequent, are built into the system. My departure is inconsequential.

My mass dissolving, my definitions fading rapidly, free of Gravity – flesh and graves, I float out and upward, passerby to more opulent and pious gondolas, and ascending above and beyond the Wheel for my very first vista of the Horizon of Light and Dark, of the Continents of Carnival and Circus, of the Oceans of Origin, and the vast expanse of the Universe of Space and Stars. The Illusion of the Grandeur of Earth and the Heavens is revealed to me, and I am momentarily uneasy. This House and Sky is all I may have ever known, but for the Grace.

But I can only save myself, turning toward the faces of the blindfolded – the blind souls – the greedy, the violent, the hateful, the miserable, and the content, the naïve, the decent, the ignorant, among them; I glimpse other seekers too, burgeoning spirits with blindfolds askew or off, eyes opening slightly and slowly like the newly born. I toss the Four Seeds to the Four Directions of the Winds, as Johnny Appleseed to the eternally dying.

With a nod to the serpent,

I swallow the Fifth one, and so begins the beautifully and fully conscious destruction of my remaining matter and the remnants of the ego of my false being.

I feel no pain or fear, my Twin Spirits release simultaneously – reunited, the two become, instantly, rapturously, One.

At last and forevermore, the existence of the Ever-and-Omnipresent vortex – comprised of unfathomable, vacuous, darkness of non-being and unfathomable radiant, lightness of pure-being is revealed to me.

Within this co-existence of Emptiness and Fullness, the Essence of Non-being and Being weave into the seamless blanket of the Pleroma – It enfolds me, envelops me, swallows me, be-comes me.

And I, become It.


Am Aum Om

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Who am I.
What am I.

What remains, if it’s taken all away,
if I die or am killed today;
If I were never born today;
If I were reborn today;
If I were unborn today;
if I choose to strip all of it away,
if I strip It all away

I
strip
It
all
away

My birth;

My parentage;

My race;

My ethnicity;

My nationality;

My family history;

My name;

My family;

My childhood;

My background;

My home;

My neighborhood;

My city;

My country;

My back-story;

My culture;

My religion;

My friends;

My loves;

My partner;

My marriage;

My child;

My progeny;

My legacy;

My intellect;

My politics;

My beliefs;

My ethics;

My talents;

My labor;

My education;

My skills;

My occupation;

My associations;

My friendships;

My relationships;

My temperament;

My attitude;

My affection;

My cowardice;

My courage;

My humor

My hate;

My prejudice;

My justice;

My wins;

My losses;

My habits;

My flaws;

My knowledge;

My personality;

My indignation;

My judgment;

My judgments;

My action;

My inaction;

My anger;

My rage;

My compassion;

My strength;

My kindness;

My goodness;

My shame;

My joy;

My pain;

My ideas;

My words;

My speech;

My secrets;

My expression;

My face;

My body;

My womb;

My motion;

My taste;

My scent;

My touch;

My sound;

My body,
my temple
my aperture
my dwelling;
My mind;
My humanity;
My morality;
My dignity;
My presence;

My universe;
My heart;
My love;
My experience;
My gods;
My death;

Who am I
Without them?

What am I
Without them?

What remains, then,
without them?
Who remains, then,
without them?

Then What am I
Then Who am I
Who am I
What am I

Still am I?
am, I?

Am I
Am I, I
Am I Am

Am I sound
Am I essence
Am I origin
Am I alpha
Am I omega
Am I always
Am I all ways
Am I everything
Am I nothing
Am I every thing
Am I no thing
Am I light
Am I dark
Am I god
Am I energy
Am I vibration
Am I consciousness

Am I continuum
Am I infinite
Am I eternal
Am I

I Am
I am
I AM

I  Am
I
Am

Am
Only, Am

Am
Am
Yes,
Am
Yes,

Am
Aum
Aum
Aum
Om


Something Gold Can Stay, Mr. Frost. (Respectfully)

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Something Gold Can Stay

True, nothing gold can stay,

If nature has her way.

Yes, Eden sank to grief,

And Ego is our thief.

Pure gold’s not beheld or crowned 

‘Tis within true aurum’s found.

By Gnostics’ purest measure

Self knowledge, our sole treasure.

October 2013 

NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

“Nature’s first green is gold, 
Her hardest hue to hold. 
Her early leafs a flower; 
But only so an hour. 
Then leaf subsides to leaf. 
So Eden sank to grief, 
So dawn goes down to day. 
Nothing gold can stay.”

 – Robert Frost 

The Yale Review (October 1923)