Lo! See how quickly the empty spaces are filled, when the Light comes to answer the darkness's wanting!
ONE of the truly wondrous qualities a really good story holds, is that it may be brought out and retold afresh in a very many variety of ways and yet bring to its new listeners ever more surprises and insights each time. Stories, really good stories, may satisfy the intellect with configurations of happening with twisty, crafty words. However the real happening of appetite occurs within the soul, which is addressed in a language it knows.
Our souls know stories, many stories, very well. Our own panoramas, our Iliad's of being, our traveled adventures, our heroic demise, our pure beginnings, vigorous at the outset, championed with petition, continued over eons.... our souls have followed the saga of self, and also of others (which they instantly know just upon greeting). The soul's senses are stories, in telling and retelling.
Perhaps it is a way in which the future may cordially come to the past. The recall of the soul's great stories is of course a repetitive force. Reliving, retelling, and the anticipation of those 'bits' we love, the best - this percussive effect of the story actually gives each and every one of us within our consciousness, that overall enjoyment of familiarity.
It is this aspect of soul consciousness which delights in what could be ordinarily placed as 'common' or even tedious. For example, when I take to myself some information about my whereabouts I do not need to intellectually or egoicly reestablish those details again and again. In the process of acquiring this knowledge we need only to establish the details the once, and then proceed to forget until such a time as we may draw upon the acquired wisdom on such occasion that it may be needed.
When we return to the once learnt knowledge, it will be (intellectually and egoicly) with the brevity that nods the head in hello, rapidly and only half consciously acknowledging the details about us. If this were not so, if we actually spent as much time and energy relearning what we have already come to know, then of course we should not have the opportunity for much advance. We would be living with the constant surprise and confusion which some poor imbeciles exhibit. Yet it is not so much a lacking of mind in relation to their abilities, and development, as one might suspect in the circumstance of imbecility, but moreover an inability of soul being made manifest in mind. Because it is the soul qualities which enable our thinking to summarize and memorize, whilst at the same time, be able to enjoy the regurgance of timely placed familiarities into the bargain - the abilities are conjoined.
Without the soul qualities in our mind's comprehending, we should come to the world greedy for knowledge, yet tired of its offerings. At times the egoic nature is so compelled with an avaricious desire to bring into it new knowledge, that it could easily exhaust itself overfilling with an eternity's sorting-through to manage! And the soul - well yes, there it is reshuffling the same old shoebox memorabilia, renovating the infinities, with that constant exclamation of 'look what I found', with such a predictably exact happiness awash with the sentimentality of it all!
The soul may appreciate the many stories with an almost impartiality for the characters within. Of course there will be the main hero, cast and perceived; and nobility of spirit is prerequisite to the telling. However the love of soul is such that in every scene of epic or episode, every other soul within its range is instantly endeared to them. They make up the story, don't they? Each character is essential to the whole.
The hearty 'boos' they applaud the villain with in a pantomime, is quite same for the soul's indifference also. Yet at the same time and having said this, the elements of tragedy are felt with far deeper incursions, and the exultation of any success won by the spirit is important and vital. The meaning is ingested. The soul's wisdom is not a fool's wisdom, nor is it an uncouth preamble to some greater thought to come. It lives before and after all other knowings for us ... cradling the ego, manifesting the spirit, giving life to the meanings of the past, the present and the futures to come.
To the soul's consciousness the stories of the gods are the stories of their own! This is another area in which differentiation is not chosen. There becomes a preferred experience of selfhood, whereupon the soul's self is juxtaposed amongst the cosmic splendor; majestic as any other, the roles are lived within.
As well as this we do also know well the stories of those of our brothers. There is something of a collective as it were, in which we are all key players, sympathetics and co-writers of the one, and this the soul can scan with all the understanding it might take for any human part to know, tragedy or comedy, heroic or romance.
You might ask: what is the difference between a 'story' experienced in the soul and the akashic recollection of memory. In explanation to this we can go a little further also in answering the question put to us earlier about Christ not being perceivable in the Akasha.
The akashic plastic is, in actual substance, the tangible memory of our beloved planet. It primarily belongs to that individuality which is incarnate within this Globe right now, and though men are privy to those parts of the memory which they signatory to (and in understanding of) they are in fact stepping into the realm of another, albeit associative to the incarnation we here experience.
Our planetary being has many systems of memory manifest concurrently, the akashic being only one. Etherically there is a living memory which perpetuates life and blueprints of forms to come. Magnetically there is a cyclic recall which perpetuates Rounds, Globes and subsequent streams. Archaically there is the physical antiquita, whilst also the evolving physical born out from the previously incised material; whilst these are distinct yet from its own soulic recall as well.
Now the difference between this form of memory and a very good story, lies in the material itself. Although remaining, the akashic substance is deceased from its origins and censored from further change (i.e. new beginnings or enhancements). Its nature and properties rely on this truth: that it holds not the means to become anything more than what it is, nor is it challenged to disintegrate and transform in that manner, in the immediate future. It is, by this standard, 'dead' material sloughed off by time as a receptacle to consequence which was made apparent.
Yes it is sophisticated as to be played with or viewed, but its condition is intransitory. Now this is an important point, because in contrast to the soulic consciousness of story retelling we find that the properties within and given from a story, actually further more life and contribute to the futures, whilst those of the plastic memory cannot. The 'who', the 'where' and the 'what' are all there, but the meaning of the 'why' has dissolved upon the ethers. This meaning evaporates out and seeks its place where it is known ... and the Akashic Chronicles in themselves are not self-conscious; they do not comprehend their own substance, unlike the stories which are born and still living in the soul.
Christ the God, Christ the God, is not defined in death. By this we mean His presence is not held in the akashic plasma because of the nature of its substance; He cannot be given (even in the smallest of parts) to that which is deceased. Let us explain further: whenever there is something of ourselves impressed or incised or remaining behind, there is an 'attachment' and a thread, and a qualifying correlation, which connects us to that very substance to which we have invested ourselves in. Our own properties of self and individuality help comprise many substances both apparent and non-apparent, and it is precisely this investiture which assists and enables us to incarnate more dominantly and create a further presence, in this manner of speaking.
If we bestow our impressions upon the physical world, consciously creating, working, making, constructing, blending, birthing or even breathing, then this conscious effort remains within the physical substance itself as well as in the higher worlds, to go on and assist with the evolution and etherisation of the physical world in the future.
We also impregnate physical matter unconsciously in the very body that we reside in, in the vapors we excite, in the impressioning of the substances we touch and govern; and this too shall rest in the memory of that material as a kernel for further properties to come, as the physical itself goes on to develop. Our investiture is part and parcel of our humanhood. We are interconnected with all future creation, to this extent and beyond, and the emanatory forces we project certainly do involve us continually within the general scheme.
Firstly we may consider what it would mean if Christ were to invest Himself preferentially in any matter and then sub-matter, as in the case of the akashic. During the Incarnation one of the paradoxes of The Event lay in the fact that our Christ did not penetrate the physical matter most fully until he had gone so far as to travel into and past the threshold of death and return. Whilst He was connected to and motivating the flesh which contained in part the mighty Consciousness, and at the same time while also His very movements created consequence in the etheric and physical worlds, it is also true to say that the matter which comprised this body (which was of the World, and so connected to the World and to all other bodies therefore) this matter which held links and keys to all other men and would determine thereafter the way of their flesh - this organic whole, the ecology and the particle, was not fully known by Christ until He met with that point of death and rebounded therefrom.
It could be said that His actual entering into matter had not fully, completely, comprehensively occurred, until that point of death and thereafter. So it is this period to which we begin to study His impact upon the physical world and understand too, that rather than the flesh He was in, being so overcome with Him during the time of His being within it, and rather than Him being therefore most partial and preferential to those particles which comprised His body during that time, we would suggest that there was moreover a cohesive separateness, rather than a rarefied condition preceding.
After His meeting with death, the conjoining of His Blood and His Waters poured into the larger body of the Earthly sphere and saturated her completely. But this Blood and this Water was not of this World; it was not of a substance so manifest as before. This was His Substance, which came leaking from His veins in Heaven. This was transfigured matter - a new property now incarnate, which had found its openings in every earthly pore, hungry, longing and now fulfilled.
When we relive this event during our break-fasted Communion we are soulicly enjoying this story. The story of a new matter upon our life here, afflicting with joy all matter now besides; the Incarnation into the World finding a completeness, but not solely by transformation within but moreover having been made catalyst in actuality rather by an import from without. This is an important part of this story. A missing page perhaps, the uncut version!
Oh! See how the world is now changed! We are different! With the Blood of Christ came the Will of God; with the Water of Christ was the flesh then transformed. Particles unite! Heaven be upon us!
So with a Love that travels out to all wanting spaces, there He was. Not particular to this one or that, but to all. Reliquary might be savored for those pieces the saints' infectious virtue have imbued, but with our Christ, our deliverer of all, there was no especial chemical knot, for His Hand is upon everything and He present therein.
What then of the akashic plastic, and His absence from this indelible record? Well, quite simply, He wasn't there. The explanation above really says it all. He wasn't really with us until afterwards, and then He was pretty difficult to find because He was everywhere at once. A bit tricky; but then He is.
But what of the consciousness you ask? What of the Christ, who appeared and spoke and conversed with real men, why cannot that appearance show through to the akasha in living color? Why not His Voice, and His Look, and His Healing and His Smile be there for us to find? Can we not know Him from this? Does not the Mother-world wish to memorize that which she can of Him? How can He be but not be, be all but be not and still be?
Have you ever known folk to shudder at photographs, voice recordings or even from their words being placed into print and copied? Such reproductions can have ghoulish qualities when experienced from the spiritual perspective, insofar as similarly to the Akashic Chronicles there becomes no living, developing reality. Though a reminder of a loving or rapturous conjunction, the creativity itself has gone from the copy; it is hollow in aspect. It is utterly representative of something former, but becomes not even that.
The recording of music cannot compare to the healing and inspiration which is provoked during a true performance, and yet there is a possibility with such a reproduction that the audience can imaginatively contribute to the piece as it is heard. When this occurs there becomes new a life each time in co-creativity. When there is this creative experience the recording has redeemed its poorness of presence and been reborn in that which it has inspired in mind or in emotion. Quite so, with any artistic imaginative reproduction - one which has departed the detail of the existence for something more.
In a painting, in creative architecture, fiction and mythology, there is the aspect of permanence, but also the spiritual bridge into the imaginative cognition that can offer a prolonged life beyond the factual representation. A painting works upon the soul very differently to a photograph. A song recorded differs profoundly to that of a mundane conversation; a diary account contrasts the dance of rhyme.
However, the Akashic Chronicle has no provision for creativity. It is not a medium for the imaginative arts where either soul or ego or angelic being can livingly correspond. It is but a sea of specters, a place of mundane fantasy, a trophy room without the heroes.
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