The Reality to the Various Bodies of Christ- 24th December 1992

FOR it was that the body of David was dark and cumbersome. Ethanael did oversee the transformation, which at the time of the Baptism, bespoke as if another. And the body was worsted under the strain of the blending, the intermingling of body-celeste and body-corrupt.

Heirome saw to it that the fingers bore no nails, the toes either. The flesh was exposed.

The body-exalted was seen flying over Jerusalem, witnessed by thousands. There was a summoning intensity - those who watched drew breath; those who doubted were defeated. It was no private spectacle. The fishermen lined-up their tiny boats and kept watch with unrealized expectation for many nights, many months after.

A succession of rainbows appeared from His Light. His Image was as if in triplicate, with one either side of He who was Him. He spoke without speaking. From His pointed Hand there drew light. He revolved around the Earth three times and oversaw His Kingdom.

Those who mistook His Being to be nothing more than an apparition were quick to scoff, when He had passed. Some could not even contain the memory of that they had witnessed.

There were many healings in an instant; whilst as many broken bodies. For there were some of those who had bodies of flesh with demons within, who looked likened to Men, but were not Men; and these were broken down all at once - instantly.

Lightning seized cloudless skies.

The Earth had not refused this God physical entry. He did prove that He belonged rightfully - that the Men are His Men, and Man is Him.

For the descension into Matter was no easy navigation, and born entrance into the world's embrace at our Christmas time. As all are! 

The Earth did not spew Him, but the naive flesh could not withstand His Potency. When His Body dissolved into the Earth, the demons bethought they had won, for they harbored such conceit as made them stupid to the facts. 

The dissolution spread rapidly - where not one speck remained unaffected. All had the markings of Christ, in form, in growth, from soil upwards. And He was free as before, but not as before. King and claimant, willful, he had saturated all Earthly matter, Earthly matter now being His greater Body.

Matter is not as it seems: it is as insubstantial as a dream; and venerated as an elusive dream. Physicality requires fluidity, flux, motivation and response, and very solid-appearing ethers which are the binding-stuff of earthly design. Such ethers are reactive to those subtle forces as outlined, but only appear as substantial. The Body of Christ which did infiltrate the substance of Earthly matter has brought deeper substantiation - compelled matter to draw together in a way which has strengthened form. Here is paradox: matter itself has become moreso, than with inclination to disassociate, break up, break down or etherialize.

The process of refinement is more easily worked upon because of this, e.g. I can write on paper which is as paper, rather than pulp. In other words, we have something to work with which shall be dependable and intrinsically good.
For He has adopted the offspring of His child - the Earth - and been received by said grandchild: the physical world. For some eggs are fertilized after expulsion.

[Easter]

Pledge & Purpose- 23rd December 1992

THE veils of consciousness are alike to the frozen skin which sits atop a river or pond in the early freeze.

How should we continue to teach if we held to the view that men are insufferably stupid and without our reach? We must correct ourselves for ill-placed vanity and remind ourselves of all possibilities, and that the task is to find a way through to the hearts of our sleeping brothers.

Dismay is never warranted, for there is no possible use for disquiet and subsequent fatiguing thought. Remember also that men change remarkably from lifetime to lifetime, and one cannot gauge their magnitude of qualities by those active/inactive in the present.

What one can assess however, is their level of corruption, how weak their will, how bent their fork, so to speak, and the overall direction they are heading. Nonetheless, it would take a very gifted seer to determine an accurate judgment of this; either that or the Heart of God, which is ever hopeful and intent upon redemption.

We must offer our brothers and sisters the same patience as we ask of for ourselves. We must remonstrate all good work, and if we say "do as I do", we must do well.

How often we are motivated today by intense pledges we have been brought to in the very distant past. For it is that men may have such great concerns coupled with a true understanding of purpose, that they will be driven similarly again and again, lifetime after lifetime, true to the original pledge of endeavor. The potency of pledges is such, because it is the beginning skill of Man the Conjurer. Conjurer, not as in trickster - no, no, no - but conjurer as in: he would create outer circumstance by skilful, directed, imaginative design.

Now it can be, that we wish to effect a marked change upon the world, all for the good of Man; whilst also the will itself may be frustrated, because the intention has not witnessed total fruition. Here comes the important part: if our intention is pooled with those of great men who have held similar and equal hopes, desires and pledges, and also that they are in line with being useful to Humanity, then we are actually attributed a measure of enhancement to our otherwise flagging will. If on the other hand, we pledge to do ill in the world and depart the fleshy threshold with dissatisfaction in the sense of not having done enough mischief, then a remarkable and opposite effect applies.

There is a rule that Men shall never truly be satisfied. That is to say, that they may indeed become content with this state of affairs, however there is a germ within the kernel of future experience which provokes a man to ever go seeking improvement. 

Now, if he has ventured down the mischievous path he will still seek betterment, even if it is to become a better devil. In point of fact they tend to be the most conceited folk of all, competitive, assertive, trying to prove themselves remarkable. . . and yet from lifetime to lifetime, in the case of the 'fallen into ill' soul, his will shall go wanting and eventually expire - partly because of the very nature of the activity he becomes a part of, and basically because the will requires supplication when it is frustrated. It will receive such supplication from the ghosts of former hopes and good intentions - it shall be offered nil by comrades in devilry.

So it is that eventually the ill-minded do not advance far, but are wasted away from the arena of human affairs. If you would like to take the time to journey quietly inward, you can well 'feel' the glowing promises of passionate men who have loved so completely - you may sense the gravity, the earnestness, the pity known, the inspired hope, and the community of Magi who work to change the world.

Most men are content to muddle their way in and out of simple needs. But once they have happened upon that bonfire first lit by the Lords of Compassion, they are nevermore the same. For once a man has issued the words: "I wish to help", and has the accompanying motivation to do so, he shall concurrently be frustrated, and strengthened ever after. He shall also become more capable of effecting remarkable 'good' in his immediate circumstance - providing that the will is in line with such 'good' intentions, truly good intentions.

The greater mean in determining this is empathy: subsequent sympathy born from experience. Therefore a man shall be stimulated to pity by his own contrast of experiences. Then he does wish to provide for his fellow brothers better conditions, happier times, and release from certain hell.

We can never cultivate our compassionate drive to effect better change within the world enough. For this is the inclination and the way for all students who would one day become learned teachers. For whom do they teach? Would they teach only for themselves and the title? Of course not. Therefore the making of a good teacher is one who loves to teach. And the teacher must have great and grand consideration for his beloved pupil, or what use the teacher? 

By definition also a good teacher has no self-interest either. His motivation is primarily selfless, with no payment, no manipulation, no vampirism and no distinction. That the ego of the teacher is not bound to the failure or progression of the student/s. He does however, accept all responsibility for the karma of that which he has made accessible, and been used by said student. In this respect there is little to be gained!

We do what we do, because it infills us with joy to do so, and because of pledges so pronounced back in the early ethers of a former world - a time when greater souls breathed inspiration, right before our glowing faces - eye to eye, they communicated visions of what could be.

The majesty of men does not exactly relate to how tall their buildings, or even their struggles throughout adversity, but rather to the refinement of being, which may conduct itself in all realms, taking to each place resonances from High Heaven itself - those qualities made active and expressed, which stream from emanations from the highest order. It is remarkable that men can and do develop such wondrous impulses:

• When we invite creativity.
• When we examine with stern reflection.
• When we find courage in the unlikeliest of places.
• When we knowingly, willingly set about to produce children and care for them.
• When we defy our greeds and protest our meanness.
• When we disassemble and reassemble.
• When we recognize and appreciate the beauty, as given by our Creator and can contrast distinctions.
• When we cure our arrowheads in the fire of the immortal passions.
• When we forgive.
• When we share binding affections which stream into infinity.
• When we sing at the top of our voice regardless of audience.
• When we are moved to care for the smaller and the lesser.
• When we erupt with humor and catch a glimpse of the Divine smile.
• When we suffer and endure, but remain throughout not bitter.
• When we hold the courage to challenge ourselves.
• When we hold a mirror to the Divine and believe it to be ourselves.
• When we wrestle the inner thief.
• When we can identify the Holies, even after such experience which is mundane.
• When we can recover the lost and resuscitate the fallen.
• When we are Men in the Light of God.

We do not take the opinion that Humanity is an ill-fated experiment for the case of freewill, but rather that Men hold the keys to cosmic ability - already proven - and there shall be degrees of accomplishment, degrees of advancement.

If we can believe in the goodness and remarkableness of Men, then we may fix a goal for the constant revelation of such. It is a belief also that 'God does not waste His time' and that there is good purpose to the plan which is Man… and it is for Men to realize it.

Father/Mother Christmas- 22nd December 1992

THE 'bells on high' will fill the wombs of the next year's baby showers, as the gates to the world open up at Christmas-time and decide, as the world swells. For there is a procession of inflowing souls who must gather at yearly intervals to enter into the earthly realm. The 'heart' of the Earth, as it were, opens up to receive into its boundaries new men, renewed men, who seek re-entry.

Once a man has departed the 'city limits' of the Globe and severed such ties as are his, with affection within, he is disassociated and propelled out into fields of planetary attraction. Go where he might, he cannot and does not immediately return, once he has broken through the outer Astral sheath which mirrors conditions of this world.

It is natural for humans to desire return, and contrary to the abounding propaganda of today, they love their communal residence; and with the affection of a child to parent, they love also this being which ensouls this planet. The soul of Man can indeed recognize her from afar and will always be drawn unto her.

Activity always passes into and through the poles of the Globe. This is why, when there is importance given to a certain high spirit residing at the North Pole, that we consider this out-of-the-way environment. One might suspect that there is great seclusion to be had in the far regions of intemperate latitude, however there is ever more activity to be witnessed than at the busiest city in the world!

The 'bells on high' aforementioned, speak of the sound in which a soul penetrating into the atmosphere resounds. We are so regulated - there being a time to await death also - that it is necessary for the admissions to find their way in upon the only breath in for the year that the planet inhales. She is a creature of time, of rhythm, so bound by her relationship to her fellow planetary beings.

Every human soul impresses her with their likeness, and she, Mother Earth, is aware of every individuality who clings upon her garb. One can see from this, that there is therefore a distinction to be had when comparisons are made of Man and the microorganisms he bears. For Man is neither conscious nor adept at perceiving individualities which comprise parts of his physical person; but Mother Earth is. And she gives to each and every one, not only provision for an existence, a term of life, but she gives willingly that of her own substance which we command, build and toy with, explore, and take unto ourselves. It is by her acceptance of the children each year that we celebrate the loving arms into which they are received, and the presents to, which each child is given.

This is our explanation of Father/Mother Christmas as representative of our beloved planetary spirit: currently Mother Earth.

One can always bring to mind the spiritual reality behind the treasured fable. It can be true to say also, that any story perpetuated has a life of its own, instilled regardless of spiritual foundation or substance. However, when one comes to the fables as received in festival and commonly celebrated, it is because of the inward response, the conversion of imagination into soul-language.

Frequently we suppress and ignore our faculties for such soul communication. The personality is persistently insistent that it alone is wakeful to the world. Yet we wear our personality as we would a uniform - and it is equally restricting if allowed to be so. And should you hear grumbles about Christmas celebrations 'being tiresome' or loathsome, you can understand that it is but an overactive personality which is denying its own mortality. For the soul of man rejoices this sacred period of the year.

Yes indeed, those who are recently deceased - recently being anything up to and including several hundred years - do draw close to their spirit-kin at Christmas. They are enabled to do so because of the very openness of this our world, and that they have not as yet stepped the perimeters, have not 'gathered in' their binding affections, which could be largely remaining with those still living.

You see, it is a little like having a 'principal place of residence' where one can go visiting out from, or holiday, but keeps most of the personal effects at that one address. We too have such bases to return to, and those who are deceased but 'within range' are those who still, in greater measure, call this globe their principal place of residence.

Now what is the consequence of those who encourage men to develop inclinations which protest their home with dissatisfaction? There are beings which promise paradise: pretending that it can be won by those who are too lazy to effect paradise on Earth itself. What is neglected - to mention by such guileful, manipulative, sweet-talking wraiths - is that men must have paradise within, that the heart of such paradise, any paradise, is the cultivation of the substance of heavenly vision.

There are aspects of paradise very much alive throughout our dear planet today. There are probably many more secret and wondrous places right here, as to be found anywhere. One does not need to step the bounds to go seeking such ineffable beauty. Nor are we the only repository of suffering and disfigurement. Yes sadly, one can find equivalents abroad also. Perhaps the success of Man shall have remarkable consequences elsewhere.

It is such a success that is paramount: that men come to understand the glorious, well-meaning, well-wishing of all that contains them. At times we might lose perception of such, and are truly frightened. It is not that the spiritual reality has changed in this, but our view, our consistency, our inner abilities are thwarted. And Man may feel downcast into unspeakable perils of solitude.

 

Yet also, if one were granted the 'second-sight' they may well complain of the fragmented activity breaking out and expressing - in chatter, in busyness, in momentum, in continuum, in activity upon activity, in screech and clang, in laugh and titter, in eyes a'watching, in multitudinous swarms; and he would discover to the point of alarm that he truly is not alone!

If we can strip away the sadness of the world, then we should find for perpetuity our never-lost paradise, intact and radiant. It is with memories of such that our souls return unto the Earth, foregoing their angel-wings once more, and requesting the flesh that they shall drive until death.

What is the attraction you might ask? Well there has to be at least one! Perhaps this is what is known as the mystery of life itself. The attraction is verily the love itself which calls out to us from our dear planet. And it is by invitation only. Each have a name and a signal, for with each there are shared memories, as the re-embodying man applies for such consideration.

It is one matter for men to die, but another entirely for the absorption and re-entry of new souls to come. This is the time when we welcome them home. We turn to our bold and joyful children and we commend their courage, and we encourage them to further their way in the world. We are reminded that manifestation embraces us, and did welcome us at this special time, when we too, approached the frosty portals of the pole's gateway and sang with a choir accompanied . . . and with grand expectation.

Journey to Desire's End- 1992

Some may take the Gorgonian inroads,
Whilst some the pleasurable scenic drive,
The journeys are many and curious,
For the wayfarer, the traveler
- Well come!


Let us go to the market of great surprise!
Well shod!
With hoof and tail held high,
In step!
With prance and certain gaiety.
Well done!


A morning's venture,
So home we run,
Home we run!
We have slept a fair night's rest.
They champ those champions.
We plot and plan our next navigation,
Uphill, downhill,
We run.

Hither thither, thither hither,
Beware! the noonday's sun!
And then turn back
Down plotted track,
And back to bed we run.


With thread and twine,
Of half a day's wind,
We heed the call to return,
We explore in the morning,
Turn back at noon,
That before the twilight falls,
We return.


Turn back,
Turn back!
Lest the twilight catches you -
Now back,
Go back!
For the home run avenue.


Come tomorrow,
We will go again the distant route:
The ways of men,
We meet,
We eat,
We then excrete,
We sing of that and what might have been.


Go back!
The track,
That homeward runs.
The day is spent,
The songs are sung,
The home-fire burns,
The hearth is warm,
The time has come nigh
To now return home.


Farewell, farewell,
A blessing to one and to all.
The parties disband,
With a promise and a wave,
With weary cheer and hesitation,
Hopes rise on tribulation,
Good day! Good day!
And a very good night to you also.


I have stopped,
I have shopped,
I have spent,
I repent.
I have traded even my purse,
For remorse,
For my loss.


Now we carry bargains home;
With heaving fortitude,
And quiet groan,
We bear the weight,
Of this day's trading,
We hesitate,
With slight misgiving.
Was there more what was not found?
Perhaps tomorrow we will shop around.


And so the treasures and comestibles (what's left)
Are at home dispatched,
Or shared or lent,
Or lovingly admired,
Or enviously spied,
As we compare our treasure-troves . . .
And sort through piles of jumble.


I'll go again a different course,
I'll leave home very early.
I'll stretch the day,
With Summer's recourse,
And live each minute of the journey.


I'll travel, converse haggle and trade,
I'll seek out the path of the quickest -
Or no, perhaps
That I might sleep,
And dream that same dream,
And take journey
The next day or even,
The next.
Maybe.

For it is but the dream,
That does carry me onwards,
My night is as day,
And my day is but dreamland.


We venture and encircle,
The starry trek with great design;
A plotting and a planning,
A procession,
Through this night.


Turn back!
Turn back!
The voice begins to stir and call,
E’er come the call for wakefulness be not met at all . .


The nightly peregrinations,
The visitations,
The great embark,
Does cease with the fall,
Of the twilight of a stirring consciousness.

Home again,
Home again,
The new day begins.
There are so many inroads,
Which lead our way through
To Heaven's party,
Where there the Heavenly Host entertains,
With each,
A sweet or savory platter -
To each their swizzle stick.


Now departing,
With a kiss from an Angel of sweet virtue,
Or a bite from a demon,
Who with foul-mouthed grimace grins.
With a promise and a wave,
And a parting hesitation.


Turn back!
Turn back!
The homeward trail we turn,
As we journey forth,
Going thither and hither,
Hither and thither,
The circuit of hope's desire.


And we slumber,
Such sweet slumber,
With our days and nights
Of split continuum.
And we plan and we plot,
Our designs,
Our infinite prospects,
Setting maps and charts
With vast configuration.


And we sing of what has been,
And we sing of what is to come,
And we hear,
The songs unsung from the Word,
That needs no tongue to form.
And we laugh of exploits
With the fervor of the frivolous,
And we know that desire's end,
Comes with which attainment,
Only journey brings.


Do we share,
Or thus compare?
That which the journey gleans?
Compelled to go our own way,
The way that takes a million more . . .

Home again,
Home again,
Home again we are called.
Uphill,
Downhill,
The quickest distance,
The nearest horizon.
We travel so far as it takes,
For commensurate time to return;
For these are our limits so set,
Of the journey,
The boundary that calls for return.


We set out in the morning,
And turn around at noon,
To be home before the twilight falls,
To be home before sleep's sweet whisper calls,
That come the new morn,
We resume.