A pie thrown in someone’s face.
Action and reaction. Reflexive mirroring of self by world and world by self. You are forced to confront yourself everywhere. Starkly compelled to deal with karmas of the past returned: who did what to whom. Conflict, strife, tension, and pressure. Mischief and the unexpected . On guard. Agreeing to meet yourself through others and to find intimate reverberations from every side. You have an overwhelming experience of running into the consequences for even what you thought–a wrap-around world of breakthroughs, quandaries, alliances and dangers. On red alert twenty-five hours a day, knowing that you cannot turn your back on threat or opportunity. Everything is obvious and supersubtle, gross and elusive, tightly known and vastly beyond conception.
Dr. Jekyll drinks the potion.
The unconscious mind and the subconscious mind bear seeds of worlds which the conscious mind had yet to penetrate. These worlds can turn from dark to light and back again, but they are there, crying out to be fathomed, accessed, given their part in the dance. It is no longer possible to push into far shadows that part of the light which dwells in darkness. And so you must bring up, playfully or mischievously, candidly or surreptitiously, all of the hidden places. So that nobody can deny how much of our energy and resource indwells the deep and how all of our being longs to be known, to be seen, to be activated, to partake in the dance of life freely.
An alchemical text written on parchment.
The code that brings everything together is here remembered and insisted upon. You cannot shake off the authoritative understanding of the higher aspect and its call. You are riveted to the spot inwardly by the story, the myth, the legend. For you believe in the chronicle, the birthright of realization, penetration, and return upon the spiral. This way of being also calls up wild events and experiences, in order both to challenge and to rally your understanding into renewing itself by encompassing what is anything but already cosmically clear. And as you discover how to enjoy and partake in the chaos below, and to commune within and heighten the dedication above, the path of always-having-known-these things-before will reawaken in a whole other sense, and become life-giving, life-renewing, and richly permeating and true.
A chandelier which holds lit candles.
Creative selfhood lights up the world. The brightness lies in the realization of being all things, becoming all things. It is everywhere at once. Nothing is linear, nor consecutive. The spinning upon an axis of power. Joy lies in making the connections, in being a resource, in bringing the situation to what it can be. All is activated, mobilized. Your potential is actualized by being all-inclusive and keeping every side of life in your sights. Lit up from within, having a place to shine.
Coca bushes growing wild in the Andes Mountains.
The proliferation of worlds. Discovery that there is more, far more. The burden of knowing too much, too soon. And the desperation to escape from your destiny into any one of so many worlds. An overwhelming need to deny what lives within. A well-practiced art of self-evasion, intricate and advanced. Yet the pursuer, the destiny-being, is relentless and unimpressed with excuses. When tracked down and faced with everything you most fear, there begins a different journey to the heart of existence.
A skull on a pole at the entrance to a dark wood.
The mind of death always knows ahead of time each and every danger, problem, and dilemma. The Cassandra complex warning self and world of what will go wrong. Cautioning, tempering, and suppressing, you can afford no mistakes. The mind is set upon doing it just right from start to finish. When there are hitches and snags, you hit the roof with qualms and doubts. The self against itself. The mind standing over the spontaneous one and saying, “No, you can’t go that way.” Forebodings are a self-fulfilling prophecy. The self proves itself right and wrong. Right about nothing working, and wrong to be in that position. This is a mind-set to be eroded and worn out, supplanted by fresh inquiry with no agenda, no worry, and just the truth that there is death in everything and life to follow if you let go into it completely.
A dog sniffing a dead animal.
Searching for clues, you probe the straight line and the intricate curve, tapping the mind’s powers for intricate operations. Prone to find the pathological, the destructive, and the inverted, the bloodhound sleuth checking everything out everywhere. Curious, fascinated, alive with speculations, hunches, notions. Wanting to track something down, to get resolution. Needing to know, poking about in the dark. You possess remarkable senses and an almost purely telepathic mind, tremendously skilled and adroit. But you can get poisoned by skepticisms and by too heavy an exposure to the dark underbelly of things. Desperate to learn how to also accept and embrace all that is, unconditionally, to let go into rightfulness and goodness in the very thick of things being rotten and pervasively wrong.
A loud roar as a tornado approaches.
The storms of the world come right through where and when they are needed. They must wipe out ordinary consciousness and bring into play every kind of released spirit and force. When we live in the thick of storms and with always another threatened or impending, we are impelled into depth emotions, tumultuously drawn to activate the undersoul, personally and collectively. You sense the violent urgency, for everybody round about, of whatever you are going through. And so you are plunged into storms to seek cleansing and release, to bring up what is under there and let it play itself out freely. You do this with temptations toward every obsessive or addictive state imaginable and with a tremendous guiding force leading you through any and every extreme, to make all of existence come alive from deep inside–elementally, primally, and regeneratively.
A pair of glasses with no lenses in them.
Brutally direct vision and will focused straight down the middle. An outrageously maverick sensibility, convinced that seeing it all just like it is, is the only way to go. Defiant of roles, masks, and secondary references. Hugely unimpressed by any form of privilege or specialness. Desperate to break through all barriers, to go for the jugular vein. Neither temperate nor balanced in any sense. In the path of bluntly insisting upon your right of way you encounter huge shadows, and you are sorely tempted to assume that they come from the others. But eventually, the hard way, the truth makes itself known that ornery self-righteousness casts its own formidable shadows, and each and every one of these lays a claim upon you, you cannot refuse. Only when the rage has turned to love do the karmic shadows disperse and bare existence then become a true place to be.
Giant cacti blooming in the desert.
Knowing beyond knowing what is real and what counts. Commonsensical, good, and true. Containing so much knowledge and wisdom that you bear the record of all that is worthwhile in human evolution. Fascinating and extraordinary insights, realizations, and observations–an independent way of seeing. Integrity and conviction, sterling and impressing–a perfect grasp of essentials. Dedication to holding faithful to the earth and her ways. You have an almost abrasive style of sticking to your guns and making it clear what is correct and furthering and what is not. Tremendous mentality demanding self-command to harness and make effective and helpful. willing to do the work. Always prepared.
A fire breathing dragon the size of a mouse.
Big things and little things trade places. Big things become off screen, too demanding and formidable, oppressive. Little things become unquenchably full of life and there to be entered upon with passionate conviction. Little things proliferate wildly. Soon they are everywhere, clamoring, yearning, asking for attention and energy. Each little thing grows very big–incarnation, embodiment. Coming to the brink of immense commitment into the earth, you have a craft, a fine touch of beholding, witnessing, and responding to each facet of life unto itself. The most rigorous of paths–to be there into the details. Will and mind become one, a discipline, a harnessing that is magnificent and very hard to accomplish. Yet you recognize that this is what remains to be done, to light up the jewels of life and let them arise everywhere.
Dark river and distant bell.
So much to be done. So many fragments to move with. Such a confounding. The one inside is calm and quiet, poised and accepting, knows what shall be. The one outside is frantic with events and experiences which do not add up. Severe conditions to test the soul and give the mind quite a scare. The process is to keep going into it a little further, despite yourself, and to keep losing who you thought you were in the bargain. But there is somebody to be when there is nobody left to be, and only then.
A hoard of monkeys chattering.
Possession by local spirits in mischievous, playful fashion. Cast into an abyss. Dumped out of status and specialness and made to be hyper-receptive to whatever is moving here–an abandoned center, karmically sacrificed to learn both humility and the lessons of the street. The state of mind random, chaotic, inspirational, capricious, given to every kind of spirit passing through. Sorely troubled, yet fantastically out of touch. A regressive loop with powerful emanations. The feeling is that something must be done and that this will require a change of heart. But you gotta go deep, and it takes a whole lot of desperation to turn this one around.
Fields of jasmine flowers.
To be surrounded by love is the heart’s delight. To contact a grace-bestowal of love and of light as your birthright is the greatest fanning of the human flame. When there is brightness and bounty as far as the eye can see, the inner self knows they are welcome to embody here. To inhabit this realm is to be in paradise and it is to bear a seed from paradise, from the unfallen kingdoms, into this world now. You hope and yearn to deposit that seed wherever it can flourish. This will tend to be where things are just beginning or alive with future fertilities. The seed honors the original impulse behind Earth existence. And this paean of praises, this ode to joy, remains solidly in there, ready to emerge when conditions are right and there is nothing left to do except brighten into being.
A fun house.
The playground of the world is both wide open and oddly synchronistic. Anybody can go anywhere and do anything. But sometimes you come up against yourself no matter where you look, and you meet your shadows and delusions coming back at you in every form you are desperate to deny. A frenzy pursues stimulus, entertainment, distraction and diversion. And the world arena turns into an hysterical proposition of thematic echoes making the whole journey too obvious, too direct, too brutal. The only postponement tactic left is to devise whole worlds of self-justification and self-vindication, to harbor you just long enough to let you face the raucous feedback loop that is trying to tell you that being a personality on the loose is a great disguise and is not covering your nakedness and never did.
A collection of dolls.
The inside of things takes charge when the ego-self is out of the picture and we are free to go with our fancy. The outer side of things becomes purely symbolic, just one way to do it. When the formative soul has its way, the world is recreated in a different image. Eliminating the usual mental considerations, the formative soul sticks to how things feel inside, and pushes for a world that matches the inner pictures. Becoming bound up with subtle and hidden layers of existence and tuned out of what is obvious and straightforward. Deeply driven to move out beyond the known into other realities. A resourcefulness that knows no bounds. Able to turn anything back into what it was meant to be. In the process, you crack through every kind of consensus agreement, becoming an outlaw, fused with core existence and drawing the energy out of empty forms into what is here. When you can feel the magic and know it is real, it is the touchstone to make it all real again.
A black pearl hidden in an oyster.
Working very hard to find again what is lost, to get at what is conspicuously missing, it takes tremendous inner forces to restore the pearl. But most of all, you must vanquish your pride and acknowledge from the core of your being that going through this world without your deep soul intact is hell. If you seek, you shall find. If you ache, you shall come to a restored wholeness. But not without the suffering, the grief, and the facing of the void; initiation in the depths. It is a superb path if you have the courage and stamina for it. But midstream it is cauterizing, corrosive, and deadly; appearances are deceptive; nothing is as it might seem for a while. What matters supremely is guts and integrity.