Female Version:
This story is about a young girl Sara-Lee. She is wondering through a meadow on a lovely, sunny day, with a cloudless sky. She was wearing her usual outdoor clothes, ready for an adventure. It consisted of a long-sleeved top of soft brown leather, over loose-fittlng pants. Soft leather moccasins covered her dainty feet. Her head was bare, with only a small-garland of fragrant white flowers, decorating the long, straight hair flowing down her back.
After following a path through the meadow for a while, stopping along the way to pluck some bright yellow flowers sprouting low to the ground alongside the pathway. She just enjoyed being outdoors, feeling the light breeze over her skin, surrounded by the quiet and serenity of this sweet day. After a while of gambolling around in the meadow, she grew tired and decided to rest a little beneath the broad, shady canopy of a lovely, old wild-cherry tree.
She lent back delighting in the feel of the rough, yet sympathetic, bark of the old tree. As she sunk into a kind of hazy sleepiness, it felt like it was enveloping her, like being wrapped in a parent’s embrace as a young child. Suddenly, she sat straight up, her heart beating. She had clearly heard her grandfather’s voice, as if he was standing right beside her.
“Lilith,” he said, “when you feel the embrace of the tree, do not forget to offer it a gift. Then request permission to enter through the tree into the dream world.”
“Or is this the land of dreams, and I actually am now in the other, dreaming of you in this one?” He continued, chuckling, “I cannot tell you more. I must be getting old…” and descended into that hearty laugh of his, as if it was all just one gigantic prank. Yes, it was kind of funny, because he was pretty old when he passed away.
Her eyes were wide open now. In a panic, she looked around. Everything seemed kind of different. She was still in the forest, yet it did not look familiar. But as she stood now, facing the tree, still under its canopy, it was still the same wild-cherry tree. She looked around her for a gift. What could she possibly offer? She hadn’t brought anything with her of value. Then she remembered the emarald stone that hung around her neck on a leather strap. She seldom wore anything around her neck, but that morning she had been inspired to put this one on.
She undid the clasp holding the strap, and offered the stone and strap to the tree. It graciously accepted. It even seemed like it lowered its “head” upon receiving it. In return, it offered her a lovely dagger. It had a curved, metal handle with a turquoise stone in the middle of it, one one side. The blade was tempered steel, about 20-25 centimetres long, and almost 2 centimetres at its broadest section near the handle, tapering down somewhat. 1-2 centimetres from the end, it tapered sharply to a point, like I a sharp stake we wish to place into the ground, whittled to a sharp point.
it came with a leather belt and a scabbard. She was thrilled as she strapped it to her waist.
—
“My name is … ” We do not share our angelic names, nor the names of our friends and allies from the angelic realms with everyone—another lesson from her grandfather, “Sarah-Lee.” She did not speak her true name, her clan name, but her common one.
He bowed his head again, and responded, “And mine is Jack,” with a strange mirth in his voice—almost as if he knew something about her. After a moment of strange, but calm, silence, he said, “Welcome.” Upon him saying that word, she felt a sense of peace and safety overcome her, and she instinctively stepped forward until she was against the tree trunk, her arms wrapped around it. She could feel it firm, but soft bark rubbing against her, almost pulsating with life. As she merged with the tree, she could sense its roots extending deep into the earth, and felt as if roots extended from her feet till they sunk deep into the earth too.
Then, when she felt full, she stepped back and stood upright about a half-metre from the trunk of the tree. She heard, “You are now ready”, and noticed a hole about the size of the lower half of a stable door. She could see nothing beyond the hole, though it was not only because it was dark. It was chest high, and she knew that it was a doorway—but to what?
“State your intention!” A booming voice came out of the tree, above her head. Somewhat flummoxed, she struggle to repsond. “I… I… I want an adventure,“ she stammered. “I want to overcome demons and dark voice and be a knight who fights against the evil and corrupt forces in our world.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” exploded out of him. The laughter was eerily similar to her grandfather’s. “Silly, sweet girl,” he chuckled. “Let us go on an adventure this time. But next time—if there will be one—your are to bring a gift and state your goal before embarking on your adventure. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she almost whispered, “of course.”
“Then ENTER!”
[!Note] Note 1:
The story could unfold differently.
In a land far, far away from here, a young woman, Sara-Lee, who had been chosen by the old Cheroquee shaman to become a Navih for the Eagle Feather Clan, one of a community of the Amatole Rain Forest in which sits one of the Heart Centres of the emerging Living World Tapestry.
She took a deep breath and jumped in through the opening in the bark. She was unsure how she actually manage to do that, but it was effortless. Now, she found herself descending swiftly, like riding in a high-speed elevator, down into the roots of the tree. Even though she was in darkness, she could still “see”, or rather "knew” what was around her. “Head towards the light,” she heard, almost like a refrain in her head, as she feels the roots getting smaller and smaller, though there was no discomfort or tightness to the space she was still descending in. Even as they became narrower and narrower, she could see a glimmer of light in the distance that seemed to be getting closer and closer. Like a solitary candle at the end of a long tunnel. She continues to head towards it, not caring anymore about the roots becoming so narrow, and her becoming smaller and smaller, less and less, to accommodate their shrinkage. It felt like a snake shedding its skin–only she was human so, in fact, it was more like she was shedding her body, her shape.
The light, which had grown in size and intensity as she came closer, turned out to be like a window, or transparent doorway—actually more like a rectangle of light hanging in the darkness of this passageway. It was a fair size, and she passed through it easily, without a second thought—it seemed like the whole descent was to get her here—”landing” gracefully, her feet firm on the “ground”. Not quite sure why, she dropped into a crouch. She could feel the window behind her. When she glanced back, over her shoulder, it seemed that she had come through was a trunk almost as large as the one she had entered. How is that possible, she wondered?
However, that was to be pondered at another time, after she returned from wherever this was.
––
[!Note] Note 2:
Many struggle with that entry in the beginning. For instance, if I jump head first, am I going to be descending head-first, like Superman? It would be more comfortable entering feet first. But how do I get in feet first? Do I clamber over the side, or… It takes training and perseverance, until you realise that all of these obstacles are of your own making.
Male version:
Eight days after birth, his naming ceremony was performed. The name he is given at that time is his true name, his ancestral name. It is a secret name, only used in sacred space. He protects it with his life, for this is the name through which he can exit the matrix and enter “the space”—something that takes years of training and practice to achieve succesfully.
At puberty, he passed through another ceremony, at which time he invoked his true name, and the responsibilities and obligations that come with it. He was already primed by the myths and ceremonies of his childhood, that the time of his invocation, tutored by a wise sage who could see more than most sighted, became a moment of grace, of Divine intervention, that changed his life forever.
Just as Sara-Lee had a secret name, לילית, so did he. His his acrostic name was ימב”א, or יהודה.
He was not sure where he would go, knowing that the myths and traditions of his culture that he had been raised amongst, had prepared him for a position in the power houses of the matrix. Yet something pulled at him, nipping at his heels—like a shadow, which moves as he did, always slipping from sight as soon as he tried to grasp it.
“And thus began his toil. For it says: ‘Man must toil all the days of his life,’ and this requires perseverance and constraint. How can I explain exactly what it is when I meet someone who is on the same path as I?
All information that proceeds from the upper realm has to pass through the Abyss called Da’at, knowledge or comprehension, in order to be perceived. That is a space of transformation. The information that proceeds from the Source needs to take on the “garments” of our realm, and that is where the disassociation occurs.
2013-1217
#consciousness My consciousness, the one I am aware of, the one that allows me to be perceive of my existence in a a certain body, having an experience, perhaps physical, perhaps mental—is the same consciousness that enables me to “ascend on high”, and enables me to experience other realms of existence.
The mystic acknowledges, in fact, has experiences, in these other “non-real” realms, that are, to him, as real as those “real” experiences we all base so much of our lives upon. He eventually comes to realise that, in some fundamental fashion, they are more real than the “real” that once was.
Most of us live somewhere in-between. We dream, both asleep, and awake. Most of the time, our lives pass by us as if in a dream, seldom fully present to any moment, nor what are the consequences of any action. So many live in the dream of the future, while the moment slips by. Creativity is releasing the moment, enabling it to happen, like a flower bursting from its bud, or a butterfly flying free from its cocoon. Just as each spark of light that is released, brightens the whole world. It energises and nourishes the soul.
Whenever you encounter that spark, wherever you may be, whatever you make be, you will experience a moment of grace and your life will be changed forever.
Kabbalah says that the only sin is turning away from the light, denying it, as Peter denied Jesus. For if you turn away from the light, you will be like one asleep, living in a dream, in their reality — just being.
“I spent the night in the pub. Drank a couple of beers.” That is what you would say happened. But where were you during that time? What did you do? “We talked, had a steak, and played darts.” Is that what really happened? Was that why you were there? For the beer?
An encounter with the light, if you are open to receiving it, will cause the sleeper to awaken. Then comes the confusion, shock and pain.
In the mystic’s world, where the dream is lucid, where he walks between two worlds, he lives in constant awareness of the interplay between the our realm and the other realms.
#point Point of Singularity = . Only place transformation can truly occur. So we emerge from , because one thing everyone is aware of, is that I exist. There was some weird transformation that occurred—we call it birth—an awakening. One day (could I say) you were born. Another day, voila, you were actually aware of the fact that you were aware that you were “alive”, i.e., existed!
radiates light, for only in the empty state of nothingness, like a perfectly clean mirror, can the light shine truly. A window that is clean is called clear. Yet it is by the window being unseen—called transparent—that it allows the light to shine through.
1st portal: ה
The event of your birth was your “physical” emergence. Your ex nihilo manifestation—from a place of nothing, no awareness (thereof, before the event) to a sudden awareness of the realness of the One (or part thereof) that you are.
The journey starts in a place of pure 1d consciousness—pure being, still intimately connected to its Source, loathe to leave that place of pure being, we struggle and squirm to escape it—but there is only one direction and that is further and further from the point of origin, essentially from G-d, the everything that is nothing, and the nothing that is everything.
2nd portal: ו
Then with the “second” separation, we are set on our journey as human beings. That is when we become aware of the fact that we have transformed. Where you awaken, becoming conscious of the being alive and knowing that you actually exists in this world – whereas before you were not really separated enough to be fully conscious of this fact.
Having entered the realm of 2d, the this and the that of existence, of me and the other “me” – a me that is having the experience, and the me that is aware of me having the experience of me.
Now, further separated from the , the place you emerged from begins to recede, as you embrace the One more fully in the awareness of the other, the “2nd”. At this stage, we are getting primed for a close encounter with the other, through sex and its partner—love. But this brings in a 3rd dimension—that of depth.
Here is the place where we truly lose ourselves, where we leave our body, immersed in the joy and madness of love, a place where we really get caught. In the need for identity, upon encountering the other, if unable to plumb the depths of the experience, they will remain in a 2d state, always asserting the ‘I’ – one way (my way). Everything becomes flat, with no depth, no perspective.
However, if there is a true melding, of love, a meeting of hearts and souls–a moment of grace—in which you can see your reflection. If you find the spark, you will have entered 3d.