‘…In the Golden Book of the Golden Game
a Golden Angel wrote my name…’
We wish to speak now of a curious incident in which we were involved and which is not wholly unlike some of the legends so often related in the Alchemical Journals…
In those days we were still in a Magical School and also active in a Magical Lodge, albeit a teaching one.
We were just preparing our report…
‘Herewith the Divination:
Q: What symbol from the Old Year can we take forward into the New…?
Centre: The Hanged Man
Ascendant: The Empress – Sowing
Upper Mid-Heaven: The Lovers – Germination
Descendant: Death – Reaping
Lower Mid-Heaven: Wheel of Fortune – Winnowing
A: The Seed
Not quite as we formulated it at the meeting but I think this is what we were groping towards.
I came across a couple of quotations recently which seemed to be germane…
‘Man has no body distinct from his soul. That which we call ‘body’ is merely the portion of soul discerned by the five senses…’ (William Blake)
In Arabic alchemy, ‘the blackness’ or the ‘shadow of the sun’ is a code name for the impurities of common gold which must be washed away.
With regard to the latter I wondered if the ‘shadow’ might not be what we are seeing when we close our eyes.
I only say this because during meditation this darkness lightens somewhat, along with the colours which habitually shift across the vision. It is also possible to see through this darkness, although at this point I think ‘supra-sensory’ perception kicks in, just prior to this the blackness acquires depth or takes on three dimensionality and sometimes a definite rising sensation can also be discerned.
The ‘Hanged Man’ in this context then, as well as ‘willing sacrifice’ is also the ‘Man of Light’ and depicts the communion of the two seeds sown in both worlds as light on light, which is an awful lot of light…’
…When there was some sort of commotion at our front door.
We say commotion but it was more of a ‘thud’ and then a ‘slide’ really.
It was enough to raise us from our studies and significantly portentous in its timing to have us bouncing down the stairwell at a rate of knots and with no little concern.
From approximately half way down the stairs we could discern through the frosted glass panel of the door a slight yet precariously slumped form…
We bounded to the door, opened it and caught the collapsed body as it swooned into the hallway.
Before the deep grey eyes of our visitor closed to consciousness her delicately shaped mouth had uttered a questioning plea which we had by the merest flicker of a nod acknowledged…
“…Great Work?” She had whispered…