The Temple Annexe

This is a visualisation to assist in Dreaming Practice:

It is one of those hot, balmy, end of summer nights. You are dressed in white linen. The sun is low on the horizon and in the process of beginning to set. The sky is starting to pink just a little. There are a few wispy clouds.  You are in a vast field of ripened wheat, the heads of the wheat are curled over and near ready for harvest. You are carefree, no-one is watching. You allow your left hand to fall to your side to touch the wheat, strolling through the field allowing your fingers to touch what one day, will become bread. The feeling of lightness and joy is upon you.  All the stress has gone from you, you feel young again as you stroll through the wheat field. You come upon a tall dry stone wall and start to explore. You run your fingers over the stone, it is much taller than you.  You notice that the sun is now setting and you must go home. Because you have loved the field so much you resolve to come here again at dawn.

It is now just after dawn, and you are back in the field. The air is as crisp as apples and there is a faint dew on the wheat again you allow your left hand to caress the wheat as you meander through the field. Your eyes are bright and alive. As you approach the wall you wonder what lies beyond it. You follow the wall round to your left touching the sometimes mossy stones with your fingertips. Soon you come upon an archway in the wall. It is taller than you and there is an old wooden door there. There is a metal ring painted in black enamel which you know will open the door. Slowly you reach down and raise the lever. The door opens before you. In front of you, you can see an exquisitely manicured rose garden. The scent wafts over you enticingly. You step forward into the Southern Precinct of the Toltec Temple. There are bed after bed of the most exquisite roses, the scent is overwhelming. In the near distance you can hear the soft gurgle of a fountain. Here in a sunken part of the garden the fountain is surrounded by stone benches, roughly hewn.  You sit and open up your ears to the fountain.

When the utter serenity of the place has begun to deeply imbue you, you decide to explore further. A little in the distance you can see a man working in the rose bed. Today he is tending the yellow roses, turning over the earth and whispering to the roses. As you approach he winks at you. He is the venerable gardener, master of the Southern Precinct.  He has a gift for you. He hands to you a single yellow rose of considerable beauty. He has cut it just now. The cut on the stem is diagonal and perfect. The leaves are dark, dark green and lustrous. The rose itself is of such vibrancy, never have you seen yellow such as this. The flower head is only partially open and the swirl of the petals overlaps in a radial display. The scent is heady.

Taking this single rose you walk along the gravel path to a building which lies ahead. You know this to be an annexe of the great Toltec Temple. As you approach you can see an arched doorway carved in stone. The doors are open and beckon you in. As you pass within you are almost overcome by the sensation of utter silence. You walk upon the black and white marble floor sensing the aeons of its construct. Ahead of you in the Eastern corner is a white marble slab. It is lit by the light of dawn issuing sunbeams onto the altar. You approach the altar and genuflect, cradling the rose in your hands. You lean forward to place it within the sunbeams on the marble slab. As you do so a single drop of dew rolls out of the rose onto the marble slab.  A single tear trickles out of your left eye at the same time. You feel it wind down your cheek.  It drops onto the altar and merges with the dew. You know that soon you will be home.

Rising now you nod your head and retrace your steps out of the annexe, along the gravel path. The venerable gardener has disappeared. You walk past the fountain and out of the archway. Slowly you close the door.  You are now again in the field of wheat, you trail both hands through it, feeling such a sensation of utter poignancy as you have never had before; somehow though you KNOW this feeling only too well.




Vis Viva – A Journey to Sirius Chapters 3&4

Chapter 3 Hodie

Many things we do naturally become difficult only when we try to make them intellectual subjects. It is possible to know so much about a subject that you become totally ignorant.

-Mentat Text Two (dicto)

Frank Herbert “Chapter House Dune “, Gollancz,
The Orion Publishing Group, London.
Page 107 ISBN 0 575 07518 X

I had planned to talk today of the darkness within and my exploration of the feelings behind it, somehow it needs a storm to do this for I can then tune into the wildness of nature and revisit those very, very strange days. The beginning of this descent had its roots in the realisation of my own ignorance so eloquently paraphrased above. But Eric says we will sketch over it for now, because today feels like it is a good time to talk about today, though the resonances to 1995 are clear and the merry-go-round of hospital and doctors appointments is the same. This time though I am not seeking death rather, life.

Eric remembers when he first went into the office and said to Dr Depardieu that he was unwell. He remembers the questions about sleep, sex, food and alcohol. He remembers telling him about his plan to get a large amount of heroin and some syringes from work. He remembers telling him that he knew where he could get this and how he felt that this would be the best way. By touching the ephemera of the memory a tinge of sadness creeps into him. How forlorn and lost he felt then and how the temptation to end it all had been playing like a movie re-run in his mind, flickering black and white on the screen; waiting for the final credits to roll, how there was no Technicolor only black and white. He remembers sitting on that tube train and the veins in his arm screaming at him to go and do it. He knows that he has never really said this to anyone before so he is a little nervous. Dr Depardieu gave him some nice green and white pills and these helped him for a while, they bought him some time. The shame of it was a little hard to bear, he had to tell his university that he was ill and the nature of his illness, bringing in those doctors notes every couple of weeks. He felt then the margins of existence, the twilight of the deranged and the futility of the castrated man. Everything he had tried had failed and he began to cling; it was not pretty.

Enough of this then, we will return to the darkness soon, for there is much in there that is lighter than you can imagine and it needs out too. Today, he went to the hospital on his bike; to check for parking spaces and a place to lock it up. For tomorrow he visits the neurologist, later an MRI scan of his neck and brain and then the orthopaedic surgeons will look at the images of the cervical discs pressing on his spinal column. Eric is pleased with his bike, he has ridden it three times now and some of the confidence in him comes back, twenty years is a long time. He guesses it must be true; the idiom about it being just like riding a bike. He is not allowed to drive any more because he lost consciousness a week or so ago. In a strange way cycling takes him back to the carefree days of his late teen years, when he used the bike to escape the noise, to ride for miles and miles around the North Kent countryside. He knows that the medics don’t yet know what is wrong and that they are investigating; they have mentioned stroke and epilepsy. They haven’t mentioned tumour yet and he wonders if he should tell the neurologist about his dream that said he had cervical spine cancer or wait until the images are back. It is difficult to block out these thoughts as there isn’t enough data yet. He wonders if he should mention all the things that he sees and how he understands the nature of consciousness to be. He remembers that these specialists are trained in the church of reason so it might be better not to mention prescience and lucid dreaming.

Today though is fine. The heavy rains of the last few days have passed and the sun shines on the garden. All is well for now and Eric remembers the entreaty to consider every path carefully and to ask yourself only one question; is this for you a path with heart? For if there is no heart then the path will drag you down and suck away your vitality. And he remembers how many times he has asked that question and how many times he has walked away.

It brings him back to one of the things he wanted to talk about, energy. He doesn’t like that word because it has connotations, co-note-tations elsewhere and the use of it hinders. Eric prefers the word vitality. He says that as the power within grows and develops by acquiring knowledge it imbues both upon itself and the form it inhabits, a vitality and vivaciousness. It lends capacity to the form to operate in ways that it never expected and with an awareness that is sharper than before. This vitality gives a sense of time to things that differs. When beings have this, they can choose the speed at which they perceive things, they can literally speed up or slow down the perception and hence time. This speed then is under their control, it gives intensity and focus. People hunt for this vitality, perhaps the elixir of youthfulness, though it is not that. When the power within has it the eyes of the form glow with an iridescence that can be seen by some, or simply as a sparkle of joie de vivre by others. This sense of vitality is a currency for human interactions.

We can build it up in ourselves and others or we can deplete ourselves and others. People try to steal this thing from each other mistakenly thinking they can and that if they have power over another; they have real power. Whereas this vitality is true power, it is limitless and without bound, it grows as we flow in synchronicity with the universe and our fate. In a very real sense it is more extant than the illusions borne of the form and the mind. It comes from life itself and the vis viva expressing outwards from the void.

Eric says that this thing which he calls forceful manipulation is the very bane of humanity and the basis through which the construct of the world is maintained. He says that because most people live in the realms of the hungry ghosts they cannot yet see the impact of this on both themselves and the world. Ultimately this forceful manipulation is based on some form of insecurity or perception of inadequacy whether expressed through self pity or self importance. It is seen in some quarters as standing up for your rights or skill-full negotiation, yet in many of its guises it is actually quite a lot nastier than that. It is linked to dominion and dominance, man in control of his surroundings and his fate. Its detrimental effects can be seem almost everywhere and perhaps it stems from a deep, deep sense of there never being enough, if you like a hole in being-ness that pervades because mankind has in many cases lost touch with his sense of purpose.

Eric seems to remember that a number of years ago now he wrote poetry feverishly doing some three hundred poems in a couple of years. He burned them all along with all his copious note books. He deleted all his emails and all his notes on esoterica in one ceremony of cleansing the past. There was plenty of that force in him back then, he had learned well at the arcane school. He says that he no longer feels the near religious ecstasy that had driven him then. That it was all gone and it had all been folly and that he must dream now.

He has just come back from his afternoon sleep. Since he began doing dreaming practice over eight years ago now, he has practised dreaming, he describes it as a meditative technique used to open up the doorway to the power within, if you like a channel of communication with his inner being. He learned to let this guide him as it appeared there was purpose to this, it seemed to know what it was doing even if it did make for a somewhat non-linear approach to life.

He tells me before he did this formally; he did martial arts as a sort of walking meditation and is reminded how, when he used to run, timing the slip-slap-slip of his running to his breath was a way of bringing the form more consciously under his control. The martial arts opened something else in him and his body began to behave in a way that was much more economical. Later he developed listening to music as a way of doing meditation, he doesn’t know how he knew how to do it, yet he says if you listen very carefully to music and concentrate only on that; it stills the mind. Further if you open your heart to the music it guides you. When he was recovering from the darkness he let the emotions present in music take him to places he had never thought he could go; making it experiential in ways that were quite special.

He first discovered that he really knew how to dream but only in retrospect after he had stumbled across North American Indian shamanism in a school in Hertfordshire of all places. The cynic in him found some considerable hilarity that a bunch of white people would gather, drum and go on shamanic journeys in search of guidance for their lives. He reckoned they were all making it up. He loved the drumming and to drum, the hypnotic rhythm of the drum beat running with the ebb and flow of his inner tuition taking him deeper and away from the noise and clatter of the mind. Being a bit of a rebel though, he didn’t quite do what he was supposed to do. Rather, he sank into the colour which exists in states of pure calm. He let the colour emerge from the black and the formless, taking shape first as a Rorschach ink blot of colour then slowly filling the whole dreamscape. Out of the colour, images would appear and he would follow them and let them unfold, making notes of what he saw there. He learned he could heal, clear spaces and that ritual was a very power full way of focusing intent.

Later he learned to dream by using yellow roses to focus intention before the dreamscape came. Soon all he needed was a few seconds to enter the colour and hold it firm. What came then was dream after dream after dream. This was new and exciting to him he wanted to share these dreams because that is what it seemed he was meant to do. The people around him chastised him for this. He learned to state the intent of dreaming appropriate for his dreaming class. Then somehow many years later he no longer felt that this intent was right and chose another one.

Last year he went again to a dojo, to try his hand at some judo and perhaps regain some fitness. There was something quite strange about the dojo, it was a sports dojo and had none of the reverence and atmosphere of mutual support he had found at the true dojos of his past. On his second visit they practised ippon seonage his favourite throw and perhaps the most effective of all at giving someone a good whack. Something happened to him and he drove home in a haze of dreaming colour knowing that he had changed. He found that he had herniated discs in his cervical spine; there the discs pressed down on the nerves to the left hand side of his body and directly on the spinal column itself. He could see it in the MRI scans himself. His muscles wasted and it took many months to rebuild them and regain function there.

After that his dreaming took another turn. Instead of controlling the entrance into the colour, he shifted very rapidly into another level of trance. His waking dreams had changed. Now again these last few days something has shifted, he experiences a shimmer of consciousness before entering trance. His pulse rate and metabolism slow and within a matter of a few seconds he is dreaming. Now though, the level of lucidity and awareness that he is dreaming is much less detached, the experience is somehow much deeper. His sleep dreams seem much the same as ever.

Which brings us back to paths and there are many of these and it is these that we dream in for ourselves. As ever it brings us back to the heart and the people we share our lives with. It brings us back sharply to the journey and not the destination, there to flow and to do what our inner tuition guides, there not to try to force things unwelcome on the world.

A little under two years ago I wrote that letter in which I resigned from my post as a senior lecturer at a top university. There I was responsible for the pastoral care of the students and there I had given it my all. In this university and the students there I saw many of the worst excesses of man’s impact upon others, there in a moment of clarity I realised that I was in effect cleaning up other people’s messes and putting a sticking plaster on something which was really quite badly damaged. These fine young minds were studying at the church of reason learning the arcane language and practice of concrete science. They invested all their effort towards good grades and the elusive happiness wrapped up and beckoning in the sort of career that a graduate from there might expect. In so doing perhaps attempting to fulfill the hopes and aspirations of “tennis coach” parents trying to live their lives through their children. How strange that self worth for so many was so directly linked to their apparent capacity to achieve recognition through the exam results at this arcane school. I wonder for many of them if this is a path with heart.

For many, previously at the top of the pecking order in their respective schools, it was an epiphany; now the competition was fierce and the curriculum intense, from the old school of we had it tough, so should they. It was there that many lives are to be sacrificed on the altar of academic success and “we must publish first”, so that we can be top of the premier league. There, where the techniques of politics and manipulation coupled with the weight of a famous institution ensured a good slice of research funding to maintain this status quo. Some people were quite nice but I had begun to realise over many a lunch time conversation that I no longer cared which person was getting whatever chair at which university, or who had done the best work on electro-chromism and got that big adventurous chemistry grant. Despite all the wonderful young people many of my colleagues had become to me cardboard cut outs of people playing a stereotypical game called academia, a game of the mind and most definitely not of the heart. It is however hard to imagine just how difficult it is to let something like this go. All of my adult life I had strived to get the position and now to realise it was hollow was quite a blow. The impact on me the day I sent the letter was immense. I knew in that act I was changing my whole world and irrevocably so.

I resigned, with no job to go to, put my flat on the market and looked on the internet for somewhere to live. I had asked myself when was I most happy and it was simple, those days in the Peak District before I met my first wife, before it all got so very complicated and so messy, before once again I let myself be swayed by someone else and caught up in their drama. As luck would have it this beautiful listed cottage was on the market and, as if it was intended, I am now here, in the bucolic shire writing these words. I can step out of my door and into the countryside once more.

Eric still makes me read Physics World from time to time just to keep in touch and he reminds me that the Warrior’s path is not like any other path; that everything along the way has a purpose and a meaning if only we take the care and the time to look for it. He reminds me not to squander anything I have learned; to be like that blotting paper absorbing the ink of life, for each drop of it inscribes the character and adds to the power within.

Here I am then with doubts about my health and ready to embark upon a new marriage with a woman whom I care for more than I could ever have imagined possible. I have no job. I have some money in the bank and I have this Chautauqua that presses and strains to write. I am conscious that I haven’t really let it rip yet and am warming up. I am perhaps adrift in the sea of life, I most certainly am not lost. I know that everything has a purpose. I am waiting for the power within to show the next step, unhurried, secure and ready to respond in whatever way is needed. Tomorrow is another day.

Chapter 4 A Path with Heart

No diagnosis then from Friday’s visit to the hospital, there are a lot of things that have been ruled out and I am feeling a little reassured. This gives me some quiet time to start to elaborate on what I mean by a path with heart. In a sense any path, although we might see it as achieving a goal or ambition, ultimately leads no where, for we all must die and that part of incarnate awareness which is the totality of us, in the words of the Bard, shuffles off the mortal coil. Our form disintegrates or is burned and the atoms of our vehicle are re-cycled and used by the universe for another purpose, our bits might one day end up being a plastic Tesco’s bag; who knows. In any case once the power within has left, it is not that important. The form then becomes the formless. The formless is then reorganised into something else. It is the vis viva that takes the clay of a human being and through the magic of life re-organises it into something else. If the atoms are incorporated in an organic sense then some other consciousness uses them, eventually.

What then is a path with heart? Eric says that this differs for each of us, yet deep down we all know when we are treading a path with heart and when we are not. That is the simplicity of it all. The trouble is that most people lack the honesty and live lives of denial, because they are fearful of change. It takes a great deal of courage and some considerable measure of practice to learn to listen to the heart. The heart is not all fluffy and warm, roses and sentiment. When operating fully it is powerful beyond imagination and can be quite a demanding master. For in one sense the heart, that is an expression of true feeling, is that part of the total being which is most in sync with what the power within has set us up for. In this context the heart is not the muscle which pumps our blood. It is pure feeling.

Eric says that most people get hooked on romance and idealism and use the mind to try to force this romance on the being, to an extent where after compromising the emanations of the heart for so long, it controls. The mind is the master of what he calls the first ring of power whereas the heart transcends this; it operates on the level where true inner tuition takes place. That tuition of the inner being, whether a work in progress or truly listened to, leads one on the path with heart.

Many paths first appear to be a path with heart, the mind hoping above all hope that a given direction in life will be a path with heart. The being then invests a great deal of effort in following these paths, to the point where it will vigorously defend the “fact” that this is a path with heart. Deep down though, everyone knows when they are bullshitting themselves and even those around them. When such a point is finally admitted the reluctance to change can cause all sorts of problems. The heart never lies. It is a shame that human beings do. In a sense many of us get caught up in a trap of our own making.

Consider each path very carefully and ask yourself only this. Is this for me a path with heart? This is really the only question and it is the 64 million dollar one. Everything else is just so much intellectual masturbation. For opening your heart and listening to it renders all else mundane. Eric says that this then is the bottom line. For as we traverse this, the sea of life, whenever we are faced with what appears to be a dilemma, asking this and answering honestly will enable one to gain sufficient clarity to work out what are the next steps that need to be taken.

Like all paths, it leads exactly no where, what it does though is to provide a journey of quite stupendous novelty, variety and excitement. Esoterically the path with heart is linked to the cabalistic glyph of Tiphareth and is associated with choosing between the old and the new. Every day is nascent at dawn, lived to the maximum, dies at the sunset, rests overnight and life starts the next day, fresh. Knowing full well that each day brings change and the being walking the path with heart will not be the same being on the following day. It takes guts to walk such a path.

Eric says that it might be wise to put in another quotation here.

This one is from M.F. Powers


One night I dreamed a dream. I was walking along the beach with my Lord.
Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life. For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand, one belonging to me and one to my Lord.

When the last scene of my life shot before me I looked back at the footprints in the sand. I noticed that at times along the path there was only one set of footprints. I also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of my life. This always bothered me and I questioned the Lord about my dilemma.

“Lord, you told me that once I decided to follow You, You would walk with me all the way but I noticed that during the most troublesome times of my life there is only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why, when I needed You most, You would leave me.”

He whispered,

“ My precious child, I love you and would never, never leave you during your times of trial and suffering. When you see only one set of footprints it was then that I carried you. “

This then re-presents a journey through life and in choosing a path with heart, there will be times when the challenges such a choice calls forth can make one feel completely lost and abandoned. If one sticks with it, the power within guides and in a sense carries us, even when the rational mind has packed up, run away and felt very sorry for itself. The power within, leads us to do things which we might not always have the emotional wherewithal to do and makes sure that we make it through to the other side. In doing this it causes us to grow and change. At times we all feel sorry for ourselves and play the martyr.

If we choose to look at our lives for what they really are, hopefully before the last days of our sojourn here, we can always find a purpose for what has happened and if we are lucky the meaning inherent in that purpose. For it is really us, our own power within, which sets up the circumstance for us to learn, blaming others is just stupid and disempowering for everyone concerned.

If we do not take responsibility for ourselves who is going to? Is change then a path with heart?

“Be the change you wish to see in the World.”

Mohandas Gandhi

As far as I can tell most people want some form of change in their lives, yet direct the intention and responsibility for that change towards external sources, hoping that if he (or she) changes, then it would make my life better.

It is a wistful hope that is often forgotten as quickly as it arises, and then so, back to the day to day business of living. Very few people are willing to take responsibility for changing themselves, hoping that someone else will do “it” for them. The changes which they think they seek are perhaps just a tinkering around the edges of life, maybe a better holiday would do the trick…? So here is a question for you are you going to walk this most difficult of paths and see if you can find the extent and wonder of your being-ness by listening to the power within?

True change is not for the fainthearted. It is a matter of bringing the inside out, letting the spirit surface and breathe. The outer form can only present an image of the state of the inner being and true change begins inside. Once a process of change has been initiated it can come at one like a relentless tide, where the sea of change washes before it all that one once held as true.

True change is seldom welcomed with open arms, rather it often comes about because of a moment of clarity when one knows without any doubt that a way of thinking and of being is no longer tenable; that living as one has been, has in some strange way ceased to be an affair of the heart. Such moments can be initiatory of change or alternatively spark a journey of denial in an over expressed need to be right. That over expression of just how great the form side of life is must constantly be verbalised and re-enforced by others to mask the flight which the inner person much deeper down, knows that they are doing. This has consequences.

True change starts slowly as a way of being and behaving is gradually and sometimes painfully eroded. Then the shape and the constituents of a life, are stripped away, allowing a space for a new person to emerge from the chrysalis. What that being is, may bear little or no resemblance to the caterpillar it once thought it was, avariciously feeding on the substance of life and taking from all around.

True change can be said to be transmutative, transformative and perhaps transfigurational. The expense of change is a former life, the gift, a new one, heralding untold wonders of what it is to be alive; bringing with it a new found sense of purpose and meaning. Somehow, setting one apart from the crowd, who may look at you blankly because such a change is beyond the scope of their experience and as such, so very much a part of the unknown and perhaps, because of an unwillingness to change, the unknowable.

In this respect if one really does change, no one may ever notice. Because of the 99% rule which says that 99% of people think only of themselves 99% of the time, many will miss what has been an act of magic, worked at over a great many years.

Eric says that there is only one way to go and that is to walk as gently on the earth as possible, trying to not impose petty wants and desires upon others and taking from the world only what it is that is truly needed. And that life is a journey of learning and of approaching, leaving as few footprints as possible on the rice-paper world whilst having the best impact one can.

This then is a path with a heart, we do not own the world; we can celebrate our incarnation by making our lives an expression of the emanations of our hearts as we dance the pattern of our existence, hand in hand with the power within.

Working With Esoteric Psychology

Over twenty years ago someone suggested that I read the works of Alice Bailey and Djwhal Kuhl.

Being a researcher and a trained chemical physicist, I approached them with an able and open mind. I did not discount anything therein a priori. I suspect that many with a similar educational background to me would not be so openminded and might think mention of Atlantis far-fetched. They would probably have difficulty with the way in which the words energy, ray and vibration are used.

I am able to turn off my physical sciences adherence to scientific jargon because I do not believe it to be sacrosanct.

I approached the texts with the notion of the dreamer and the dreamed, a parallel to the Soul and the personality. I also had the concept that there are seven dreaming classes which you might say are seven colours or shades of Soul. I was daily doing a meditation called dreaming practice the purpose of which is allow the dreamer to infuse the dreamed and eventually take over the steering wheel of the lower vehicle. In this practice the skilled practitioner enters the dreaming colour pertaining to the dreaming class of their dreamer.

Because of the fact that I used many different types of lasers I was able to guess the wavelength of visible light to an accuracy of a couple of nanometres. I worked very closely with colour in often dark rooms. I approached the books not with the intention of picking holes but to absorb the material and see what my intuition made of it.

What I found in this opus was well argued, if in slightly dated language and internally consistent. I was in no way able to grasp all of the content on the first read, not by a long shot. It was clear to me the author, purporting to be the Tibetan, has a considerable and far reaching intellect and some comprehensive memory and attention to detail. The works span a scope greater than several dozen Ph.D. theses.

I was drawn to some volumes more than others. I don’t get anything from Astrology, it is not my bag.

I did find the concepts outlined in a Treatise on the Seven Rays, attractive. The nomenclature did not put me off. Able to enter the colour of my dreamer, it made sense to me to say that the Soul is upon a particular ray. I looked at the various tabulations and found that my colour was that of the second ray or love-wisdom. I read all the descriptions / advice pertaining and it all sat well. In some cases, uncannily so. Therefore because of my different approach I knew my Soular ray before my personality ray. Although compassionate I am not lovey-dovey so I guess I err on the wisdom side.

In the late nineties I did a foundation course in shamanics. As a teenager I read every book on Witchcraft I could get my hands on. The librarian thought it odd that I was a boy…{sexist?} My approach has always been synthetic, I tend to look for commonality and similarity and I do not pick holes just for the sake of it. As a working hypothesis it seemed to me that my personality ray was ray 7, synthesis, ceremonial order or magic.

So, I looked up the technique for personality coordination and gave it a go.

Ray Seven

    ” ‘I seek to bring the two together. The plan is in my hands. How shall I work? Where lay the emphasis? In the far distance stands the One Who Is. Here at my hand is form, activity, substance, and desire. Can I relate these and fashion thus a form for God? Where shall I send my thought, my power the word that I can speak?

    ‘I, at the center, stand, the worker in the field of magic. I know some rules, some magical controls, some Words of Power, some forces which I can direct. What shall I do? Danger there is. The task that I have undertaken is not easy of accomplishment, yet I love power. I love to see the forms emerge, created by my mind, and do their work, fulfil the plan and disappear. I can create. The rituals of the Temple of the Lord are known to me. How shall I work?

    ‘Love not the work. Let love of God’s eternal Plan control your life, your mind, your hand, your eye. Work towards the unity of plan and purpose which must find its lasting place on earth. Work with the Plan; focus upon your share in that great work.’

    The word goes forth from soul to form: ‘Stand in the center of the pentagram, drawn upon that high place in the East within the light which ever shines. From that illumined center work. Leave not the pentagram. Stand steady in the midst. Then draw a line from that which is without to that which is within and see the Plan take form.’ “

For an extended period, every night either before or after my science work (physical chemistry lectures and marking) I lit some incense, then lit five candles and placed them on my lounge carpet. I started the construction in the East. In my mind’s eye I drew a pentagram of fire connecting them one at each point. I then entered the pentagram from the East. I lay down on the floor so that my body was entirely inside the pentagram and my head pointing to the top, northern, candle. {Point upwards}

Every time I left the pentagram it was via the East. I would ceremonially undo the pentagram in the exact reverse sequence I made it, taking the utmost care with my actions.

There I did my dreaming practice and intended the integration of my personality. It seemed to work as after a while I seemed to be more together, coordinated.

Whenever I got a bit unbalanced by life events, a bit tetchy, all I had to do was seek out East the place of clarity and sobriety. A short visualisation of a pentagram around me, vertical if I was standing, and bingo calm returned.

Many years later I did a mediation to construct the lower sheaths.

I am not sure what my vital/etheric sheath or astral/emotional sheath are.  I did work it out, but I have forgotten now. It is in one of my lab books. My mental ray is five…

From another meditation I have seen the colour of my Monad.

So, I guess, according to the extensive works on esoteric psychology I am Monad 1, Soul 2, Personality 7 and Mental 5…

It all hangs together nicely for me and makes quite a lot of sense. It took a long, long time…

The Sword of Taia – the unfettered mind.

The Unfettered Mind (不動智神妙録, Fudōchi Shinmyōroku) is a three-part treatise on Buddhist philosophy and martial arts written in the 17th century by Takuan Sōhō, a Japanese monk of the Rinzai sect. The title translates roughly to “The Mysterious Records of Immovable Wisdom“. The book is a series of three discourses addressed to samurai but applicable to everyone who desires an introduction to Zen philosophy, the book makes little use of Buddhist terminology and instead focuses on describing situations followed by an interpretation. Its contents make an effort to apply Zen Buddhism to martial arts.


Takuan died in Edo in 1645. In the moments before his death, he wrote the kanji 夢 for (“dream”), and laid down his brush. He also left behind a will stating that a “tombstone must not be built” and that he should be buried without any ceremony in an unmarked grave. His disciples promptly erected gravestones at the temple of Tōkai-ji (東海寺) and also at the temple of Sukyō-ji (宗鏡寺) in Izushi. His grave at Tōkai-ji was proclaimed a National Historic Site in 1926.

Three Golden Crosses / Caretaker of Knowledge Dream 18-06-2009

The dream starts with a vison of three golden and radiant crosses spaced equally on a golden-sun-like orb with a golden radiance.

I am then walking along beside a river dressed in my Yukata with some loose change in my hand. I come upon a family, and they are wondering about falling in the river. They have some shoes and I say that the ones with the heels are the best. Don’t worry about falling in the river you are very far from any waterfalls and the water is cool and refreshing.

The woman wonders if I am holding something back as all the gossip says I say that no I am not.

Then I am in the Science Museum. I am caretaker. What better place for me than to be the caretaker of knowledge. I go into a room and there are some beautiful postcards of Buddha.

I hear deep melodious voices:

“We knew when you first came into being all those millions of years ago that this is how you would always live.  A life full of compassion and that you would always be a little mis-understood. A beautiful thing and that you would always do this for evermore.”

Dream ends.

Cash Pay Off Dream 21-5-18

Here is last night’s dream…

The dream is set in a hospital waiting room. It is nicer than your average NHS one. I am waiting there for something.

In walks someone from my past R. I have not spoken with R for about a decade, so I am surprised to see him.

He walks over to me and with no hello says; “I wanted you to have this.” He puts down on the small table which is between us a letter envelope. It is stuffed to the brim with high denomination UK currency. It is so full that the leaf to the envelope is open. He gesticulates for me to pick it up.

I pick it up and hand it back to him. “I do not want nor need this, thank you”.

He takes it off me and then places it again on the table

“I want you to have this.”

“No, I don’t want it, thank you. If I take it, you will have power over me.”

I again hand the envelope back to him.

I turn my back on him and walk away. I can see that he is very nonplussed by all of this.

Dream ends.

50mm in 20 minutes

As we arrived back from the hospital the heavens opened and we were trapped for a while in the car as lightning, thunder and hail surrounded us.

When it eased I got the wheelchair out and took the wife inside. My combat trousers are still wet…

I love electrical storms with a passion. Right now I am feeling as high as a kite and all electrified.

The card now in play is La Maison Dieu

Liberation Through the Power of Intent.

One from the vaults…

La Maison Dieu – Triskélion Dream 05-05-2011

During the night there was a spectacular lightning and thunder show. First a couple of flashes then two huge flashes so bright that they could bee seen inside a curtained room through closed eyelids. The thunder of the first flash was extremely loud and right on top of us. The second one was a few seconds away. It was totally energizing.

Then the visual Image of Liberation Through the Power of Intent – La Maison Dieu

I had a short dream and then dream after dream of La Maison Dieu over and over. The notion was it was not for me I was even composing poetry about it.


Now I am like Jason Bourne. I have been asleep and bighting my tongue. It is sore and bleeding a little though I am unconcerned by this. Ahead of me is a wheel shaped like this.

The arms are of an iridescent deep red and an iridescent gold.

I am attached to the wheel, and it is a part of me. The wheel starts to revolve, and I merge with the wheel moving through space and time, spinning.


La Maison Dieu

Crowned in self important glory

man walks close

the house of God


Carrying worldly wealth,

fickle fame

and transitory temporal power


He seeks to deal with God

to buy his very own

stairway to heaven

Heaven is not for buying

and a thunderbolt

ejects man from His house

Bringing him to his knees

amidst his scattered goods

to ponder on his folly


To ponder the price of crowns,

the price of material obsession

and the cost of all his deeds

Bizarre City Arizona

During the night I had a dream in which I was having a conversation with Alexander Boris de Pfeffel and his wife Carrie. They were asking bizarre questions referring to which schools I had been to.  I told them only about the ones in the UK. Wycliffe College Prep. {which I share with Charlie Stayt!}, Thatcham Comprehensive and Gravesend Grammar. This is very odd…I have never met either of them on the physical plane.

Then this morning I had visuals of Alexander talking with Lhamo Thondup.. {H.H.Dalai Lama}.

This is a very strange thing.

Then Uncle Boris was talking with some of my former colleagues…

Better stay off those foraged mushrooms, methinks…

Bizarre City Arizona

Mess Projectile Vomiting Dream 22-08-22

This dream follows on from a whole series of dreams which both the wife and I have had over the years concerning other people’s mess. The mess is often associated with named individuals. We often find ourselves surrounded my mess, chaos and disorder created by other people.

Here is this morning’s dream.

I am upstairs in a house; it is not my house. I am stood by a chest of drawers and there is a white baby changing mat on top of it. In my arms is a small child/baby. It starts to cough and brings up a little bit of vomit which lands on the baby changing mat. I know that this is the start. I hook the baby in my arms in a way that I can get my cupped hands together in front of its mouth. It proceeds to vomit liquid into my hands as I rush it to the bathroom sink. The vomit overflows my hands, and some lands on the landing carpet. Some runs down my arms and into my sleeves.

I get the baby into the bathroom and over the sink. Where it continues to vomit including now solid bits. The baby finishes and we are both covered in vomit. In the dream I know this to be metaphorical as well as vomit. I take the shower head and wash off the baby’s face and chin. I sit the baby down on the sink and wash out my sleeves. We are both very wet. I put the baby back over my right shoulder where it stays hanging without me holding it.

I look around the house it is very disorderly and in a shabby messy state. I go downstairs to get clean dry clothes for the baby and the mess continues. Toys are strewn everywhere and there is mess. P is there as is J {who is dead} and J who is alive. These are my relatives. In the dream I know that the mess is not only of their making others have had a significant hand in it. I say that I will see what I can salvage from the recycling.

At this the baby begins to vomit down my back. I sense that the baby does not want me to go. So, I explain to it that I am not going yet. I am simply going to check the recycling. The baby understands and stops vomiting.

The baby remains attached to my shoulder.

I go to the foot of the stairs and ask P and J {dead} if they want some gloves before we search in the recycling and if so, how many. P says she wants 2.  I go upstairs to the bathroom. There on the sink is a very large partially dried out turd and piece of wood {flotsam and jetsam}. I get six blue nitrile examination gloves out of the box thinking how come I am often having to clean up other people’s messes.

Dream ends.

Mad as a Hatter – erethismus mercurialis

Genealogically I can claim by heredity to be as Mad as a Hatter. This is because the one sixteenth English blood of mine can be traced to a Manchester hat maker whose family subsequently ran a public house in Hulme before the family moving to near Euston and then Cardiff.

It is pretty difficult in genealogy to trace Taylor, Jones, Griffiths and Evans. Looking for a specific Jones in Wales is a needle in a haystack pass time.

I am quite prepared to accept the notion that I am bat shit crazy, a complete nutter, a loony tune and as Mad as a Hatter, at least in the eyes of others if not entirely in my own. There is a slight problem when I engage in discourse which is entirely sane and partially erudite as this does not sit well with the nut-job diagnosis.

Over twenty years or so I have been writing down dreams and doing either full blown or partial analysis of them. I have acted on a number of occasions, but it seems that these dreams are important only to me {and the wife}. Attempts at communication die off and go nowhere.

These dreams are entirely passive in the sense that I make no attempt to direct them though I am entirely lucid to the fact that I am dreaming. I have a long time ago directed dreams. That is a different kind of dreaming and I call that wanking about on the astral plane.

In Early 2007 I had a dream which said that I MUST find the Great White Lodge.

So, what does an allegedly sane erstwhile scientist do with a dream which seems imperative? They start to explore. It led me back into to the Blue Books and a year and a half later to some visions or telepathic conversations whilst walking near dawn, completely sober, on the Ashridge estate.

Perhaps it was the genetic legacy of the mercury poisoning?

Or perhaps those visions were real. There I was “told” that this is my last incarnation on Earth and given sketchy outlines of my previous lives, two of which were Buddhist. It was suggested that I had been a close disciple of Siddhartha and that I was subsequently a Buddhist priest / monk. I delved into the various flavours of Buddhism. I can rule out Tibetan Buddhism because the life after the monk life, was Christian, a religious warrior life based and ended violently during the early crusades.

If I was a close disciple, then that places me in space-time around the year 500 BC

As a teenager I was obsessed and that is the correct word, with the TV series Monkey in which the Tripitaka is being taken to China, these perhaps are the three baskets of the Pali canon.

Excerpted From Wikipedia

The Pāli Canon is the complete Tripiṭaka set maintained by the Theravāda tradition is written and preserved in Pali.

The dating of the Tripiṭaka is unclear. Max Müller states that the current structure and contents of the Pali Canon took shape in the 3rd century BCE after which it continued to be transmitted orally from generation to generation until finally being put into written form in the 1st century BCE (nearly 500 years after the lifetime of Buddha). The Theravada chronicle called the Dipavamsa states that during the reign of Valagamba of Anuradhapura (29–17 BCE) the monks who had previously remembered the Tipiṭaka and its commentary orally now wrote them down in books, because of the threat posed by famine and war. The Mahavamsa also refers briefly to the writing down of the canon and the commentaries at this time. According to Sri Lankan sources more than 1000 monks who had attained Arahantship were involved in the task. The place where the project was undertaken was in Aluvihare, Matale, Sri Lanka. The resulting texts were later partly translated into a number of East Asian languages such as Chinese, Tibetan and Mongolian by ancient visiting scholars, which though extensive are incomplete.

Each Buddhist sub-tradition had its own Tripiṭaka for its monasteries, written by its sangha, each set consisting of 32 books, in three parts or baskets of teachings: Vinaya Pitaka (“Basket of Discipline”), Sutra Pitaka (“Basket of Discourse”), and Abhidhamma Piṭaka (“Basket of Special [or Further] Doctrine”). The structure, the code of conduct and moral virtues in the Vinaya basket particularly, have similarities to some of the surviving Dharmasutra texts of Hinduism. Much of the surviving Tripiṭaka literature is in Pali, with some in Sanskrit as well as other local Asian languages. The Pali Canon does not contain the Mahayana Sutras and Tantras as Mahayana schools were not influential in Theravada tradition as in East Asia and Tibet. Hence, there is no major Mahayana (neither Hinayana or Pratyekabuddhayana) schools in Theravada tradition. The Tantric schools of Theravada tradition use Tantric texts independently, and not as the part of the Collection.

Some of the well known preserved Pali Canons are the Chattha Sangayana Tipitaka, Buddha Jayanthi Tripitaka, Thai Tipitaka, etc.

The Chinese Buddhist Canon is the Tripiṭaka set maintained by the East Asian Buddhist tradition is written and preserved in Chinese.

Wu and Chia state that emerging evidence, though uncertain, suggests that the earliest written Buddhist Tripiṭaka texts may have arrived in China from India by the 1st century BCE. An organised collection of Buddhist texts began to emerge in the 6th century CE, based on the structure of early bibliographies of Buddhist texts. However, it was the ‘Kaiyuan Era Catalogue’ by Zhisheng in 730 that provided the lasting structure. Zhisheng introduced the basic six-fold division with sutra, vinaya, and abhidharma belonging to Mahāyāna, Pratyekabuddhayana and Sravakayana . It is likely that Zhisheng’s catalogue proved decisive because it was used to reconstruct the Canon after the persecutions of 845 CE, however it was also considered a “perfect synthesis of the entire four-hundred-year development of a proper Chinese form of the Canon.”

Some of the well known preserved Chinese Canons are the Taisho Tripitaka, Tripitaka Koreana, etc.

Buddhism has been practiced in Japan since about the 6th century CE. Japanese Buddhism (Nihon Bukkyō) created many new Buddhist schools, and some schools are original to Japan and some are derived from Chinese Buddhist schools. Japanese Buddhism has had a major influence on Japanese society and culture and remains an influential aspect to this day.

Arrival and initial spread of Buddhism

Buddhism arrived in Japan by first making its way to China and Korea through the Silk Road and then traveling by sea to the Japanese archipelago. As such, early Japanese Buddhism is strongly influenced by Chinese Buddhism and Korean Buddhism. Though the “official” introduction of Buddhism to the country occurred at some point in the middle of the sixth century, there were likely earlier contacts and attempts to introduce the religion. Immigrants from the Korean Peninsula, as well as merchants and sailors who frequented the mainland, likely brought Buddhism with them independent of the transmission as recorded in court chronicles. Some Japanese sources mention this explicitly. For example, the Heian Period Fusō ryakki (Abridged Annals of Japan), mentions a foreigner known in Japanese as Shiba no Tatsuto, who may have been Chinese-born, Baekje-born, or a descendent of an immigrant group in Japan. He is said to have built a thatched hut in Yamato and enshrined an object of worship there. Immigrants like this may have been a source for the Soga clan’s later sponsorship of Buddhism.

The Nihon Shoki (Chronicles of Japan) provides a date of 552 for when King Seong of Baekje (now western South Korea) sent a mission to Emperor Kinmei that included an image of the Buddha Shakyamuni, ritual banners, and sutras. This event is usually considered the official introduction of Buddhism to Japan. Other sources, however, give the date of 538 and both dates are thought to be unreliable. However, it can still be said that in the middle of the sixth century, Buddhism was introduced through official diplomatic channels.

According to the Nihon Shoki, after receiving the Buddhist gifts, the Japanese emperor asked his officials if the Buddha should be worshipped in Japan. They were divided on the issue, with Soga no Iname (506–570) supporting the idea while Mononobe no Okoshi and Nakatomi no Kamako worried that the kami of Japan would become angry at this worship of a foreign deity. The Nihon Shoki then states that the emperor allowed only the Soga clan to worship the Buddha, to test it out.

Thus, the powerful Soga clan played a key role in the early spread of Buddhism in the country. Their support, along with that of immigrant groups like the Hata clan, gave Buddhism its initial impulse in Japan along with its first temple (Hōkō-ji, also known as Asukadera). The Nakatomi and Mononobe, however, continued to oppose the Soga, blaming their worship for disease and disorder. These opponents of Buddhism are even said to have thrown the image of the Buddha into the Naniwa canal. Eventually outright war erupted. The Soga side, led by Soga no Umako and a young Prince Shōtoku, emerged victorious and promoted Buddhism on the archipelago with support of the broader court.

Based on traditional sources, Shōtoku has been seen as an ardent Buddhist who taught, wrote on, and promoted Buddhism widely, especially during the reign of Empress Suiko (554 – 15 April 628). He is also believed to have sent envoys to China and is even seen as a spiritually accomplished bodhisattva who is the true founder of Japanese Buddhism. Modern historians have questioned much of this, seeing most of it as a constructed hagiography. Regardless of his actual historical role, however, it is beyond doubt that Shōtoku became an important figure in Japanese Buddhist lore beginning soon after his death if not earlier.

Early Heian Period Buddhism (794–950)

During the Heian period, the capital was shifted to Kyoto (then known as Heiankyō) by emperor Kanmu, mainly for economic and strategic reasons. As before, Buddhist institutions continued to play a key role in the state, with Kanmu being a strong supporter of the new Tendai school of Saichō (767–822) in particular. Saichō, who had studied the Tiantai school in China, established the influential temple complex of Enryakuji at Mount Hiei, and developed a new system of monastic regulations based on the bodhisattva precepts. This new system allowed Tendai to free itself from direct state control.

Also during this period, the Shingon ( Ch. Zhenyan; “True Word”, from Sanskrit: “Mantra”) school was established in the country under the leadership of Kūkai. This school also received state sponsorship and introduced esoteric Vajrayana (also referred to as mikkyō, “secret teaching”) elements.

The new Buddhist lineages of Shingon and Tendai also developed somewhat independently from state control, partly because the old system was becoming less important to Heian aristocrats. This period also saw an increase in the official separation between the different schools, due to a new system that specified the particular school which an imperial priest (nenbundosha) belonged to.

I did instinctively know some Shinto ritual and I have a strong affinity to Japan. The book I am reading in based in Mediaeval Japan and it is as if I am there when reading. I had a very profound experience in Yamanashi prefecture sat in a Buddhist cemetery looking south to Fujisan on bench under a statue of Buddha. So, my best guess, and it is only that, was that my second Buddhist life was Japanese, possibly Shingon. This suggests that “I” was dis-incarnate for 1300 years.

I wrote to a Shingon temple once, but they never wrote back.

I have one dream which locates at Bodh Gaya and another which locates in Eastern Japan.

This explanation is internally consistent

It is possible that I was given incomplete information at Ashridge and only a few “highlights” thrown in. A lot of Buddhist stuff in particular Śāntideva and Ryōkan Taigu speaks very directly to my heart.

A subsequent dream pointed at a specific individual for my ~500 BC incarnation and if the hagiography is correct that being would have some special talents.

The clearest recall I have are waking recalls in which a Buddhist incarnation is overlaid on my then current physical form. I got these during daylight walking along Upper Tulse Hill and on my way to lecture Chemical Kinetics at university. And very profoundly whilst sat at my desk in which I had om mane padme hum, which I remember with this Latin spelling as opposed to oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ, written in a Sanskrit tattoo ॐ मणि पद्मे हूँ on both my forearms. Annoyingly I never got to see the colour of the robes, though there were dark in colour and not light. The recalls repeated over a period of several weeks. I never told anyone in case they sent me to the loony bin.

Imagine going to a senior science academic colleague and saying, “I have been having visions of myself dressed as a Buddhist monk sometimes even overlaid in the lecture theatre.”

What do you reckon the response / reaction would be?

I have attended a Tibetan empowerment run by Akong Rinpoche Tulku, for White Tara and Padmasambhava-Guru Rinpoche at Kagyu Samye Dzong London. I may have gotten an email reply from Akong’s brother at one stage. I very briefly gave a talk on dreaming there too.

This overlap with the extensive Tibetan lineages may account for the infiltration of Tibetan Buddhist figures into my dreams. If I am seeing a former incarnation of high lamas in my dreams that is a bit interesting, if only to me. These lineages are powerful, and people have been brooding upon them for centuries. A huge amount of thought, prayer and meditation has been directed at and into these lineages. There is ancient magic in the sense of tantra and Vajrayana therein.

The statue in my hall is ChenrézigAvalokiteśvara. I was particularly drawn to this in a shop opposite Watkins Books in London. I discussed the patina with the owner, having recently helped a student who was doing a science / art project on patinas.

Then there are all these dreams such as the Sanskrit-Senzar Messenger dream which remains very vivid in my recall to this day. I can bring elements of it straight to mind and have just done so.

The thing is what, if anything, do you do with these dreams? During them I am entirely lucid and know that my body is asleep. The wife reckons I sometimes kick around when dreaming.

Answers on a postcard please…

I guess as a pass time it is relatively harmless and it keeps me busy looking stuff up.

These recalls started after I found myself, almost by accident, in a high ranking UK science university, after having done a Ph.D. at The Royal Institution of Great Britain of all places. I was in the process of accepting a Ph.D. place at somewhere else. I saw the advert for the RI. I had no recall of the name. I asked my supervisor about it, and he made a fuss, suggesting that I apply. If I had gotten 2 more marks out of a thousand during my degree, I would have stayed at UCL. My third year supervisor was a bit upset that the last studentship was given to someone {Sue who I had helped when she first arrived} with one more mark than me. It seems that quirk of fate set off a whole chain of events.

In my mind the situation is binary. These things above are either highly significant or I am as mad as a hatter and nobody else cares.

If the former is true then there are extensive karmic implications for others, if I am as mad as a hatter there are only very minor implications for others.

What remains of my mind thinks that the sum total of all these dream events are, in fact, significant.

Anyone for tea?