Partial Insomnia

Over the last few weeks or so I am back to the partial insomnia. I have no trouble getting off to sleep. I get up around midnight for a bowl of cereal and then go straight back to sleep. Then around 3AM {eternal} I am wide awake. I drift in and out till around 6.

KLF is gonna rock ya ’cause you have to
Move to the flow of the P.D. Blaster
Bass ballistics, I’m gonna kick this hard
And you can catch it
Down with the crew-crew, talking ’bout the Mu Mu
Justified Ancient Liberation Zulu
Got to teach and everything you learn
Will point to the fact that time is eternal

It’s 3 A.M., 3 A.M.
It’s 3 A.M. Eternal (eternal)

This morning I used the time to build the thought forms back from 2008 onwards. They are still fairly intact and easy to assimilate.

A couple of years back I quit smoking and as a consequence slept longer and better. It is not surprising really take away a stimulant-more sleep. The only thing I miss from smoking is the night sky. I used to go outside to smoke and I loved the night sky. In particular I had a long relationship with the plough constellation or the question mark as I refer to it.

My favourite time of day has always been in and around dawn.

As a Ph.D. student I worked in a night club that finished an 3:30 AM. We would tidy up and I would get the night bus home in my black and whites.  While mostly dark I would walk past a dairy and bid good morning to the milkmen getting ready to deliver. The creature of the night economy saying hello to those of the dawn. By 10 AM and having had a snooze and a shower I was back at the Royal Institution for coffee.

There were also a lot of house parties. I would crash and walk home at dawn across London.

I am wondering if the hiatus in medical appointments and the lessening of myeloma related tensions is making me revert to my natural timings. This last year has been a whirlwind…

When we first arrived here, I would sometimes get up and chant in the middle of the night. It is a big house. Back then I was working with AUM or A-U-M. In triangulation I built a 3-dimensional ॐ in the dining room that rotated in time to the chanting. It is still “there”.

The early hours of the morning are before space is cluttered by the emotions and the “thoughts” of local humanity. There is no distortion in the “airwaves”. The mental space is untroubled by those asleep.

I think of this as the time of the South-East. Where night is in that act of handing over to dawn.

I am not worried by the “insomnia”. I got to look out the back door at the clear sky. I even saw the question mark in the clear sky…this morning…

Expansions of Consciousness – Diagrams

As per the blue books, for clarity the funnel is compressed three times so as to sketch the expansions on the same page. You might think of this as a quasi “log” scale. The diameter of the top funnel is something like 10,000 times greater than the diameter of the bottom funnel. The ten thousand is not an meaningful scale but a size indicator. With each initiation consciousness expands. The decision as to which higher path is made at the sixth initiation.

From my meditaion lab book. This was done in a cottage on the Hampton Estate, Farnham, Surrey on the 19th of December 2009. The colours of the three principle ray energies are inidicated in biro.

Praelucere.

He reached down to pick the chestnut from the ground; holding its green and spiky roundness in his hand. Transported back to the schoolyard of short trousers bruised knees and conkers. Vinegar soaked and the pain at loosing a sixer to Jones. He cracked the shell and marvelled at the smooth and shiny surface. He eased it from the tender flesh and held it to his eye. Such perfection and mint as the first garden. He smelled matron and armpits, polish and carbolic, shoe parade before school, chalk, Parker pens and Quink.  It flooded back into the tide of his life. Tears held and distant hillsides waiting for his parents who never came. Table tennis and essays, letters on a Sunday and prep before “lock up”. His pride at the first hair and the confusion of his body. Boyhood fondlings and the first time, the first time that he was silent for the sake of another. Visions of bushmen caves and arrows and hidden skulls. Of buried treasure and lost parchments. How could he know that they would call him a liar for what he saw? He learned to pull back that tongue.

He let it go once and he didn’t know why. He spoke of the dream, in the dream and he touched their hearts.

He ran it through his fingers. Every finger, like silver balls chiming with the rhythmic motion of his life. He weighed and he measured. In that conker he felt. He saw it as the tree it would become. He saw it dangling on a thread. He saw it on the mantelpiece and in a jar. He saw it baked in the oven to make it hard; the conker to conquer. He saw the tricks of the trade. He saw it in the light. And he remembered Mariabronn. 

He stepped forward and into the glen. The cold dawn light matched the colour of his vision. Grey blue, grey blue. And the Son lifting the will o’ the wisp mist. Rising and swirling, seaming the world and steaming. On the edge of the clearing he saw the lone Wolf. Watching. Watching him and he thought he saw it wink. There was a lush knowing in its eyes. It watched him a little longer and in a cough of recognition it turned and left. He went further into the clearing and lay down his sack. He sat down by the sycamore and sighed. He closed his eyes and summoned the dream. He called it to him, asking for the vision of the way ahead. He stilled his breath, closed his eyes and called into the void. He muttered the words the wizard had taught him. And it came.

He saw the lengthening shadows of summer sunsets, long and longer, stretching into the gap between the worlds, the ephemera of a dusk and the in between. The sense of connectedness and the burning in his hands. The feeling of the surge of power in him and his eyes beginning to shine, the pregnancy of the moment and the movement all around. Hush! Hush….Hush. 

Oak tree stump, with clothes of linen white. Pierced by the sword. Sangraal. On the caw the clearing shifted to the marble Temple floor. The oaken altar like pulsing veins and heart, in the clarity of the incense filled room, alive in the rock. The two visions overlapped the clearing and the Temple. How? He felt himself standing and his coarse peaty robes became at once light and delicate. He looked at his hands dirty and fine. He held them out and felt the rainbow between them. He played with it a while, balancing and measuring the flow.

He walked and the moss floor of the Temple moved the marble. Footstep, echoed in hall and in wood, dew and holiness at the same. He moved to the altar and knelt. He felt the dampness of the grass on his knees and then he crossed himself. He bowed his head and the chain-mail rustled.  He reached to his temples feeling his hair and the crown. He clasped his hands together in prayer and the Monks began to sing.  He stood and bent his fingers in doubt. Why? Slowly he reached out his hand then brought it back. He turned and looked back into the clearing it seemed far away. Caught on the song he turned again. As he reached the sleeve fell back. Each hair on his arm was like ocean footsteps, with electrifying eels of exquisite tension. He spread his fingers and turned his hand to cup. As he touched the golden circle exploded in his eyes, the lighting force surged through his feet and welded him to the ground. A circle of light bonded him.  The earth and the heavens flowed within him and he knew. He knew more.

Now trembling he willed his hand to move and as he lifted the Angels called. The fabric of the world was rent and he knew. He moved his hand towards his mouth and inhaled the scent, figs and fenugreek, cardamom and lace, roses and blood, lavender and lemon, corpse and cadaver, butterfly and mint, harpsichord and thunder, seagull and spray, virgins and devils, priests and parchment. Quivering now he brought it to his lips. He raised it and began to sip… 

The raindrop landed on his nose, wetting his marrow within. Quenching like blacksmiths and calming like cobwebs, strung in the mist. He heard the deer approach and bow its head and the robin at his feet. He felt the worms in the earth and the doves in the sky. He felt kangaroo and penguin, polar bear and ant. He felt ivy and hawthorn, mushroom and milk. He saw candle and cavern, river and stream. He knew all that there is and all that has been. And he wept and he laughed.

He looked to his hand and ran it through his fingers, soft and waxy, precious, perfect and Heaven scent.

Shamballa – Deva – Meditation – Vision 27-1-2009

I began doing the Master in the Heart meditation 2nd December 2008. I had little problem visualising the lotus and opening the bud. I had after all been visualizing yellow and blue roses every day for 8 years. Having constructed the Antahkarana I began “seeing” a doorway high up on the mental plane.

—————————————

Sat downstairs.

Today I went through the doorway into light on the floor of a temple. It had a Tibetan feel. I was dressed in Tibetan monk’s robes. They were all excited and welcoming to me. They are my brothers.

I had a sense that there was much more coming. So, I went upstairs and lay on the bed.

Once more I “went” into the temple. They were all welcoming. “Welcome back brother you have been gone a long time.” They made me sit down. They began washing me with light of many different colours. They said that they were working on my aura. The light show was absolutely spectacular. There was an iridescence of colours mingling and intermingling. The aura was swept many times.

Suddenly I felt grabbed by an awareness.

There was a flash of deepest royal electric blue. I saw pathways to all sorts of places and a multi-spoked spot which I understood to be the wheel of life. Then I saw stars and a vision of the cosmos.

I had a brief interlude to go downstairs. Back on the bed.

I went through the doorway again and the Tibetan was waiting there.

“Welcome brother. Good to see you.”

“And you brother. This is Shamballa, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes”

“Where shall I go?”

They ushered me into a room with a mat deep inside the temple. I was to lie on this mat.

“They are going to work on you.”

“Should I remain conscious?”

“Yes, if you can though it doesn’t overly matter. Try to remember as much as you can.”

Then they began on my left side working first on my eyes and my head sweeping energies up and down through my spinal column and in all the centres. They opened vision in my left eye.

“They are the Deva Lords, aren’t they?”

“Yes, in the department of the Manu.”

Then they began on my right side. I shifted consciousness outside and saw the temple “floating” on a luminous cloud. Then back in with them working on my right side.

The temperatures of the two sides are different. They worked some more on my right side.

Then I felt myself being “struck” directly between my shoulder blades. Once, twice, thrice, four times five times. The impact was intense and permeated everywhere.

I lost consciousness

I had the urge to wake up. It was very difficult to reanimate the form, the body.  I had several goes. In that space I tried to get the wife to help. It did not seem to work. In that “space” her soul was promising to try to change her behaviour. There must be change.

I was getting frustrated and then all of a sudden, I woke up quickly feeling very lightheaded.

—–

Four earth hours had passed.

“Initiation” Meditation 26-04-2009

Here is my journal entry.

In the meditation today a little trouble settling. Then I said the new moon affirmation. Taking consciousness up to the very top, way above the top jewel and then slowly back down.

Chanted to accompany the opening to Shamballa and a few were waiting there for me. They ushered me in and showed me around to bring me in front of an altar. They took their places two behind me and one on the other side of the altar.

Then the triangle lit up and became imprinted. The one the other side of the altar came round and stood close in front of me. The triangle lit again and rotated. Two triangles forming a three-dimensional six-pointed star with me at the centre of inversion.

Then I had a vision of myself as a thickset man in saffron robes with no hair. I was traveling in space and time; this was to show me the meaning of time and all those palaces and temples.

My consciousness drifted in time and in space, back here to home, to physical plane “reality”. I chanted myself back there. I asked if I was allowed to leave, not yet. Then, back to that place deeper into it. Again, triangles and a shift in the materiality of home. Deeper still with huge swathes of dreaming colour pervading. Next the image of the second contact with the void, that night on Sinai and the yellow rose perfect and embodied in space floating above the floor of the Toltec Temple and in the middle of the inverted triangle insignia.

Floating again in time and space, back to the void to see the thread of my lives reaching out of it and coming towards me. The sparkle silver lightning thread out of the very fabric of the beckoning void.

Then was THAT sense of all-encompassing consciousness.

Back now into the fabric of the building and that sense of companionship. There they comforted with arms around be. D, H and L ushered me with two others towards the portal at Shamballa.

There was only NOW and a deep profound a sense of duty and of sanctity. I have seen things few others have, there was an inswelling of gratitude.

The pervading sense of utter peace at that water drop from the ceiling into the cavern of existence. A sense of beingness and consciousness extending out and rippling towards infinity.

They are now all my brothers. A shiver ran through me that I am loved by my brothers. Again, consciousness expanding out towards infinity. I could see things with my eyes closed, there was no need to use my eyes. There was wave after wave of it.

Then the rod, three times in all. The electric lightning shocks drawn down from the apex of the pyramid on to my back and between my shoulder blades.

Then they opened an ornate and filigree door into another chamber.

There was a spot of light on the floor illuminated by a beam. They asked me to stand in the spot of light and the white brilliant light shone down upon me.

They gave a ball of energy for each hand, and it surged through me several times.

There was an intuition that “I and the Buddha are in one sense one”.

Three concentric blue circles were around me. They rippled up and down my body.

The Christ was there as was the Buddha, I have never seen a being so brim full of love as the Christ, so utterly benevolent. DK was there and yes, I told him that I can withstand.

“This is the inner chamber, and your place is here now. That is your spot.”

“Do you have ideas for me?”

“Yes, but let this pass first.”

“Can I go now?”

“Yes”

Then I “saw” the brightest spark of electric turquoise blue that I had to date seen. Next there was a swirl of kaleidoscope colours.

And then I found myself sat in my meditation chair in Buckinghamshire.

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.

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