Diary: Imagery of Heaven

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Feeling very grateful to be living in one of the most beautiful parts of the world. Reflecting on what heaven on earth would really be like: an eternal spring – a passion of wildflowers – lying on a grassy bank, feeling completely connected to the earth, being in love with the sky up above – kissed and caressed by the breath of the wind.

In another dream, I am in the centre of a lake on an exceptionally still and clear day, meditating in an old rowing boat – the sun is at the centre of your every thought, approaching dusk, without ever disappearing – a return to the land of Hyperborea, where light is inescapable and eternal.

I long for the light, as I long not to be so darkened, so demon-plagued, so wrested from my own self-control. To be blessed with an easy consciousness – to have a mind that is all forest, mountain, and wood – that is rooted in the very essence of serenity, and has slayed and subdued the teaching demon called PANIC.

To be a poet is to be a prophet, and the act of putting pen to paper can be so intense, so thrilling, and so dangerous, that it can be a horror and a wonder to behold your own words; especially when you’ve had the experience of writing things in mystic cluelessness, only to have them realized perfectly later – to predict the words you will spontaneously utter, as you scream in an empty field.

And at our most weak, terrified, and vulnerable, everybody longs for a great cosmic mother – for some warm and undying essence to inject us into its arms, when we call out “That’s enough – I can’t take it anymore – o, please, o please, just give me some rest!”

And she comes then, that mother, that Tara, that Virgin Mary, that Shekkinah, that Prajnaparamita, That Ground of all being. She comes, and she bundles you into her arms and says – “It’s all right – I’ve got you – you are safe, warm, and protected – nothing awful ever needs to happen to you again.”

Is fear the gateway to that mother? Fear can be a gateway to many things, and the presence of The Divine Mother can be experienced in a myriad different ways. Hecate and Venus are one. Kali and Lakshmi are two sides of the same loving and destructive coin – pacifying you and terrifying you in accordance with the motions of the stars.

And while I am not of the kind to shun a fear that can teach me so much, I still request that I be granted a leave of absence from The Palace of Anxiety. I do not want to be reduced to a fit of tremors and screams anymore. Grant me some warmth, some peace, some friendly bosom to lay on; for while I am a Child of the Universe, this child does not want to be a burden on anyone – he wants to be blessed with the tranquilized peace of mind to chase butterflies in the woods.

 

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