Saturday, June 8, 2013

The Well of Significance: A Vision

Sometimes when I meditate, I see and experience things. I have not meditated in a while, so I should do so now as I have a quiet moment here at home. Sometimes I avoid this practice because it can be uncomfortable, and just plain odd. But in prayer, we speak to the deities; in meditation, we allow space to hear the deities. Whether or not you believe I've been in contact with the divine is up to you. Here's what I experienced, if it is of value to you.

The rains fall all around outside, deeply and heavily. I breathe deeply and try to relax. I imagine and visualize myself surrounded by goodness. I feel very deep in this moment. I am very consciously aware that something is shifting, not just for myself, but for many. I feel as if suddenly, now, the deities are beginning to become more awake than they had in a long time. 

As I begin to meditate, I feel an effect around me as if someone left on an ionic air purifier, or as if a mild storm had moved through. The skin on the back of my right shoulder prickles. I am wary, but I know I need to breathe and get through the wariness. I invite the deities in and I ask them to speak if they wish to, and to aid me in understanding what it is they are trying to communicate, that I may interpret the message correctly. I hear a lone bird chirp outside in the pouring rain.  A sharp, piercing call amidst the slow drum of water drops. I feel myself get lighter or heavier, I couldn’t say which. Another bird trills in the background.

“O deities, please make your presences known,” I request. 

I see the image of the underside of a sand dollar. I see the shape of a bird footprint on the sand, it looks like a tzidqu letter, a sprout, an upside-down peace sign without a circle around it. It is a letter which symbolizes a plant sprout, goodness, right amount, deep inner wisdom, guidance, that-which-is-right. I feel a longing deep in my liver—the longing belongs to someone else. A burning, a gentle aching. I feel a strong feminine presence press herself on top of my presence. A yearning, a staring out to sea. A mild sadness. , a mild skip of fear for loved ones’ safety. A disco song of  “Don’t Leave Me This Way” by Thelma Houston.  She misses someone, some being, her children? Her people? I see a metal engraving of a simple fish design. Then a symbol of an ox head on the side, like an alpu, a Phoenician letter denoting leadership. I see a primitive drawing of a Phoenician boat. A horned crown, which symbolizes strength, power, leadership, and royalty.

She says, “I am that which never dies.”  Her temper has shifted to a bit steely. “Forsaken. forsaken. O Why? How could you [all]? My word is my oath. Your[-all] words were empty like a cracked amphora, empty like a dullard’s mind, empty like the eyes of those who would [try to] kill me. Have you [all] no shame? Have you [all] no dignity?  You [all] walk naked in the streets oblivious to those who would aid you [all]. You [all] understand nothing. The lion’s paw shall greet you [all], the left hand of the lion. I cannot hold you [all] dear when you [all] spit in my eye.”

“Lady, I listen,” I say.  I fall at her feet.

“Yes, you listen. So few do.” I sense her frustration. I see kohl rimmed eyes.

“There are some of us still who listen. What would you have me tell them?” I ask.

“There is nothing that needs saying to those who already listen. They will know me in great words and deeds. Another calls you and there is urgency there. Go now.”

I sense a masculine presence. I feel a pushing on my right hand as if it were next to a magnet of the same pole. I feel an uncomfortable sensation on my left side. I thought I saw a hawk for a brief moment. I see a face in shadows, kohl lined eyes, older eyes, bearded face, half in shadows. Stern looking. I bow at his feet. “How may I serve you?”

I see an animal nose up close to me, it is different from the man’s face, which is still there, but further away than the animal’s face. It is a nose of some sort, deer, bear, ox, I feel a pulling of my soul as if pulling out of my body. I try to just go with it. He shakes a bottle of something. I go deeper into the meditation although it is uncomfortable. I see a triangle shape, like a daltu, a Phoenician letter which signifies a door. I feel dragged through the door. All is darkness and I have trouble typing. I feel heavy.  I see the head of a gazelle, with two long horns arcing to the heavens.

“What are you doing, lord?” I ask.

He speaks not and stands in the shadows.

“What message would you have me share?” I ask.

“Sudam. Sudam. It is time,” he says.

My phone rings. I hold on to the meditation.

He continues, “There is a place for those who would serve. As we are restored, so you all are restored,” his voice has a raspy quality. “There is a well of significance, a deep well, its waters are pure and clear. Take them in and they will rid you of flatterers/y, of apathy, of disillusionment, of the confusion of others’. A shiru [song /prayer] becomes clearer when your throat is clear, when your heart [mind] and liver [emotions] are lightened. O savage song, sing true. Delight in being freed, and delight in knowing that others who wish freedom will have it too, even as you have asked for them. If they would accept the gift, they must not take it for granted; and they must strive to keep our ways and to keep free of misdeed. Misdeed is like a snake bite, slowly filling a person with poison, shutting down a person’s capacity to interact with the soul, and with the deities. But because it causes numbness, a person may not be aware that this is what is happening.”

He presses a roll of something into my hand. It feels papery but leathery at the same time. I believe it has myrrh inside of it. He presses it into my right hand. He uses his other hand to grip my right shoulder. He presses the item into my hand and I feel that it connects with my flesh. I gather I am to use it on others if needed. I bow low and he walks past me. I come out of meditation still feeling a little flighty, awed, humbled, and my right hand feels a little numb and twinging at the same time. I'm exhausted.

I believe that these were messages from Athiratu, the queen goddess of the pantheon, or 'Athtartu, goddess of justice, balance, and keeping treaties; and Choranu, a god of cleansing and protective magic. I believe the goddess is upset at seeing her children (the other deities of the pantheon) largely forgotten, and she mourns the loss of the people who once honored her and her children. She calls those who would listen to indeed listen to wisdom, to listen to her and the deities. I sense from her a “preachin’ to the choir”—many of those who need to listen will continue not to do so. Those who will listen often already do. In the second movement of the meditation, I believe Choranu is present. I do not know what “sudam, sudam” means, but that is as close as I can come to describing what I heard him say. He cleanses those who ask it of him and honor him in deeds and offerings. I have often prayed to him to cleanse those who would wish and need to be cleansed. I believe what he says here is self-evident. Misdeeds impede our true nature, the expressions of our souls, and our connection with the deities. The throat is connected with the soul in Ugaritic-Canaanite thought.

Today is
29 [Ugaru], Shanatu 85
Tomorrow is chudthu (the new moon) and the start of the new month. Our next holiday is ‘Ashuru Zabri (The Festival of Pruning) also known as the ‘Ashuru Qazhi, the Summer Festival. It starts on the eve of the 21st, the eve of the summer solstice.

Image Notes
Interestingly enough, as I go to look for the right image to go with this post, I find the featured image on Wikimedia Commons for the day is perfect, since there is a good deal of water imagery here. Photo is by J.J.Harrison, used under GNU Creative Commons. 

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