Tarot #28 :II The Priestess, illumination of reality beyond the senses

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She sends luminous visions never seen but glimpsed inchoate and parallax from the edges of reality reflected in a distorting parabola but whole and detailed and viewed only askance by chance when the mind is wide open, in a vision quest or altered mental state. the Priestess

She gives the gift of seeing around realities corners in order to solve problems through intuition rather than reason, in dreams she travels and leaves clues. She is the muse of the poet and the explorers of the realms of imagination, the deep miners of truth.

sibyl-2

For Light

Light cannot see inside things.

That is what the dark is for:

Minding the interior,

Nurturing the draw of growth

Through places where death

In its own way turns into life.

In the glare of neon times,

Let our eyes not be worn

By surfaces that shine

With hunger made attractive.

That our thoughts may be true light,

Finding their way into words

Which have the weight of shadow

To hold the layers of truth.

That we never place our trust

In minds claimed by empty light,

Where one-sided certainties

Are driven by false desire.

When we look into the heart,

May our eyes have the kindness

And reverence of candlelight.

That the searching of our minds

Be equal to the oblique

Crevices and corners where

The mystery continues to dwell,

Glimmering in fugitive light.

When we are confined inside

The dark house of suffering

That moonlight might find a window.

When we become false and lost

That the severe noon-light

Would cast our shadow clear.

When we love, that dawn-light

Would lighten our feet

Upon the waters.

As we grow old, that twilight

Would illuminate treasure

In the fields of memory.

And when we come to search for God,

Let us first be robed in night,

Put on the mind of morning

To feel the rush of light

Spread slowly inside

The color and stillness

Of a found world.

John O’Donohue,  To Bless the Space Between Us:
A Book of Blessings

Image result for The Wheel of Change Tarot

Receiving Messages From Separate Individual Realities

 

grabbing a handful porcupine jello

the space contained in a floating soap bubble

lips vibrating, tongue clicking, throat coughing

strangled groan

staggering

shuffle leap into the blinding wall

How can each voice be different and call us on

into what might be oblivion?

Could it be

life is in voices speaking

not to be understood, but felt.

Feel the song of edges

Knife and saw, feather and leaf,

Twang!

vibrate and tilt

until something not yet solid shakes

into the peripheral field

Don’t look! it is not for seeing.

Don’t listen! it is not a sound.

Feel it there, not in words

but whispers of grunting fetishes

ground into a powder

taken by the wind.

sticks in the eyes stinging,

muffles the ears

leaves us arms stretched out waving about

frantically for something

real

to hang on to

This entry was posted in Abstraction, All part of the process, Being Human, capturing light, Dreamtime, mindworks, my mystic toolbox, Mythical and mysterious, Other peoples words, poetry, thinking in words, visions from the dark side and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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