December 9. 2022

 I have spent the last several days focusing on meditation, mostly resonating with the Absolute and feeling the reaction of my ego to it and to basically everything else. This is good ‘work’ if you can call it work because it’s just letting the ego be itself and do its thing, with the overarching awareness of the Absolute/True Nature. There is something alchemical about such meditation because the ego invariably unwinds itself somewhat and there is a letting go.


I was ‘doing’ that this morning when I found myself back in the Forest Primeval. It’s a very familiar place, not far removed from the pure blackness of the Absolute. Many beings inhabit the forest, including me, and it is the demesne of the being I consider the mother of my spirit, the dark mother. The forest is sort of like the Garden of Eden in that it has a paradiscal feel to it but it is also inherently toxic or corrosive to the usual human soul. One has to be stripped bare to reside there. I wonder sometimes if the original Garden of Eden is where we are all born and that we leave, becoming embodied, and ‘falling from grace’ into the physical world?


Not doing anything, I simply allowed myself to be there and didn’t try to move or change or do anything. After a while, I became aware of the presence of a god. I could tell he was a god because he felt completely different from a human soul. There is something very uniform about gods, almost as if they can only be one thing. The human soul, however, can shift and change and morph into unlimited forms. This is both a blessing and a curse.


This god felt familiar to me and I sensed a kinship with him, knowing he was a brother in some way. Or maybe an uncle? He was immense and black and powerful but not ominous or frightening. Being so black, he had an affinity with the Absolute. As I gazed upon him, I recognized his form as that of the Egyptian god, Anubis.


When I recognized Anubis, I also recognized that I was no longer seated in the forest but now was in a long, dark, stone hallway. At the end of the hallway was an orange glow, the glow of fire. I wondered briefly if I was in hell again but the fire was just pleasantly warm, inviting. Anubis encouraged me to walk down the hallway and enter the room at the end.


It was weird. Inside the room, it was like the interior of one of the great pyramids, a burial chamber with all manner of gifts and offerings laid out before a bedlike slab upon which a mummy lay. It was also not a burial chamber, appearing as a normal bedroom with a hearth and a warm fire. On a regular bed, lay a man. I understood that he was dead, although there wasn’t a feeling of grief or sadness. He also didn’t appear to be lost or stuck as so many of the souls I meet are.


The man/pharaoh became less mummy-like and more human the longer I stayed in the room. Soon, he appeared like a living man, handsome and sturdy and probably in his mid to late thirties. He was definitely of African descent and was garbed in the riches of a pharaoh, although somehow I suspect he wasn’t really a pharaoh. He was certainly royalty of some kind, although not necessarily royalty in the physical sense. It was more like he was a good and virtuous man who merited respect.


It should have been obvious to me why I was there. After all, how many of the journeys involve the same process: Crossing a threshold between worlds and guiding the soul back through so they can continue their journey. This time was no different. I’m not sure why Anubis couldn’t cross the threshold himself but clearly he needed me to help retrieve this man’s soul and lead him back across the divide between realms.


As I mentioned at the beginning, there is something corrosive about some spiritual realms. They are like radioactivity to an unprotected soul or even like poison, although there is nothing evil about the realms. It’s almost like the closer one gets to the Divine/Absolute, the more corrosive the realm becomes until you are dissolved completely by the immanence of the Divine. Such proximity requires a certain development, a willingness to let go, to die, to be dissolved and absorbed. I think it can feel terrifying if you’re not ready. Which maybe is why guides are needed? I don’t know.


I do know that there is something about my soul that the other soul needs to cross over. Often, we merge and the other soul temporarily resides within my own until they meet up with their guide on the other side. This time was no different. First, we crossed over into the utter blackness of the Absolute and then into blinding whiteness. Both the blackness and whiteness were absolute and therefore impenetrable unless you allow yourself to dissolve into them.


On the other side of the blinding whiteness was a familiar place: The white forest of the crossroads. Only this time the forest didn’t look quite the same. The trees–if they could be called trees–looked alien. Still, I recognized it as the same place. I was therefore a bit confused when we didn’t find a road at all but a river. A ferryman–perhaps the Egyptian god, Mahaf?--was in the boat, waiting for us. Anubis was still with us as well, although he kept his distance.


I stood on the shores of the river for a long time with the man while the ferryman patiently waited for him to step on board. Understandably, the man had qualms about boarding the boat and I sensed I needed to reassure him. This proved to be easy to do. I simply told him to pay attention to everything around us, looking beyond the particulars to the ‘substance’ of which everything was composed.


The entirety radiated goodness and softness and infinite love. ‘This is like the Land of Milk and Honey,’ I told him, and indeed the place was milky white and sweet like nourishing honey. ‘Everything is this,’ I continued. ‘Everything is good and welcoming and full of love. All the time, without exception. Feel it. Know it. And take your time. There is nothing to do, nowhere to go. Just rest. Everything will be alright.’


These ‘words’ had an effect on him and I could feel him relax, although he didn’t yet set foot in the boat. There was plenty of time, though, plenty of time.


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