There’s a certain kind of valor to writing. An honesty that’s required in order to fulfill my own expectations of technique.
To face the expression of one’s inner world with candor and kindness is no small thing. In it’s very attempt is demanded a grand alchemy of acceptance, of true self appreciation and fortitude.
At least, that’s how it is for me.
In this way, the weaving of this journal is an act of high magic, demanding me to hold to the ideals of it’s narrative. It is a beautiful thing for it’s demand wields humility and humanity to whole.
Complete transparency? I built the Mythica to focus my powers. To help me anchor my movement across the infinite realms of the Akasha. She’s an invocation through which, by the yoga of Story, I ground myself into the material plane and am thus able to bring the Gift of the Mythica to the people. To what I call the Commonwealth.
Through the writing, I document my journey across the underlands of the Mythica, the subtle landscapes of the Akasha. I show my movement across the journey of my own evolution. My own movement towards a more Awakened version of my reality.
I also document the process. Which means, I hold myself to sharing what it takes on the Quest, doing my best to cast an invocation that’s both honest and honouring to the ideal. Like I said, it’s the right use of the Sword, sometimes known as the Pen in the modern world.
The problem is, I’m not always in that version of myself. Here in the human condition, I have to pay deep attention to my inner workings. To discover what makes my form do what it does, and what alchemies I have to do to transform it. And I don’t always like having to face that. But it’s being human.
More than ever, I am recognizing the imbalance. The long-standing wound between my self and the earth plane. It is a thing that must be addressed, that requires attendance, such that the Gift of the Mythica may find her way to Earth.
In the subtle fields of the Akasha, it plays out as pulses in my solar plexus, along my sex and my heart … I feel the elements dancing, the textures and tender playing across my mindseye in divination. A wave of disappointment hits as I recognize how out of shape I have become. How much I have put aside in the forging of the Mythica and my passage to the Commonwealth. How I have had many victories, promising myself that I would return to Dagoba Road, to the cultivations and the trainings, as I brought the Mythica to bear.
Now is that time. And, as it washes over me, I feel a push of necessity, a recognition healing itself through my chest. It is not pleasant to recognize where my self is at. To see that after all the work required to construct the Mythica and land into the material plane, there is still more to be done. More understanding, more clarification, more cleansing and clearing such that my highest self may anchor itself into the Worlds.
And that’s something we’re all sharing . Sharing what it means to be human. For example, I don’t like that I’m not as clear as I want to be, that I’m still processing the impressions within the field. I don’t like that I face a wash of jealousy towards one of Yeshua’s accomplishments and then must forgive and dissolve my reaction to my own errant thoughts. I don’t like falling into old patterns of life denying habits.
Yet I’m in them. They are happening. Where I am just coming past a threshold of cohesion to address them more fully.
Sometimes this angers me, for I am so very, very refined in other areas of the self. The reality that I am still facing the imbalance with the Earth and Sky within me weighs on me, and I find myself actively shifting my mood and manner to hold my coherence, invoking spells of self-acceptance and trust in the divine unfoldment to quell the tremors within my heart.
It is a humbling thing. One which connects me with the essence of humanity, where each and every one of us is a sleeping buddha, a wandering christ, finding their way back to the Light. Each bearing a preciousness, a quality that aches to be revealed onto the worlds. Yet while this is always there, many are asleep to it, and must make the journey to discover that which lay within. Such is the quest itself, where we are burdened and privileged simultaneously, learning how to wield the Gift of our very presence upon the landscapes of the world.
I sigh, breathing outwards, shifting myself from architect to author, sharpening my pens and prose for the task at hand.
‘This is it.’ I tell myself. ‘This is the nature of the spell. The invocation requires it, and I must be what I wish to be in the world.’
Garnering my energies, I gird myself for the shift, the movement across the many realms of the akasha to the reality of myself as the writer I am, putting my pen to page, presenting my true story of movement along the journey to a more heavenly earth.