Ode to She Who Shall Not Be Named
Through Ariel Spilsbury
I sat in front of my Buddha statue for hours, offering the tender devotion
of my full awareness
and after all that riveted presence,
do you know what the Buddha had to say?
A Silence that could fuel Universes descended…
And of course like any mystic reading the signs,
i dissolved into that Silence,
having already eaten the blue pill
before this lifetime,
which now took the form of a roller coaster on the lip of a
torus donut ride screaming down the center,
the rainbow arrow path the Cabala maps,
the light speed path up the central pillar of the Tree of Life.
not, my friends, the 9/10 ths
the speed of light in which
we now take our existence, by attracting enough mass
in which to materialize, simply by the grace of the
fractal recursion of a golden mean spiral..
And when i finally pulled through the
eye of Emptiness in that torus donut,
feeling a lot like Dave at the end of the movie “2001: A Space Odyssey”,
a purple thunder clap ambiently, though portentiously preceeded these profound words
that I hear the Buddha speaking:
“Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar”.
Now can you believe the Buddha would quote Freud, much less say such a thing?
Just a friendly reminder that you can’t actually teach anyone anything, perhaps?
Then as an after echo i hear,
“There is a pattern recognition prize
for anyone who
the first and last line of this transmission,
in so far as pattern recognition is
the Mystery’s access code and password all rolled into one.
Reruns, rewind button anyone?
(Sarasvati Sings a rendition of: “I’m back on my Surfboard Again”)..
Consciousness Gymkhana Check Point asks:
“Are YOU the wo/ man behind the Green Curtain in Oz?
Think about it. Be scrutinizingly truthful with yourself now.
Or had you hoped for more than you might have interpreted in your personality,
as a cameo role
in this extravagant holographic production of your life on Earth?
And oh by the way, are you sure you choose a suitable body costume and mask
for the occasion?
The Hierophant, being truly wise,
would mischievously answer that question with silence..
while perhaps raising the triple Goddess key in his right hand
to accent the truth of any moment, like a perfectly matching purse
Whilst with his left hand, making the sigil of the Way Shower
or Elmer Fudd’s cartoon mudra for Bugs Bunny,
if you have a penchant for divine humor or the holographic,
of if not, perhaps
confusingly, chaotically trying to mentally select and organize the masks
that are, without identification, only desiring to serve by graciously asking
in every moment
“Who are you Now?”
(Sarasvati bursts into song: “Who now now yah yah Who now now”)
Whilst the Divine Child within,
expressing the true wisdom of natural innocence,
is simply… birthing a star,
Isis holds the moon in her left hand,
Sword poised at the base of your spine,
Though owl could be summoned to eloquently rip off your ego’s masks,
with the talons of that same sharpness and acuity that Isis holds with such impartial bliss,
an eternal new moon in her left hand
Whilst owl, on the other hand, adores Her many moods and faces
And is thus moved to humbly offer a head wreath of 8 flaming roses,
fluidly transducing the Divine Light,
that radiates simply by fully, fearlessly inhabiting your life,
and not just in moments,
but as a constantly transmitting station
singing transparency as a flower of fire,
the Rosa Mystica, of the Magdelane,
blooming in your blood
preparing your Chalice to receive the Wedding Feast..
equally aligned with the sensuality of the dark of the moon
and the no-nonsense perspicacity* and audacious confidence of a full moon
that just knows how the movie goes
amidst the eternal flames of the spiral genesis
fractally encoded in the simplicity
self aware rose,
That is, by its innate nature, a lit lamp, a beacon, a struck bell,
crowned with the wreath of stars inherent to the alchemical marriage
of King and Queen
that naturally emits the alchemical elixir
inherent to choosing to walk as a consecrated vessel of the Divine Fire
Or on the other hand, my holographic “down the rabbit hole” watch
tells me it is time to punctuate this paradox with a precious gem
direct from Her treasure box.
(Sarasvati offers strange crystal singing sounds)
Now then.. “How was
that for a superlative harlequin mask removal service?”
Or shall we just say as the faeries would, “ikabrick”
have fun trying on any mask to explore it
but never forget, it too is self-dissolving
like fire, like ice, like life…
*perspicacity: acutely perceptive, penetrating, keenly discriminating, lucid.
*Harlequin: ludicrous, comic.