Volume 4, Number 1 Editorial Articles
Essays and Poetry Esoteric Astrology Featured Artist
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Poetry Andrew Nellist Tony Buczko Simon Marlow Jackie Elphinstone
Where have the feet of man laid step, And where those feet trodden which we follow: how many valleys hold secret echoes of fear and pain swallowed, or uttered in panic and sweat, seen by the flickering firelight, or in the heat of day witnessed, sealed in hot blood? Betrayal and crucifixion mark the boundaries unseen, crossed in the dark, observed by mountains, each one a silent sentinel, sharing in immense omniscience, marking our progress, singly or in file. Prayers have been offered in places, sent as ambassadors out into the unknown. There has been shame and humiliation. Knees in the ground sought defeat, but found victory. Here, eyes have stopped in wonder at beauty, true beauty behind the form and pattern of things. There, lungs have released warm breath in a laugh, like a fat pigeon from the hands, on seeing the funny side of things. Such marks will not be seen from space or on maps: books cannot record or recall, except in imagination, or in sympathy, the spirit of human experience. Monastery, village, pyramid, castle, factory and mill, are places of happening, significant in themselves, yet they are not the evolving consciousness, the soul of man. The earth and body are buildings also, places for breath. All parts of the world have a place in our story, feel our struggle. Ancestors of tigers, tribes of terrapin, brightly coloured birds in tropical forest, all are connected, affected by the choices which we make. Now we can see the world laid bare, and nature buries by the million. There is history within us which we do not write, but which is revealed in the mind finding its way into universal light: we grow with stone, plant and bird, healing our places, when the inner voice is heard.
Indra, you must learn That your time is past. You have been mighty; All would agree That you have played A great part In the story of mankind, The war and tumult.
Your cast has been strong and proud In the drama of life. Now our priests, through Agni, Must call upon the greater light, Which is a stage for you also.
Peace will be powerful, And good will hold sway.
Arjuna took to the fight, And for thousands of years we have fought, Standing midway in the field of battle Between heaven and hell, The field and the knower of the field.
Today the teacher Who will show the way in the world Draws near in our hearts.
The trumpet of battle, The conflict of body and mind, The fight of faith, idea and practice, Will turn to harmonising influence And loving sacrifice, Clearing away the dust with the breath of God.
This is the Yoga Of the will of the Absolute.
In the twilight Of the age of steel Silver lights fade Into dawn
Under the sky You walking On hearing The word
Invisible tears Roll down Just sitting Within
The fourth state The candle has Burnt down Now forever
An inner sound Like diamond cutting Through A window
‘And he will come again,’ they say. But they’ve said this for so many, Many centuries of grief. And the cries Of butchered children, of slaughtered So-called infidels, of murdered Martyrs down the ages ask, ‘Is this what you intended?’ And the superstitious fears of Kept-closed minds, the rigid Orthodoxy of distorted truth All stand accusing the light That should have been. Do we blame it for going out? or Ourselves for our collective ignorance, Our unwillingness to even want To see things as they truly are.
‘But he will come again,’ they say, ‘And put right all these things!’ I’m not convinced. We have to right these things ourselves, And in doing so the light – our light – will shine and show him then The pathway back to earth Can be wisely stepped again.
‘And he will come again,’ they say. But they’ve said this for so many, Many centuries of grief. And the cries Of butchered children, of slaughtered So-called infidels, of murdered Martyrs down the ages ask, ‘Is this what you intended?’ And the superstitious fears of Kept-closed minds, the rigid Orthodoxy of distorted truth All stand accusing the light That should have been. Do we blame it for going out? or Ourselves for our collective ignorance, Our unwillingness to even want To see things as they truly are.
‘But he will come again,’ they say, ‘And put right all these things!’ I’m not convinced. We have to right these things ourselves, And in doing so the light – our light – will shine and show him then The pathway back to earth Can be wisely stepped again.
I sit down to write of A heart bursting with grief At world tragedies; not the Natural ones like earthquakes Or floods — Their pain is somehow Neutral — but the self-inflicted Mass wounds from hatreds that Sear the mind with their agony, Separating us all from what Is good and true.
How can people do this? we ask, As we lie in each other’s arms In the night stillness, Listening to the small, Comfortable creaks of cooling Floorboards, to the brief Rustle of a garden cherry tree.
Wide awake of a sudden, we now Hear the cries of families Murderously torn from Each other’s arms.
If you want to find the truth And have become too self-absorbed, Break out of this prison. Lose yourself in work and beauty and the needs of other people.
And if you’ve become lost in work and beauty and the needs of other people Then rediscover truth through self-absorption.
Puzzling paradox! The road to truth is straight. But like all existence, we need the duality of wave form. So we skip from one side to the other of the razor edged path Oscillating our way to wholeness.
The piercing tenderness of reality wounds first, then heals.
And so Love prizes open the closed mind at its strongest point and thaws the frozen heart to beat to a new rhythm.
And now astonishment at the miraculous hidden by the drab of ordinary perception.
And now one more human melody in tune with the universe light-stepping to completeness.
Treading the Path of myself from the self that I was to the true Self that I will become.
How many of us mistake happiness for joy, and lose the way for a time? Then, conscious of our shortcomings, Regret, despair even, impedes Progress more effectively than simple error.
But the difficult road of true progress lies in blessed contrast to the seductive byways of Pleasure, vanity, false ego.
And all the time the hand of God points the way, if only we would truly ask to see it.
So, ask without fear. What harm can love do you?
No one can take anything away From one who gives everything up To experience the sweetness of God’s Breath Upon the tender midnight of existence. Does anything phenomenal matter To the Holy Fools who dance upon the Waves of Life? What matters is the stillness of being The quietude of the love filled heart The burning fire of spiritual certitude That informs the mind and heart and will Of the coming Ones who will restore The stones of earth to their Precious Radiant Essence
A Fiery Hand Transmits vibratory waves Through the ether of Space As ripples spreading outward in a pond From the impact of an elfin stone. A quickening is felt Throughout the aura With rays of light extending To the north south east and west And all points in between. Like some ethereal budding flower Responding to fiery solar rays Absorbing the luminous essence That brings to life the beauty within.
Don’t be fooled By the forms of religion, By the salesmen in every church temple and mosque The purveyors of fine words Who want your soul for their god And for you to pay homage At the altar of someone else’s discovered truth. There is but One Constant - Find the God in your Heart With all its enlightened musings And stillness such that a candle flame can burn through eternity Without wasting a single drop of wax or wick. The only way of discovering the Truth
For your Self Is to dive into your Ocean Or rise into your Sky Whether or not you have ever learnt how To swim or fly on planet earth. The Ocean and Sky of your own Being Are spheres that you naturally Know. They require no erudition. When the spirit is ready to dare, The awakened mind is ready to receive.
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