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From within the Temple: Give Me Love
Every so often we are blessed with meeting people of extreme talent. This beautiful piece was offered anonymously within the Temple.
Give Me Love by Anonymous If for some reason it doesn’t work above, you can get it here. Click Here
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Lost in the Storm
Just past the horizon, the pressure is building up. It moves from a state of calm into a symphony of rage and transformation. It seems like, this always happens when it approaches the point of being overwhelmed. As things get heavier and heavier, they also grow darker and more volatile. The motion sets in, and it begins its path towards relief. Soon its inner parts will begin crashing about. As it begs for easement, it’s motion gains velocity.
This however only serves to continue the buildup. Approaching the boiling point, the violence increases exponentially. Finding itself not in agreement with its own state, it begins targeting the grounds which have previously served to stabilize it. The polarization leads to a spectacle of dazzling fury and wrath. Burning and breaking everything between.
All of this energy is tremendous, yet impossible to maintain. Having reached its saturation point, the drops begin to fall. They fall with the same intensity of the buildup that led to this point. Down to that which has always grounded them. That of which, just moments ago was the focus of ferocity.
Most of the time, these stable grounds can simply absorb and remain unchanged through this. In a way, it has been cleansed also. What is between them now smelling and feeling freshly revived. There are these instances in which nothing remains the same. It is forever changed. Scarred.
There will always be a bond between them though. It is the nature of Her Will. Those scars serve to build character and in time help them both take a new shape. What was once lost in the Storm, now has found itself with a new fingerprint. A powerful and moving transformation.
At Her Will,
T.C. Downey -
Theatre of Awe
When I was a child, I would wake up just before the sunrise. I would pour myself a bowl of my favorite cereal. I would go sit at the picnic table in our backyard, and watch the stars and moon melt into the new dawning day. Those were some of the most magickal moments in my life. I’m not sure if it is normal at 6 or 7 years old to ponder the vastness of our universe, but that’s what I did. As I lost myself into thought, I would experience a moment of a connected feeling.
It is the moments of this connected feeling which have been with me throughout my days. At times it has been the anchor holding me from going adrift. Then times, where it has been the guiding light through the terrain of trials and tribulations. There are times it cloaks me in its darkness, so I might retreat and be concealed from life’s blinding gaze. Somehow always aware that, no matter the outcome, I am an extension of Her Will.
The Dread Mother’s supple breasts bring not only nourishment, but the possibility of suffocation. For as wrathful and uncompromising as she is; there is nurture and warmth in her embrace. If one should have an ear for it, the lessons of how to elicit these effects, can be plainly heard. Leaving her mysteries, barren and exposed. Her soft neck and shoulders are both inviting and tantalizing. Yearning to be explored. I often wonder, how has she gained such a hold on me.
I wonder what she was like when she was just anew. How she grew; what had changed and what remained. The scenery had to be breathtaking on this journey to now. I suspect she was born a star. The kind that exhume brilliant and vibrant radiance of galactic awe. Pressed against the vast emptiness of the void. Pulsating with the desire to burst and literally come into life.
It’s no question of why, she can sometimes be so scornful. The strength it took to get here, would cause one to have little pity for the weak. Yet we can find her at points, embracing the meek to shield them. Whispering softly in the ear, that everything will be alright. We might live or die. We might wither or thrive. Yet life will still go on. For She is Eternal.
At Her Service,
T.C. Downey -
Cosmology in the Temple
Cosmology is something that often creates a distraction. We waste valuable time in dedication to creating this “perfect” psychodrama for ourselves. Either by indoctrination as children or through conscious choice, we take on dogmatic practices that become the building blocks of our worldview. It is at this moment, the disconnect begins. Our faith becomes our reality and by this we reject outside realities. We reject, the realities of others.
The question of who’s faith is the true spiritual path is a loaded one. For we each experience in threefold; our shared reality, our personal reality, and our shadow reality. A great deal could be said about each of these and how they can only really be a singular reality; this is not a point I will labor this day. Instead, I will simply talk about reality in a functional construct.
Reality begins at its experiencer, at least from our perspective. While there has to be a shared reality (GC for short) that has existed before us and continues to exist in spite of us, it is only manifest when we come into it. Meaning that when we are born it becomes part of us, and we become part of it. Think of this as a toy boat being placed in a stream. At first it maybe just a simple design, a vessel that can tread water. As it floats along though, we begin to see a problem.
Our boat is helplessly carried by the currents. As it is swept up, it takes shape by what lies ahead of it. It is destined to capsize or sink, after all doesn’t the stream feed into the river? What can we then do about it? We can complexify the design. Through the processes of trial and error, education, or a blueprint; we can evolve our vessel.
This evolution can take many forms and it allows us to reenter the stream a more proficient vessel. Our evolution is only limited to just beyond whatever is the most current of technologies. Still no matter how evolved our little boat has become, we will never be the stream. Always a vessel traveling through it. An experiencer in the vast stream of experience.
In some faiths, this is one of the pinnacles of understanding. Here this will be the bottom floor. Understand this, the things we use to create structures will one day confine us. Instead let your consciousness be like a flickering candle in the vast darkness of night. Realize, what you see is only what is closest to you and not necessarily ever present.
At Her will,
T.C. Downey
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