Forward in Going Back to Uruk, Kheba

Wind blew slew of sand around us, between us, engulfing us; then the Watcher was gone … but still I felt eyes upon me. So now would it be that he and I should travel together? But why not attack? Was someone holding him back? If so, why let him so near? To cause fear, perhaps; to see if the man be sincere? Such divine test seemed almost grotesque! Had I been blessed only to be made an heavenly jest? This was too much to ingest as I slowly, painfully progressed, possessed with determination. But would Watcher now molest me along the way, and that, perhaps, at God’s behest? There was no reason to express my distress. Who would hear my voice, or see my tears? I’d made my choice — I alone — though now I could not rejoice.

Then the eyes again, spies of hell, guise of lies. But only the eyes, sweeping in, keeping watch; sweeping out but ever about me. I knew, so surely as the wind blew. And who slew the Giant? I was no David, and stones would not fell one with no bones anyway. Or was the Watcher now made of flesh and bones, so freshly thrown from heaven? Had he known what it is to groan, to be disowned and wander alone with no throne for such might and power and beauty, now confined to obscurity of earth? And what do you know of heaven and earth? Your own birth upon dirt so recent, so indecent? What do you even know of the place of your birth; your own lack of eternal worth? Whisper questions to my mind, but I was in no bind to answer. Instead, unexpectedly, I laughed and sang, played the part of happy dancer, fool prancer to throw off the cancer-thoughts!

Angel2“Meleği, my meleği, remove this blight; slow down the fading light of candle of hope; give my heart greater scope!” I swirled and twirled in the burning wind and churning sand. “Even still … even still, my sweet meleği, thank you for the light now by which I may plow ahead. And when the dark comes again, as surely it shall, mark my place and with you beside me it shall be not so stark, and when the sun rises again, as surely it must, we will again embark on our journey … on our journey home, and not on gurney, but our own two feet to the beat of victory won and, yes, in dignity! No longer in captivity, I’ve been given ability to walk in freedom with no chain to fetter; I’ve been given the better part of me, my sweet meleği, so bid the crotched Watcher turn his eyes elsewhere to burn some other sight, for there is nothing here for him, save spear of divine defense!”

Ah! Plenty of faux courage, yet how many times have I heard this cry to deny my power! You dance and sing like a fool, woven from the spool of Dyēus, divine ghoul seated upon his celestial stool! You believe you have received blessing, but you’ve been deceived. Dyēus only means to interweave you into his slave-service, but do you perceive his help here, now. You are naïve and will achieve nothing! Nothing! No matter the ‘new’ life you conceive, you will only bereave yourself.” In his words I heard something of the well-honed tone of Bast, cast again in disdain to profane all goodness. Oh! Goodness? S/he heard my thoughts, which brought a bit of a chill. Does the thought of ‘goodness’ thrill you, then? But what is ‘goodness,’ really? Isn’t it silly for you to assume by the spume of your mind filled with fume that you know ‘goodness?’

“I may be limited, and even ill-fitted to be philosopher or guru; no astronomer, prophet, or scholar; yet I am a man, and though short be my span of life, I began my journey in flurry of confusion and profusion of pain and stain of guilt; this much I know and will gladly show. But this man I am now has been somehow changed, rearranged, no longer deranged. And I can see with heart and soul as well as with my eyes, and this is the better part from the very start. Of this I have been convinced amidst much trial and terror, so no one need question in deceitful tone. But rather heed what I say: Goodness is life and bright light, and star-filled night; rain to wash away the pain; the gentle breeze that sings through the trees; everlasting hope by which to cope; beauty and serenity, duty to family and friends; peace that gives lease to quiet harmony; charity without disparity … and so much more. Yes, even I know what is good and it is food for my whole self… But you? You left all of this and are now bereft and starving for even a farthing’s worth of this banquet.”

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Meleği  —  means angel (der. from Turkish)

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Bedouin Backtracks: Someone is Watching

watchersWhere to go now and how? Would I wander forever? Should I? Does the Bedouin live fonder life? Though I seriously pondered remaining in verdant hills in thrill of life, beside crystalline lake, heart and mind moved me to take the advice of my shadowy savior. But yonder where should I wander now? No, I could not falter! I would alter my course and return to the source of this new and strange episode; after all, in the end I did not erode, but exploded into new and vibrant life! I was not the same as when I first came; someone had saved and made claim upon me while freeing me at the same time to the celebratory chime of the heavenlies. It was settled, then: With mettle I would return to Uruk with stern determination, where I yearned to be again with Kheba…

And so I began descending the hills with but one plan, as if some guiding hand were driving me across the desert sand. No longer breeze; seize of hot wind pounded me, confounded me, but my direction seemed still sure, even through wind-dust and sun-glare blur. Someone spurred me onward toward Uruk … toward Uruk. Every step forward toward my destination was made in painful determination; more than frustration, threatening complete expiration. Yet in expectation of achieving my goal my soul was revived, though the wind sounded like howling dhole. And what did troll behind and around me? I did not know, but would not let fear grow. Truly this was uzak-yerde, but surely I was not alone. If I’d been prone to cry for help, though, who would have heard the little chirping bird in this dæmon-spurred storm; the thought was absurd, but courage stirred again and I remained undeterred.

Then in the swirling sand, blurring vision, I caught a glimpse that brought a chill, even in the heat, to the seat of my soul. Dark shape, stark eyes, drape of black and crimson, cape of vermilion interlaced with hue of reddish blue; long silken hair of regality in pair with face of celestial birth that told of his worth… And I understood: Here stood before me an infamous Watcher with no good intention, no pretention of mercy; in his empty soul, no retention of heaven; his sole purpose to leaven the earth with foul offspring and destroy the beauty of creation; this was his duty. That this Watcher would bother to botch my trek, and wreck my journey back to Uruk was quite the prize of surprise, grand knock of shock! Why would he take interest in me, and make such effort…? Ah! Perhaps it was no strain for him to gain my life’s blood on desert plain.

And was there here anyone else, or was I alone? Someone to intervene, or would I here be undone? New life ended so shortly begun?

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Uzak-Yerde  —  remote place; distanced from community/society

Şifalâhe: Honey of Healing

woman-at-sunsetAn extraordinarily beautiful woman stood unclad upon the shore, so placid, plainly glad to see me leap and turn, sweep and churn so freely and gleefully in the clear, cool waters; then surprised me and dived into the small sea of revival with appearance of primal force. She quickly made course to my side and looked into my eyes, and what did she spy? Nothing hidden; nothing for me to deny, yet there was no shame, no blame; only claim upon my better self … the someone being torn from past with Bast and being born anew.

“Yes, this is true,” she softly spoke, holding me, pressing breast to chest. “This day is new and bright, with no plight of past…” And before I could speak, “Yes, it will last for as long as you want to belong to this moment, wherever you might be; sight and sound of this new day you may carry with you. This belongs to you now, as new song of your soul.” Keeping back my tears — no, I could not — but my weeping seemed to please her and appease some deep desire. Good. Pure. Refreshing. “Let them flow and the wind blow them away; let the waters bathe you and swathe you in purity and divine assurety. Here there is no cruelty, as you can tell, as you can feel, as the waters peel away all of the hurt and pain, strain and ill-gain, and stain of life lived before.”

Her words tore, but I bore them with strange, mystic pleasure like some celestial treasure. “Who are you?”

“Şifalâhe, one daughter of the Tri-Mater … sent by one bent on on attention to your redemption.” She smiled again, pressed open mouth to mouth, and breathed into me what seemed to be … youth and truth, vitality … simple spirituality, ethereal sensuality. “Healer. Here to freely give you wealth of health,” Şifalâhe spoke as she stroked my back. “Sink now to drink the fine wine of life I offer…” She gently persuaded me to my knees, completely at ease to open and please this one so young with heavenly honey slowly flowing to be tasted and enjoyed, swallowed and employed in ongoing restoration from night of such desperation and deprivation. Şifalâhe filled me to satisfaction with no depreciation to herself, no deflation, frustration, aggravation … only ejaculation of joy.

“Can you feel the energy? The synergy of heaven and earth? Virgin birth of your own invaluable worth? Can you feel the Spirit within, without, and all about? Here in these verdant hills, can you feel the fervent love of ever-observant Dyēus?” Tightly Şifalâhe pulled me to her mightily and lightly kissed with brightly lips … and smiled such smile that outshone the high-noon sun. “Can you feel the surge of new urge to live? Can you feel light and truth emerge, and converge with joy and peace, at last, as your past fades away? Can you feel the tidal waves of all good that saves?” Her eyes held me captivated, and I had no desire to be emancipated, but to live in the moment forever, so potent in my atonement.

L11-05Her deep, brown skin was soft as down, yet firm, and crown of Şifalâhe hue of sky-blue hair in pair with colour of ruddy soil of Gaia, like an ever-flowing flower over powerful shoulders, streaming down supremely curved back; well toned muscles, perfectly honed legs and arms that would do me no harm. There … there was only love from above. Raw. Primordial. This I clearly saw and felt without question. I needed no suggestion; this was more than impression. This, the Deep, inviting me into its keep? Yes. No. Kept in protection with no rejection, but not imprisoned; no! Never … not ever in all eternity. Yet union in communion here and forever after. Was this the reason for pantheon reach, to teach me? To claim without blame; to train without chain? To sift and lift as freely given gift?

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Şifalâhe — goddess of healing; combined from two Turkish words

Gracious Hand; Exit the Sand

IsaOne hand reached across the sand. Hand with hole in wrist, and I could not resist. Hand to hand to assist; no longer could I persist to insist upon my own demise no matter how much my life I did despise. The disappearance of Bast and sudden appearance of another was quite a surprise, but welcome. No face could I see in my debased estate, but I knew as fresh wind blew that here was one who could offer something anew. I grasped the hand without demand; there was no reprimand but only kind command, “Arise! Be gone with the lies, and claim your prize of life without compromise! It is yours, though you still be oh-so unwise.”

Phantasmal range of change.

Verdant green. Soft bed of grass. Scene of beauty. Lake of crystalline glass.

I opened my eyes to clear, blue skies. Skies above rolling hills to still my heart. Yet stain of remorse; pain of guilt remained, though I strained to forget.

“You need not live with regret,” spoke shadowy figure. “I’ve set your feet again upon the way you may walk; for you this is your new day… Rest here for awhile, but do not stay.” Eyes of soft brown, shimmering crown of thorns. “I do not reprimand; there is no more demand upon your soul, but the hole is for you to fill at will … if you will.” Very still in his presence I offered no resistance, and I seemed to understand, and deemed this One most worthy to heed; this One who even now seemed to fill my need … my need of which I really knew nothing, as the Spirit of Life blew over and through the hillocks.

Reaching. Touching. He bade farewell to fade back into ethereal world somehow more real than reality; the immaterial more potent than the material … and could I comprehend? No. I could only pretend, and that I would not do, but ascend now in my journey again without feign of greatness — I had none — nor courage or wisdom; I’d really only begun. So under bright sun, I made my way to cool, clear pool of water abiding just off the side of celestial lake. Would these be the hills of my restoration, my own mount of transfiguration?

Suddenly I ripped my tattered clothes, stripped naked and like madman ran into the small sea now free of Bastian glee! I plunged myself down into refreshing water as if to drown the plight of previous night. Rolling, turning and churning, I made my way to the bottom and up again into bright light of sun. And I wept, and I kept weeping flood of tears mixed with blood. I plunged again and lunged forward in cleansing font — bathing, purging poison — with nothing to haunt me here; no one to taunt. I was free again to be me … or, at least, to begin to be the me I could now begin to see. And the water felt as if this very element could be daughter of Dyēus.

This time I did not run. This time I swam and shouted, “I Am!”

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In Fire On Funeral Pyre

AjnaThirdEyeThe fire never seemed to burn, and I did not turn. I just laid there, completely bare, as Bast looked on quietly and more than slightly pleased that I’d appeased her. I knew my body was being consumed, and assumed by the night air beneath bright light of moon, and I would soon be gone. There was no liturgy for my funeral; no synergy of seen and unseen worlds. There were none who mourned my passing; none who adorned the pyre now set afire. But there was Bast holding my hand as I died on desert sand with no demand upon my fading life.

She smiled. “You are but a child. You’re lying to yourself in thinking you’re dying. I’m not grilling you!” She laughed again. “I’m not killing you; I’m filling you with life and thrilling you with freedom you’ve never known, liberty you’ve never been shown. There is no right or wrong, no light or dark … only the song that long plays for those who pay the price to be set free and forever be at liberty. This is what you do now, my love, and you’ll no longer bow to fraud of a god, who hides behind facade of holiness and righteousness!”

Indeed you are lying to yourself as you’re dying in the fire of funeral pyre, the inaudible voice came unexpectedly. Choice. You have choice. You need not blindly bind yourself to this fate; there is an open gate … even now. My mind was torn asunder as I wondered to whom this voice belonged and longed to know, for her to show herself. I am Ajna, your third eye, and I heard your cry, your mournful sigh, ever before they escaped your soul, which now descends into deep, dark hole. Rise up now; you have the strength! Surprise Bast, who will flee as you truly set yourself free!

The flames rose higher, fire fuelling self-induced blame and shame. What could I do? What should I do? Why try anymore? Why not lie here and die? Precisely because you will die, and never be able to try again; never to begin again. Life may be rife with pain and seemingly no gain … but life is living, and living is in giving, not in swimming in self-pity! And you see no celestial city because there isn’t any! What? Did you expect Dyēus to respect you so much that he’d create some special place for you to recreate? 

“Stay. Day is almost upon us, but deed is almost done, before arises again the sun,” Bast calmly intoned, but now in my mind’s eye I could see her enthroned in tower of power brought low by blow of Dyēus. “Ah … you do well to sell you soul to me to keep forever deep in armored heart that never seeps. You will be mine forever and never again worry nor scurry about in fear, for fear shall never draw near. Hear what I say this day: You will never feel again, as I peel away all emotion and commotion of heart, mind, and soul.”

You haven’t long before you forever belong to this witch-bitch, came silent voice of Ajna. Leap up now, and keep yourself from evil power! Now is the hour … the moment! Sun is rising on far horizon to lighten, but you will be poisoned and unenlightened, imprisoned forever by wicked siren… Leap up and run!

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Note: This “episode” is the continuation of Dark at Night; Dangerous Without Light. To fully appreciate this installment, the reader really ought to read the previous “episode.” Thank you and all the best w/blessings! Peace and cheer!

Also, Ajna — obviously somewhat personified here — is taken from the fourth Chakra in the Chakra “system” or perspective of the human being. Ajna is associated with the heart and, thus too, with love and relationships. However, this is one of the most important as Ajna is “the center through which all energies must pass in transit from one group of chakra layers to another and from one reality to another. This chakra and its associated chakra layer filter all energies, thoughts, and experiences, which ultimately affect us emotionally, physically, and spiritually Linked to the “feeling body” the heart chakra is the central focus between the lower and upper chakras (White, R. (2009). Using your chakras: A new approach to healing your life. New York: Barnes and Noble Books).

Long is the Night; Long the Road…

Long is the night to those for whom sleep doth fight; long and dreary the road to the weary; longer still is the cycle of life for those who live in strife … within and without, so rife with pain and no gain of peace in lease of time. Such was my frightful flight east away from beastly terror now marauding Uruk, stalking the countryside round about; the sound of such blight still floating on light wind, but I would not stop to bend knee, though free to pray. Kheba told me to stay the course, and though I may travel alone, an ill-suited fool-companion would only cavil and unravel my senses, lowering my heart and mind defenses, putting me in closer range of physical danger, as well…

But I’d reached the desert sand, where dæmon band could be heard clear as warped and twisted bird on this my third night of flight. My water skin was now dry — and did I try not to consider my thirst — but there would be water if only I could make it to yonder hills featherwhere lay still ponds and gentle brooks, or so it looked, if not an illusion born of my mind of confusion. No matter; I’d made my resolution from the revolution underway in my soul being purified by deprivation, new creation within; that is, the manifestation of determination and sobriety, of illumination and deadly-defiant piety.

Ah, but I was not alone; I knew, for the wind blew with the Spirit — mysterious, imperious, perhaps even deleterious, yet Source of Life — so yes, something was there to be with me. Something, or Someone, had always been but never seen. As an ancient sage of another age said, “hidden in keep of the deep! I do not know who begot this child nor if she is mild … but this, the same, came even before God!” Far older than the sod under my tortured feet plodding along the sanded heat that so nearly threatened my defeat. But would I bleat like some little lamb?

Oh, but damn the very thought! What a sham it would be, I boldly told myself. I’m not a lamb but man! Or to hell with it! Man to view; woman to few who know what I show from inside but try to hide? Does it matter? What fracking scatter of thought! I’m human, at least; not beast … but what? Even beast would not concede to dying without trying to live! The instinct for survival and revival is vital to the nature of every creature!

robe-desolate“Water … water … water from the daughter of Kheba… What could be wrong coming from one so strong?” the voice carried with ease on the gentle breeze. Enticing. Alluring. Seductive. Slicing through my senses. Impressively reassuring. Destructive. “Water … water … water you need to feed your strength lest at length you perish … and truly I cherish you.” Lies. Lies in angel guise. Snake eyes sharp to incise the unwise; to apprise the demise of desperate man; ready to baptize him in flood of his own thin blood. “Fear … you fear, my dear … fear you fear, not me, the one you do not see. Ah, but let me be your heart’s decree, and you will be free … free … free with me for whom you never sought, in liberty unbought, given freely with no thought … free to be what you really are … bright and shining star.” Not far from truth, I needed no proof from prophet, priest, or sayer of sooth; yet there was nothing to say but, too, I could not stay, though the hills still seemed so far away.

And So I Kept Walking…

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Note: Both illustrations stock photos/pictures free for public usage.

One From Whom You Cannot Run

Celtic2“One great sage of your age very wisely surmised that to truly discipline the unruly mind is very much in kind with the man, who tries as he can to empty the ocean three tea cups a day while allowing no dismay,” Bilgeliği Meleği intoned in well-honed voice of wisdom. “Yet there is an intense defense you can commence without delay, lest you prefer to stay in vulnerability to the mystic motility of Bast?” Kheba chose not to show emotion as I shook my head no.”This also involves change that will almost derange, though quicker and thicker.”

“There was another sage, who lived long before your age, yet from here is still to come in quite some time from now, but how he chose to live, to best his foes, is what you need to know. And so I will tell you how best to fell Bast in one lesson he taught — this Enlightened One who himself her fought — and it is this gem of wisdom you must not miss: That the ill-thatched hut is but hopeless, for when the sky rains her blood, she does flood the whole house; and does not that rain cause pain to husband, children and spouse? So, too, the ill-thatched mind: Evil will find his way in and flood and stay, causing nothing but dismay. Guard your mind, then; find the best way. And your heart, as well, for it plays even the better part.”

Palms waved in the calm breeze with the seeming ease of a royal dance, amid the prance of flower petals across the courtyard embossed in symbols and scenery surrounded by lush greenery, all to lance the heart with beauty and carry the mind from duty into sleepful trance. And so Kheba seemed to fade as I unwittingly bade farewell to Bilgeliği Meleği…

Ah … and so here you are again from there, but where?  the voice came ever so sick-sweetly and hauntingly-meekly… No, no one … no one … no one is here but one… the voice was soft and numinously aloft. No, no one but the son of perdition in hopeless condition … so hopeless, you may as well aspire to drown in fire, or turn to burn in water  the laughter fallenoneof rebel-daughter came quickly after … light but cruel, slight but brutal. No monsters or surreal songsters; no spiritual stealers, soul dealers, nor heart mealers; no ghosts or dæmonic hosts … only one … only one … only one from which you cannot...

“Run!” screamed the voice of Lemek. “Make your choice! Fight the plight in sight, or run!” I was stunned. “But the Watchers are upon us at the very gates with unrestrained hate, and you, my friend,” he pointed to me for all to see, “are only bait! Wait not longer, then, but run toward the rising sun!” And off he was with angry scoff, bedecked in leather plate, straight to battle the now-cursed chattel of Şeytan, with bronze shield and sword ready to wield against archenemy of humanity. And suddenly there was frantic motion and loud commotion all around, leaving my heart to practically pound out of my chest despite my best to calm the rising alarm.

“Are you deaf and fool, too?” Kheba yelled as she grabbed long, sharp tool. “Run! Or prepare to be spun by the Watchers like fly in web to say your last ‘good-bye!'” She looked at me clearly fiercely, yet with pity, practically begging me to flee the city. “My love, you are no fighter; you are writer, and if not would do better to wear the mitre; there is no shame in this, my dove, and so no reason for blame. Your name may yet live on, as it should, if only you learn to tame your mind … as Bilgeliği Meleği so wisely said so soon from our bed…” One last look; one ill-thought of Bast; and one tear did leak to run down her cheek. I would have bawled and crawled to her in that moment to beg to face together our opponent, but… “Go! Go now while you can, how you can; east toward the rising sun, and take not the least respite no matter how desperate for rest, but test your strength over and against your best till the hillocks round this city are but the collage of a far mirage.”

warriorwomaniOne last passionate embrace and kiss, and did I miss her sudden change into ethereal coating and weaponry that all the better expressed very real divine strength that for my sake she’d somewhat repressed? No, this I could not miss, nor could I insist upon staying, thus laying an extra burden on her shoulders that would surely have weighed like a boulder. No, and so alone I …

Ran!

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Bilgeliği Meleği — lit. “wisdom angel” (from Turkish)

Note: For the hyperlinked portion of the torturous taunting of Bast (above) I must give inspirational credit to eloquentparadise. Thank you for the inspiration! First Image found at IMÁGENES DE JUEGOS, GUILD WARS at www.fondoscelular.com; second image found at Greek Mythology; third image found at www.fashionstyle.com (‘Daredevil Season Two: Elektra’)