The treasures you sought
lie deep in oceans that have
What if life is really not about meaning? What if it is just what it is and the mad search for meaning is little more than an endless spinning of wheels of words of the never will be for the no one there?
“A poem should not mean but be”. Archibald Macleish
The shaman Don Juan recommended the practice of ‘recapitulation’ to reintegrate the pockets of energy held within significant experiences of our past. One way to recognize these significant experiences is that they recycle through our awareness. And once remembered they have the uncanny ability to seem like they just happened yesterday. Trapped in our forgetfulness, they weaken us until our higher self calls them to our attention again, and again to be finally resolved and re-assimilated through the intent of giveness.
A friend of mine has recently been attracted to the form of the fleur-de-lis. Exploring its winding history through royalty and coats of arms, I found one of its earliest purposes was as a ‘cleaning tool’. As soon as I saw this I heard the words ‘3-fold flame’.
The 3-fold flame is an energy structure in the base of our being representing the flow of wisdom, power and love through our energy field. The outward petals curl back toward the center, back toward the heart. The fleur-de-lis can be a tool of recapitulation, calling back lost power and insight from both our conscious and subconscious levels when applied with our breath.
As this recall takes place our awareness swells, creating space for more light to enter. We become more translucent. We allow more light to flow through us, in our thoughts, in our feelings, in our memories, in our beliefs. It is the task of the second chakra, the sacral, to digest this mixture of light and memory, heaven and earth. The sacral is also sacred.
So as the light floods in the question becomes ‘how much am I digesting?’ The transparency of the truth of things will arrive in its own good time. Until then, my enjoyment of the meal of radiance and beauty before me can only only increase my ability to digest and absorb its transcendent nutrients.
It is not I who prepared the magical feast of reality so beautifully displayed before me. But the succulence of the now gleams on the bones of the mythical beast in my breast. And her forest is all around me. So I look to the corners and crevices of light for more wonders to appear as I release to the night all I have so blindly borrowed.