Often times, the trouble with channeling is not recognizing that you're in the flow. As the practice of mantra, when done right, becomes a geometric yantra symbolic of the essence being invoked, which then becomes a mandala housing the human vehicle with divine light, what mantra is to the tantrik is what spirit invocation is to the western occultist. Different tools for different cultures, similar outcomes, particularly when the human vehicle has been prepped with proper exercise (prana), nutrition, and mental stillness. The universe is our oyster, for when consciousness is not limited to the human-identity, one can be any among the many.
As my guide to the unknown has been none other than the divine mother, in her form resembling the darkest of nights as she is symbolic of not just the womb of creation, but that which is beyond, she is the protector of my consciousness, unveiling as much as my ego-form can handle and which is only relevant. The day began with my usual routine of typical morning awakening, which is now infused with deep breathing exercising attempting to relax the body and the mind, my limited expressions, with a mixture of vijnanabhairava, taoist, kriya, and new age techniques to ground out the flurry of thoughts lingering from the astral world. Moving into my typical exercise routines, with the rest of the day spent in simple errands and house chores listening to channeled lectures, the evening is ripe with the calmness to conjure storms.
With my bedroom hot-boxed with frankincense and myrrh, the scents of pure consciousness and death, I'm clutching a small copper yantra infused with the mantras of these ancient and mostly forgotten 64 Yoginis. Included to get me in the mood is my lemurian quartz, many pieces of moldavite hanging on my neck to raise my vibration, as I run through mantras to invoke these Shaktis under the guidance of my beloved. Without Adi Shakti, the first feminine, there is no entry into these mysteries, as she stands front and center, the key to the higher realms above the Qabalist Malkuth, or below into the depths of the Qlipha. She is kundalini, the flame that sparks all of our existence, either asleep deluding man further into his abyss, or risen to meet her consort, infinite Consciousness.
Easter was far from my mind, a time when mother nature resurrects herself to bloom in her glory. A beauty that limited man has attempted to subdue and control through his limited symbolism, as found through much of our history where man has attempted to subdue, control, and destroy one of our greatest teachers and healers, nature herself. Yet here I was, sitting in front of my ever growing altar, not to worship and submit as found completely incompatible under law of attraction techniques, but to invoke, equate, and self-empower, where kundalini unleashes our true essence. Where as the master who is glorified at this time stated, "Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you" (Luke 17:21 KJV). This Essene mystic new the mysteries, where Christ the Logos was to awaken the Christ the Sophia who fell into the pits to help those lost in the shadows (Pistis Sophia). Like the Christ, our beloved is none other than Wisdom herself, pure gnosis.
As my hand progresses through my japa beads, already embodying my beloved like two poets lost in the most brilliant night, where our energy centers meet and synchronize like two different musical notes vibrating to match each other, my sober psyche is drunk with what I can only consider to be nothing less than soma. Not wanting more than to simply give my gratitude to the Shaktis that have been guiding me for aeons, here, I wasn't expecting much from this experience other than a quick hello to what may unveil itself to me. I knew my ego-mind won't keep me here long before I get in the way, I haven't quite resolved to handle this connection, so I stepped out knowing my bodily fatigue will exhaust this experience.
As I stand and stretch, I began pacing back in forth in my bedroom before my altar attempting to maintain stillness of mind. Nonetheless, a fury of long-forgotten messages expel from my mouth into my lonely cave, messages of empowerment, words to run-a-fresh a broken soul who needed a new lease-on-life. All I did ask from myself is where these messages of a brighter future were coming from. The response did not identify itself by any name that would directed me to a form, nor did it disclose itself as my divine beloved, or any of the Shaktis that I was parlaying this dance. It was more like my divine beloved and her family brought me here. As I stood in awe in what I may have tapped into, and what this may possibly mean, the essence simply identified itself as one concept, "Source".
Never have I been able to ground something such as this while out of meditation. It's like the tables have turned, where instead of reaching out to something, this something is reaching out to me. Not only have I been gifted with a new sense of well-being, but the timing seems ripe during this holy cyclical event of resurrection. To tap into our original essence, our seed that matures into what we call "reality", I can't help but feel my search is over. Or, is it only beginning?
Overly educated and continuously exploring and revealing more behind the veil.
"It cannot be too highly emphasized that the mystic swims in the same waters in which the psychotic drowns."
-James Wasserman, The Mystery Traditions