Dreaming that She is You.

I have the most intense dreams. Sometimes they are as real as if I were right there like I am right here. Last night I changed into a young woman; late teens, early twenties... pretty, which I was aware of but not as much as I might have expected; not that I had much of an idea of what to expect. There wasn’t anything sexual about the dream. Inversely I was also attracted to the women in the environment more than the men but, as I said, there wasn’t anything sexual about the dream.

I was living in London in a community where people came and went. Suddenly I/she was in it and Apollonius, the mask layer of Les, the mask layer of the observer was gone. I was briefly touched when people asked about him but I couldn’t tell them anything. The biggest difference was in the way people looked at me. I had an instinctive wariness that was similar to something I have had most of my life. I realized it was this female thing I had either always had or developed as a result of the fighting arts and kundalini experiences.

A woman and her boyfriend came to the door of the restaurant that was a part of the community I lived in and I was talking to them about what we were like. The woman was one of those big horsy English ladies and she wanted to go somewhere else. It was as they were leaving that I noticed that it was because of me. She was threatened by my elfin appearance, even though her boyfriend was just hungry and hadn’t taken any particular exception to my appearance. There were a lot of little nuances of this sort. The most interesting feature was that being female wasn’t exactly the way you picture it if you are a man. There’s a non-sexual aspect to the whole thing that seems to transmit itself in a sexual seeming way that isn’t exactly that. It’s more like the difference between magnetism and electricity.

When I got up this morning I felt this sense of intense well being. I have to say that that is often the case. Still, this morning it was larger than usual and, as usual, was encompassed by this female energy that is a lot like waking up in bed with your mother when you are still in pre-pubescent status; the sensation follows me out of the bedroom and into my study where I sit each morning with my tea and tobacco and have my morning conversation with God. For me God is a mother and ever more so as time passes. It’s an interesting period of time. We talk and she tells me things and sometimes I will make these deep noises in my throat that vibrate in my ribcage and have something to do with harmonizing me with the levels beneath the phenomenal world.

Early in the 20th Century the cosmic clock moved into the sign of Aquarius. There is a lot of complexity in this and it needn’t be addressed here. One of the larger changes that this sign brings is the feminization of the masculine. You see it in the emergence of Goddess worship and the Gaia principle and you see it in the wider proliferation of bi-sexuality and gay lifestyle. It is essentially geared toward the intuitive nature. However, in the material world it can take on all sorts of expressions. On the grosser level, materialism is one of the perversions of the feminine. It’s funny that the impetus for comfort is civilization’s reaction to pain. Well, it isn’t funny. It creates pain aplenty of its own and worse, it creates despair and existential emptiness.

I find religions to be a great curiosity. You learn a lot about people by watching the way they dress the unknown. Most of the time it seems as if they are making a larger version of themselves, complete with all of the fears and prejudices that they possess in the smaller version. They are certain that God will smite their enemies and that God knows who that is and that the heathen are going to Hell. Another curiosity is that God is up in the sky somewhere. That doesn’t make a lot of sense if you are a metaphysician or a mystic but if you’re in the usual dualized (my word) confusion it makes a kind of unfortunate sense to see God as something you are not and never will be; even if both areas of physics tell you that the thing is a whole. Well, the child and the mother appear to be separate things but they’re not. It’s the way things look as opposed to the way things are that screw us up.

People talk about going to Heaven and seeing their loved ones who have passed on. No one is going Heaven who isn’t already there. The time to get to Heaven is while you are still in this body. Of course, depending on how you handle things here, Heaven might come looking for you or it might not. It depends on whether you are looking for it. A lot of people think that Heaven is something like Las Vegas and that is the appeal of Las Vegas. Or it could be L.A. or a lot of other places. Heaven is a land of impersonality. The ticket in is something you leave, not something you bring. The loss of this thing is the automatic keyed entry.

Just about everyone has a domestic argument going on in their head. Their mother and father are having a fight at the dinner table in their mind or in the living room while they lie in bed reaching for sleep. Regardless of what you understand about that limited perversion called psychology, or about anything regarding the seeming dual nature of things, there is only one objective and that is to bring your parents together in your mind and heart and make them one. Indeed, it is about the heart swallowing the mind. It’s called the Alchemical Marriage. It’s the objective of Tantra. It’s what Christ meant about grooms and bridegrooms. It’s union really. It’s more than coincidental that the letters for the words, 'unity', 'love' and 'death' in a certain mystical science all add to 13; but another time for that.

If you go looking for connections (and I suggest that you do) you find that two poles always create a third that postulates another and on and on. Whatever you were disappears by degrees as you follow along, no matter which direction you go in. It all comes back to the same place. Outward toward the light and noise or inward toward the quiet and the light; they touch. The jury is out on which one hurts more. And most of us need for the jury to be out in the hope that going out actually will prove to have been smarter. Well, your mother has to let you go. She knows what’s waiting out there but you don’t. It’s that love that allows for all that you have to suffer that lets you go because she also knows that you can’t miss finding her no matter how lost you get or how long it takes to find her again. It's not like you can't find her at any point along the way.

In materialism, which is very pronounced at this time, she can be turned into a dark goddess with a bloody aspect. We all heard when we were young how certain things were for our own good. It’s a hard irony to learn that the creator and the destroyer are one.

Every Christmas it happens to me. Sometimes it comes late and sometimes it comes early. I never bother with presents or cards. A fine table and the human joy of company does me and mine better than any trifle could. We prefer to give ‘presence’ instead. All year long we can do for one another and hopefully for those who cross our paths as well. But every Christmas the day comes when I wake up feeling too good to define and this joy just starts to wash over everything and I know it is because I feel gratitude and gratitude is the highest form of giving.

Gratitude is recognition of the inexplicable gift and automatically causes you to give yourself away. Nothing more is needed and it is the key to Heaven as well. Opening the door to Heaven is not about walking into anything but about having Heaven flow through the door into you and beyond. Yes... and that just results in more gratitude and more gratitude exponentially... just so.

The shoving desperation in the aisles and the clamoring for attention... the demands and insistence upon service and a speedy exit; the terrible violence of the marketplace rape of the uninformed heart... well... to each their own. You wrap the plastic and shiny things in colored paper and you say, “This is for you. It’s because I didn’t know how to give you myself.”