The Western Gate

It was at the outset a ritual to face the ‘holy guardian Angel’, perhaps the archetype of the human-unbound from flesh or time. The hebrews cited Adam Kadmon, the grand blueprint of the manifestation of humanity from ‘God’. Of clay or earth and animated by air, that symbiotic relationship between the flora and the fauna, between the red and the green, our blood charged by the oxygen of the lungs of Earth. That our bodies are more than half water, and subject thereon by the waxing and the waning of the moon. We, the warriors upon the threshold, the watchers of the waking world emulate the dance, both of nature and also in the contrived society to which we have incarnated, that we are incognito.

I fall into dream. At once those elements that bound me fall away, the earth , the water and air, for now in spirit which lay between fire and the singularity from which all arose. Still, in this spirit I am in duality, and face to face the archetype advances.

It stands before me, a shimmering spirit whose arms and legs seem there just as references to extend its will this way or that and only that others may know it’s direction. A great light surrounds its head and also outwards from its body falling downwards, this gives the impression that it is a being with monumental wings of radiance. The radiance that envelopes it’s head shines white as if unblemished from thought or subjective needs, yet also as it pulsates somewhat I detect a beautiful amethyst glow within that seems to emanate deep inside the beings mind, and each thought or notion adjusts the density of this violet light that fuels the grand white halo surrounding the head.
At the throat the violet light alike a waterfall has fallen and more opaque and dense forms an indigo aura that spreads across the shoulders as dense bones of light that shield the white halo from all the energy underneath, and these energies below this barrier are seen to well from the chest and the heart and the ribs and the belly and also the organs of sex, these variance waves of light pulsate outwards and envelope the being, it’s does give the impression of a mighty Angel with shimmering feathers of rainbow colours.

”and what,” I feel it ask, “are you to ask?”

There is no fear, nor base notions of love or epiphany or all else that could describe how I feel. It is ……as I look into a mirror and face that which I cannot see unless reflected, but know it intimately.

“If the time of the witness is over, and as we are non acting, this also would change. Then what is the path?”
The being seemed taller, as if on toes, though I could not see feet somewhat and momentarily my thought wandered to distractions of cloven-hoofed deception. But, I knew this being before me, as a child who had never known it’s mother and on their first embrace, without emulating how that subjective Union would feel, just natural.
“The barrier is to fall…” said the peacock Angel, “humanity will no longer have the enclosure of bounded soul, each will know each, and if all is known, there is no division.”
It were at that point I questioned, with difference and with adversary there will always be duality, there will always be individuality. The hive mind relented and the bee turned face outwards from the Queen. Even in this knowledge, how all humanity would be closer to the singularity of mind that is the archetype of us all, we reject it, for fear of losing ourself. Even in the embrace of the mother, we seek to find our compliment. In the still waters of harmony and the comfort of love, we seek dynamism and reaction … that we are not still but that we dance.