Thursday, 7 July 2011

Talking Stick Circle: Albion, Andromeda and Atlantis

Would this circle be an exercise in meditational Art Therapy wherein we projected our Shadow, in Jungian terms, so that we could objectify it and thereby understand it?   

Who was I to criticise someone else’s meditation?   It was important that we kept ourselves open to all possibilities.

The progress round the circle continued.  The stories from around the world were diverse.  Russians, South Americans, Eskimaux, Japanese.  If these were creations from the unconscious minds of the assembled, then we brought a diverse set of our own concerns which surely mirrored the real world to a large degree.

The Talking Stick was now a little past half-way and had reached the dapper man with the beard who had stood next to me in the circle for the Om the previous night.

“I have a deep identification with this island that we live on, and am aware that in some way I am a personification of that nation which inhabits this part of the island, I feel very English.  Not in any aggressive nationalistic way, but from a deep sense of my connection to this land which has grown with my ancestors, it is an inner identity, part of me.  I do not feel the need for my own nation to posture and threaten others as it so often has in the past, and have a similar difficulty with this sort of behaviour from any other nation, especially a powerful and well established one like France.  I can only imagine that for some reason they doubt themselves, their historic identity and how it is evolving in the modern world, perhaps with the arrival of immigrants from their former colonies.

“We were asked to bring what thoughts and contributions we might wish to share to this Allting, and also to represent some tribe or nation.  I would like to represent Albion as the highest ideal of what this nation of ours might be.  In the words of William Blake ‘I will not sleep from mental fight, nor shall my sword sleep in my hand till we have built Jerusalem in England’s green and pleasant land.’

“I believe every nation has its own soul and uniqueness which can be the basis of their identity and contribution to the world.  Britain is highly developed in this aspect, even with several distinct souls that contribute to the greater whole.  Let us set an example to the world that it is better to build on our strengths and earn respect.  Strength does not have to inspire fear.”

I found this a most stimulating and welcome contribution.  While all that had been spoken before were no doubt true expressions of experiences, I became aware that this latest strengthened me, that I had been drifting into a mindset which saw futile resistance against the oppressive Goliath as the only thing that was going on in our circle and what we were connecting to, while significant inroads were being made by weapons testers in the outside world.

Fear had been the dominant emotion so far.  Fear and justification of fear.  This Man of Albion had nothing of this in what he said.  The ancient dictum of the Delphic Oracle had been ‘Know Thyself’.  The knowledge of an inner self beyond the fear of outside influences was a more certain guide to a pathway of wisdom than fascination with that fear like a rabbit paralysed by the headlamps of an oncoming juggernaut about to annihilate it.

The contributions which followed were still liberally peppered with reports of fear, and anxieties provoked by the nuclear testing, but a note had been introduced which took us away from obsession and pessimism.  We had been reminded that we had our own resources, our own identities and pathways.  The word ‘proactive’ had been much bandied about by the Clinton administration and was a concept that was needed in our own minds.  Perhaps there were too many old hippies amongst us who were still on the back foot from the right wing assaults of the eighties.  Merely crying ‘not fair’ would carry little weight in a world of ruthless politicians wielding unopposable military might.  New directions were needed, and we had perhaps been shown one.

The pass had come to a rather round lady of perhaps fifty, who had long grey hair and was wearing a multi-coloured tie-dye tee shirt.

“My name is Sue.  My lineage is from the galaxy of Andromeda.  I have come to this world in incarnation to create a link.  I have been living in the moment for the last twenty years.  It is important to always be in the moment so that one is able to be receptive to higher self.  The answers to these problems are all held and known by our higher beings.”

Interesting.  This circle had many surprises in store.  I did not know what to make of this contribution.  Incarnations of beings from another galaxy?  Well… but I had determined to keep an open mind, and the rest of what she said might be the repetition of a cliché, or it might have come from her inner truth.

It was back to some more routine observations about the nuclear testing for a few passes before the Stick reached me.  As so many had done before me I examined the ancient piece of yew.  About a foot long, oval in segment, three quarters of an inch thick at its widest, polished smooth, slightly tapering, the ends bevelled.  Dark brown with streaks of a yellowish hue.  There were a couple of lumpy knots which had resisted the smoothing process.  In one of these was set a flat, mottled green and black stone like an eye.  Possibly a type of malachite.  From the end by this hung a golden cord with a bauble dangling on it.  It felt incredibly good to hold, whether at its centre in a fist, or by one end like a tool;  the size was perfect to the grip, the gentle contour of the wood comfortable to the shape of palm and fingers as they closed on its surface.

I told the story of my Fulani boy.  This was what had come into my imagination, but I couldn’t help feeling that I had fallen into the trap of fear which had been opened.  I wished that I had had more to offer.  I didn’t seem to really be adding anything to what had been said already, just more anxiety, fear and feelings of inadequacy.  Still I had to stick to my truth, this was what I had experienced, and so it was what I reported.  Getting into mindgames with myself about my own inadequacy was a little too far from the self-belief which the Man of Albion had espoused.

Three or four places to my right was a man of medium build wearing a red Jurassic Park baseball cap.  He had a moustache and a face tanned in the way that comes from long outdoor exposure to the weather.  He wore a shirt without a collar and woollen waistcoat patterned in a style reminiscent of those woven by indigenous South American people.   He was sitting in a canvas and wood director’s chair and when the Stick came to him he held it in his hands before him like an offering, his eyes shut.  There was a moment’s silence.  Speaking, his voice was deep and powerful.

“Greetings to all those beings and peoples assembled here.  I am At-Hlan, Warrior Priest of Atlantis.  I speak through my channel Brother Rohann.  I bring you news that there are many beings from the astral and cosmic planes who are following your work even though you cannot see them.  You have chosen to work with energies which will lead you on pathways of progression, not only for the world, but for yourselves also.  The many challenges which you are facing will lead to empowerment for you have chosen to share your own energies as you engage with the processes of change that have been set in train in this world.  Many beings have much gratitude for this work you have begun for the Universe is One which all are part of.  By transforming energy in your own lives you are assisting the Universe as energies will flow to parts of it that you do not know.  Those who block energy do it not only to themselves, but to the whole world.  When you move energy you move it for all.  Many new connections and pathways are begun here.  We of the realms beyond the material plane thank you all for these beginnings which will create many new possibilities for all, and which will empower you to know your own path more truly.”

Fortunately I had by now suspended scepticism and rationalistic criticism, otherwise I might have found this a little bit too much to take.  I was realising that it was my inner response and not my intellect which was important here.  Even if this weather-beaten fellow was only taking on a mask, playing a role for dramatic effect, there was a feeling raised in me which told me there was more to this.  Perhaps it was the richness of his voice, or the cadences of his speech hinting at a deep inner understanding and acceptance.  A memory was roused in my soul...

copyright © 2011 Claire Rae Randall

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