gaysomecomic:

21. More than friends

gaysomecomic:

21. More than friends

atmagaialove:

Therefore I had to remain true to love, and, devoted to it voluntarily, I suffer the dismembering and thus attain bonding with the great mother, that is, the stellar nature, liberation from bondage to men and things. If I am bound to men and things, I can neither go on with my life to its destination nor can I arrive at my very own and deepest nature. Nor can death begin in me as a new life, since I can only fear death. I must therefore remain true to love since how else can I arrive at the scattering and dissolution of bondage?
Only fidelity to love and voluntary devotion to love enable this binding and mixing to be dissolved and lead back to me that part of my self that secretly lay with men and things. Only thus does the light of the star grow, only thus do I arrive at my stellar nature, at my truest and innermost self that simply and singly is.
 ~Carl Jung; The Red Book; Page 356.

atmagaialove:

Therefore I had to remain true to love, and, devoted to it voluntarily, I suffer the dismembering and thus attain bonding with the great mother, that is, the stellar nature, liberation from bondage to men and things. If I am bound to men and things, I can neither go on with my life to its destination nor can I arrive at my very own and deepest nature. Nor can death begin in me as a new life, since I can only fear death. I must therefore remain true to love since how else can I arrive at the scattering and dissolution of bondage?

Only fidelity to love and voluntary devotion to love enable this binding and mixing to be dissolved and lead back to me that part of my self that secretly lay with men and things. Only thus does the light of the star grow, only thus do I arrive at my stellar nature, at my truest and innermost self that simply and singly is.

 ~Carl Jung; The Red Book; Page 356.

The alchemists, who in their own way knew more about the nature of the individuation process than we moderns do, expressed this paradox through the symbol of the Ouroboros, the snake that eats its own tail. The Ouroboros has been said to have a meaning of infinity or wholeness. In the age-old image of the Ouroboros lies the thought of devouring oneself and turning oneself into a circulatory process, for it was clear to the more astute alchemists that the prima materia of the art was man himself. The Ouroboros is a dramatic symbol for the integration and assimilation of the opposite, i.e. of the shadow. This ‘feed-back’ process is at the same time a symbol of immortality, since it is said of the Ouroboros that he slays himself and brings himself to life, fertilizes himself and gives birth to himself. He symbolizes the One, who proceeds from the clash of opposites, and he therefore constitutes the secret of the prima materia which … unquestionably stems from man’s unconscious.
Carl Jung, “On the Ouroboros,” c. 1930 (via crystal)

Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. He who looks outside, dreams; he who looks inside, awakes. — Carl Jung

Merging

Today in class, I learned how to “merge” with my client. I learned how to place my fingers into their muscle tissue, sink into them with pressure, and wait. In this waiting there is a void. The energies of myself and the client meet and mix in this void. I relax my muscles and control my breathing. I let the cosmic energy funneling into my crown swim in wavy currents along my arms, and the Healer moves through me.

As we became one — Maria and I — I closed my eyes and envisioned the eye between my brows. I saw it close upon my inhale, and open as I exhaled, releasing energy. I forgot about the quadriceps resisting beneath my fingertips. I was still waiting. The energy from Source was flowing through me without my guidance. The eye opened and closed. And then, when I exhaled, I felt the resilient muscle tissue morph from steel or stone— into oatmeal.

I inhaled and the muscle became like stone again, but I didn’t force it. I didn’t will or effort anything. I kept waiting. I kept breathing. My eye opened and closed. Every time I exhaled, her muscles would become like rice pudding! And upon every inhale, her muscles would transform back to stone, like a magic wall that dissolves, then regains its solidity. Maintaining trance, I asked Maria about the pressure. She said it was almost too much, but it felt good— yet, her body was saying something different.

My own quads began to tremble in my stance. I knew these vibrations weren’t my own. Her quadriceps were talking to me. They were telling me that the pressure was too much! So I eased the pressure from my fingers, and the muscle fibers concaved and became like butter, and pulled me, without my efforting, like a cruise ship, through the several muscle layers of her leg, lengthening fibers, releasing adhesions, and making peace with years of pent-up tension.

It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.

Maria’s eyes shot open and her jaw dropped. As my fingers plowed gently through her leg, the four muscles that made up the quadriceps were rearranging! Blipping and re-roping themselves into place! When her muscle had “pulled” my fingers all the way through her thigh, I intuited the body’s next command. “Vibrate me.”

So I placed my fingers in the perfect spot and made tremulous waves into the softened muscle, buzzing it to life. Maria threw her head back in release, and when I asked the muscle if it wanted to end the session with some energy work, it said “no”, so I stroked her leg, thanked it, and concluded the session. Moments afterwards, after a whirlwind of zealous fanatic euphoria, a wave of emotion passed over me, and I ran to the bathroom . . and I cried tears of joy.

Were they my tears?

Or were they her tears?

Or were they the tears . . of my highest self?

Because when I was in the dojo, I heard a subtle voice say something in the hollow echo of busying classmates.

The voice of the Healer said, “Great job, Stephen.

Thank you . . for using me.

Poem #101414

i trust you can apply the context
i know you can decode the subtext
you falsified the temple precepts
to spin your crown around your “subjects”
the work is done from whence it began
the alchemist’s stone is bled with blood
i have a big heart, and a quick

penetrating

mind

and the courage and love to break the rhyme

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”

Happy birthday e.e. cummings

 
Yet no matter how deeply I go down into myself
my God is dark, and like a webbing made
of a hundred roots, that drink in silence.
Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Book of Hours  (via talisman)