 Examining the nature of the darkness and lightness within our dual masculine and feminine natures. Darkness in the Divine Masculine It is in the Darkness of the Divine Masculine that the cold and infinite void lives. Here, there is nothing. Only emptiness. Sterility. A sense not of no time but of no structure at all or perhaps...there is only structure. A crystalization of the mind until it is frozen solid. If wind blows, it is neither heard nor felt with the body but only a chill that falls upon the self. It is a place so barren and stark in its intensity, that one would mistake Source as being completely absent. And yet it is here that the inner calm of the mountain resides. Should the Lightness of the Divine Feminine grace this masculine darkness, it becomes a place of serenity. A place to go gather oneself. “I had two dreams about him after he died. I dont remember the first one all that well but it was about meetin him in town somewheres and he give me some money and I think I lost it. But the second one it was like we was both back in older times and I was on horseback goin through the mountains of a night. Goin through this pass in the mountains. It was cold and there was snow on the ground and he rode past me and kept on goin. Never said nothin. He just rode on past and he had this blanket wrapped around him and he had his head down and when he rode past I seen he was carryin fire in a horn the way people used to do and I could see the horn from the light inside of it. About the color of the moon. And in the dream I knew that he was goin on ahead and that he was fixin to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold and I knew that whenever I got there he would be there. And then I woke up.” Darkness in the Divine Feminine It is in the Darkness of the Divine Feminine that raw creation resides. Chaos, untamed. Uncontrolled. There is no order at all. A primordial force of near-madness. To be in this place is to be surrounded by that which is unseen. It is crowded here. Moving. Writhing. Biting. Clawing. Grabbing. All without sense of direction or reason. If one were to stay here, they would surely go mad in moments. They would become the dark unseen creatures surrounding them. Yet from this darkness all creation springs. It is the womb of creation--the source of creative energy. Should the Light of the Divine Masculine shine upon this place, it becomes a place of generation. That which writhes, ceases to writhe, and instead goes forth into the world as a new birth. “This is the awe-inspiring universe of magic: There are no atoms, only waves and motions all around. Here, you discard all belief in barriers to understanding. You put aside understanding itself. This universe cannot be seen, cannot be heard, cannot be detected in any way by fixed perceptions. It is the ultimate void where no preordained screens occur upon which forms may be projected.” Lightness in the Divine Masculine Orderly precision is the name of the game in the Lightness of the Divine Masculine. Here all flows naturally, with perfect order. It is a busy place. A central station of energetic movement. Yet it is all within the realm of order. There is structure, but fluid structure. Where a crowd of people appears to move in chaos, it then appears to move as if to a grand dance. Chaos becomes like music. “There is in all things a pattern that is part of our universe. It has symmetry, elegance, and grace - these qualities you find always in that the true artist captures. You can find it in the turning of the seasons, the way sand trails along a ridge, in the branch clusters of the creosote bush of the pattern of its leaves. We try to copy these patterns in our lives and in our society, seeking the rhythms, the dances, the forms that comfort. Yet, it is possible to see peril in the finding of ultimate perfection. It is clear that the ultimate pattern contains its own fixity. In such perfection, all things move towards death.” Lightness in the Divine Feminine And in the Lightness of the Divine Feminine there is ultimate peace and stillness. It is not a sterile stillness, but a natural stillness. Like the heron that pauses before plucking a fish. The quiet of a pond in winter. A landscape covered in snow. A desert in the early morning. And like stars slowly revolving across the sky. It is a place that is merely waiting for something to happen. “Besides, there was a strangely calming element of cosmic beauty in the hypnotic landscape through which we climbed and plunged fantastically. Time had lost itself in the labyrinths behind, and around us stretched only the flowering waves of faery and the recaptured loveliness of vanished centuries...” Comments are closed.
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