Tag: angel

Archaic Deity – Archaic Iconography…

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Many depictions of deity are a tad dated. They arose in times when the power of kings and emperors was quasi absolute. The iconography has “radioactive” halos around sainted beings, chariots, swords and thrones. There are arguments about who stands or sits around the throne and on which side various beings are to be found. There are crowns and often a patrilineal succession of power. Humanity obsesses about organisational flow charts of the heavens and in the past who had career advancement amongst the Gods depended upon level of obedience and sycophancy. The celestial “human” resources department had severance packages to negotiate.

Fear of God put bums on seats and pennies on the collection plate.

These days the power of kings is much diminished. We don’t drive roman chariots all that much. The machete has replaced the short sword. The Heckler and Koch automatic has replaced the spear. The ultimate symbol of mundane power is a ginormous nuclear powered aircraft carrier equipped with stealth bombers. Thrones are old hat.

In constructing a deity and a pecking order of them, whether that be of Gods and angels or Buddhas and bodhisattvas, the notions are related to the mundane order of things. The iconography perhaps an aid for the illiterate. In many cases the “clergy” asserted power over flock and encouraged supplication therefrom. The “clergy” encouraged a notion that they were higher, perhaps better and more revered than the lay. The churches and temples extracted wealth and called it meritorious. It might help your journey in the afterlife to fund the claret of a bishop. It was a good pitch. People can read and think now.

I am not sure older notions of Gods and Buddhas wash as well these days. Despite what fragrances Unilever might add. Subscription to religious providers it probably falling all over the world.

There is a glaring difference in iconography between the seated tranquil garden statue Buddha and the tortured crucified Christ bleeding from his crown of thorns. This despite much similarity in their teachings. Man has emphasised the suffering of Jesus over his peaceful message. It prefers to show images of internecine cruelty and suffering rather than brotherly love. In our time there is much need both for tranquillity and for love.

Religious iconography is very often chavvy and overly ornate. It is showy and “look at me”.

“We have shit loads of gold! We the clergy must be powerful! Kneel pleb!”

Modern military power does not lend itself to very personal, even familial iconography. There is no big hearted daddy on the throne. Rather a couple of old men, fingers above a red button, ready to embody Shiva the destroyer aspect of deity. It is not an image of fatherly love. It is one of pendant wrath and nuclear winter.

Notions of deity need updating in a manner more suitable for modern mind, modern living. And no I do not mean a Marvel escapist universe. The sublime needs divorced from the family drama and the incestuous and the Machiavellian.

Spirit and consciousness needs to evolve away from the zoomorphic whilst retaining the feelings and value. A new form of understanding might spring from where we find ourselves now, so very obsessed with corporeal image and public relations spin-bullshit. Petabytes of images are quite a quagmire for the minds of mankind.

Yup…I think the old forms of iconography and depictions of deity are looking rather dated and may no longer be fit for purpose.

We may even need a thorough review of what we imagine deity and/or a God to be.

I wonder how might we imagine and create a God 2.0 ?

Hip Replacement – Three Weeks In

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Last night following the themes of Metatron and Seraphim which have cropped up in my dreams we watched a film “Legion” in which a disappointed God sends his angels down to cleanse the world of humans. In that Michael goes against God’s orders. He chops off his wings. He ends up fighting Gabriel and a human baby is saved from slaughter, to provide hope. The film was OK…the plot was a bit formulaic.

What is clear to me is that in the collective consciousness there is vast speculation and extrapolation for only a very few verses in religious scripture. Humans have invented vast tracks of images and iconography to do with angels, the messengers and perhaps heralds of God. Most of those images are very idealized with virginal female angels and muscular homo-erotic male ones. Angels have caught the imagination. Angels, it seems, are rarely ugly. There are no middle aged men angels partially shaven and with beer guts. Although perhaps wise, angels rarely have advancing age. In modern psychology visions of angels might be treated as psychiatric illness. Though they have been a part of religion and hence historically a cause for war over the centuries.

The notion of angels pervades into modern culture. Highfalutin beings with special powers are popular in the “mind”. Supramundane entities are nevertheless anthropomorphic and made in the more idealised aspects of our physical images. Just as we might make God an old geezer, we might make an angel a pretty hunk with flowing locks and wings.

I am genuinely surprised as to the extent of extrapolation from only a few words in religious text.

Far out…

Back here on earth yesterday I managed to walk for around a kilometre with only one crutch along the seafront up at the coast. Because it was a nice day there were others taking their disabled and spastic relatives out for a spin. There were a few wheelchairs, one of which looked off road. As the lunchtime witching hour passed more locals were wheeling out their disabled. It was a nice day and the sound of the waves a pleasure on the ear.

Overnight I have my first night without getting up for a shit-TV and KitKat break. I am sleeping upstairs and had a cumulative 6-7 hours with only four wake breaks last night.

This morning I have been out in the garden. In a 2 acre garden it is easy to walk far. We inspected the damage done by the wild boars and looked at the repair to the fence which the wife made. The little buggers have not been back since the hunt visited. Maybe some families had boar for tea. I used the leaf blower to clear the oak leaves from the gully by the pond. I was able to re-tension the five strand electric fence, the coypu deterrent. If we keep them at bay the lotus display next spring-summer will be ace. As winter deepens they come to ours for food. I have indoor and outdoor crutches now. One of which is now very muddy.

I have started to think about doing a small plumbing job.

There is some semblance of normality returning. I did a roast chicken dinner on Friday night and today we have lamb chops in a teriyaki marinade.

The scar is healing well. It is a bit itchy but no longer raised. The pain levels during the day are fine. The flexibility is already better. I can pick stuff up off the floor without kneeling…It is pretty weird feeling a hip joint click and not having painful bone on bone grind. It will take a while to become accustomed. I am happy with the progress at three weeks. I can walk unaided around the house when not tired. It is easy to imagine things getting better.

It is hard to know how well I am doing relatively speaking. We had prepared for more difficulty which has probably made things easier.

As usual preparation nearly always pays off…

My normal physiotherapist will probably freak at how far he can stretch my right leg when I see him next week!!

There is a semblance of normality returning…

Hashish – Angel – Roses – Little People Dream 23-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. A series of snippets. This is the first Angel in a dream for me.

The scene opens in a living room. There are several young men sat on sofas and chairs around a large messy coffee table. There are a few empty beer cans and an empty pizza box. They are trying to be ‘hood and cool. There a rolling papers and an ashtray. One of them with a grey tracksuit on is unwrapping a small foil parcel which contains some dark black soft oily hashish. He says that it is 3/8 of an ounce and that he knows how to get more. They think they are a bit gangster like and are in a turf war skirmish with another group of adolescents. I am watching the scene from above. They are egging each other on with bravado.

A youth brings in a woman who looks like Brenda Blethyn in her role as the mother of Christie Brown in “My Left Foot”. She looks frumpy and decidedly normal. The youth says he found her lurking outside. They are thinking about bullying or intimidating her.

I arrive / appear and stand next to “Brenda”. I say to them that she is an Angel. A particular sort of Angel who despises conflict and is highly trained in diffusing situations and helping people from erring into darkness. They look unconvinced. I say that the strength of this kind of Angel is their apparent  innocuousness. I say that under no circumstances, no conceivable circumstances, should they cross an Angel like her. She can switch from mild suddenly and that they would not like the results one little bit. Angels are powerful beings. Brenda smiles silently at me and we look at the youth quietly waiting to see what they will do. We are comfortable with each other, familiar even.

The scene changes and we are outside in the formal gardens of a large grand French chateau. The wife and I are tending a plot in the rose garden. The previous gardener has done a poor scrappy job. We have weeded and pruned, fertilized and tidied. I finish edging the bed into the immaculate lawn. We head off down a gravel path and meet a man working of a rambling rose bed elevated from the path. He says that these “arbustiers” need a highly specialised care. He has been caring for this bed among others for decades. He has a checked shirt on and is tanned. He is wearing a cream Panama hat and is very English. He says that the owner only employs British people to look after roses as they are better at it than the French.

The scene changes and we are outside our current house. The nurse arrives and comes in to check our medication. I say to her that we are very organised, there is no need. She checks anyway. She is in a hurry and highly stressed. We follow her out. Her husband is waiting in the car with her children. The windows are steamed up with condensation. I suggest that she lets the children out to stretch their legs. This she does. The man also gets out. The wife is with me. We all stand around and chat. A small girl around five with brown hair in a bob wanders off. The nurse is worried. I say not to worry. She heads towards a flower bed at the end of the garden and I follow her. I shout back that she can see the little people, the fées and pixies, the Korrigans who live there. I say that she will be safe with me because I too can see them. They know me well. We are friends.

The dream ends.

Kālacakra -Black and White Umbilicus – Tantra – Dream 13-1-24

~ quantumdreamer ~ 1 Comment

Before I begin, I swear I had no magic mushrooms or any other hallucinogen before bedtime!

Here is last night’s dreaming sequence.

I am with a woman in some kind of chamber or cave. She is heavily pregnant. I lay her down on a fourfold mandala on the floor. The design is very similar to this Kālacakra or wheel of time mandala. I know that this is of the deepest and most profound tantra. I align the woman North South on the mandala. I know that I will recognise the mandala if I ever see it again. It is imprinted in my consciousness.

–

–

A white European baby is born. It is pink-white and is surrounded by a glowing aura. There is no umbilical cord and yet it is called an umbilicus. The baby is pristine clean and radiant. It is naked and male.

Next a shiny obsidian black baby is born also with European features. It has an umbilical cord which I remove by hand. In neither birth are there any amniotic fluids or blood. The black obsidian baby is born wearing a nappy. It is also male. It is very shiny.

I know that the white baby does not need to be reborn. I know that the black umbilicus is tied to the wheel of rebirth because it has an umbilical cord.

One is good and the other is pure undistilled evil.

In the dream I know that I am a creature of the light and no longer bound to the wheel of rebirth.

I know that at first evil is always strongly attracted to good, this attraction fades. I know that good is not attracted to evil it is simply not that interested, not bothered or enticed.

The scene changes and I am walking in a park with the black and white babies in a side by side push chair. They make an odd couple. One radiant auric white and the other deepest obsidian.

I come too and then drift back off.

I see an ethereal white figure. It has a quasi-human form yet it has wing like structures. It is floating suspended in the air. On its back between the shoulder blades is a tiny insignia like this.

–

– 

 In the dream I know that the figure is an angel and that it is an angel of light and not of dark.

The scene changes and I am in a tropical forest underneath truly giant leaves. The sounds of rainforest are all around. There are drops of water falling from the leaf and landing on my head. I can see a tiny transparent circle appear in the leaf. There is a tiny window of transparency in the deepest green through which the droplets trickle.

I walk out from under the leaf and climb a little incline. From there I can see a most exquisite bird of paradise which had been “pissing” on me. Though the piss was spring water and not urine. The bird has exquisite orange and pink plumage on its head. The body and wing feathers are of a light emerald green and the wings are tipped with turquoise blue. The bird is pleased to see me and I it. We both stand there for a long time enjoying each other’s company and the fecund sound of the tropical rainforest.

The scene changes and I can see a man sat at a desk. On the desk is some parchment like paper, an ink well and a quill for writing. There is a small pile of books to one side. The man is clean shaven with fairly long grey hair parted in the middle.  I know that he wears this in a ponytail or bob when out socialising.  He has a kind European face and I know that his hair was once jet black. His eyes have a sparkle. He is wearing a white collarless shirt with the top button done up. The sleeves are blouson. This is informal, at home, attire. I know that the desk is mine and the man was me in my most recent life before this one. I am feeling emotional as I write this. I know his/my face now.

I wake up and think wow, I had better write that all down…     …