FOI Online Liturgy
Booklet: Athena, Arcadian Awakening
By: Olivia Robertson
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Chapter 4: Utah
“TO KNOW YOURSELF YOU NEED TO SEEK THE OTHER;
LOOK IN A POOL AND YOU WILL SEE YOUR LOVER.”
HOST IN UTAH: LUIS SIVA. VISITANTS: PATH GUIDE, ELAINE, PRIESTESS OF ALCHEMY. HELPER, AIDEN, PRIEST OF ALCHEMY. DEIRDRE OF THE VISIONS.
TEMPLE OF ARTS - UTAH
ELAINE: Thank you, Luis Siva, for inviting us to this wonderful mountain land. I wonder that you need our help so urgently. It is so orderly in your Utah Iseum with its library and computers.
LUIS: And so it was until on a fatal journey I made to my old university last year. My father is part Spanish, part Native American, and is set on my obtaining a Doctorate in comparative religion. I know why. Our family blends three traditions – my mother is Hindu. She has had Puja done for me for my acceptance into our Temple here. It is dedicated to the Deities Kali, Siva and Ganesh . . . Hence my second initiatory name.
AIDEN: This must give you a keen interest in religion.
LUIS: Quite the contrary. It has given me a strong dislike of any sort of faith. I am doing the Doctorate in order to bring scientific rationalism to expose cults and religious dogma. I wish to escape from being confined to any tradition that does not conform to scientific facts. My computer is my best friend.
AIDEN: It is worthy to seek the truth. Facts are the sandaled feet of a statue to Truth. Otherwise religious statues have feet of clay.
ELAINE: Yet feet of clay bring the Deity down to Mother Earth!
DEIRDRE Where the fallen statue lies in the mud, there can be no miracles, and as Prophetess I deal in miracles!
AIDEN: Let us hear your story, and what has happened to destroy your faith in materialist science.
PART ONE: NARRATION
LUIS: A woman. No ordinary woman. She has ruined my life, destroyed my reputation for sanity, by entirely taking over my life – and all for nothing. What is in a name?
ELAINE: How did this happen to you? You seem so level-headed.
LUIS: None more so. Or so I thought. It happened on the plane journey back to my home in Utah. I was sitting with my laptop working out statistics of the number of cults in Utah, compared with those in California – there are less in Utah, but more virulent because they are underground – undermining logic and known scientific facts.
Suddenly there came unexpected turbulence which rocked our plane. One of my papers fluttered to the floor, by the feet of a woman who I now observed was sitting next to me. She bent and picked up the paper. She glanced at it and smiled. I don’t know why, but I felt offended; I felt she was laughing at it . . . She looked at me.
I was startled. She had “wall-eyes,” one being greenish brown, the other a clear sky blue. Then I felt embarrassed at staring at what was a physical defect. She seemed to reply to my thoughts. “I like having wall-eyes,” she said. “It gives me dual perspective – a dialogue between them! I am earthly, and I am spiritual.”
I should have been wary of getting into conversation, but she had touched on my determination to find facts about so-called spirituality. I found myself inviting her opinion on my forthcoming thesis. She handed me back my paper, and in so doing, touched my left hand. I felt an electric shock shoot through my body, inducing a feeling of ecstasy. For the rest of the journey I was in heaven. She told me of my own native land as a place of wonder, with soaring mountain ranges with undiscovered gorges, and said that below were underground tunnels and a volcano. I remember she told me she had a woman friend who had shared a course on volcanoes in Hawaii and they sometimes worked together. I wish now I had asked where they both worked. But too soon the flight ended. She drew a hand-woven, woollen cloak around her, picked up a Native American bag and that was the last I saw of her.
AIDEN: Didn’t you follow, get her name and number on your mobile?
LUIS: Of course, that is what I usually do. But she went so swiftly and I had to get my own suitcase of books from the luggage hall. It took forever. Then I looked for her everywhere in the airport and outside. And from then on I have been obsessed. I must find her. Nothing else matters. My mother says I have been bewitched, and wanted me to be exorcised by a Priest of Kali. But I said that would make it worse! A statue now has the effect of making a fire burn within me. I know now why the words “in love” are used and not “I love.” You fall into love for your will-power is gone. Or rather you don’t want any cure. You delight in your very anguish.
ELAINE: So what did you do?
LUIS: I broke my father’s heart. I burnt all my papers. I gave my friends my laptop. I presented my father with my mobile and I left home for my search. I brought little with me, only the bare necessities. I even gave up my spectacles! Indeed, my eyesight began to improve and I found I could easily tramp fifteen to twenty miles a day.
At first I enquired her name from the Mormons, who were extremely courteous and called me Brother – but even their extensive genealogical library could not help as I had no name for this woman. They showed me hundreds of photos, but no-one was like her. I tried the Freemasons, but their Women’s Lodge could not trace her. The Witches could not have been kinder – but found no trace of her in their coven records. The Spiritualists consulted their Guides. However, they declared that they did not give away personal details of anyone. Obviously the lady wished to be incognito. I must respect this.
So I made the decision to seek her where, from her words to me, she might be found. So I made a long trek up a mountain in a snowy range, part of the Rocky Mountains. It was divinely beautiful. I found a small resting place in a hut. At first I was overcome by the magic of stars, glittering in wheeling constellations high above the shining snow of the mountain peaks.
But now I became aware of a new sense that had been growing in me since I had received the “electric-like” shock. It was the sixth sense, which before I had denied. I lay down to sleep wrapped in my sleeping bag, before the embers of a wood fire – when I became aware of ghostly faces. There were a myriad of faces of lonely frozen people who I first assumed had perished in the snow. But I became aware that they were captured by icy-cold thoughts without love or hope. They drew near to me as one of them. Around them were diagrams, geometrical shapes, theorems, schedules, systems and ideologies that had brought atrophy of all feelings. I found myself promising them that I would find the secret name of a woman who would save them. I would return. I left them with hope.
I came down the mountain. Below were underground caves. The moment I rested on my dark way – I saw faces. This time they were as distorted as in medieval paintings of purgatory. They were, I thought trapped in some mining catastrophe – but then I found they had been imprisoned in underground tunnels by the most extreme emotions. They let me feel that I could not know their rage, their desire for revenge, their violence against their enemies. I found myself assuring them that I knew a woman who would rescue them – if only I could find her. I needed her name. When I found her I would return.
I made my way back to a motor-way, more dead than alive. Then, at a wayside café, I met a Priestess of Isis who told me of your fellowship. She advised me to write to you. I had no computer so I wrote a long-hand letter. And here you are! You are my last hope. Life without this woman is meaningless.
AIDEN: Your whole desire is to find love?
LUIS: I seem to have changed. Now I really want to help those spirits whom I never believed in! Their state is infinitely worse than mine. Something must be done and I want to do it with the woman’s help.
ELAINE: We all agree with this move – so we will try - but only if the woman is willing to reveal herself.
PART TWO: ALCHEMICAL RITE
THE HEAVEN OF THE HIDDEN GODDESS
“THE KNOWN IS OUR PAST. THE UNKNOWN IS OUR FUTURE.”
TEMPLE OF ALCHEMY – UTAH
DEIRDRE: It is customary for us to invite the Oracle from the Goddess presiding over the Rite. However, we are impeded here by the fact that although we know what the Deity looks like, we do not know Her Name. Last night I asked for the name, and the Goddess told me I could successfully invoke Her by the title she bestowed upon this land “Uta-ha.”
ELAINE: Our intention is to receive the Divine Name of the Goddess so that this man may bring help to those entrapped by the Elements of height and depths.
AIDEN (RAISES STAFF): Divine Goddess Uta-ha of this land of mountains and desert, you have appeared to our friend as a Guide. Give us your Oracle that we may know the Divine Purpose of this visitation.
DEIRDRE IN TRANCE.
ORACLE OF THE GODDESS UTA-HA
More and more the clever ones of humanity are obsessed with the acquisition of factual knowledge. They are encouraged by those greedy humans who use this scientific knowledge for the possession of power and wealth.
This accumulation of facts does not bring the wisdom of how to use such knowledge. Thus the planet is in peril.
Humanity is blind, deaf, and insensitive to this glorious earth, which contains other dimensions of endless variety. You sit in your planes and draw down blinds to shut out the light of the heavens. Then you read or use computers. In the planet of the blind it is wise to learn to see with true vision.
This comes from extending your awareness, of a caterpillar on a leaf, a darting fish, the wings of a golden eagle. There is no separation in Divine Reality.
You seek my Name. It is hidden in the riddle of the Sphinx, the smile of a new-born baby, the playfulness of a cat. For Cosmic consciousness is only limited by your ability to enjoy what surrounds you! You will find my Name in works of art, in love of your friends, in widening your experience of Love, Truth and Harmony. The mystery of Name is in sound. Listen. It is the music of the spheres and the song of birds.
AIDEN: We give thanks for this Oracle. (TO LUIS) Are you willing to enter trance, which is the realm that blends heaven and earth?
LUIS: I am willing. My mind has brought me nothing to sustain me. My mind has only brought me endless doubt.
LUIS (IN TRANCE): I find myself contemplating the mighty snow-capped mountain range that I have visited before. Beneath it is the lava tunnel to lower depths. I promised to return, but have nothing to offer . . . Then I hear the sound of drumming. It is enlivening in this vast desert. I approach a small party of students who are having an outdoor drumming session. I ask may I join them. They invite me to sit and share their coffee, and sandwiches now curling up in the heat. I know I am not much older but I feel like an uncle! They are so relaxed. Then a very old woman wearing a long white feather on her head would like to offer a story. She tells a tale while the drummer beats a rhythm. A girl shakes a rattle. “There is a secret sacred Mesa,” she intones, “known only to the Elders. Its Gateway is hidden behind a mighty waterfall. The seeker finds it in a cleft in the rock behind the water. Through this is the Heaven of the Hidden Kachina. No man has looked with impiety in her face and lived. One tribe calls her “Pte San Win” – her totem is White Buffalo. She teaches that men and women when in harmony are as the stem and bowl of the holy pipe of peace. Our tribe call Her Woman of the White Mountain. Her hair is as the growing plants and Her cloak is made of rushing waters and black ravines. One eye is that of the sky: the other is the earth. Those men who approach Her with disrespect, die with dishonour.”
I cry out: “Oh, tell me Her name.”
But when I say this the old woman covers her face with her cloak and the students pack quickly saying the sky is darkening for a storm. I rise to my feet and wonder where I shall take shelter. Then I notice a winding path covered with mosses. I follow it, and soon I am protected from the coming storm by overhanging branches of trees.
Now I hear a roaring which I take to be a tornado and turn to flee. Instead I see a great waterfall, flowing in two streams. One stream is of a dark greenish colour, shaded by the surrounding vegetation – the other is clear white and blue, reflecting the Southern sky . . . I find I can make my way behind the fall of water. I find the cleft in the rock and know that the old woman was a true Elder, and was helping me. I enter and find myself in total darkness.
I make my way guided by a soft green light before me. And easily and naturally I find the land beyond.
“It is so simple and natural!” I hear laughter, and there are the students with their coffee and sandwiches! “We’re glad you found your way” says the young drummer. “We often come here, and so do our friends. It’s funny though – some people can’t get here . . . They say we’re making it up. Do stay with us!”
“I’d like to stay here with you, and join your session,” I say. “But I promised people to do something and must go on. I have to find the Goddess’s Name.” The girl with the rattle looks worried. “It’s not safe for young men,” she says. “You heard the warning of the Elder. Many young men like you have died when they faced the Lady of the White Mountain. She works with her friend, Pele of Hawaii. They make volcanoes as casually as we girls make bread! To them death means nothing. They are immortals. You are not.”
But I choose to continue. The beat of the drum is becoming faint and then I hear it no more. Nothing happens. I struggle on and on. But then a tornado strikes. Trees are uprooted and I clutch onto a sapling that has bent to the storm.
Suddenly there is a hush. I feel a sense of extending in space and time. I am above the Americas, and I now am far back in the past. I am flying in some ship, which takes me to the future. I see other ships like comets. Then I become aware that the whole spectacle of our planets circling round our sun is receding into tiny points of light. They are becoming a part of a swirling spiral, turning round the mighty central vortex of our galaxy. Even this recedes and becomes part of a shining divine form. I see this is the naked body of the Goddess. One eye now forms our Milky Way; the other is our sister, the Andromeda Galaxy. The face begins to become clearer, and smaller and smaller. I am gazing into the eyes of the woman in the plane . . .
She smiles kindly. “Of course you can use my Name,” she says, “if you can hear it.”
As everything becomes a whirling spiral, I hear clear, beautiful notes. And I know the Name.
LUIS REMAINS SILENT FOR SOME TIME. THEN HE SPEAKS QUIETLY.
I remember my commitment to the people trapped in the mountain, and those within the earth . . . I am too weak to travel – but a kindly truck driver comes to my rescue as I sit by the roadside, and he gives me a lift. He says he is going up ten thousand feet into the mountains to deliver stores to a small settlement. Halfway up I recognise where I am, and thank the driver as I get out. I wrap myself in the sleeping bag for warmth in the same place where I rested before. Once more the faces come to me, a multitude, each with a story of how they had been trapped. I hear of ideals betrayed, systems disproved, recognition denied. I do not attempt to clarify theologies, Laws of Nature, mathematical structures and infallible dogmas. Instead I put all my faith in uttering the Name. As I do this, the sonics begin to shake the icy prison – the walls crack and the prisoners are freed!
Heartened and stronger, I now make my way down the lava tunnel to the underworld. Here, above a vortex, ghostly figures surround me with tales of hatred, revenge, ambition and the despair of suicides who now find they cannot die. I do not try to cure jealousy, hatred, violence. Instead, I put all my feelings into uttering the Name. This time the sonic power breaks open the roof of the cavern with a seismic upheaval – daylight pours in, and the prisoners are free. And so am I!
END OF TRANCE.
End of Rite.
LUIS TAKES A LONG TIME TO RECOVER FROM TRANCE. HE SAYS HE WAS TRYING TO REMEMBER THE SPIRITUAL JOY AND LOVE HE HAD FELT. IT COULD NOT BE RECLAIMED BY A COMPUTER . . . HE INTENDS TO DO A COURSE IN DEEP MEDITATION.
SOURCES:“The Varieties of Religious Experience, A Study In Human Nature,” William James, Penguin Classics. “The Candle of Vision.” AE (George Russell), Macmillan, London. “A Prisoner in Fairyland,” Algernon Blackwood. "The Most Holy Trinosophia", St. Germain, edited by Manley P. Hall, The Philosophical Research Society. “The New Atlantis”, Francis Bacon. “Strange News from Another Star,” Hermann Hesse.
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