How appropriate the new year XXXX begins with 38, the Struggle to Persevere with Honour!
The dream-arc creature is a Rhino, the Siddhi bird a Jay. Vaguely associating to rhinoceros horn and what it may be like to “unicorn” the erotic essence in my third eye, I drop for a moment within the unknown Tantra of each animal species, including the scratchy thick skinned ruminating rhino; the Dreamtime or Circular time whenever they are not in fear or attack; the countless shades of our bliss in being.
And we were/are given animal skins to wear (including the rhino’s) in order to honour it.
To honour! Begin with the Siddhi. Honour is not confined to gallant attitudes of mind. Honour each feeling, each sensation, each process, each touch. That means “pause”: the art of contemplation. Pause, pivot, merge. Let us fill ourselves up with life to the brimming-over. Where it brims, it creams as nectar. Stop and listen!
It is hard for me to remember to, but along the street stop mind from minding, and hear the surrounding sounds in distance, space and depth: winter birdsongs, traffic, voices, my feet, the wind perhaps, a passing train. Again and again drop the deaf blind churning cloak of small enclosing operas.
To Honour you is to choose to be positively silent. Keep practicing; this is perseverance – the Gift. I learned this with my father, whose Life Work was 38.4 with its evolutionary 39 to provoke.
His was not an easy life, because he was an organic farm manager – one of the pioneers during the 1950s/60s – and saw again and again his loving care of the land being spoiled by those who came after. He also played the violin with passion and “sat quietly” on a rolled-up army blanket in an empty room. He practiced Krishnamurti’s teaching on his family at mealtimes. He discovered Gurdhieff and always we were messengers to each other with this or that, though mine was a shaggy orchard to his trim garden. We both loved mountaineering – when I go indoor-climbing, I imagine his agile glee on the wall.
So this morning unexpectedly I enter the field of his birthday and the special smell around him. He is buried with his Yule ancestors in Bradford in North Devon – the sweetest, quiet green place surrounded the year around by the birds whose songs he knew and loved.
(See also Clive Bennett’s website, containing beautiful bird recordings)
Writing this, the water-table of being rises up through the well with a multitude of miracle, and this is Contemplation’s art; this is Honour, for there is nothing to say beside it.
I am very close to him, because my Pearl is 38.5. This moment the Pearl is the precious treasure within the heart of a lifetime. It is a Pearling process in the indigo oyster. When I first met Richard I asked him what the 5th line meant, and he said “Power!” and clowned across the floor on his knees. I was baffled. Power? Don’t embarrass me! I’m not a teacher or author or professional, I have little power or influence over others, I live like a hermit, I am shy yet arrogant.
This morning I thought of this and asked, “What is power?” The answer came immediately: the power which knows the way. If I think in terms of “my power” that is arrogance. When I surrender to Nature, to Gaia, she is the power, infinitely soft like a flowing river: the Tao. The current through my veins is power; the branches of the Tree, of Yggdrasil, the wondrous DNA cosmic serpent, the forest medicine, the worship. The power is transmission from lighthouse to lighthouse through the illumined web of the world. The power is the undetectable “weak force” of gravity. It is almost impossible to measure a single gravicle or graviton in quantum physics, yet she in starling flock conducts the galactic orchestra.
The power is joy. The power is the un-called flow of ideas as soon as … I pause in whatever … and listen.
The Struggle in the Shadow whenever wrestling my domain is self-explanatory! And I bless the long learning-curve of life as I enter my eighth decade and glance back at all the pain and the quarrying and the depth of discovery in Capricorn’s mountainous sea-coast land; the erosion of my self conceit.
Once the Stone looked beautiful on the outside. Now it comes more beautifully from within. In alchemy we have a saying: we are miners of the mountains. That means we discover the Laws of Providence and cosmic geometry in the interior veins, the vessels, the seams of gold in the rock, our body; gold is congealed sunlight. It is called the Work of the Sun, and one day, one day not too far distant, our economy in the world will be solar powered, and cease to compete, extract, or deplete.
When I contemplate this for real, the Silence flows again which pushes me back into being.
I am shown that the Power that knows the Way in gene key 38 is not hard or muscular or fixed but soft; the power and receptivity of love and the interesting resistance.
At this winter moment, the seeds in the ground under wet leaves and frost break open and begin to “persevere” their tender pale shoots and roots through “resistant” earth to the light which turns them green. Nothing can stop Gaia. Nothing can stop the power of Venus which is love: the green light. Love and care.
Sunlight sparkles on the river: the gold for the prospector’s sieve.
As usual, none of this was expected when I started to write with 38 this morning, but … lift a pebble and start a wing.
Where is 38, the Warrior’s Light in the Codon Rings? Why – here with its partner 39, joining the Rings of Seeking and Humanity.
“The Tension of Transcendence” is the seeker. “The Warrior of Light” is the human. All his life my father told people that when he grows up he hopes to be a human. When he grew old we called him Grumpy or Grumps, short for Grandpa.
My mother has discovered, now that he no longer annoys her, that she loves and loved him from the day they first met at agricultural college after the War. She found and showed him a primrose flowering in November, knowing he would be as wonder-struck as she. She says he was a Crank. He smoked a pipe, had far too much greenish golden hair, eyes like an eagle, a nice bum, and wore sandals.
and here he is with his daughters – what chips off the block!
I find it difficult writing of Gene Keys. Touch them anywhere and it starts a flood.
Stay with the seeking human in this pair. 39 in the Tao landscape has Fire over the Mountain; 38 has Fire over the Lake. There is joy in surrender over the struggle. The Fire blazes through a sunset or the dawn; it glows in the coal; it kisses a candle. Keep still (Mountain) and find joy (Lake, the melting). Pause and become what you wish: not what you were thinking. Let it go. Drop your dresses, my lambs. The dream-arc rhino has huge power and arboreal peace. It is an extraordinary animal.
Happy birthday Peter 4.1.1923, and may your unbound spirit rejoice in the seeds being planted everywhere under the shifting ground. All they have to do is grow up through the “cash cropping” which covers them for a while. Their power is eternal through the dream.
For more information:
The Book: Gene Keys –
unlocking the Higher Purpose hidden in your DNA
– by Richard Rudd 2013
- 0r visit: http://www.genekeys.com
To see Archive of All Posts, click on title of this post, top of page, then the trigram glyph on the left of page.
All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2020. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address http://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/