I know him. He steps over towards us. Then Ptahhotep motions to me to get into the sarcophagus and lie down in it. I do as he commands. As I lie in the sarcophagus, Ptahhotep casts a last glance at me, full of infinite love, and then the two priests lift the stone cover and lay it over me.

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I know him. He steps over towards us. Then Ptahhotep motions to me to get into the sarcophagus and lie down in it. I do as he commands. As I lie in the sarcophagus, Ptahhotep casts a last glance at me, full of infinite love, and then the two priests lift the stone cover and lay it over me.

In pitch darkness I lie there enclosed in the stone coffin. As usual, I watch what happens. Nothing happens. I lie in the stone coffin and peer into the darkness. Around it points of light seem to flash up and then disappear. I watch these points of light and try to guess where they come from and where they are going. They leave more and more space around this spot which, because of the complete absence of light in it, is a pitch black hole through which I peer into nothingness … Then I notice two points of light that appear in this total, dead darkness.

Slowly they come closer and stare at me like two eyes. I know that two eyes are staring at me. These two eyes do not belong to a body. They are centres of force of streams of energy which take effect invisibly.

These dim, black energies attack the points of light. The points of light are sucked up by this force, destroyed. A contour appears, creating a boundary around this empty, dark hole that radiates this invisible force. Before my horrified eyes, there gradually appears a face, the eerie features of a monster, a silhouette that is only recognizable because where it is there is absolute nothingness—a negative image.

I know, I just know this disembodied monster is Evil itself. I know it. Now the cause of that expression, the being itself, without a human face, without a body, is here! This bodiless face resembles the head of a goat. The silhouette clearly shows the form of horns over a long, pinched face that ends with a little goatee. Or perhaps, are all these shapes only radiations of invisible forces? Through these two baleful eyes, the monster now radiates all his fearful powers upon me and into me.

These awful eyes bore into me, and through me, through my entire being, swallowing me irresistibly into themselves as if I were being sucked into a gigantic maelstrom. Absolute panic seizes my heart. I feel myself turning limp and lifeless out of sheer terror. Coming closer and closer, his horrible eyes get more and more penetrating.

I can feel how this satanic being—is it Satan himself? The monster spreads out over me, swallows me, and in a moment I feel I am no longer myself. I am It! I feel its horrible features in my face, its immaterial body in my body, its devilish streams of current flowing like blood in my veins. This hellish, fiendish sensation turns my whole being cold and stiff. My body curls up in horrible cramps.

And deep within me IT talks to me, without words, through the power which produces words, through the meaning of words:. In spite of your efforts to do so, you belong to me anyway now! You and I are one. You are subject to my law of cooling, contraction and solidification. Your arms are crossed in front of your breast. Your hands are curled up into fists pressed against your body as tightly as if they were joined to it. Now your head is dropping down on to your chest, pushing itself close between your fists—closer—still closer!

A piece of stone—rigid, hard and dead! Do you see all these rocks and stones and boulders? Look into their being. Can you see that all these stones are petrified but conscious beings like yourself, exposed to burning sunshine, raging storms and splitting frost? This is hell indeed. Alive and conscious, yet locked up and immovable, grown into this tomb, with no possibility of giving so much as a sign of life … to be a heavy, dead stone!

I am not that! I am only imprisoned, entombed in this stone, but I am not the stone. My self is not matter! I am the dimensionless self, a spirit beyond any concept of time and space! We can never be identical with each other! You have no independent existence. The divine self created you and goes on eternally creating you whenever it clothes itself in a material envelope, in a body.

You are the inner being of matter, you are the law that maintains matter; so you have power over my body, because you had to construct it on the command of my self when I was born into this material world and became a person. Not I am you, but I am that I am and you are also what I am! Your essence is contraction, and on the spiritual plane, in consciousness, contraction manifests itself as fear.

The effect of my unspoken, soundless words is terrifying! It gets pitch dark around me, and the mountains cave in with a deafening thunderous roar. I want to get on as fast as possible.

I look about me. I am in a spacious room illuminated by soft reddish light. Pleasant, well-mannered people offer me tempting delicacies in beautiful dishes and heavenly drinks in magnificent golden vessels. They try to persuade me to eat and drink with them. I smile. The pleasures of the palate were never a temptation for me. Why should I permit myself to be delayed by hunger and thirst on my path to God?

I thank them for their friendly invitation and go on. It is apparent, however, that everyone around me is in constant, chaotic motion. Another one of my first impressions of this place is the strange smell in the air … the smell of overheated human bodies … not exactly unpleasant, but nevertheless repugnant to me.

Little by little my eyes grow accustomed to the subdued light. I am in some kind of an underground cave where great numbers of men and women are lounging about pell-mell on sofas or rocking and careening about, holding each other in tight embraces, dancing together and making extremely odd movements. I watch them with growing amazement. Are they drunk? Or mentally deranged?

To be sure I have seen animals during mating season when nature is creating a new generation. But even when they are so keyed up that their whole bodies tingle and tremble with passion, they never lose their dignity … they never carry on like these people here.

And the priestesses, too, who serve in the temple of love, fulfil their duties with a noble attitude of spiritual dedication because they know in doing so they are laying an offering upon the altar of divine love. How can people fall so low that they debase the supremely divine act of love and make it an end in itself? After all, these are respected, reputable people—made in the image and likeness of God!

They have neither eyes nor ears for anything or anyone beside themselves. The outside world has ceased to exist for them. They talk with each other too, but it seems as if these men and women have forgotten that speech is a spiritual manifestation of man. They use speech to say the most impossible, completely illogical things. Why do they have to repeat it a hundred times? And how senseless it is to ask a person such a question! A person belongs only to himself.

He is a free being with an inalienable right of self determination. So how does this man come to think he can. Is he mentally ill? And perhaps the woman, who goes on answering his nonsense, too? And perhaps all these other men and women who are behaving in just as impossible a manner? At this juncture a tall, broad-shouldered man steps up to me.

I certainly do know love! It is a beautiful, noble sacrament when two living creatures love each other with absolute devotion, but not with mere passionate desire for possession! But in the hearts of these people I see no love!


The Initiation 1st part – by Elisabeth Haich

I have the great fortune to sit at the feet of an illumined soul: Elisabeth Haich is my. Transport Gratuit peste 50 de lei. Up to now I had always thought that I was the person doing the see ing. Aunt Adi was charming with her many jokes and fairy stories. That did help somewhat, but many years were to pass before my skin was strong enough for me to cut my nails without undergoing this unbearable sensation. And I saw that the dancing of the water in the fountain was music too. My little brother, whom I dearly loved, was just two.


The Wisdom of Tarot - Elisabeth Haich


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