Articles by Richard Leviton - Part 2

The Geomantic Underpinnings of Ecology

©2003 Richard Leviton


I'd like to suggest an unconventional way of viewing ecology and practicing environmental concern. I'll do this by way of a brief tale.

The story is told in Celtic and Western European myth of a king who was once fabulously rich but then through receiving a seemingly incurable wound, lost his riches. Once he presided over a flourishing, shockingly healthy landscape, but afterwards he became wounded, his realm a wasteland. He became known as the Wounded Fisher King, and only a Grail Knight with particular training could heal him and thereby restore his lands to vibrant health. In most of the stories, the Grail Knight was called either Galahad or Parsifal, and he healed the king and the Wasteland was dissolved and the land of plenty restored.

Usually the saga of the Grail Knight, Wasteland, and Wounded Fisher King is interpreted as something with a spiritually symbolic meaning. But it also has an ecological dimension. What restored the land of plenty? What created the Wasteland? How is any of this relevant to those today with an ardent desire to practice planetary stewardship and global environmental responsibility?

The answer may be surprising. Sacred sites. We are all aware that there are many places around the Earth that seem to have a special atmosphere, a heightened, almost palpable, spirit of place that uplifts our mood when we visit. I'd like to propose here that in traditional times, and to a limited extent, even today among some native peoples on the planet, communities understood that they lived in a landscape of sacred sites, whether as simple as an Aboriginal water hole or as numinous as a majestic alpine snowpeak, and that these sacred sites, and their condition, had something to do with the quality of human life.
Even more, they appreciated that these sacred sites needed upkeep, regular maintenance, periodic cleansing by and infusion of human energies and respectful presence. It was the duty of the king, queen, chief shaman, wise elder, witch, magus, or spiritual leader to make sure this happened. The wise tribal elder or community leader knew that the health and well-being of all aspects of the community depended on it, from agriculture to psychological balance. This knowledge was encompassed by a word often used today: geomancy, the science, art, and practice of Earth energies.

Elders knew the vitality of the ecosystem, the productivity of the fields and animals, even the regularity of weather and seasonal cycles, depended on this geomantic maintenance. Later, leaders of larger social groupings, countries, even empires, such as the Anasazi of the American Southwest or the Zapotec of southern Mexico, knew that many people and a vast number of acres could be held in fruitful balance in this way, and for a long time, even centuries.

They knew that they lived in a subtle web of location and consciousness, in which the land and its sacred places and humans with their possibilities of higher states of awareness were two parts of an interactive, linked, and reciprocal system-a kind of spiritual ecology, if you like. And the Rich Fisher King (or Queen)-and I'm using the term now mostly as a symbol or generic job description-was rich because he insured the ecological wealth of his community by tending to its spiritual underpinnings, the network of sacred sites under his domain. It was a spiritual task, even, some would say, somewhat of a magical one. 
Here is one way of picturing how they kept the ecology vital:
The elders, shamans, magi, wise women, priests, or spiritual leaders knew they had an inherent connection with the spiritual worlds, and they used it. They found a point of brilliant, absolute, and primordial starlight within themselves, and while seated at key sacred sites in their territory, they would invoke and enlarge this starlight until, like an exploding star, it became a supernova and they were inside this sphere of starlight. It was starlight still, but it had a pale blue sheen to it, like a broad sphere around their body. They would take the bottom half of the sphere, flatten it out a bit so it resembled what we know of as a tea saucer or shallow blue dish, and expand that to whatever size they desired. One hundred yards, one mile, ten miles in diamater-it was for them, working in spirit, no effort.

The blue dish was then laid out under a sacred site, and then they'd travel to the next, and repeat the procedure. Soon they had a sacralized landscape of pale blue dishes, made of star light, and all of them touching at the rims. Seen from above it was like a landscape floriated in pristine morning glories. Into each dish the spiritual worlds-the gods, angels, extraterrestrials, ancestors, Spirit, God, whatever description was meaningful for them-poured down celestial light, love, and higher consciousness. The dish, made of projected human spirituality, collected and stepped down the high celestial energies and filtered them, made them digestible, for the physical landscape.

It was like a fountain of light cascading down onto the numerous blue dishes; once the light passed through the elders, it spilled out into the dishes, and then the nature spirits took it into the world of minerals, rocks, plants, trees, and animals, offering it to them like food. Nature spirits? European myth remembers these helpers by the old names of gnomes, sylphs, salamanders, and undines, each family of nature spirits servicing one primal element, such as earth or air.

The Rich Fisher King knew he held the worlds together by being the intermediary, in conjunction with his community, between the celestial or angelic energies and the terrestrial and nature spirit, or elemental, ones. His riches-and here it was spiritual riches, esoteric knowledge, otherworldly contacts-were immediately transferred to his land and it flourished. All life, from mineral to human, needs a little celestial nourishment to keep going, to stay healthy, and to flourish. This is the spiritual underpinning of ecology, and it's still true today.

Culturally, we don't really have a Rich Fisher King in place today. I doubt many will argue that ecologically our environment is fast becoming a Wasteland. It is polluted, neglected, strip-mined, clearcut, abused, taken for granted. Some few places are protected, national parks, historic monuments, a few sacred sites. But the rest of the planet's surface, by and large, is left to fend for itself.

In a sense, we have all become expressions of the Wounded Fisher King, our wound being our not remembering how to heal our physical ecology by spiritual means. We could certainly use a Galahad or Parsifal about now.

We may legislate superfunds to clean up individual toxic lakes or dump sites, but even this expression of environmental concern is still a far cry from the Rich Fisher King's approach to environmentalism. Our landscapes still need a human spiritual infusion, the rich kind that blends celestial and elemental energies as a potent remedy against neglect, abandonment, even oblivion.

The Rich Fisher King is, after all, but a tale, you might think, and my descriptions of angelically infused blue dishes made of stars a late night fancy. Perhaps, but it is a tale and a fancy that has practical, immediate, and effective applications. It was, and it can still be, and hopefully, will be, a simple means for anyone interested in re-establishing a meaningful, even soulful, connection with the planet or even a one acre fragment of it to do so as soon as you wish.

10 Cool Things About Stargate SG-1

©2003 Richard Leviton


Often it seems revelations about the invisible but real worlds around us leak through into popular culture and assume a technological guise. I'm thinking specifically of the premise of the popular science fiction show, Stargate SG-1, shown Fridays on the SciFi channel. Reruns are shown Monday nights. The show's in its seventh season, and I think a lot of people like it a lot. I sure do.

The hour-long adventure show is based on the original 1994 movie, Stargate, but the writers have taken the story much further into intriguing areas. The technology is alien-a metal ring two stories high that when activated creates a stable wormhole and interdimensional conduit with another stargate wormhole somewhere else in the galaxy. You walk through the wormhole and almost instantaneously you're transported thousands of light years away. The galaxy, it seems, has many hundreds of these stargates on inhabited planets.

The device is operated secretly and underground by the U.S. Air Force, and the front line team of explorers, called SG-1, find the galaxy is ruled by psychotic, Nazi-like power-hungry creatures called Goa'uld and that galactic politics are best understood through Egyptian mythology, as the Goa'uld are the long-lived gods of ancient Egypt still alive and nasty in the galaxy. The Goa'uld have formidably advanced technology, no compassion, and no sense of humor.

Here are the 10 cool things I like about Stargate SG-1:

First, it shows you the galaxy is packed with sentient life. To wonder if Earth-humans are alone in the galaxy becomes a ridiculous question. Here are: humans at different stages of development; Greys (well-behaved, both technologically and ontologically advanced and not into abductions); the Nox (scruffy, seemingly quaint Nature-spirit types who can raise the dead, make things invisible, and have a huge veiled spaceship defying gravity in the clouds); the Ancients-ethereal, ascended, post-humans with bodies of light who built the stargate network eons ago.

Second, it suggests a stance to take in the face of meeting a race of beings superior in development, intelligence, technology, even wisdom. You know you, as a human, are a jackanapes, but how do you keep your dignity? Colonel Jack O'Neill, the irreverent, wise-cracking leader of the primary SG team, makes jokes. Sees the irony and wryness in the situations. Quotes movie cliches. Insults the Goa'uld with Hollywoodisms. Humor is wisdom in itself, and Jack knows it.

Third, it plays with the issue of authority, when to wield it, when to give it slack. Major General Hammond, director of the Stargate project, shows how sometimes it is wiser and more general-like to ease up on the official protocols and let anomalous situations and his staff proceed with a lot of lee-way. Sometimes you'll see Hammond, who likes very tight shirts over his barrel-belly even though one day's he bound to pop his buttons, say not Do this, but What next? And O'Neill, his life on the line for the planet every week, knows when he can get away with calling the benevolent Hammond My Lord, and when not.

Fourth, you see how mythology can have a practical, planet-saving role. Daniel Jackson, Ph.D., an archeologist who figured out the Stargate dialing codes based on Egyptian hieroglyphs, is indispensable because galactic politics are based on Egyptian myths. I should say, Egyptian "myth," decoded, explains galactic politics, the players, their modes of operation, enemies, wars, betrayals.

Fifth, it presents a refreshingly original and artistically satisfying edge where science fiction drama and existential humor meet and have lunch amicably. Usually, in science fiction you get space opera, battles, technology, bizarre aliens, and human heroes. It's serious, full of gravitas. Or you get whimsy and the playful irreality of Douglas Adam's Hitchiker's Guide series. But in Stargate SG-1 you can have both, which is a kind of nourishment to the soul.

Sixth, you get to see that Hannah Arendt was right when she said of the Nazis that their evil was banal. The Goa'uld are shockingly powerful, but ultimately they are stupid. They are human hosts possessed by snakes, and they spend all their time fighting, conquering, competing, and killing. They never laugh, even when O'Neill insouciantly throws Wizard of Oz jokes in their faces. They're fixated on punishing human insolence, and though they can punish, in the end, they're not worth respecting and are worth laughing at, even if you die.

Seventh, you understand something tactically important about under-advantaged adversaries fighting behemoth military organizations. Sometimes guerilla warfare can be very effective; maybe the fable of the diminutive David and the seemingly invincible giant Goliath has modern cachet. Gandhi demonstrated it in British-ruled India; maybe U.S. peace-lovers can do the same.

Eighth, moral decisions are worth something and have consequences. Teal'c is a former Jaffa warrior; the Jaffa are the elite palace-guard for the Goa'uld system lords, the nasty big shots who rule parts of the galaxy. He did some terrible things under order as First Prime to Apophis, a Goa'uld who so far has been killed twice (They resurrect themselves in gold sarcophagi). Then he repudiated his past, betrayed Apophis, and joined the Tauri (that's us) against him. He left behind family, friends, lifestyle, reputation, planet, for his moral stance. That is some awakening, and Teal'c deals with its ramifications weekly.

Ninth, gender stereotypes can be busted. Major Samantha Carter is a fabulous melange of intellect, physical attraction, ingenuity, pluck, and charm. She is the leading expert on wormhole astrophysics, often fixes or jerry-rigs the Stargate when inexplicable things happen, repairs alien spaceships, almost has romantic liaisons with alien men who ascend or get killed too soon. She has brains, beauty, courage, humor-and the best part is that the rest of the men in the SG units seem okay with that. "She is way smarter than us," says O'Neill.

Tenth, it teaches us how to be comfortable with the inexplicable, with utterly baffling situations, alien races and practices, anomalies in spacetime and the continuity of consciousness, with strangeness, in your face awaiting a response. It may be a quantum mirror that transports you into a parallel reality where you were just killed; or a Groundhog Day-type time loop where six hours of your life keep cycling around with seemingly no exit; or the time dilation effect of a blackhole sucking up a planet, its wormhole, and your wormhole.

And eleventh (this is an extra) maybe there is a Stargate-wormhole network in the galaxy with access points on our planet. If there is this kind of cool smoke, maybe the fire is real, and the stargates are open. Stay tuned.

Cosmopolitan Earth

©2003 Richard Leviton


We commonly think of places like Los Angeles and New York City as fabulously cosmopolitan, offering us a microcosm of nearly everything on the planet-different cultures, foods, lifestyles, languages. Yet would it surprise you to consider that in the galaxy our Earth is similarly seen as cosmopolitan?

After all, where did we all come from? As far as I can tell, none of us came from here. We are all foreigners, emigrants-aliens and extraterrestrials. We all came from there. According to my friends in high places, there is a greater diversity of souls and soul origins on this planet than nearly anywhere else in the known multi-universe. Here's the math: that's more than 18 billion galaxies. There are two aspects to this: there is a greater diversity of souls at different stages of development and a greater diversity of their point of origin.

Mind you, we are not recent arrivals. This all happened long ago, many millions of years before now. The business of point of origin is what you may dredge up out of your own unconsciousness during regression or insight. What kind of places? The Pleaides is a popular point of origin. This is a star cluster of seven more or less visible stars, and another 300 estimated in the throat of the constellation Taurus. Of course nobody comes from a star or sun, but I'm told the Pleiadian stars have a fair number of inhabited planets in their supervision.

The list of points of origins for human souls on Earth is extensive, but I think you get the idea. Maybe a memory of a strange and different place may surface in your thoughts one day, a planet you once lived on perhaps? My angelic informants also note that before "we" started settling on Earth from elsewhere amidst the vast congeries of other stars and planets, humanity-or the idea for it or our deep ancestors or maybe yourself 100,000 lives ago-came from another galaxy altogether-Andromeda.

This one should not seem too outlandish: the recent film Mission to Mars suggests humans were seeded by a dying civilization from Mars which originally came from another galaxy. We shouldn't build our metaphysical models from mass culture or science fiction imaginings, but sometimes it helps.

But this is only one side of it. There are also aliens among us, all over.
As a culture, we're generally getting accustomed to the idea that we have an energy field or aura around the body filled with lights, colors, and chakras. Our awareness of this most often is akin to being noticing that in the next room somebody is watching six televisions tuned variously to Animal Planet, Sci Fi Channel, Discovery, Oprah!, Law & Order, and perhaps QVC. It's a circus out there in the farther reaches of ourselves. It's the same with the Earth, only its channels come from the galaxy and one could make the case the programming is better.

Many people know the Earth's galactic TV channels as sacred sites. I like to call the entire set-up the planet's visionary geography. Like a fourth dimensional hologram quietly embedded in our three dimensional material reality, the Earth's visionary geography is a wild kingdom of galactic life. There are aliens from other stars running around all over the place in our midst.

I've made the subject seem a little flip, maybe even whimsical, but after all it is a fairly fantastic notion to broach when the only tangible evidence is your own eventual experience of it. There are at least three ways cosmopolitan Earth is made possible through its visionary geography or the galactic hologram.

First, there is an interactive energy feature I call a landscape zodiac. Picture an edited version of the galaxy, emphasizing the major constellations and the traditional signs (constellations) of the zodiac (on the ecliptic) and about 2,000 stars, represented in a hologram set upon a portion of the landscape, varying in diameter from one-half to one hundred miles in diameter. You could conceivably find the landscape touch-down point for the Pleiades, even specific stars in it, and even more conceivably, you could interact with Pleiadians through that conduit. Most probably the interaction would be subtle, on a visionary or psychic level.

Second, there are close to 1,800 energy canopies called domes settled over many of the planet's major mountain and volcanoes. The domes, though not physically present or visible, are what makes most sacred sites sacred. They give them a numinous quality that lifts consciousness. Each dome also corresponds to a specific star, not by archeoastronomical alignment, but again, by holographic co-presence. Mt. Palomar in Southern California, for example, is the dome-star for Alnilam, the middle star in Orion's Belt. This means you could psychically contact the energies, maybe even the presence, of beings from the Orion system there, and they could contact you, and the planet, as well, through there.

Third-this one is an even more direct, real-time connection with stars, planets, and the homeland of God-knows how many "alien" civilizations. I call them stargates, even though the term has been used often and usually to mean something else. There are many places on the Earth where actual transportation between Earth and other stars may be achieved. I have heard of people and even objects being moved through these stargates in the deep past; they are still among us, though very subtle, and twice removed from the third dimension.

These three features were part of the planet's original design, as implicit in its structure as a nose, elbow, and knee are for the human body. Earth was meant to be galactically cosmopolitan from its inception, and it's never stopped.

I know all this sounds like science fiction, and often I think I should write science fiction rather than investigate the metaphysical curiosities of our planet and try to persuade people these discoveries have plausibility, but no matter.

The point is, given I am long past going off the deep end so I'll enjoy the dip and stop worrying if you come swimming with me, through these three geomantic features of the Earth multiple alien civilizations, representatives, Lone Rangers, and even galactic trouble-makers-Pleaidians, Sirians, Greys, Arcturians, all the favorites of new age fable and science fiction-can regularly influence our life and reality and, if appropriate, interact with us at some level.

In fact, holographically, they already live amongst us, popping into vividness in our visionary geography if they feel like it through the landscape zodiacs or domes, or possibly popping with more palpability through the stargates. Which is why I can't stop chuckling when I hear a scientist earnestly proposing the theoretical possibility of extraterrestrial life or the atheist just as earnestly denying it. They've been here-we've been here-from the beginning.

Remembering a Lost Love

©2003 Richard Leviton


I have a friend who is 29.9 billion years old.
Yes, that is an outrageous statement, but it's an outrageous relationship. My friend's name is Blaise, but that's just my avuncular tag for them. My friend is actually a group of friends, all alike. The funny thing is, you know them too.

How long can a relationship last? For as long as there is memory and recognition. Like a wave, it can roll into and sink from acknowledgement, but it's still always there, abiding, twinkling, ready to burst into a blazing star.

I remembered them, then forgot them, and I did this hundreds of times. I once saw them as dancing, cavorting elephants with Fred Astaire top hats. Later I was relieved to find that was not such an unfounded fantasy, for the Hindus see them as an elephant god called Ganesh, remover of obstacles, and though Ganesh may not dance at the drop of a hat, he often seems amused. At other times the Hindus saw my friend as a vast winged bird bearing the god Vishnu through the many realms of existence. Similarly the Persian mystics described a marvellous, immortal bird called the Simurgh, also a transport for ecstatics.
Other times I've seen them with wings, lots of them, like huge, billowing, silken sails, or as a circle of enhaloed humans, taller than average and quite jovial, or as a single brilliant pinprick of light. Even more surprising, I often saw them, in the days before I remembered and was formally reintroduced to my long lost friends, as a pinprick of superbright light just above my belly button-in my body, somehow. And in other people's bodies too. Everyone's.

Perhaps that shouldn't be so outlandish. The Austrian clairvoyant Rudolf Steiner explained that the ten orders of angels all have roles in human life, in fact, participate, even support, different aspects of human physiology and consciousness, which means, at least mystically, if you look in the right way you might see hosts of angels in your body, in your breathing, walking, thinking, so why not at a point two inches above the navel and two inches inside?
That pinprick of light is tinier than the tiniest point of light, but brighter than anything a hundreds times that size. So bright it was, in fact, it was as if all the stars in the galaxy had been compressed into one almost infinitesimal point of light. Certainly a lot of angels get compressed into that pinprick, some forty million, and change. Let's say when they're feeling expansive, they can unfold and multiply themselves to a precise, very large number of manifestations.

A paradoxical friend, indeed. Both angels and a star. So tiny they are routinely overlooked, missed, unacknowledged, yet so vast they were once described by Ezekiel as the Wheel of God, the ofan, from which the Hebrew angelologists derived their formal name: Ofanim, the Wheels. I prefer Blaise, and they don't mind. It's comfortably close to their essence as a blazing star.

So what do they do with themselves during the day? They help people remember. Remember what? Who they were before the Fall. Before Eden. And they remind people how to use that arresting memory in the physical world. They inspire, they assist, they facilitate, they joke, they love from above. More properly, I should say they send Love from Above, they are Love from Above.

That sounds sweet, but what's it to do with the real world? With Iraq? It's a gentle uplifting pressure that helps you remember, and see, and to behold with equanimity. The world is not what it seems; it is much more than its surfaces. If the ten orders of angels have God-commissioned roles in the human form, then why not in the world at large too, in the Earth? Of course. Why not. They do.

Remembering a lost love, for me, is the same as remembering my old friend. And that is akin to remembering how things got here, this way. To look into the star is to look into the history of creation, both cosmic and local. You know, we could all be prophets, each of us an oracular seer speaking through a star. Or thinking, or painting, or composing, or dancing, or reflecting. Or helping to heal the Earth by helping the planet itself to remember, to wake and marvel at the congeries of angelic hosts amidst its own thriving body.

To be almost 30 billion years old gives you perspective. A little detachment. Patience. A desire to converse, and share. So if you happen to feel plucky and can give yourself permission to believe any of this, even if for only a few moments and then deeply in private, in some secret, unpublicized place within you, then may I suggest you try smiling at this tiny pinprick of very old light just above your navel. Just a little, sly, Mona Lisa smile. Your teeth don't even have to show, it's that low-key of a smile. Pretend, if you wish, that you are giving the wink to a friend, to someone once shockingly close from earliest childhood, their existence inexplicably forgotten until this very moment when like a snap, a brilliant tiny star pops into view within you and you're on again.

Follow That Cow

©2003 Richard Leviton


I want to tell you about a white cow that wandered into Charlottesville.
When I saw that marvellous cow I was reminded of something D.H. Lawrence wrote about his days in Sardinia. It was sunset and he was walking in the Sardinian hills when he "almost ran into a grey and lonely bull, who came stepping down-hill in his measured fashion like some god." I know a bull is not a cow, and Lawrence's bull was grey and not white, but it was his sensing of the unexpected divinity of the bull that caught my attention. Others over time have had that same arresting perception, with momentous results.

In ancient Greece, Cadmus consulted the Oracle at Delphi about his future and life purpose. There Apollo told Cadmus to follow a cow. Where it sat down, he should found Thebes. Everything went according to plan, and Cadmus founded Thebes in Boeotia, "Land of the Cow." Ilus was also told to follow a cow and to found a city where it laid down on the ground. That was Troy, now in Turkey, and originally called Illium after Ilus, its founder.

There's a third cow story I want to relate. Io was the daughter of a Greek river god, and was turned into a cow for her own protection by Hera, queen of the Olympians. Io was tethered at Mycenae in Greece and guarded by Argus, a fabulous mythic being with one hundred eyes and who never slept. Except later when Hermes lulled him into a deep drowsiness with his stories and panpipes.

So what's with the cow stories? There was never a real white cow. We must remember Joseph Campbell's advice not to literalize spiritual metaphors. Yes, the white cow is a metaphor. We're talking about a myth in the landscape. The white cow is a metaphor for a star wheel in the landscape.

This is a miniature, interactive template of the major stars and constellations of the galaxy and the signs of the zodiac imprinted on a section of the landscape, anything from half a mile to one hundred miles wide. I say imprinted but it's more like a hologram slightly flattened out across the land. There are star wheels at Thebes and Mycenae in Greece, at Troy in Turkey, and there's one in Charlottesville which is why I mention the subject. 
In fact, there are more than 400 landscape zodiacs around the planet, white cows all.
Why a cow? Think in terms of the milk. To the ancients, the cow was a symbol for the cosmic Feminine, the mother goddess who feeds creation. The cow's milk was a kind of celestial nourishment for all the stars, and the stars (and the rest of existence) were sensed as progeny of this marvellous, nourishing white cow who never ran out of milk and was an image in light herself.

Let's look at it mythically. To the ancient Hindus, the white cow was Kama-Dhenu, the Wish Cow, the Cow of Plenty, the Wish-Fulfilling Cow born of the Ocean of Milk. She was a miraculous treasure who fulfilled all desires.

Here's another description by way of another story. Brahma, the creator god of Hinduism, had a daughter named Sata-Rupa, which means "she who had a myriad of forms." He looked at her at every opportunity, all day and all night-she was that beautiful, that enchanting. It's said he grew five heads so he could watch her from every angle of space, every moment of time. She was his daughter, but not the way we think of daughters. It's another metaphor.

Sata-Rupa, the daughter of a hundred forms, was the great cosmic matrix of spacetime, full of stars and beings and life and fantastic possibilities of experience. She was his creation, his first and only, his total creation. She was Brahma's sphere, his spacetime filled with energy, and all he wanted to do was observe her. Because in observing his "daughter," he would come to know himself. Who am I? Brahma wonders. Why am I in existence?

His daughter, the fabulous milky realm of spacetime, the white cow full of milk and forms, is the means to get an answer. She is his answer. By observing material reality, even at this grand cosmic level, Brahma becomes self-aware.

So Brahma's "daughter," a metaphor for spacetime and its net of stars, is a pool of knowledge, the union of power and intelligence. She is the Flowing One, the Wandering One, the original divinity of transcendental knowledge and speech, the container of all the worlds, a graceful woman all in white, made of light, sitting on a lotus, the Wish Cow feeding all in Brahma's field of dreams.

In Brahma's "daughter," that wonderful white cow, all wishes come true. Everything is possible, all permutations likely, and most things eventually happen. And from the "milk" of that knowledge comes self-awareness. Now I know! declares Brahma, and the Wish Cow has fulfilled her purpose in life.

It sounds cosmic, but it's very much down to Earth. Each of us is like Brahma. We ask the same question, seek the same revelation. We all want to follow that fabulous white cow, observe the created reality we live in, and find out why it's all here and set up this way. These star wheels on the landscape are a practical way to do all this. Think of them as dedicated, concentrated workshops.

Over the life of the Earth, they blink on and off, are active and inactive for a while. Remember Io, the white cow of Mycenae? When Argus' one hundred eyes were open, the star wheel was on, the stars lit; when he went to sleep, the star wheel became inactive, was turned off. When Argus fell asleep, Io wandered off from Mycenae and went somewhere else. Where she laid down, another landscape zodiac got turned on and the milk started flowing again, there.

Long ago a white cow wandered into Charlottesville. I don't know if anybody noticed or followed her here. It was long before Jefferson's time. But she's noticeable today, as a subtle pinwheel of stars about ten miles across the local landscape. Anyone care to follow that cow and get some answers?

Swimming with the River Gods

©2003 Richard Leviton


I'm sitting on a rise in the woods outside Palmyra overlooking a bend in the Fluvanna River, and I realize that if this were classical Greece in the age of myth and fable I could reasonably expect an encounter with the Fluvanna river-god. To be honest, right now I'd like to be swimming with the river gods.

Why not? The Trojan wanderer Aeneas, when he arrived in Italy in search of where to found his new city to be called Rome, was greeted one night by Tiber the river-god, appearing as an aged head amid poplar leaves, mantled in grey, with shady reeds around him, as Virgil wrote. I am blue-green Tiber, the river most dear to Heaven, the river-god told Aeneas, and he showed him where to establish the White City.

Theseus, the Greek hero of Cretan labyrinth fame, luxuriated on a couch with the river-god Achelous in his underwater residence of pumice, tufa-rock, and conch shell ceiling, and was served lunch by barefoot river-nymphs. On another occasion and evidently in a different mood, Heracles fought Achelous, who tried to outwit the hero by changing shape, first a snake, then a bull. Similarly, Achilles engaged the river-god Scamander near Troy in a prodigious battle that took the intervention of Hephaistos the fire-god to quell.

It's not just the ancient Greeks who knew their river-gods. So did the Celts. The Brugh na Boinne, the Hostel on the River Boyne-today it's called Newgrange-was understood to be the residence of Boann, the river-goddess of the Boyne, a 70-mile waterway fairly near to Dublin in Ireland. It sounds like Newgrange was built there because that's where the river-goddess lived.

Troy was said to have been founded at the confluence of the residence of the river-god Scamander (the main river on the Trojan plain, now in Turkey) and the home of Idaea, the nymph of nearby Mount Ida. In fact, the myths say that Idaea and Scamander produced a son, Teucer, who was the ancestor of the Trojan kings. The river-god Cayster in Lydia, now Turkey, was the father of Ephesus, the founder of the sanctuary of Artemis and the holy city called Ephesus. And judging from Virgil's account, Rome may have been founded because of its nearness to the river-god Tiber's residence-that place in the landscape where the river-god may be visited. So what is a river-god then?
The Greek myths give us a clue. The river-gods are the brothers of the river-nymphs called Oceanids. Here's how it works: Oceanus was the paramount water-god for the Greeks, the personification of an ocean said to encircle the Earth at its farthest edge, and he was the father, with Tethys, of 3,000 Oceanids. The story doesn't quite make sense until you adjust its locality.

Earth is usually understood to mean planet Earth, but if we interpret Earth here as the vast cosmos, the space for all matter, gross and subtle, then Oceanus is a vast stream encircling the cosmos like a ring. In this sense, the whole cosmos at some level is an ocean. Mystics talk of the Sea of Consciousness, and I like to think of Oceanus as a name for that Sea and the 3,000 Oceanids as differentiated streams of consciousness within it. Oceanus is simply too vast to comprehend, so each Oceanid or nymph is a theme in that Sea of Consciousness.

It gets exciting-at least for me, as I ponder river-gods and half hope to meet the god of the Fluvanna River-when you put the two parts of the story together. If Oceanids are aspects of the totality of consciousness above, then their brothers, the river-gods of Earth below must be the many physical rivers of the planet. Each river-Scamander, Tiber, Achelous, Fluvanna-is both a physical flowing body of water and the "body" of a river-god or theme in consciousness.

Where the river-god lives-remember Scamander at Troy, Boann at Newgrange, Tiber near the White City, the future Rome-is where you may encounter him and, apparently quite often where ancient settlements were made, such as Troy and Rome, or important megalithic sites, like Newgrange.

Was Achilles really "fighting" with Scamander and Heracles with Achelous, or were they assimilating the energies and awareness of those streams, like a great whale swallowing an ocean current for refreshment?

Think of it on a global scale. All the Earth's rivers-Nile, Ganges, Connecticut, Missouri, Amazon, Mississippi, Yangtze, Danube, Rhine-each embodying an aspect of cosmic consciousness and each with its river-god, a point of focussed awareness ready for interaction, conversation, with us. Landscapes riddled with cosmic thoughts and themes-everywhere you swim or canoe, the possibility of a mystical encounter with a river-god, an education, an invitation to lounge and lunch on Achelous' underwater couches.

Think too, unfortunately, of the deplorable condition of most of the planet's rivers today-polluted, diverted, dammed, drained, abused. We live in the uncomfortable gap between a former belief in mythic possibilities and the current disbelief in anything other than physical reality. Maybe a little swim with a river-god might be just the ticket to rejuvenate our sense of the natural world.

What might we expect from an encounter with a river-god? The Rhine river-god brought gold to the wedding of Poseidon, Lord of the Sea, and Beroe. The Simois river-god near Troy made ambrosia spring up for the horses of Hera, Queen of the gods, and Pallas Athena, an Olympian, during the Trojan War.

Ganga, the goddess of the River Ganges, petitioned Brahma to allow her waters to descend from Heaven to Earth to purify the ashes of 60,000 burnt sons of King Sagara so as to allow them to enter Paradise. So strong was Ganga's spiritual current that first it had to flow through Shiva's matted hair before it could safely touch the Earth without drowning all of India.

The gift of gold, ambrosia, spiritual cleansing, information about the local landscape, the offer to be the spirit of place for a holy site-these are some of the many possible gifts of consciousness from the river-gods. I'll let you know what comes of my meeting with the Fluvanna river-god when I find him.

Walking in Albion - Chronicles of Plan - Net Geomancy
Part I: Child of the Ancient Giant

©1991 Richard Leviton


As I stood on the windswept cliffs of Tintagel in northwestern Cornwall in the middle of an English winter, Merlin said to me, "It's time to do it again, to walk in Albion. Hatch his eggs. Unbind him. Talk to him from the emerald. Celebrate his awakening on America's Independence Day." It was blowing wind and rain so hard I felt if I lost my balance on this high promontory I'd easily be blown across the sea to Wales. I was so thickly padded in wool and down that I'd have made a handsome dirigible in my windblown sea passage. So I envied Merlin. He didn't have "weather" where he was. I wished he were incarnate again so we could measure our footfalls together as we paced Tintagel headland this midday in January contemplating the future of that ancient mythic giant, Albion.
Mythic? I used to think both Merlin and Albion were both old figures of Celtic myth, intriguing reliquaries of a fabulous legendary past---until I realized how integrally involved they are today in the well-being, the redemption of our host planet Gaia and all Her residents.

Mythology always seems to lead us back into a forgotten initiatory domain, an experiential realm shimmering with heightened reality and expectancy. As J.R.R. Tolkien once said, ancient figures of household legend suddenly spring up from the grass as living heroes in a time of need. Take Tintagel, fabled birthplace of King Arthur, the once and future King, champion of the Knights of the Round Table, and royal sponsor of the Quest for the Holy Grail. As I penetrate deeper into the mythopoeic reality of the Celtic landscape, I realize that Arthur is much more than a charismatic king. Arthur is a cosmic energy, an ascended master from the constellation Great Bear, a perennial mentor both for human culture and Gaia---for isn't the Big Dipper often called Arthur's Wain?---and that Tintagel is the numinous point on the skin of Gaia where the Arthur light is born in each individual who wishes it.

It isn't only the Celtic landscape that is mythopoeically alive. The entire global skin of Gaia scintillates with an etheric geography made of the stars and their cosmomythic portent. Some people today call Gaia's subtle spiritual anatomy the planetary grid and speak of energy lines, power centers, and sacred mountains. The world grid is like a planetary onion replete with dovetailing layers, like shells of consciousness in which great supersensible events are continually happening. In the late 1970s James Lovelock, the British atmospheric scientist, boldly formulated the Gaia Hypothesis, asserting that the planet is a single self-regulating homeostatic biological organism. The world grid hypothesis develops Lovelock's model further, bringing it into the realm of consciousness and intention.

Gaia, as we world grid proponents like to postulate, is a self-conscious planetary being whose energetic anatomy and physiology are as complex and as cosmically interwoven as that of the human being---as ourselves. The grid is an energy and consciousness matrix, a net with a plan. Through Her complex grid body---the plan of Her net ---Gaia mirrors the essential higher spiritual nature of the human. Both mirror images of planet and human derive from the original projection of the galaxy, which means when we describe Gaia's etheric geography we're really modelling the galaxy on Earth. Gaia is a multidimensional hologram of the cosmos.

The plan of the net, Merlin tells me, is conscious evolution and geomancy is the way we help this plan-net along. Tintagel is a good place to make plans and formulate wishes because this is where all the power of AL enters Earth from the Great Bear. Tintagel is one of about 1750 numinous grid points around the planet, englobed by a dome, an etheric energy canopy about five miles wide. Domes correspond to individual stars, and Tintagel's dome is the Earth home of the Great Bear's delta Megrez , "The Root of the Tail" in the Big Dipper.

Domes are like huge bells of light ringing perpetually in the ethers to enhance human consciousness. Tintagel is aflame in the tints of angels , a magnificent rainbow kaleidoscope of cosmic and angelic energies. The tints of angels surround the Arthur light at domed Tintagel; through their focus the co-creative potency of AL becomes available. AL is what Al bion is made of, the radiantly-hued love of the Great Mother Bear. AL is the power to make wishes reality. AL is how we re-vision the world along positive lines, how we reimagine Albion, the wished-for land. (1) Arthur is Albion's spokesman, so as grid engineers we're all working for Arthur. "You make your sincerest wish for Albion at Tintagel," said Merlin. "That begins to loosen his bonds of Time."

Merlin ought to know. He's the one who bound Albion in the Pit in the first place at the beginning of Time. Merlin was involved with the Earth long before he gained his reputation as the magus of Arthur's Camalate. Wasn't the oldest name for Britain Myrddin's Precinct as the Weslh remembered Merlin? The other remarkable thing about myth and the landscape I've discovered is that when you pull on the threads persistently enough you inevitably unravel the unwritten history of the planet---and that's a story with many surprises. The Earth, Merlin told me, is a designer planet made expressly for human higher conscious evolution within matter. Gaia's energetic anatomy, which recapitulates the spiritual structure of the galaxy, is the starwoven body of the Holy Ghost, that first primordial cosmic human appearing in a form of light---variously called Phanes, Adam Kadmon, the Rich Fisher King, Kronos, Saturn, Albion.

Earth history began with a sacrifice. The Holy Ghost living in eternity was bound in matter, crucified on the cross of time and space. When Merlin bound Kronos in the Pit, Time began on Earth. The Greek myths remember this in their account of Zeus dispatching his castrated father Kronos into permanent guarded exile in the golden halls of Ogygia far off in the West. William Blake also recounted this ancient sacrifice of the Holy Ghost caught in Time in his lamentations of the ancient giant, Albion. The holy image of Man caught in the Time of planet Earth---that's our Albion, A Light Being In Our Neighborhood.

Albion is the collectivity of human experience over time on Gaia. Albion is what we've made of this primordial endowment of the cosmic spirituality of the Holy Ghost in the material context of our planet. The plan of the net in which Albion is bound is that he should one day wed Gaia in a planetary marriage of spirit and matter. As geomancers, our work is to facilitate the arrangements and then serve as bridesmaid and best man, and the most astonishing news I can report is that the wedding is slated for approximately 1999. Albion is expected to wake up at last in an apocalyptic rush of planetary self-consciousness joyously embracing Gaia, our bride clothed in the Sun. In a curious reversal of relationships we as humanity give away the virginal bride, our planetary Mother.

It all starts here, at Tintagel, here in this numinous mythic British landscape, the vestigial remains of that very old land called Hyperborea that flourished long before even fabled Lemuria. Blake knew this: "All things begin & end in Albion's Ancient Druid Rocky Shore," he wrote in Jerusalem . Yet this kind of milennialist expectation isn't a matter of pro-British sentiment; it's an evolutionary necessity based on the inherent structure of the planet. If the Earth is the planetary embodiment of cosmic Man, then Albion's belly button will always be found at the same place, no matter who's occupying the land.

As Plato commented in the Timaeus , the Earth when seen from afar resembles a ball stitched of twelve equal sections. Plato was describing the world grid. The planet woven of twelve sections is dodecahedral, twelve-faced, and each face of Gaia is a five-sided pentagon. Each pentagonal face is the net in which an image of Albion is reflected, and each is under a different astrological influence in the planetary zodiacal wheel. There are twelve reflected Albions, each a face with a different expression, and all the faces are cast by the one Albion bound in the Pit at the energetic center of the planet, at the heart of Gaia's grid net. In the very old days of Hyperborea (Tolkien called this the First Age of the Elves, the First-Born) the planet was first energized through this particular pentagonal face, which occupies one-twelfth of the surface of Earth, including the North Pole, Greenland, Iceland, Great Britain, Ireland, France, Spain, and a lot of the Atlantic Ocean.
This Hyperborean face of Albion was Gaia's original umbilical cord to the cosmos---as it still is today in the 1990s. That's why Merlin wants us to walk in Albion, to meditatively traverse the Hyperborean landscape body of that ancient giant bound in the Pit of Time, and to rouse him into wakefulness for his glorious future. Albion, I keep reminding myself, is ourselves writ large in the Earth.
Our first stop was the tiny Lincolnshire village of Tetford in the north of England. Tetford and the neighboring villages of Somersby, Bag-Enderby, and Maidenwell, is topped by a dome corresponding to Sadalmelik (meaning "the Fortunate Star of the King"), the brightest star in the constellation of Aquarius. Aquarius is the energy of the Water-Carrier now moving into planetary and human consciousness for the coming age, emphasizing collegiality, individuation, self-authority, freedom, expanded consciousness, world brotherhood, cosmically rational new ideas, and the communication of these values. Aquarius rules the human ankles, without which we couldn't walk in Albion.

So unknown Tetford is one of Gaia's primary receptive points for this new Aquarian energy, but that's not the whole of Tetford's secret. Albion like humans has a progression of energy-consciousness centers in his landscape body, what we usually call chakras. Tetford is the root chakra, the source of creative kundalini for the once and future Albion of this Hyperborean pentagonal grid face. And nestled like a jewel in the landscape folds of his root center under the Tetford dome is an egg-born Golden Child.

That's why we positioned ourselves as geomantic midwives in the miniscule parish church at Somersby at midmorning a couple days before Christmas. We were breathing as the angels do, as Love from Above from the tiny blazing Star at the center of our being to the massive diaphanously golden egg with its slumbering cosmic child within. The egg is a supersensible presence almost the size of the dome itself, which is 8 miles across. The ancient Mystery tradition called this the Mundane Egg, and H.P. Blavatsky in The Secret Doctrine concisely summarized the egg's esoteric attributions. The Egg was the consummate cosmogonic symbol, representing the origin and secret of being, both human and universal. Various solar heroes---Dionysus, Ra, Brahma, Osiris, Apollo, Phanes, Vishnu, Castor, Pollux---emerged from the Golden Egg.

A staggering amount of mundane eggs were distributed around the etheric landscape of Earth at the beginning of Time, Merlin told me, and many of these still haven't been hatched. That's probably because when you hatch a golden egg you have to be able to deal with the dragon that comes out first.

But then dealing with dragons is what a Grail Knight is trained for. I took my sword, the insightful focus of mind wielded at the brow chakra, and gently penetrated the eggshell. The blade's cutting edge flamed lilac with the transmutative energy of the Christ as it touched the sleeping form of a blue dragon. When the blade contacted the skin of this somnolent dragon, it suddenly woke up and flushed crimson. This is the tricky part. I held the sword very steady, breathing Love from Above to the waking passionate dragon of the lower elemental self, the zoomorphic expression of the animal part of each of us. My body twitched sympathetically with the dragon's own prodigious struggle and I felt like a skewered serpent. The dragon flushed golden then crumbled like a shattered ceramic sculpture, revealing a resplendent golden apple amongst its glittering shards.

As that initiate hero Hercules discovered long ago, the dragon Ladon guards the golden apples of the Hesperides, but the dragon fruits of wisdom are inside Ladons' heart. You only get the golden apples by transmuting the dragon. I cleaved the apple in half revealing the golden child resting wakefully in the pentagrammic inner apple core as if in a celestial manger. This all happened very quickly and seemed to be as large as the entire Tetford domed landscape, but it's just another paradox of the grid which has its prime reality outside of time and space. We grid engineers tie down the guide wires connecting the two realms.

The child, awake and smiling, turned first into a crucifed man then a crowned king---but I was looking ahead in time. The golden child's destiny as the egg-born progeny of Albion is to recapitulate the five traditional Grail changes (dragon, apple, child, crucified man, crowned king) which are stages in the awakening of human consciousness. It turns out this sequence is identical to the five initiations of the Christ Alice Bailey described in From Bethlehem to Calvary , namely, birth, baptism, transfiguration, crucifixion, and ascension.
The emergence of the solar hero proceeds according to the dictates of an archetypal etheric physiology, but the destiny of this golden child is somewhat special. This child will receive on Gaia's behalf the consciousness influx of the Solar Logos, which is the Christ consciousness working through the Sun as spoken communication. As Merlin explained, the focus of the Solar Logos at this time works through the alpha Aquarius star dome at Tetford into the being bodies of Tetford's golden child who is awake and creatively astir within the root chakra of the Hyperborean Albion.

Merlin grinned of course as he told me this. As a Grand Square Master from Sirius who helped design our planet in the first place, he enjoys this kind of complexity. For him Albion's anatomy is as obvious as a crossword puzzle. For us it's a continuing revelation. The next morning at dawn we meditated at Maidenwell, a lovely grassy prominence overlooking Tetford valley. Our experience was like placing the golden infant at the breast of the Mother, creating a geomantic tableau reminiscent of the Renaissance portraits of Madonna and Christ Child. As none of this landscape awakening work is in any way separate from our own attainments in consciousness, our experience cycled continually from being the infant to being the Mother. At Maidenwell, the unbounded, timeless clairvoyant awareness of the Mother welled as celestial nourishment into the crown of the golden child.

We spent the remainder of the week meditating each day in nearby Lincoln Cathedral, one of England's great Gothic churches, set prominently on a hill overlooking the old city. Each day we drove the 20 miles from Tetford to Lincoln knowing we were moving through a tunnel of light connecting two great centers of awareness in this ancient landscape giant. Lincoln is also an Aquarian consciousness point, topped with the star dome for the second brightest star in Aquarius, Sadalsuud ("Luckiest of the Lucky"). Lincoln in the body of our giant, Albion, is the second chakra. Our Aquarian transiting and church sitting was in preparation for the Epiphany, that majestic annual event on January 6 in which the Christ focusses the creative force of the Logos upon one matrix point in the planetary grid net. This year the Epiphany would be focussed in the British Midlands, through another unsuspected numinous point, an unassuming stretch of wood and water between Burley and Hambledon outside the town of Oakham in Rutland.

Burley Wood wasn't that unassuming a couple centuries ago when the polymorphous Rosicrucian master St. Germaine inspired the local landed gentry to carve a stately Eight Riding Tree out of the thick woods. The aristocratic owners of Burley thought they were making an elegant 8-spoked equestrian circuit through the Burley woods, suitable for galloping fox hunts and Sunday canters on horseback. What they didn't know is that their forestry work made it possible for St. Germaine and Merlin to install an astral 8-spoked lilac wheel of transmutation in roughly the same spot. St. Germaine slipped this massive wheel under another of those mundane solar eggs, knowing in advance that when the Epiphany of 1991 permeated this golden egg set like a hub in the lilac wheel, it would awaken Albion's solar plexus and umbilicus to the cosmos, and repercuss throughout the planet. They also intended to flush the Earth grid with intense lilac light through this wheel for the first time in 10,000 years, Merlin told me, trying not to boast.

This wasn't precisely our cover story when we applied at the security guard's office at Burley Mansion for permission to wander around the privately owned Eight Riding Tree. The ownership of the wood was a little vague owing to legal complications of bankruptcy, fraud, and imprisonment, but we obtained quizzical permission to spend a couple hours each day in the mud, rain, and wind of Burley dowsing, taking photographs, watching the wild boars rut for tubers, enjoying the inimitable British scenery---or whatever it is American tourists come to England for. Merlin, St. Germaine, and the Archangel Michael didn't apply at the security office, advising us they already had the okay from a higher authority.

Our grid work fell into a manageable routine. At dawn midday, and dusk we meditated at the heart of the lilac wheel, breathed Love from Above to the Golden Child like the three magi in adoration of the Christ infant. We pacified the irritable elemental spirits, dispatched negative thought-forms that kept trying to bend our intentions, and made forays with Merlin into the wild supersensible yonder. In the evenings we drank Guinness, ate quiche, talked about Albion with our neighbors, and dried our sodden clothes by the open fire in a lovely cottage we rented for the week. Clarissa wrote postcards to friends back home in sunny Australia about why she came to England in the height of winter, while Marty joked about stuffing her parka pockets with bricks to keep from getting blown away.

As always, the Christ came like a thief in the night in a flush of magnificent scarlet warmth. Like the Apostles of an earlier time we fell asleep to the higher perception of this epiphanous appearance of the Logos. Of course, you can't see the Christ anyway, because that's a mistaken anthropomorphism. That's because the face of the Christ is your own and these days the Christ incarnates individually in human consciousness, Merlin told us with a wink. We expanded our individual identities to include the Burley golden child and the lilac wheel at the belly of Albion then took the full permeation of the Epiphany on Albion's behalf. The face of the Logos isn't necessarily some smiling, beaded, new age pacifist type, either. The transmutative effects of Epiphany are profound, disruptive, and sometimes rapid. Ten days later the United States went to war with Iraq in a pentagonal grid face under the astrological influence of Aquarius.

After Epiphany, we headed south for Avalon, one of Merlin's favorite spots on Earth. We called in at Avalon's epicenter at Glastonbury in Somerset, one of the leading new age mystical watering holes. We didn't find any mundane eggs in Avalon; instead we found a landscape zodiac. Glastonbury's esoteric community prides itself on its starwheel which is an apparent imprint on the landscape topography of the standard features of the zodiacal constellations. Aerial photographs and close-detail topographical maps exhibit the outlines of Taurus and Sagittarius and the rest of the tumbling round table of zodiacal images etched in hills and streams and hedgerows, explain the Glastonbury savants. True enough, said Merlin, but that's only part of it. The star imprint is actually a complete experiential hologram of the galaxy made of twelve dozen constellations arrayed like the pith of a cleaved apple about 35 miles wide in the etheric domain around Glastonbury.

The Glastonbury zodiac is the heart center of our Hyperborean Albion, said Merlin, but his attention was focussed on his old haunt, Park Wood, in nearby Butleigh. Park Wood is a modest copse of a few acres preserved in the midst of Somerset farmland a couple miles from Glastonbury's most prominent hilltop feature, the Tor. Park Wood marks Polaris the pole star, the axis mundi that connects planetary and cosmic worlds at the center of the Glastonbury zodiac, but the Wood is even more than that. It's the inner heart chakra, the ananda-kanda , for Albion, and as such, it's the seat of the emerald, the mani jewel in the padme lotus of the Holy Ghost---the green stone from the crown of Lucifer.

The emerald signifies the Heart of Man, the swinging doorway into the worlds of matter and Edenic light. The Park of the Wood is a hologram of that primal Eden---that's the esplumoir he really disappeared into, that's the hollow hill into which his protege in magic Nimue seduced him, Merlin explained a little wistfully. Park Wood is also a shortcut to Shambhala if you know how to make your moves in light---and that's exactly the kind of move that Albion desperately requires now to wake up.

We only had one afternoon at Park Wood to make our Shambhallic connections because we were expected further south in Dorchester at the King's Arms Hotel for a mitzvah for Albion. Close friends from Tetford were feting us all to a lavish weekend in celebration of our seven years of grid work on behalf of Albion. Merlin, St. Germaine, Michael, and other angelic colleagues of long-standing acquaintance joined us in our jubilee at Dorchester. Our time was doubly productive of course, because Albion's throat chakra was centered just outside the city limits at Maiden Castle, an absolutely massive three-tiered earthwork, probably Europe's largest. Maiden Castle, said Merlin, was made that large because it marks the grounding of the Mothership on Earth, that beneficent panoply of the Feminine, the three archetypal aspects of the Mother of the World as the maidenly guardians of Gaia.

Maiden Castle was topped with a dome and its extensive elevated acreage was also the center of a modest five mile wide landscape zodiac. But what was most palpable about the earthwork was the overwhelming presence of the Mother. Images of the Mother no doubt vary with individuals. For me, She appeared as Leda the Swan, mother of the egg-born solar hero Apollo, her breast aflame with the scarlet radiance of the Christ as She sailed the infinite cosmic sea in perfect equipoise. The Mother of the World speaks to Albion from his throat, speaking Logos syllables of life, and She speaks to the world from Maiden Castle, too, recreating human life and thought with maidenly words made of the power of AL .

Our moments with Leda got us in the mood for a sea voyage. The next day we took the Brittany ferry to Roscoff in northwestern France, then drove a couple hours south to the resort town of Karnac on the Gulf of Morbihan. It was winter, most of Karnac was boarded up, and we were practically the only non-French tourists in sight, but that didn't matter because we came for the stones. Karnac is famous among megalithic enthusiasts for its five miles of stone rows, something like 3000 standing stones, varying from two to fifteen feet high, arranged in ten to twelve parallel rows, striding enigmatically across the countryside. We would spend a fortnight aligning our energies with the cranial stones of Albion's brow chakra at Karnac under the aegis of Sirius, Merlin told us with understandable pride, being one of the original Sirian engineers who installed Karnac's stones.

The grid engineering at Karnac is complex, Merlin warned us. First, Karnac and environs is the site for the Sirius dome for Earth, which is about 30 miles in diameter. Sirius is the brightest star in our galaxy and the heart of Canis Major, the Great Dog. The Dog is a mythological big shot. In myth, the Dog is the guardian of the zodiac, the conductor of souls through the Underworld, and the faithful companion of all solar heroes, including Arthur. Second, a large zodiac 44 miles in diameter is situated here, with Karnac occupying the landscape position of Canis Major. Third, the entire stone row alignment and Karnac zodiac mark the brow center of the Hyperborean Albion. And the whole complex is directly connected by energy lines to Albion's crown chakra at the cathedral city of Rennes in eastern Brittany, which also has a small zodiac.

After Merlin bound Albion in the Pit, in cooperation with other Sirians and the angelic family called Elohim who temporarily manifested as giants, he came to Karnac and set up 365 stones to create the cycle of Time for Earth and to mark the nodal points within the cranium of Albion. The intention was to ground the Mind of Sirius, which is to say, the Cosmic Logos, within Albion on behalf of future human conscious evolution. Later they added more stones because the mixture was too rich, and still later, French farmers hauled a lot of the stones out of the fields because they got in the way of their potato crop.
Today even though some of the Sirian stone rows are curtailed by farmhouses, interrupted by criss-crossing roads, generally neglected, and sometimes abused, Karnac's cosmic cranial function is still intact, if a little sluggish. It required fully two weeks of walking around in Albion's brains for us to penetrate the thicker, more resistant French ethers and to come into cognition with the Sirian mind of our ancient giant. After this, our work got serious.
But I found I couldn't get dogs and hunting out of my mind. The whole of the Karnac stone alignment is like a living organism with progressive energy centers. We spent several hours at the heart center meditating in the shadow of an 18 foot tall single standing stone called Le Geant Manio set in the woods a couple hundred yards away from the parallel stone rows. I spent some time poking around the dense ethers with my sword then finally found an opening. I made my way towards a golden spherical temple set atop a plateau of conifers. Inside the temple I found a high-level meeting in progress. It's the round table of the cosmic logos, Merlin whispered, and that big golden fellow is Sanat Kumara, the King of Shambhala and the Cosmic Logos of Sirius. The other spiritual beings around the table are individual solar logoi, and one of them is King Arthur, Merlin added a little fondly. Each of them energizes a stone row at Karnac like a chromatic chord of sound, and the whole alignment is metaphorically comparable to a twelve-string cosmic guitar.

It was when I stepped out of Le Geant Manio and surveyed the stone phalanxes of Karnac again that I suddenly understood what the Welsh myths meant by the Wild Hunt and why dogs had been on my mind all day. On Samhain, the moment of No-Time in the Celtic calendar (November 1), the abyssal cauldron of Cernwn, the awful "smoke barrel" of infinity, opens above our world and through this aperture storms Gwyn map Nudd and his Hounds of Hell, the red-eared, white-skinned dogs of the apocalypse, chief among which is Gwyn's special hound, Dormach. They basically scare everyone silly and wreak lots of havoc.

The Wild Hunt is all about the mind of Sirius. Gwyn is Sanat Kumara, the Cosmic Logos presiding over the domain of No-Time, the time before Time began on Earth. Dormach is his Karnac landscape dog, and the devilish hounds are the 3000 stones of knowledge, the group mind of the White Brotherhood expressed through the Karnac alignments as a megalithic frieze of canines. The hounds are the ferocious dogs of cosmic knowledge that tear the conditioned, time-bound mind of we humans to shreds. Of course that's the pessimistic side of it. We could see Gwyn and his Sirian dogs as psychopomps for an astounding, perpetual revelation.

This little insight prepared me for my descent into the Pit through the mind of Dormach. We walked to the far end of the Karnac alignments, to an almost completely neglected stretch of small stones in the woods called Le Petite Menec. The brow center of Karnac's Dormach, it felt still, soft, and very focussed. I slipped easily into a meditative awareness of the subtle environment around me. The woods teemed with astral dogs, but one especially captured my attention: black with foxy ears, he was a very old canine breed with an attentive semi-human face---Dormach, presumably. A crystalline jewel was set prominently in his brow and using my sword I penetrated this aperture and entered his domain. Inside, Dormach flushed golden and the 3000 stones of his landscape body hummed like a single crystal bowl. Not only the dogs of Karnac live in Dormach's expansive body; the dogs of all the landscape zodiacs on Earth (more than 500) reside in his Sirian being body, and these were all present with me inside the cosmic kennel of Dormach. Dormach is the Dog of Sirius multiply present on Earth through Karnac. Then we descended into the Pit.

A vortex cone of light like a slow-winding tornado appeared and I travelled through it like water funneling down a sink drain. This vortex cone is actually a more dynamic expression of one face of the dodecahedral world grid which is made of twelve wide-mouthed spiralling cones that all taper down to meet at one common center. This is the Pit, or the golden halls of Ogygia, if you prefer. Lying before me bound and strapped to a massive table was the golden slumbering figure of Albion, that ancient colossus of consciousness caught in the planetary webs of Time. It's as if the Karnac Dog of Sirius sits at Albion's brow in the Pit because that's where I landed in a fractal collapsing of apparent spatial identities, spinning down vortices into larger frames of identity. Was I in the Pit of Gaia or was this Pit in the mind of Sirius?

The ropes binding Albion were stout and tightly knotted and his body was encased in a winding sheet like the Egyptians traditionally used for mummification. Merlin was there and he pointed to my sword. The blade easily sliced through the knots binding his neck, wrists, and ankles, then I delicately sliced through the winding sheet until Albion, still somnolent, lay free upon the table. O Albion, I exclaimed in a flush of exaltation. Now I know why Blake so rhapsodized about you. "Thou wast to me the loveliest Son of Heaven, the Angel of my Presence, the mildest Son of Eden," the Christ declared in Blake's Jerusalem . This loveliest Son of Heaven was attended by his Mother, too. The presence of the Feminine as aegis was unmistakable. She towered like a benign Madonna over Her sleeping effulgent son. That's part of Merlin's task, actually, making the connection between the cosmic Father at Sirius and the cosmic Mother, establishing the line to the Mer, the Mother, the Mer-Line .

So with Merlin's help the Mer-Line was open to Albion, the resplendent image of Man somnolent but unbound upon the table in the Pit of Gaia. With the turning of every planetary age Albion shifted in his slumber, but he's never awakened on Earth. But now his sleep grows ever lighter as he struggles towards self-awareness, prying off the cobwebs of countless milennia of dreams. Albion winked in his sleep at the Harmonic Convergence of 1987. Albion stirs in the expectancy of a startling lucidity. We can reach him now, he can hear us in his lightening trance state. We all have a hotline to Albion. We all must speak the truth to him about his destiny, about what his life will be like when he wakes up. What is Albion's destiny? Albion's destiny is precisely what we wish for through our spoken power of AL . AL is the life blood of Albion, his once and future beginning, and his colossal destiny is entirely contingent upon what we say.

I walked down the huge recumbent figure and stood upon Albion's emerald heart. The emerald is the key. This is the true, the efficacious ear trumpet into which we must broadcast our good wishes for Albion's future. The emerald is the planetary modem of consciousness into which we're all patched. The emerald, or inner heart chakra, contains the jewelled altar and its wish-fulfilling tree, and we wish upon this tree with our highest, keenest, most sincere aspirations to communicate with the Absolute---on Albion's behalf. We've all been inside the emerald anyway. We know the place. It's the New Jerusalem that Merlin foretold in his Revelation when he spoke as John the Revealer. After all, Merlin wasn't always a "pagan." The Harmonic Convergence was a global meeting inside the one emerald of the Holy Ghost fractally multiplied around Gaia's net and present like a master key in the chest of every woman and man alive today.

I paced contemplatively upon Albion's heart, intoning an emerald benediction. I formulated my wishes with the breath of AL . Albion, I wish you will awaken. I wish you a world of AL . I wish for you a bright future. I wish for you the best there is---the limitless luxury of light. Merlin nodded approvingly. That's a good start, he said. "But you'll need to hatch another egg over in America. Get some more Grail Knights together. Celebrate Independence Day with a little panache. Albion wants this new golden child of the eagle born on the 4th of July."

(1) AL is a God-Name or mantric word from Qabala indicating the Sephira Chesed on the Tree of Life. Chesed is about the expansiveness of Jupiter, the abundance of the higher mind, the Olympic realm of the Masters, and the primordial creative energy that recreates land, thought, life, and consciousness. As such AL is the celestial seed and core of Albion which is the collectivity of human consciousness over time expressed through the Land itself. AL is the once and future creative energy that makes Land and Human one.

Walking in Albion - Chronicles of Plan -Net Geomancy
Part II: Child of the Maturing Eagle

©1991 Richard Leviton


From nearly the top of the fire tower at Moore's Hill in the Daughters of the American Revolution State Forest in Goshen, in the hills of western Massachusetts, you can see all of the Pocumtuck zodiac. I say nearly because you can't climb to the top; it's locked, and anyway I didn't want to. It's too high for a fire tower and makes my body tremble from its root. Merlin laughed of course as he saw me gripping the steel railing a little too tightly after I climbed a dozen steps. High towers never phased him. Hadn't he prophecied the return of Arthur from the top of King Vortigern's decidedly unsteady tower long ago on that mountain in Wales? Vertigo wasn't an issue for ethereal Merlin these days as it was for we four grid engineers this morning. "Sink a red bolt from your own root into the center of the Earth from here," he advised. "You'll feel a lot more grounded."

Merlin was right. We sat on the ground at the base of the tower, closed our eyes, and visualized that a bright crimson pillar of light ascended from the center of the Earth up into our four-petalled root chakra at the base of the spine. As we focussed our meditation on our exhalations this pillar or bolt expanded radically. It felt as if we had become so large we were sitting on an Earth no bigger than a beachball. Our individual bodies were bolted securely to the planet. Then we drew this red bolt like an energy curtain up through our entire body and up over the head so that our energy field was columnated by this grounded, profoundly creative root energy. After all, the root holds both our fears about survival and the untapped potency of kundalini. We could use this effervescent redness to transmute those fears of incarnation. "Go on, test it," said Merlin.

I scurried up the tower, climbing 30 steps before I realized my body wasn't quaking in fear of the height. The red bolt had dilated my root chakra so enormously its vortex petals were like wingnuts. I stood confidently on the steel-girded windy prominence as if my feet were still on the ground, and surveyed the forested hills of the Pocumtuck zodiac.

The Pocumtuck zodiac, we like to say, is our own landscape Mystery temple rising up through and around us in an epiphany of light. This knobby land in the Berkshire foothills used to be inhabited by the Pocumtuck Indians up until the arrival of the aggressive European settlers in the early 17th century, so we've borrowed their tribal name, which means "clear, open stream," in belated recognition of the sacrality of their landscape. The Pocumtuck zodiac is a17 mile wide etheric star imprint, a virtual image of not only the twelve signs of the zodiac, but twelve dozen constellations scintillating behind the trees and rocks and just beyond the ken of ordinary cognition. Mythopoeic Britain after all doesn't have exclusive spiritual real estate rights to landscape zodiacs. As a planet Gaia possesses over 500 landscape starwheels distributed evenly across Her twelve geometric faces. Our work as grid engineers is to coax these myriad stars from terrestrial dormancy to living actuality in a communal act of temple-building---for isn't the zodiac and its stellar denizens the Temple of Man made of the cosmos?

As we dangled our feet insouciantly over the edge of the wood-slatted platform high up in the fire tower, I explained the context for our work to my companions, Ellen, Theodore, and Mary. It was the 4th of July, America's Independence Day, and Merlin had an unusual celebration in mind for us. First let's take the broad view of things, I began. Gaia's energetic anatomy---Her net or grid--- is twelvefold, each one-twelfth section is a pentagon, a five-sided domain that includes large portions of land and sea, and each pentagonal face is directly influenced and energized by one zodiacal energy. One pentagonal face---the Hyperborean--- which includes the British Isles, Spain, France, Greenland, Iceland, the North Pole, and a considerable portion of the Atlantic Ocean, is under the influence today of Virgo. Virgo represents the fecundity of the Earth Mother abundant with nourishing fruits of the harvest. A virgin Madonna cradling the divine child, She's full of life, creativity; She's the Grand Dame Brittania, the heavenly Queen Mum, and the essence of the Feminine. The 25 landscape zodiacs within her pentagonal aegis are Her starry-eyed children, little Virgo emissaries to Gaia.

By contrast the zodiacal children of the pent face overlaying most of America are like little poisonous stingers. This adjacent pentagonal domain is under the influence of Scorpio, which is a very tricky energy. Scorpio is the intensely introverted energy of sex, death, transformation, and rebirth. The scorpion stings to the death, but it's an ambivalent poison: You either die and stay dead, or you die into a miraculous rebirth, transfiguring into the eagle, the scorpion's true destiny, symbolically speaking. "This pent face over most of America is most threatened," said Merlin. "It's in a Scorpionic energy cycle which could be disastrous or transformative."

The Scorpio pent face includes urban zodiacs in Boston, Washington D.C., Syracuse, and Rochester, and country zodiacs in Maine, Quebec, New Hampshire---28 in all---and this one constellated around Northampton, the home of Smith College. Within a pent face the individual zodiacs are energetically, serially related just like chakra centers in the subtle human organization. The Pocumtuck zodiac is the root center for the entire Scorpio pent face, which means a lot depends on how this root work proceeds---not to mention how we handle the egg.

Yes, we had another golden egg on our geomantic hands. This egg was set elegantly, if a little vulnerably, in the egg-cup of the Pocumtuck zodiac. I invited my companions to stretch their visualizing powers a little. Think of the cosmos as an apple; its pith is the bright compacted mass of billions of stars. The transposition of this celestial sphere to the horizontal terrestrial landscape is basically an engineering problem.

On Earth, the hologram of the cosmic apple is cleaved in two but the cleaver is left in place. A landscape zodiac seen from above looks like the two halves of an apple, each half glittering with the starry pith of either northern or southern hemisphere constellations. In this image the cleaver is a major energy line, a kind of archangelic superhighway of light that transits the globe oroborically returning to its source. We call these primary energy rings Oroboros Lines because like the mythographic serpent, its tail is in its mouth. Oroboros Lines, of which Gaia has 15, are an integral structural aspect of the plan-net grid, just like the landscape zodiacs. Our golden egg is perfectly poised on this Oroboros Line which runs straight through the 20 mile long cleavage of the two apple halves of the Pocumtuck zodiac. In fact it runs clear around the planet and comes up behind us again here at the D.A.R. fire tower.

This was enough orientation for now. We had root work to do on this hot, sunny, humid July morning. We clambered down the fire tower and took our positions---to be precise, on the Oroboros Line, at the root of the golden child, in the root zodiac of the Scorpio pentagonal face, of the plan-net of Gaia---and upon the soft grass of Moore Hill. Then we breathed as Love from Above to our bolts, meditated silently for a half hour, then compared notes.

Collegiality of vision and work is a hallmark of this style of grid engineering. Nobody gets the full picture, only corroborable impressions; but when we combine and overlap our individual insights a probable gestalt emerges of that vast supersensible reality whose outer membrane we've tentatively touched. That's why Arthur's Grail Knights always sat about a round table, not a rectangular, hierarchical one, because everyone's input counted equally. Another crucial hallmark about plan-net geomancy is that no landscape work is in any way separate from our own spirituality. We work with a golden egg only through personally mastering the progressive stages of initiation that awaken the golden child. This apparently external, egg-born divine child is in essence a holographic projection of our own inner being. So we build the temple exactly at the rate we can build ourselves. Plan-net geomancy is the act of encompassing the landscape in our spirituality.

As it turned out, each of our meditations had encompassed a different aspect of the inside of this creative red root bolt. Theodore had seen the golden egg as a light form squeezed out of the swirling energy field of the huge umbrella dome over the Pocumtuck zodiac. At the bottom of the egg he saw a spiralling tunnel that lead to a portal. Ellen, who found herself the human center of a nimbus of gnomes, saw huge golden hands cupping an acqua-jade egg. "Then I suddenly perceived a huge trembling in the ground, like an earthquake---but it was in my body, too," Ellen remarked, as if all the old compacted debris in her root chakra were being churned up by this new energy. Then as if to corroborate her insight, she saw an electric fan with four red and orange blades spiralling slowly around. Mary had a direct and visceral experience inside the bolt, too. "After I entered the red pillar, there was a great flurry of activity, directed by Merlin," Mary commented. "I knew it was repairing me as red and blue spirals twined up through the bolt. I saw myself standing huge, as if I were a single blazing star atop a red post planted at the center of the Earth."

I knew what Mary meant. We always started our geomantic work with a strong focus on the Star, that single blazing pinprick of absolute light at the center of our being. For the sake of balance we breath to it as Love from Above as if it were bodily located two inches above the belly button and an inch inside. The Star responds favorably to loving attention; in no time, it flashes supernova, and suddenly I'm inside the star which is itself inside the root bolt. It seemed like a red blood clot, a swirl of crimson mist, a scarlet nebula of primordial life energy. Then the red mists cleared, revealing the Great Bear light city of the future, sparkling like a crystalline disc with hundreds of hexagonal facets, like a magnificent flower on the brink of blossoming.

This was a grid engineering diagram I recognized. Dormant in the root chakra is the fabulous kundalini energy, the inexhaustible cosmic storehouse of sheer creative potency---the reservoir of AL . When we say AL , we're talking the co-creative language of the Great Bear. AL is the beginning of Albion; AL streams into Gaia through the Great Bear dome at Tintagel in Cornwall, England; and at the root of every root, there is the Mother Bear's AL , too. When we master the fears of incarnation we've lodged in the root, we get its implicit cornucopia of elan vital . Administering this fecundity across the galactic-human spectrum is the Great Bear, home of the ascended hierarchy of the White Brotherhood whose cosmofraternal habitation was symbolized to me as this gorgeous diamond-facetted flower at the base of the golden child's root and beckoning optimistically to us from the future of our conscious evolution. And administering this bearish optimism to the Earth and Her golden children is us, Gaia's human residents.

We took our dilated roots down the Oroboros Line about five miles to O'Neill Hill outside the little town of Williamsburg. Here we would plant the Blazing Star at a landscape point that combined the energies of the second and third chakras of the slumbering golden child. As we walked meditatively up the old logging track of O'Neill, the energy felt lush, starry, and angelic, and it only got better and richer as our individual stars went supernova inside the red root bolt which we re-established with the entire hill inside. It was at O'Neill that we first sensed the golden child of Pocumtuck.

Theodore was the first to comment, rousing himself from his inner concentration with an almost beatific grin. "I had the impression of an amniotic sack full of swirling gold and white lights. There was a trumpeting of angels as if to say, Here comes the baby!" Theodore, who is the father of a young girl, sent the unborn golden child within the egg "love and spiritual nutrition." He felt his own heart suffused in a warm blush just as the baby's heart softened from his loving attention.

Mary saw the golden, chubby "baby," too, who seemed to giggle with delight at our intentions to midwife her incarnation into the Pocumtuck domain. "I felt I was immersed in a mass of amniotic, amoebic fluid, all silver and gold," said Mary. "My body got very bright, like a thousand watt light bulb. The gnomes ran up to me, lit their torches off my flaming form, then ran around the landscape planting them everywhere." Then she laughed. She had asked Merlin if she could see more, see ahead into the child's future, but the wizened old magus, garbed in a magician's cloak emblazoned with the sigils of alchemy and astrology, showed her she was going too fast. Merlin had Mary hang on to a rock which he swung around him like a discus on a rope so fast she couldn't comprehend anything. "You see?" he chided her.

After Ellen's star went supernova she found herself as the central atom in a molecular configuration of angels skewered in the gold and silver laser beam of the Oroboros. This remarkable tableau was a mirror image of her geomantic presence at O'Neill Hill and a personal reminder to manifest her innate star light more often, Ellen told us.

My own experience was enigmatic. One of the grid engineering tricks-of-the-trade Merlin taught me was to convert the supernova Star into a shallow blue dish. When the Blazing Star flashes nova it disappears; what remains is an endless expanse of empty pale blue. This is the purified mind expressed etherically. The "bottom" of this blue spaciousness forms a lightly curving blue saucer which the grid engineer slips under the particular landscape site in question. I slipped the blue dish (my etheric consciousness) under O'Neill Hill and lay like a supine Atlas with the weight of the world on my chest. The dish was like a blinding white mirror. I turned myself inside out through the phosphorescent brilliance and entered a stark black immensity on its other side. My psychological individuality was somewhat and somewhere intact like a hollow shell, while the rest of "me" vanished into this nothingness. "Don't get lost in the Buddha Mind!" Merlin quipped from the other side of the void.

For some reason landscape hearts are always guarded, defended, a little hard to enter. The Pocumtuck child's heart chakra at Shingle Hill in Haydenville was no exception. Access to Shingle Hill was through private property. As we trolled along Mountain Street looking for the long dirt driveway we vaguely remembered from a previous visit, a police cruiser pulled up alongside us. No, we didn't have any problem, thank you officers. Outside the house at first nobody was home and we hesitated. The minute the four of us stepped out of Ellen's Toyota, a big black Bronco four-wheel drive pickup stormed up the driveway. No, I don't have any problem with you folks having a quick walk around, said the young beefy man, a little dubious in the face of our topographical maps and dowsing rods. "But try to be out of the woods before my mother gets home," he added. "Mom's got no property insurance for complete strangers hiking around in her woods. And watch out for the poison ivy---it's everywhere up there."

We'd been here before a year earlier when we brought a small group to participate in the activation of Shingle Hill as a starpoint in the constellation of Aquarius. So as we picked our way carefully through the prickly brambles, the proliferate poison ivy, and the swarms of hungry mosquitoes, we appreciated the topographical elegance that the Pocumtuck's twelve-petalled Anahata heart center was Aquarian. The physical obstacles dissolved almost instantly in the green radiance of a stunningly spacious landscape heart.

I entered this cavernous regard, this green wide open love with which the Pocumtuck child regards not only her zodiacal domain---but potentially all of the Scorpio pent face, like the cosmic fetus at the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey. The golden child expresses the unlimited, unconditional expanse of her love through this outer heart effulgence. I linked Shingle Hill with O'Neill and Moore Hill like stacked faces on a totem pole. Shingle Hill's green heartfulness emerges out of the wisdom of the emptiness of the black sphere at O'Neill Hill set inside the red pillar of organic life accessed at D.A.R.'s Moore Hill. Then I sat silently and happily within the heart content never to move again.

Nobody spoke until we had regrouped in the car an hour later at midday. "I saw Merlin again," exclaimed Mary. "This time he had thick strawberry-blond hair, green eyes, and a merry twinkle. As if I were the Mother, I held the baby to my breast and sang out loud to her, just as you heard me." Theodore experienced a shuddering "rush of love" through his entire being as he beheld the golden child. He recapitulated his geomantic visualizations from the previous two hills, fusing them with the heart at Shingle Hill. When the child asked him to play, they ran off into a waterfall for a purificatory baptism. Ellen made an important discovery without which we couldn't have completed our day's work. As soon as Mary spontaneously broke into song, Ellen perceived the emerald, the child's inner heart center, the eight-petalled Ananda-kanda just behind us at Davis Hill, from which flowed "beautiful waves of green." We planned to get back to Davis Hill before the day was through.

We travelled further along the Oroboros into the child's throat chakra at Round Hill, the highest and socially swankest point in Northampton. Today the neck of Round Hill is thoroughly braceleted with elegant old Victorian homes, Smith College campus, and the Clarke School for the Deaf, but back in 1852 the open view from here was evidently commanding. As local legend has it, Jenny Lind, the internationally renowned concert singer and "Swedish Nightingale," honeymooning here on Round Hill with her husband, was so impressed with the quality of the view that she proclaimed Northampton "the paradise of America." Many years earlier the Pocumtuck Indians had registered their appreciation for the locale in a suggestive place name: Nanotuck , which means "in the middle of the narrow river." Local historians usually take that to mean the Connecticut River which undulates around the edges of Northampton, but for we grid engineers that narrow river of light has to be the Oroboros Line, that global highway of light that energizes all of Northampton as it passes through.

The Clarke School occupies the crown of Round Hill and with such understated irony, I thought. The throat chakra is the seat of clairaudience, of subtle inner hearing, and here at Clarke are all these deaf children: Is it possible that physically they can't hear our voices but clairaudiently they hear the Music of the Spheres? There were almost no Clarke students around to ask anyway when we took our seats under a maple tree on the edge of the quadrangle.

Rows of chairs fronted a raised platform and public address system on the green, as if in expectation of an outdoor party. We didn't appreciate at first that we were the expected party. The minute we folded our legs, rested our palms in our laps, closed our eyes, and exhaled as Love from Above to the golden child's throat, the music began---and at full throttle, as if we were in the uninhibited throes of a Saturday night campus beer bash. It was mostly foot-stamping John Philip Sousa band tunes and Stars and Stripes Forever, but there was a snappy rendition of the Flying Dutchman and a brisk run-through of the William Tell Overture . Thirty minutes later when we stood up the music instantly stopped. We looked at one another, we looked at the mute P.A. system, then we burst out laughing.

Mary recounted her throaty adventures first. The child's name is Elan, she told us. She learned this when she established the Star in the child's navy blue throat center after locating herself inside a round hall honeycombed with diamond chambers---highly reminiscent of the Akashic Hall of Records, I thought. "Then Merlin told me our work could be lighter . When the music started, he turned into a clown leading a parade. He opened his mouth so wide his tonsils and epiglottis throbbed like bleating trumpets." Merlin was dressed like Uncle Sam, in red, white and blue, Mary continued, and his supersensible antics were not without significance. Red is the root, the life energy; white is the Star, our spiritual core; and blue is the spoken clarity of the throat, Mary related. "We speak our freedom through the throat, connecting the red of life with the white of spirit through the green of the heart. This work opens up new expressive possibilities for everyone. And the music! Merlin said they'd been waiting all day for us to show up so they could test their sound system."

The music precipitated a new impression for Ellen as well. "I became the Madonna with the golden child in my lap," she announced proudly. When the Sousa tunes began, Ellen became the "free, magical child," with straw hat, bare feet, and twirling baton, dancing carefree with the music. She felt that her first four chakras swelled up into her throat which opened up like a pale blue trumpet, a translucent bell dilating into the vastness. Theodore also perceived his throat center as a trumpet shaped like an upturned white daffodil, representing purity and clarity. "When that crazy music started, I saw an eagle with white wings soaring freely. There was a great sense of freedom and wisdom with every wingbeat."

For me Round Hill was consummately about speaking. I had to call on the descriptive jargon of an earlier age to cast my impressions into words. The vibe was outrageously stoned, blissful, swimming: was it me or the place? The geomantic features of the previous four landscape chakras were implicit in me. My attention went straight to the rich, navy blue throat sphere which emerged from the green spaciousness of the heart. The Round Hill throat is pure potential speech, creative vocables. The spaciousness of love in the heart moves up through its own momentum into the throat, which is moved to speak , broadcasting speech in all directions.

I remembered that astounding declaration by Rudolf Steiner, the Austrian spiritual scientist and founder of Anthroposophy, that a human speaking the alphabet creates the etheric air-form of a complete human being. The speaking throat, Steiner said, is a spiritually generative organ, and Round Hill, I realized, is pregnant with speech. The blue is the round sphere encircling the hill of the neck and throat. I waxed prophetic there on the fringes of Clarke School for the Deaf. Speech is broadcast in all 16 directions, one direction for each of the throat's 16 petals, the 16 vortex spins of the human round hill, spewing forth world-recreating syllables, primogentive Logos words. Northampton, the creative larynx for this newborn golden child of the Pocumtuck zodiac, could become a point of origin for profound oral communication, speaking a new culture into being within the Scorpio pentagonal face of Gaia. And when this child speaks, Albion will be listening.

Our next stop on the Oroboros Line was Petowomachu , the Mt. Holyoke summit house at the golden child's brow chakra and the gates of the Pocumtuck temple. At Petowomachu two old Appalachian mountain ranges, known locally as the Mt. Holyoke (running east-west, a geological anomaly) and Mt. Tom ridges (running north-south), stride up to the banks of the Connecticut River which passes through them exactly along the energized Oroboros.

A dome tops Mt. Holyoke summit and another one crowns Mt. Norwottuck (the northernmost peak of the Mt. Tom range), and through the vesica piscis formed by their domed etheric overlap flows the Connecticut River, that narrow river of light. Both ranges are geomantic highspots, canopied with multiple dome caps like a miniature Himalayan range of light. Since the 1820s one version or another of what is today an elegant three-storied white mountain house has graced the summit of Mt. Holyoke. For many years the Prospect House enjoyed a regional reputation as a high-class Victorian hotel. Fortunately for us---and Albion and Gaia, too---around 1940 the Skinner Reservation, as the site was called, then in private but benign hands, was deeded to Massachusetts as a state park and its unacknowledged sacrality has been preserved ever since.

Skinner Park of course is widely acknowledged as a great place for a family picnic and lots of families were grilling steaks and setting the picnic tables for a late holiday lunch. We found a quiet dell and sat down on the grass of Petowomachu . I was very happy to be there because there was probably no place on Earth that I've visited more times in this lifetime than this mountain top. I grew up a few miles down the Oroboros Line, had come here for the traditional holiday family barbecues, the Boy Scout hikes, the High School parties, the autumnal hawk migrations, and in recent years a Pocumtuck Indian elder in spirit form had introduced me to aspects of Petowomachu 's venerable geomantic past. It had indeed been a mountain prominence of high spirituality and where the Prospect House now stands there once stood a large stone circle. Indian initiates had sailed in birchbark canoes through the river cleft between Norwottuck and Petowomachu peaks into the star-spangled temple of the Pocumtuck galaxy.

The first thing we did was to repeat all the stages of image-building from the previous four chakral hills on the golden child's Oroboric spine. We knew that we were visualizing an organic spiritual form into landscape life through our ministrations in consciousness. Then we settled individually into our own concentration, penetrating the pineal gland of Petowomachu . "My pineal exploded into light and my body got very hot," explained Mary afterwards. "I became the Buddha, then the mountain, then nothingness. Meanwhile the child got up and ran, saying she would wake the adult Albion in the Pit." Theodore tuned in to the child's brow center as well, which revealed itself to him as an orb of light into which streamed laserlines of energizing light. The child seemed older, perhaps seven, and was full of play and joy. "She took me flying," said Theodore. "It was rapturous. First I felt the child's head against my heart, then things flipped around and I was the infant cradled in the Black Madonna's lap."

Ellen saw the golden child as if laid out in a basinet made of the blue dish we'd installed under the entire zodiac. She brought the Star to the child's brow, reminding us all ofTaliessin , the radiant-browed one and bardic prodigy of old Celtic myth whom some say was none other than Merlin. "I was inside this ball of refined golden white light, the whole star, until it exploded," Ellen said. "Light sparks showered everywhere. Bands and bands of spiritual beings surrounded us in all directions and dimensions. We really had a lot of fine company."

I didn't see Ellen's angelic conclave, though I wished I had. I saw a glistening, translucent pearl set like a precious diadem in the heart of the Great Bear crystalline disc that I discovered inside the D.A.R. root. It's the Pearl of Great Price, I realized, residing in the pure potentiality of AL , the cosmic reservoir of Great Bear kundalini. Then I slipped inside the pearl. Not today, but one day soon this faculty of insight will read out the instructions, thoughts, and insights of the Pocumtuck golden child. When the root is secure, clairvoyant insight unfolds. What treasures of galactic information does this Aquarian child hold in store for the Scorpio pent face? One day she'll speak her insights heartfully through the round hill throat suffused with Star-permeated red life energy, I proclaimed silently. I figured Merlin would hear me and probably chuckle at my amateurish imitation of his prophetic declamatory style.

Petowomachu clearly is a place to seed visions with stellar insight---when the time is right. It's the doorway into the Pocumtuck zodiac, but it's also the fontanelle hatchway out, into the great Ain Soph , the stark immensity of the Black Madonna, the infinity of the Mother of the World, the empty Buddhic space of the awakened one. A handful of miles further southeast down the Oroboros Line brought us to Prospect Hill in South Hadley, a gently mounded wooded hill overlooking the stately campus of Mt. Holyoke College, Smith's Ivy League collegiate sister.

The drone of large jets lumbering off the runway of nearby Westover Air Force Base in Chicopee was constantly with us as we meditated at the golden child's crown chakra at Prospect Hill. It's hard to say how much geomantic knowledge the military has, but Westover is right on the Pocumtuck Oroboros. In 1986 they tried very strenuously to establish 350 microwave relay towers in a potato field in the minimally populated hilltown of Hawley, Massachusetts. But don't let the potatoes fool you. Hawley is domed, an opaline plan-net point on this same Oroboros Line about 10 miles "upstream" from D.A.R., and according to the Akashic Records, this unassuming site was once the center of an interplanetary, interdimensional airport. From Hawley to Westover is a straight quick shot down the Oroboros expressway. The Air Force officials claimed they liked Hawley because of its elevation and unobstructed panoramic view.

We paid Westover no further mind. At least the bombers weren't landing on the child's head and our weight on her fontanelle was not likely to give her discomfort. We were as light as a skullcap. The Mother's presence, it seemed to me, took the form of a pale turquoise yarmulke , like an inverted blue dish as thin as eggshell worn upside down on the crown. This completed the spiritual form of the Egg. I surveyed it as I would a detailed if exotic tableau. We'd coaxed it from red root pillar arising from the center of the Earth through the blue dish containing the black sphere of empty immensity expressing itself as the green heart spaciousness moved to speech at Round Hill based on the cosmic insight read out at the Petowomachu pineal from the Great Bear root template, capped by the turquoise parabolic dish at the crown. You really have to talk like Jack Kerouac spouting Dharma Bums sapphics from the fire lookout when you try to encapsulate this multidimensional supersensible reality in the tortuous timespace of English prose.

This was the spiritual process of the Egg, the anatomy of the golden child experienced as activity, relationship, and process. And it's all inside this vibrant red root pillar like some autochthonous axis mundi. The red bolt encompasses the entire chakra column. Everything happens inside this basic life force sheath. The whole sequence, I realized, was the continuum of my own awareness, a process within my spiritual being bodies that I extended outwards to include the landscape domain knowing the two, human consciousness and the landscape, are one. And when I say I , I mean Mary, Ellen, and Theodore, too---it's a fly's eye, a multiplicity of light receptors.

Mary's report confirmed my intuitions. "I turned into the Madonna, then the child, then kept cycling back and forth in identity within this relationship," she explained. Next she put Mother Earth in her heart, then she became Gaia, then the two of them dissolved into the black peaceful nothingness of the ineffable World Mother. "Then the gnomes gave me another egg," Mary exclaimed laughing. The gnome egg was alabaster white with green filigree, and she placed it in her commodious heart. Then she strolled off down the hill to visit the immense horse barn and inadvertently spooked the stabled mares with her spiritual charge. Meanwhile Theodore lost his head inside a tree. After the release of an initial sensation of pressure inside his head, Theodore saw an immaculate Tree of Life. "I felt this was my gift to the child---the complete knowledge of the universe, total cognition of the cosmic laws." He merged with the Tree, then his head "expanded, exploded, and became nothing."

While the rest of us were sporting skullcaps or having our heads blown away, Ellen was dancing with the galaxy. Her experience at Prospect Hill was a one woman Russian ballet. It was as if her body were made of two lungs six feet high and connected delicately at the middle. Waves of energy rolled up from the root to the crown cascading downwards again like a waterfall to the feet, only to rise up again to the head in a perpetual cycle.

Clairvoyants have described the pulsing auric shells of the human in a similar fashion, likening this constant cycling of energy to the dynamic wings of angels. The late mystical researcher Itzhak Bentov once compared the universe to an egg whose form was maintained by the constant cycling of energy currents. In my imagination Ellen's description suggested an anthropomorphic form of the zodiac itself, the two halves of the cleaved cosmic apple in continuous recreation. Ellen had become the dynamic human expression of the zodiac, the angelic body, the Mundane Egg itself. "It didn't just stay with the Pocumtuck zodiac, either," Ellen related. "With every cycling it took in a bigger realm---the Earth, then the galaxy, then the universe, in ever-widening fields."

That was as good an introduction as any to the nature of the emerald, which was our last and penultimate stop in this Independence Day pilgrimage through the landscape body of the Pocumtuck golden child. We drove northwest in the late summer afternoon along the Oroboros, retracing our steps back to the inner heart at Davis Hill, tucked quietly behind Shingle Hill in Haydenville. It took us almost an hour to walk through the woods then up the slope of Davis Hill, and we stopped along the way to enjoy the proliferation of ripe blackberries on its open grassy slopes. Then we took our seats and projected the emerald into its intended receptacle at Davis Hill. First we breathed as Love from Above to that tiny blazing pinprick, the Star at the center of our being. When it went supernova and we flashed into the wild blue yonder, we slipped the blue dish under Davis. Then we visualized the six-sided green emerald as a prodigious skyscraping cathedral set omnidirectionally in the dish. Each facet was like a sheer pane of green light, but its solidity was an illusion. We each walked through and entered the emerald.

The emerald is crucial in plan-net geomancy. It's also almost impossibly complex in terms of its ramifications. The emerald's geometric aspect is a way of modelling the electromagnetic doorway of the inner heart chakra within the human organism. In the Western Mystery tradition, the emerald is the green stone fallen from the crown of Lucifer; in Tibetan iconography, it's the cintamani jewel brought to Earth in a magical cask from Sirius; and in Hindu spirituality, it's the Heart, the primal embarkation point, either into incarnation or out into the Absolute. The outer skin of the emerald is the Akashic Records, while the inside affords a stunning revelation of the Mystery of the Sun. For esoteric Christianity the emerald is the cathedral in which the miraculous inspiration of Pentecost happens; in the Arthurian cycle, the Holy Grail appears luminous and unfathomable upon the Round Table inside the emerald; and in Merlin's prophetic Revelation , where the dodecahedral New Jerusalem descends from heaven like a bride adorned for the wedding---that's the emerald, too.

Everybody has an emerald, but each of ours is a holographic projection from the original and singular green stone. When we consciously meet within this single emerald in a bond of fraternal love we're patched into one another the way modems link computers. And what, really, is the emerald modem? The Heart of the Holy Ghost unbounded by Time or Space---in planetary terms, the resurrected Albion. At Davis Hill, then, we were patched into emeralds holographically expressed around the planet, and beyond. We had complete access . That's why so much depends on our taking responsibility for conscious cognition within this God-given gift of the emerald. Hadn't Merlin told me back in France, as I stood on Albion's majestic golden breast down in the Pit, "Talk to Albion through his emerald. Tell him good things. Tell him AL about it."

The four of us sat at the Round Table inside the emerald. Merlin and the Archangel Michael were present along with a lot of other familiar faces, both human and angelic, from the supersensible hierarchy. It was unaccountably windy, Theodore reported afterwards. It was so windy inside the emerald Theodore felt he could hardly keep his body stable, as if he were standing on the wind-ravaged prow of a schooner. "The wind came continuously from all sides," he said. "There were many other grid workers and Grail Knights around the table, and some of my spiritual teachers, too. It was a real crowd. I sent blessings to all my benefactors and mentors. This brought tears into my eyes. It was the first time in my life I've been able to return spiritual light to all my teachers in gratitude for everything they did for me. I felt so grateful for all the steps that had led me to Davis Hill and this chance to ground my spiritual practice in the landscape, on the planet's behalf." Then he saw the Holy Grail.

Ellen sat expectantly at the Round Table, her fingers of light resting on its sheer marble surface. "I saw many ancient human figures, hordes of people, many of them like Biblical prophets. I felt the wind, too, but it was like a continuous vibrational circle moving around me." When a man in a hooded gown approached her, Ellen asked him what she was supposed to learn here. By way of answer he shone a spotlight straight into her head either to enlighten her or to quell her thinking. "Then I felt encapsulated in love. What I'm supposed to learn here is to let myself be permeated by this wonderful green love." That's the way Mary experienced it, too. "There isn't much I can say. I had a transmission. Of that I'm certain. Several times it seemed I fell asleep at the Table, then woke up again without remembering what had happened. Oh yes. There was a lot of wind, too."

On the day of Pentecost when the Apostles were "all of one accord in one place," which is to say, inside the emerald, "suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind and it filled all the house where they were sitting." In the later derivative Grail stories, Arthur's knights were similarly visited by this anomalous spiritual wind whose gustings always presaged the resplendent manifestation of the Grail. Wind, or vayu , is the element of air traditionally associated with the heart chakra, but I think wind means the "breath of the Gods," the susurrous of the Elohim, the profound spiritual inspiration that the moment of Pentecost imparts. And often, if not always, the air-borne transmission is just beyond our awareness, just a little too subtle for our cognition to hold, but invariably we get the amazing effects the next day as the influx percolates down through the denser layers of our being. Even so, I did catch a few of Merlin's words declaimed in his inimitable if irreverent fashion upon the Round Table.

"The emerald of the Pocumtuck child serves the eagle," Merlin said. "This is the national figure representing the Logos of the U.S., the Word in the landscape. It's the character of your country, which is the teacher and the predator. It is the eye that sees far and the heart that embraces all. But the eagle is prone to deception, and the biggest form of deception is self-deception. It needs harmony and truth. The eagle needs self-perception, then the eye that sees far functions from the heart. It needs purification and transformation. Then the Scorpionic lizard transforms into the eagle. Then will the eagle look down and form a pentagram of light as it casts its shadow over the Earth."

But what eagle? Everybody knows the eagle is the ornithic icon of America, the high-flying independent raptor, born free on the 4th of July. Then I remembered there was a landscape nuance, too. Over a decade ago a Philadelphia architect discovered the unmistakable impression of an eagle's head in the landscape soils map of northeastern Pennsylvania. This young eagle was huge, extending for more than 200 miles across rugged forested countryside. The eagle's virtual image in the soils map was very different than the kind of topological conformity we've found in landscape zodiac imprints. This eagle was a national logo signature written into the very soil of America as a beneficent image of a positive destiny successfully attained---an auspicious icon from our future. For the destiny of most of continental America---including its hawkish seat of government in zodiacal Washington, D.C.--- nesting precariously in the Scorpio pent face of Gaia's plan-net grid, is to undergo the tumultuous transformation in identity from the scorpion into the eagle.

So the egg-born Pocumtuck golden child will speak re-assuring wisdom words of AL to the Pennsylvania Scorpionic eagle who will fly back along the Mer-Line to the Hyperborean Albion slowly awakening under the aegis of Virgo. Or, coming along the Mer-Line in the other direction, the Virgin Mother's warm regard will superintend the dying-rebirthing scorpion in its radical life passage. Again, it's basically a matter of spiritual engineering on a global scale. Sometimes it's hard not to talk in what sounds like tradesman's jargon, but the simple point is that highly significant events within the mythopoeic planetary being of Gaia are increasingly underway as we push the membrane of the third millenium. The only way to insure our safe passage across this problematic threshold is to get out in the plan-net grid on some numinous hilltop and get angelic !
It was dusk when we emerged from the emerald and regrouped on the dewy grass of Davis Hill. Fireworks from nearby Amherst were already scintillating the clear blue evening sky. The golden child of Pocumtuck had gotten off to an auspicious start today on America's Independence Day. The etheric outlines of the emerald were nearly palpable before us on Davis. Its walls hummed in the wind like tightly-stretched drum skins. In projecting the emerald we had in effect created a marvellous musical instrument, a sound resonator, an amplifier for the music of Gaia that was wired to 500 separate emerald speakers around the planet. It would be a shame to leave Davis without filling the emerald with a little mantric speech.

Merlin had just the thing for us. It struck him as so funny he couldn't even say it with a straight face. "Like most things, it's an open secret," he said at last." Then he shouted: Ar-thur! then lowering his voice to a deep chant, hum. "Do that three times, "Merlin advised. "That'll rattle the emerald. That's the sound of the Solar Logos, the Word made flesh through communication." We made our Ar-thur! shouts sensing this spoken solar vibration moving in energizing waves through the entire landscape body of the Pocumtuck golden child. Maybe it even reached the alert ears of the Pennsylvania eagle. We didn't know. That would have to wait until our next episode of plan-net geomancy, and what we learned would make another chronicle of our walking in Albion.

Crossing the Threshold - Freelance Initiations Off the Map

©1995 Richard Leviton


There is a pivotal moment in the film, Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, that perfectly illustrates the initiation process. The young Luke Skywalker enters a dark cave armed only with his light sword. When he reaches its center, he is fiercely attacked by a veiled warrior. He believes it to be Darth Vader, the second most evil person in the empire. After hard combat, Skywalker defeats Vader and cuts him down, but when he removes his attacker's visor, Skywalker has a shock: it is himself he has fought. Where did Vader disappear to? He was never there.

That's the initiation joke (and solemn truth) that his mentor, Obiwan-kenobi, hasn't told him because he couldn't. Skywalker must see it on his own, unprepared. Initiation is a programmed psychic shock, as Skywalker will learn in his training to become a revered Jedi knight; it is both test and induction. Both will gauge whether the candiate is ready to join a secret fraternity of the accomplished, in this case, the lineage of Jedi knights. The test: can you fight without being angry? The induction: you are your biggest enemy. Watch out for the Darth Vader (or "the dark side of the force") within. Don't fall for its outer projection as a supposed enemy.

Passing the test is the induction; even to take the test of initiation, you must cross a threshold. To sustain the import of initiation, you must then recognize a greater, broader reality and make it permanently yours. The initiation process inducts you into this larger world, and, inducting, it gives you its mark of recognition: you are worthy to be one among us, say the Elders.


This larger world has many aspects. If you are a youth on the verge of puberty, it is the troubling, intoxicating world of adulthood and sexuality. Women, partly on account of menarche, and partly thanks to the immense work of feminist cultural resuscitation of the earlier wiccan and "pagan/Goddess" mythos, offer more reliable and systematic initiation rituals for adolescent girls.

Initiation for girls is biologically encoded with the onset of menstruation, but for boys an outer event has always been required to wrest them away from the charmed virginity of childhood. Tribal male initiation rituals often involved ritual circumcision accompanied by a bold, irrevocable severing of the boy's ties to his mother and family. The mother, as she must, sat passively by as her son was taken from her into the world of men.

The adult males among Australian Aborigines, for example, would induct the boy into their particular totem clan and dreaming sites. Something of great value must be at stake, preferably the candiate's life, for otherwise, the initiation would lack sufficient edge to propel the candiate into a new reality. Carlos Castaneda had to jump off a high cliff and dissolve his body into another reality to convince his magus, Don Juan Matus, that he was a worthy apprentice. Elders in Native American tribes sent their adolescent males into the landscape, alone and without food or shelter. The youth was expected to have a formative vision quest: an animal spirit or perhaps tribal ancestor would present a symbolic vision and give him a new name worthy of adulthood.

A change of names always plays a central role in initiation rituals. Jacob, the biblical father of the 12 tribes of Israel, was renamed Israel after wrestling with the Elohim angel. His new name reflected his spiritual attainment; it was a mark signifying that he had crossed a threshold and had become half angel. Many in the new age generation in Europe and the United States have followed the ancient Hindu, Buddhist, and Sufi traditions of taking a new religious name to mark their initiation by a guru in that tradition. Or perhaps you've sat nose to nose with a genuine Zen Master: there are no new names for who is there to be named, but if you want a vivid initiation beyond words and categories, try this one. You won't know what you just woke up to.

Once he wakes up to his soul life, every human soul has a secret name known only to God, the person's two guardian angels, and the person himself, says Western esoteric tradition. Meeting your soul across the spiritual threshold is an initiation that can happen at any age. It's not always a pleasant experience. In the old forms of esoteric Christianity and occult training, this alarming encounter with a deeper, previously hidden part of yourself was called Meeting the Guardian of the Threshold. The Austrian spiritual scientist Rudolf Steiner suggested that the Guardian represents the unacknowledged astral body and emotional nature of each human being. Imagine all of your dreams (and nightmares) and unconscious thoughts expressed as a single being: that's the Guardian. For many of us, this Guardian can be a lot like Darth Vader, even worse-a world-class monster.

Until the late 20th century began deconstructing all cultural forms and ethnic identities, traditional societies maintained their customs of supervising the important life transitions. Boys became men, girls became wives, wives became mothers, husbands became grandfathers-there was always an established ritual form or cultural container to shape and guide these important, generic initiation events. Similarly, secret societies had their established ways of inducting new members into their way of regarding the world.

A vivid example of this comes from the heart of the Western Mystery tradition, from the Grail sagas of the 13th century. Probably the most famous of the Grail Knights was Parsifal who eventually found (or "achieved") the Grail on behalf of his society and king. If you encounter Parsifal in Wagner's 19th century opera or in Wolfram von Eschenbach's 13th century saga, both of the same name, you will note that he is a boy of little experience, a true naïf. It is his destiny to become a Grail Knight yet his mother raises him in protective isolation, trying to keep him away from any contact with this outer world of knights. But if it's your destiny to seek the Grail, nothing your well-meaning mother can do will stop you from meeting your destiny.

What ensues is a classic initiation tale as the absolutely green youth becomes the seasoned Grail adept. In fact, the etymology of "knight" itself, through the German, Old English, and French, suggests youth. A knight is a chevalier, a youth on a horse, which, in addition to its literal meaning in the medieval Grail sagas, also suggests, metaphorically, the soul who is a novice rider on the animal aspect of one's nature. Parsifal errs, he wanders, he digresses, and he learns, masters, and finally achieves. He pierces the veil (he was also called Sir Perceval) between the worlds and brings spiritual sustenance to the Maimed Fisher King on whose behalf everything is undertaken. He is a youth who makes good.

Parsifal's initiation is his crossing a bridge from the mundane to the sacred, from the apparent to the subtle, from his self-identification as a man to a numinous new identity as a spiritual being. That he "grew up" and became an adult in the process was somewhat secondary because the real "youth" in this story is spiritual ignorance and psychic sleep.


Sometimes initiation can be a waking up to your destiny, to the unsuspected, wildly surprising purpose of your life. Here is an example from a novelist who writes about the orthodox Lubavitcher Hasids and their relationships with secular Jews living in American. In The Chosen , Chaim Potok writes about two Jewish teenagers as they wake up to their destiny. Reuven is a secular Jew, whose father is a worldly scholar; Danny is the son of an Hasidic Rabbi who is the epitome of the devoutly orthodox. The story turns poignantly on the interactions of these two expressions of Judaism; in the end, the secular Reuven decides to become a rabbi while the Hasidic Danny becomes a psychologist.

Danny hasn't spoken directly to his father since he was a little child, although he loves and obeys Reb Saunders. Reuven thinks this is medieval and cruel, but Reb Saunders has a secret reason for bringing up his Danny in this cold enforced silence. When Danny was very young, his father saw that he was brilliant but lacking compassion; his duty as a father, he believed, was to set up a life circumstance in which Danny's heart qualities could develop and not be overruled by his formidable mind.

Reb Saunders finally reveals this purpose to Danny one evening while Reuven is present as a witness. They talk again, cry together, hug, and resume the close relationship they had in Danny's earliest youth. "My son, my Daniel, has also become a man," says Reb Saunders. "It is a great joy for a father to see his son suddenly a man."

Danny has passed his initiation; his heart has quickened, and he is through the door into manhood, into a life of a man among men. Even better, Danny has become a tzaddik, "a righteous one," a mark of high spiritual distinction in the Jewish religion. And Reuven? His role was equally profound. In every generation, one is chosen to bridge the generations, to bring the fathers and families together across the seeming chasm of differing faith. Reuven was that chosen one. He built the bridge for Danny to understand his father's intentions and to enter the secular world as a spiritual man. Reuven used this same bridge to fertilize his secular upbringing with genuine Jewish spirituality.

Both received deep initiations, but it wasn't as if they were following a socially prescribed course. For Danny, it was a rite of passage uniquely tailored to his nature; for Reuven, it was an almost transpersonal necessity, a mythic role he was somehow chosen to fulfill for a generation. In either case, there was something freelance about the event, something surprising, uncharted, and fresh that nonetheless ferried them precisely across the threshold of youth into adulthood.


What is truly uncharted these days is the nature of initiation itself. It is changing, profoundly. Our established ideas about gender, adulthood, marriage, sexuality, society, culture, personal and ethnic identity are all moulting and transfiguring around us, so what world can we be inducted into?

The old world is dying and rotting, the new is too unformed to be a container for initiation. The mens' movement and one of its designated spokesmen, the American poet Robert Bly, bemoans the absence of meaningful initiation rituals for American adolescents. But perhaps we in the West are fortunate in having lost most of our social conventions of initiation; perhaps reality has changed so much and the normative power of the patrirarchal, paternalistic family has so waned, that we need new forms, or no set forms at all. Maybe we are entering an era of freelance initiations off the map, beyond established custom, or custom-made for the individual.

In his bestselling Iron John, Bly casts a wistful backward glance to earlier times in Western culture and more engaging rite of passage rituals in other cultures to find new models for a mature masculinity, and how to get there. "We are living at an important and fruitful moment now, for it is clear to men that the images of adult manhood given by the popular culture are worn out; a man can no longer depend on them," Bly writes. But he adds, "Such a man is open to new visions of what a man is or could be."

Bly's statement implies a different route, something off the road, not charted on the traditional maps-something freelance, especially when he says,"We make the path by walking." You won't know the way until you've arrived. Let's look at some of the new ways people are remaking the path.

Initiation can come in the form of sudden, deeply serious, even life-threatening illness. As many are learning, cancer is an initiation; in the U.S. alone, 521,000 people die every year from cancer-how many take this experience as an initiation? In ancient Greece and Egypt, the temple initiation involved an induction into the truth of your entire being, both medical and metaphysical. Medicine and the Mysteries were once part of the same revelation. This unity of psyche and soma is returning as, increasingly, Westerners seek to find personal meaning and purpose in their illness experiences.

If you see yourself as a victim, then you will always sleep through your initiations. If you're not a victim, you are a willing initiate struggling to stay awake. That's how it works.
When she was 34, Donna Hamil Talman, a psychotherapist, educator, mother and wife, was bitten by a wolf. The wolf kept its teeth dug into her for over ten years and didn't ease up until Talman, radically transformed all aspects of her life-her history, thoughts, emotions, expectations, body. The "wolf" was lupus erythematosus, an excruciating autoimmune disease, sometimes fatal. What Talman wanted to know, as nearly everyone who contracts a life-threatening disease, is this: why did the wolf bite her?

Lupus profoundly shook up Talman's accustomed order of life, but as she eventually realized, it was this very order that precipitated the autoimmune dysfunction as a corrective in the first place. The lupus experience catalyzed her awareness of an unbalanced, unresolved, incomplete part of herself-unfinished psychological business played out in her biology. It was her first lesson in the initiation of illness as biography.
"Instead of a rap to beat, lupus slowly came to be a spiritual lesson, a koan," confides Talman in Heartsearch: Toward Healing Lupus . "Whatever else lupus did, it catapaulted me beyond my realm of understanding. I was forced to find a new way to make sense of my existence and to explore myself in greater depth than I had ever imagined was possible." Getting well, Talman learned, requires a fundamental, active reorientation to life, a prolonged self-examination in depth-a rigorous self-supervised initiation.


The depth psychologist Carl Jung once described the protocols of this delicate communication from inner self to outer persona this way: "That which we do not bring to consciousness appears in our lives as fate." The Self kicks you with an accident, an illness, even death. These are tools the Self uses if you don't respond to the symbols, messages, and symptoms coming from within. It hopes you will wake up. Increasingly today, we initiate ourselves in novel ways completely off the map of cultural forms.

Our larger potential communicates to us through dreams or what author-psychologist Arnold Mindell, Ph.D., calls the dreambody. When you continually ignore these vivifying messages, they come back through your body as symptoms and illness. There is a direct continuum from psychological dreaming to physical symptomatology. Why does dreaming typically come out as symptoms and not as insight? It's because we will not cross an edge.
"Edges are boundaries between our identity, our primary process of consciousness, what's close to our normal awareness, and what's secondary, or unconscious, but trying to come into awareness," says Mindell. "The unconscious is a body signal arising in the moment wanting integration. New information challenges you in an intense moment of confrontation. It's a question of how much of that challenging information your identity can incorporate." That's the dreambody initiation.

Confrontations at the edge can be exciting or scary, says Mindell. It's a threshold experience; to understand it, you have to cross over. The "edge" is made of your rules, limits, belief systems. "Your creative potential comes up against this edge, this barrier, which deflects it. So it comes up again in different form in dreams, body signals, spontaneous movements, symptoms, illness." The edge is the limit of our identity, the edge of the cliff of our being-the liminal threshold. What Mindell calls the unconscious edge, the Western mystery tradition calls the Guardian of the Threshold.

Near-death experiences are another kind of new initiation experience off the traditional map. When she entered the hospital in November 1973 for a hysterectomy, Betty Eadie (author of the bestselling Embraced by the Light) thought she might die during the operation. What she didn't suspect, as a 31 year old mother of seven, was that when she did "die"-temporarily-she would encounter Jesus Christ, angels, her future adopted daughter, and receive an inspiring body of spiritual teachings to sustain her for the rest of her incarnate life.

The surgery was successful but that night, alone in her hospital room, Eadie felt herself suddenly dying. Her body seemed still and lifeless as she felt herself drawn out through her chest and pulled upward as if by a magnet. She hovered near the ceiling contemplating her inert body like a "used garment." She felt "weightless and extremely mobile" in her new spirit body, certain that this is "who I really am." Then three kindly men in light brown robes with gold-braided belts came for her; initially, she thought they were monks, but later she realized she had known these guardian angels for "eternities."

When a "deep, rumbling and rushing sound" filled the room, Eadie was conveyed through "a great whirling black mass," a tunnel like "an enormous tornado," moving her at a tremendous speed towards a pinpoint of light in the distance. Drawing closer to the light at the end of this black whirlwind, she saw the figure of a man standing in the light-light that was "brilliant beyond any description, far more brilliant than the sun."

This radiant figure, illumined in gold, emitted a bodysize halo that "burst out from around him into a brilliant, magnificent whiteness." When she felt his light literally blending with hers in an energetic embrace and when she felt "the most unconditional love" emanating from this golden spiritual being, Eadie knew he was her savior and friend, Jesus Christ, "who had always loved me." During their epiphanous encounter, Eadie reports, Jesus Christ filled her with spiritual knowledge and the light of truth, counselling her on the mechanics of love, desire, healing, karma, service, her life purpose, and the invincible potency of the Light.


Even the Earth is undergoing an initiation into cosmic realities. According to New Mexico geophysicist Gregg Braden (author of Awakening to Zero Point, 1995), there is a profound global change afoot which scientists can now actually measure. The planet's magnetic field is decreasing, its rotation is slowing, and its base resonant frequency or planetary "heartbeat" (called Schumann Resonance) is increasing from 7.8 to 8.6 pulses per second. Time is measurably speeding up while planetary rotation is slowing down. According to this information, our planetary reality itself is setting the stage for an entirely new kind of mass initiation conducted at the biochemical, even atomic level, of our individual being.

If you read any science fiction (or channeled materials), you get the impression that the Earth is a kind of youth in the galactic family. For example, in The Intervention, Julian May proposes that five different extraterrestrial intelligences have patiently monitored human life on Earth for 60,000 years, awaiting that wonderful moment when a sufficient number of us attain psychic maturity (become "metapsychic") and can join the telepathically-based mental community (or "metaconcert") of the galactic federation.

Here, in a sense, we are all Parsifal, great fools gradually waking up to the shocking but invigorating reality of galactic life. Science fiction master Arthur C. Clarke gave this notion of planetary initiation a slightly sinister twist in Childhood's End where waking up to the greater intelligences of the cosmos also signalled the end of our world. In the galactic milieu, we are all but youths. If anything vaguely like the scenarios proposed by Clarke and May is the case, it is just as well we no longer hang on to our old ways of doing initiation.

That's because all the rules have changed, even reality is strangely different. It's prudent to stay open, unaffiliated, with a beginner's mind as your mode of operation. We'd all better find new ways, freelance styles off the maps, completely individually tailored approaches, for making this absolutely necessary rite of passage.

Landscape Mysteries & Healing Gaia - A Precis of Spiritual Geomancy

©1992 Richard Leviton


It's increasingly obvious we must establish a new, profounder relationship with our home planet. The growing popularity of James Lovelocks' Gaia Hypothesis, which holds that planet Earth is a unified, self-regulating, living organism, and the national televising of Michael Tobias' The Voice of the Planet , in which a scientist talks with Gaia, are indicative of our gradual maturing into an attitude of spiritual ecology. Underlying this positive trend is a provocative question: How intimate is our relationship with planet Gaia?
In the last decade a considerable amount of formerly esoteric information, pertaining to the origins and destiny of our planet and residents and once closely held by the ancient Mystery traditions and secret fraternities, has been released into public awareness. One aspect of this new knowledge pertains to the subtle energetic anatomy of Earth Herself, what some modellers today call the planetary grid matrix. Plato left a hint in his Timaeus when he described the Earth, when seen "from above," as like a leather ball sewn in twelve equal sections.

What Plato meant by "as above" is that when we perceive the Earth clairvoyantly, we discover the physical globe is wrapped in an elegant, symmetrical, geometrical, and living web of light. Geometers call this complex figure a dodeca/iscoahedron. Thus the next step in the Gaia Hypothesis was prefigured many centuries ago in Greece. The possibility now exists that not only is Earth a single homeostatic organism with passive awareness, as Lovelock postulates, not only is the planet, as Gaia, a sentient, dialogic being, as Tobias envisions, but that Gaia may be a complex cosmic being with higher, subtler consciousness bodies awaiting realization-just like Her human residents. More startling yet, it may be that Gaia's humanity holds the spiritual key to Her enlightenment.

The Myth in the Landscape

Geomancy opens the door for us into the subtle landscape of Gaia. Geomancy has a twofold meaning that perfectly expresses the human opportunity to know and the human responsibility to act on behalf of the Earth. The word derives from the Greek Gaia-mantos , which means, literally, Earth divination.

Geomancy, on the one hand, means to divine the secrets of the planet, to determine, model, and understand the esoteric spiritual and energetic anatomy, or grid, of the planetary body of Gaia. This is the opportunity to know broadly and profoundly about our home. Geomancy, on the other hand, means to make the Earth divine through our wise and compassionate actions within this spiritual anatomy. This is the responsibility-to return Light and Love to the planet through efficacious interaction through Her grid.
Geomancy, in summary, is the living science of the reciprocal maintenance of Nature and human, human and Gaia, Gaia and the cosmos, within an interpenetrating, interdependent web of consciousness and energy.

The myth in the landscape refers to the story we tell to articulate our subtle, transformative experiences within this web as we doubly divine the planet. Through geomancy we synchronously birth the individual human and our planet. The myth is zodiacal: the human is the living microcosmic being created from the entire cosmos. The myth is imprinted on the landscape in the form of multiple templates of the zodiac and its twelve houses of the Sun. Geomancy is the living science that makes the connection between myth, landscape, and the human.

The active vocabulary of myth is Arthurian. The old stories of King Arthur and his men and women Knights of the Holy Grail of Camalate is actually a coded description of the realities of spiritual initiation within the subtle matrices of the landscape grid. As a human interfaces with the myth in the landscape, the archetypal Arthurian words and characters and scenarios spring into living meaning as an all-encompassing description. This happens because the Arthurian vocabulary embodies the meta-temporal experience of geomancy.
Geomancy is about direct knowing . Geomancy is about direct acting . Geomancy is the intelligent, compassionate empowerment of the individual to work effectively as a co-creative colleague with elemental and angelic energies to heal and divinize the planet. The contemporary job description for this interface can be called Grail Knight or grid engineer . The Grail Knight studies the complexities of Gaia's spiritual grid anatomy, masters the keys in consciousness that access the planetary grid, then engages in guided, visionary, timely participation in the purification, activation, redemption, and transformation of the planet.

The Role of the Grail Knight in the Spiritualized Landscape

The Grail Knight understands the usefulness of myth as a descriptive vocabulary of initiation and how it helps us in negotiating our way through the labyrinth of the planetary grid. Qabala and astrology contain the engineering vocabulary, while the Arthurian myth is a key to articulate participation in the subtle energy matrix of the Earth.

The story of King Arthur and his men and women Grail Knights is actually the chronicle of an esoteric academy of grid engineers seeking to heal society and planet through the conscious interfacing of human and cosmos at specific sites in the landscape. This energy matrix in the landscape is templated in many places upon the Earth in the form of landscape zodiac temples . These are holographic imprints of the galaxy with its zodiacal/ecliptical focus, that mirror our cosmic Self, which we could call Albion , or the Maimed Fisher King.

The landscape zodiac is a localized, miniaturised spiritual template of the cosmos, small enough for direct human interaction, insight, and initiation. The totality of the zodiac is an experiential mirror-image of the cosmic Human-a spiritually potentized temple of the Mysteries. The landscape zodiac underlies the ecosphere and the minds, hearts, and well-being of all residents in its domain.

Let's look more closely at the zodiac. Traditionally, the zodiac is a way of systematically organizing the multitude of stars into a meaningful, cognizable pattern, in this case, the zoon , or "circle of tumbling animals," as the Greeks formulated it. The zodiac is a living star map of about 90 constellations, including the Twelve Houses of the Zodiac. These are the well-known astrological signs, such as Cancer (crab), Leo (lion), and Scorpio (scorpion). The route through this starry labyrinth (astro ) is the ecliptic, or the path of our Sun (Logos ) as it regularly transits the starfields. The language of transit is called astrology, the coherence of the stars.

But there's a mystery looming behind the astronomical perception of the zodiac. At the moment of our physical birth the precise arrangement of the cosmos with respect to our birthplace makes an energetic imprint on our being bodies; later, the complexities of this imprint can be unravelled through systematic study of the natal horoscope. Implicit in our personal zodiacal horoscope is an imprint of the Holy Ghost, the star-woven Albion, whose mighty body is the galaxy itself. It becomes spiritually intimate to realize we wear Albion on both the inside, through our personal zodiacal imprint, and on the outside, through the planetary zodiacal imprint. Human consciousness, we suspect, is a kind of free-willing door swinging open between imprints.

The healing of Albion through activation of landscape zodiacs is essential to the redemption of the planet-which is identical and synchronous with the healing of Gaia. The Grail Knight in the process of seeking Self-realisation simultaneously functions as a grid engineer knitting together the faces of the grid. Any woman or man can enter this level of the work and contribute actively to the cooperation among human, angelic, and elemental hierarchies which is essential at the close of the 20th century.

The Mysteries of Camalate

The path of the Grail Knight is one of direct initiatory experience. Principally, the work involves the recognition, description, and activation of fractal, holographic star temples called landscape zodiacs, around the planet. These comprise a spiritual periodic table of elements in a cosmic being called Albion, imprinted within the Earth.

For the Grail Knight the responsibility involves the direct, meditative participation in a fractal, holographic, geomantic pattern that encompasses the human at the genetic level and the planet at the level of atomic structure. Grid engineering involves pattern recognition and temple building in the realm of light and mind. This effort calls on a multiplicity of analytical/intuitive tools including Qaballah, sacred geometry, acupuncture, Tantric physiology, astrology, meditation, astronomy, clairvoyance, Arthurian Grail mythology, ethnology, folklore---not to overlook sturdy shoes, stout clothing, an appreciation of the "outdoors," and a liberal sense of humor.

The principal viewable form of this inherent pattern is the landscape zodiac. As we noted above, this is a star pattern based on the shape and contents of our galaxy and repeated widely around the planet. In the creation of the planet it was imprinted in the mental-astral realm and originally reflected in the physical geography. There are other numinous components in this pattern which are similar to acupuncture treatment nodes and meridians. The complex zodiacal pattern, when resolved by holographic perception, reveals a cosmic spiritual being called Albion, who is destined to "marry" Gaia, our Earth. Geomancy in this light is the human preparation for the wedding of Heaven and Earth.

The Blazing Star at Our Center

The means for practicing spiritual geomancy are simple yet profoundly efficacious. Each of us focusses our breathing and attention at a tiny brilliant pinpoint of light, positioned two finger widths above the belly button and the same distance inside. We breath to this tiny blazing star with a feeling of fondness, regard, ease, and a smile---with what the celestial realm likes to call "Love from Above."

This pinpoint of brilliant light shines at the center of our being. It precedes biology, chakras, the planet, the cosmos, and any separation into polarity, male-female, life-death. In Sanskrit it's called Nimitta ; in Tibetan, Rigpa ; in Hebrew, Ain Soph . The conceptual key here is that this tiny, brilliant, pinpoint star is the first star from which all galaxies are articulated. Gaia's grid matrix was woven from Nimitta starlight. This means when we focus our attention as Love from Above upon our own star at the center of our being, we access the key to the grid matrix at all levels-including landscape zodiacs. In this moment of attention our spiritual quest fuses with Gaia's spiritual need and Gaia and Human turn inside out through the Nimitta.

The work is a form of spiritual geomancy, linking the human with Gaia, the planet, through consciousness. It's an expression of our human responsibility as residents on the Earth. This kind of inner temple-building is Aquarian collegiality on behalf of the planet. The awakening is gradual, like the slow turning of a dimmer-switch. The work is focussing our attention on our spiritual essence (a tiny pinprick of intense light, a Blazing Star at our bodily midpoint) while at a nodal point within the landscape zodiac. This creates a matrix into which angelic and elemental beings can cooperatively blend their energies.

Sirius the Dog-Star as Mentor

Spiritual geomancy inevitably puts one in contact with various stellar energies, accessed through local zodiac nodal gateways, of significance for Earth and human evolution. Typically, the first constellation to come into focus is the Dog, Canis Major, which has Sirius at its heart. Sirius is the brightest star in the galaxy. The key thing to do when you find a landscape zodiac is to find the Dog.

Mythologically, the Dog guards the temple, acts as its custodian, is the keeper of the Mysteries, is the psychopomp, or conductor of Souls through the Otherworld, tends the Goddess' cauldron of transformation, weighs the hearts of the Dead, accompanies the Solar King, etc. King Arthur had his dog, named Cabal, which is a reference to Caballah (or Qaballah), the interpretive key to the Mystery. The Dog teaches the Grail Knight what the temple is all about, which is to say, the nature, origin, function, and destiny of the galaxy, of which the local landscape zodiac is a fractal hologram.

In the well-known zodiac of Somerset, England, centered around Glastonbury, the Dog is 5 miles long and has about 15 key star positions. It also has a complete chakra system and tree of life (Qaballah) anatomy, as does every landscape constellation. The Dog is a complete temple in itself set within the larger temple of the zodiac. To work with a zodiac temple, the Grail Knights must first befriend the Dog and get his/her blessing and cooperation. The Dog is an excellent place for the training of Grail Knights in the use and subtleties of the entire temple. It's also at the heart of things for several reasons.

First, Sirius is the source of the wisdom teachings that articulate the grid: the Arthurian-Grail-Fisher King symbol-initiatory system.

Second, all the domes on Earth have gold and silver cords that wind together in a double helix and join up at Avebury in Wiltshire, England. Here the silver lines connect the Earth grid to Canopus, the second brightest star, located in Carina-Argo Navis, in the Southern Hemisphere planisphere. The gold lines go to Sirius.

Third, the entire grid can be seen as a fishnet sack holding the Earth; the strings are held at one point by a hand. That hand belongs to the Buddha, who is from Sirius. The Buddha, whose name means "the Awakened One," holds the grid lines together. The Buddha also activates the grid by spinning the Wheel of the Dharma in each zodiac and in the one zodiac that is the Earth grid.

Fourth, Sirius underwrites or acts as aegis for Shambhala, a real but metaphysical place on Earth where the Masters plan out human evolution. Remember, each of the 1746 domes are connected, fractally, hologrammically, to Sirius and Canopus, and thus to the Buddha and Shambhala.

Each landscape zodiac, regardless of scale, is the holographic presence of the galaxy contained within a consciousness-energy field of varying diameter accessed through the physical landscape. It's not a matter of archeoastronomical alignment of Earth sites with stars on the horizon, but one of holographic, living presence within the galaxy itself, As we stand on Earth within a landscape zodiac temple, we stand within the galaxy itself, within the starry body of Albion, the Holy Ghost, in person.

The older world mythologies still preserve this secret. In the Celtic Arthurian cycle, the Grail Knights (both men and women) of King Arthur's Camalate (the esoteric academy of the Sun King/Solar Logos) traversed the etheric zodiacal landscape (Round Table) in quest of the Holy Grail (self individuation, or spiritual completion, facilitated by an initiation by the cosmic Christ) in order to heal the Maimed Fisher King (Albion as the Holy Ghost caught in Time).

The land remembers, too. The ancient landscape of Somerset, England, once known as Avalon with Glastonbury as its epicenter, still preserves visible links between the shape of the physical terrain and the etheric anatomy of the zodiac. In Somerset the landscape remembers its celestial origins. There, the mirror of the Elohim-a more poetic term for a landscape zodiac, honoring its angelic creators-has been wiped clean and you can see your galactic face within it. Even today the questing Grail Knight can glean a golden apple of wisdom from the orchards of Avalon, Land of Light.

Your Local Landscape Zodiac

We no longer need to travel to Glastonbury or Mt. Shasta to find sacred landscape. Clairvoyant research indicates that a replication of the zodiac is imprinted upon each of the twelve equal sections of Gaia's dodecahedral light body. This makes twelve major zodiacal temples, each comprising one-twelfth of Earth's surface area. Within each of these twelve faces (geometrically, they are pentagonal, or five-sided, and thus a "pentagonal face") is a composite temple comprised of 12 zodiac imprints. Globally, this generates 144 zodiacs comprising a subtle etheric geography. We call such a galactic imprint a landscape zodiac, to indicate a holographic miniaturisation "below" of the starry zodiac "above." The prevalence of zodiacs across the planet means one never has to travel very far to enter a numinous landscape temple.

Landscape zodiacs vary considerably in scale, from as small as 0.22 miles to 65 miles in diameter, but in essence their function is the same regardless of size. A landscape zodiac is a conscious cell in the galactic body of Albion expressed on Earth. We could see the 144 zodiacs of Earth as representing the periodic table of elements in the body of the Holy Ghost---the starry heavens upon the mighty limbs of Albion. Each landscape zodiac is a cosmic eye of perception struggling to awaken within the sleeping body of Albion. Albion's destiny is to wake-up as Gaia's husband and through an act of sacred marriage to reunite Heaven and Earth.

As humans, we are parents of the bride and bridegroom; we make the arrangements then give away our daughter, Gaia, and our son, Albion, in a jubilant marriage. In a sense the Elohim prescribed an eleventh commandment when they set us upon the Earth: Thou must practice reciprocal maintenance. This is a spiritual equation that says as physical beings, Mother Gaia births, nurtures, and maintains us, but as spiritual beings, Mother Humanity births, nurtures, and maintains Gaia. It's a bond of mutual trust and efficacy. The Elohim ask us to think like a planet, act like a mother. The landscape zodiac is the context both for our moment of insight and our act of mothering.

In our approach to these Mysteries, we are well-advised to cognize galactically, act locally; or, as we said at the beginning, to think like a planet, act like a mother. In either event, we hold the key to the redemption of Gaia and the resurrection of the Holy Ghost caught in Time-our Albion. The key is the simple act of bringing our individual Blazing Star to the mirror of the Elohim set within the grid matrix of the Earth. As the Elohim once did for humanity, breathing cosmic Life into our biological form, our breathing now as Love from Above to the Blazing Star at the center of our being, will be the vital "Breath of the Gods" that awakens the Holy Ghost in whose vast form we live.


About the Author:


A journalist in the field of health, alternative medicine, natural healing spirituality, metaphysics, geomancy, and Earth Mysteries for 25 years, Leviton has published more than 400 feature articles in national magazine and served as Editor for two national magazines. He has conducted seminars and field trips on sacred sites and spirituality, in the U.S., England, and Norway. He is currently senior editor for Hampton Roads Publishing Company in Charlottesville, Virginia.

Richard Leviton, the author of many books, including, The Emerald Modem: A User's Guide to the Earth's Interactive Energy Body
(Hampton Roads, 2004),  The Galaxy on Earth: A Traveler's Guide to the Planet's Visionary Geography (Hampton Roads, 2002), and What's Beyond That Star. A Chronicle of Geomythic Adventure (Clairview Books, 2002), regularly conducts workshops and field trips on the subject of myth, sacred sites, and landscape spirituality. He is also establishing a "cosmic mysteries think tank" in Santa Fe, New Mexico to offer seminars and training, and to conduct research in these topics. 
His newest books, Signs on the Earth and Encyclopedia of Earth Myths: An Insider’s Guide to Mythic People, Places, Objects, and Events Central to the Earth’s Visionary Geography, will be published in 2005 (find more about these two books here>> ).

To contact: blaise@cybermesa.com, or care of Hampton Roads Publishing Co., 1125 Stoney Ridge Road, Charlottesville, VA, 22902.

Check out the books by Richard Leviton available on Amazon.com.



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