These points bounce from top to bottom. Creation is a pinball machine. You have to be my age to know what that is. Here’s picture. Keep in mind that pinball begins at the bottom and the Tree of Life begins at the top, but not really. Now that I have explained Begendings clearly…
Why does this matter? Who cares? What is it, anyway? It matters because it is template for existence. Existence is hard to understand. So, a template is useful when you are attempting to understand your place within the context called existence. It’a ladder that energy uses to go down and up.
Center Pillar top of the stack - Pluto, the source of birth and death. The Begending of life. S/He says, “I bring you in, I take you out.” The Crown of Creation is a point of singularity. Kether.
Right Pillar - Left Brain. Uranus, Originator of plans, inventions and creational details. He says, “Here’s a thought. Here’s a new thought. And another. Another. New one. Another.” Wisdom of the ages. Chokma.
Left Pillar - Right Brain. Neptune chimes in, “Should you indulge in this, my darling breatharian? Notice your acts. Everything flows through me. Look down, at your hands.” Understanding. Binah.
Right Pillar - Left Brain. What does Jupiter say? He says, “Have you visited France? You wanna watch me change into a swan? I want to tell you about the latest thousand page book I wrote.”
Left Pillar - Right Brain. What does Saturn say? She says, “What have you done today? Was it hard? Did you sweat? You really should be more careful. She is Rigorous. Gevurah.”
Center Pillar above Mars - Sun Humun Experience. What does the Sun say? He says, “How do like my warmth? Do you see my beauty? I make life grow. The world revolves around me.” Beauty. Tiferet.
Left Brain - Mercury. Mercury is busy and wants me to think about at least 15 ideas at once. “Look here, I have a message for you.” He directs my attention to a slip of paper with symbols written in silver ink. “Go over there and talk to your brothers and sister, then run around the block ten times. Now invent a new word.” Victorious Mind. Netzak.
Right Brain - Venus. If it’s Venus, she wants a man or at least, a gentleman caller. In dreams she decorates the forest with sweet flowers and marries a peasant boy who plays a lute or a flute. The Splendor of life is the magnetic body. Hod.
Center Pillar under the Sun - Mars insists that I move. Go. Do it! Do it now! “Jump,” he commands. Relentless. Pounding his broad gorilla chest. Terribly insistent. Barking. Who are you, bully? The Foundation of life is sex. Yesod.
Center Pillar under Mars - Moon. The nest. The Egg. The womb. The home. Where the family comes from. The place of Origin.
Realizing that the voice is actually a chord, a chorus of voices, I pause. The Singers call, but who are they? The song can’t be ignored. Which gods attend me now? I ask the air as I spin around to see no one.
Dizzy, I ask, “Who is there? What did you say?” I hear them and quickly avert my ears. They are all talking at once.
Aiy, yi yi. “Nooo!” I whine.
“Please let me alone. I have some cake to eat.” Hovering above the carbohydrate, gloating or longing? Too many characters inside me. My body, my mind. Lower body chakras demanding food. Upper chakra spirits pouring light into the fontanelle that is my humun vortex. My head.
This one counters; stepping into my aversion. Paying the price for my slow reactions, I move more slowly, but sometimes, jump or break a coffee cup on the tile floor. Surprised, astonished by these ghosts, ancestors, provocateurs.
The Holy Fool, a Jester? The Mighty Hero of fables? The Innocent Maiden on a journey, alone? Choose or be this that or another? If not now, when? If when, then who? It’s all so challenging.
“Just do it!” She means business. Another bully boy brain character in virgin drag shouts from inside my gut. Virgo, God-Ess of digestion. “Eat sauerkraut! Now!!”
Never mind my desires, if my heart matches up. This calling stumbles my feet, tripping over clown shoes, I don’t fall, because catching myself midair, I made a fool of me and no one noticed, but myself. Clownish? Maybe so. Prolly.
Mother and I both identified with Lucy Ricardo, Lucille Ball. “Rick-eeee!” Naked Mother spoons me at night, no longer insane in dreamtime.
Life is hard. Saturnian. Life is adventurous. Jupiterian. Life is beautiful. Solar. Life is sexy. Mars. Life is musical. Venus. Life is comfort. Moon.
Every day I hear a shout. I taste a whisper. I feel a tapping in the air. Who is calling? Who are you? What are you? The Calls whisper and squawk. Divergent lords and ladies of past and present, pushing into a future where the next me walks and trips. Silly.
The Callers are no strangers to this daily grind. Soothing when heard, like a mother’s soft voice, singing field songs. They like it here in their grand experiment. Life. Living. They grind through us, daily, here in Modernia. They enjoy the view through my god holes. The places of my body, from whence they peer into the world of the living. As if my eyes are the stained glass windows through which gods gaze at their efforts, incarnate. I am a temple. Living crystal. Container of the Holies. I am Mount Olympus, populated by the voices of creators going about their business. And if I don’t like it they rebuke me…
Like a coach’s tuff reproach.
“Get up. Don’t be a coward! Walk it off. Gently. But firmly. Go on now. You’ve got this.”