The Occult Path To The Vision of the Triple Sun: White Light Synthesis and Shambhala

ed Hawk 1908 North American Indian Photographer Edward S. Curtis Copyright Swann Auction Galleries

Red Hawk 1908 North American Indian Photographer Edward S. Curtis Copyright Swann Auction Galleries

“At the first flash of Eden, we race down to the sea

Standing there on Freedom’s Shore.

Waiting for the sun

Waiting for the sun

Waiting for the sun

Can you feel it now that the spring has come

And it’s time to live in the scattered sun”.

– Waiting for the Sun, 1968/Morrison Hotel, The Doors

Waiting for the Sun 1968 The Doors Elektra/Asylum Records

Waiting for the Sun 1968 The Doors Elektra/Asylum Records


"Well everybody's dancing in a ring around the sun 
Nobody's finished, we ain't even begun 
So take off your shoes, child, take off your hat 
Try on your wings and find out where it's at". - "The Golden Road (To Unlimited Devotion)"- The Grateful Dead

Consciousness-Analogue

Sacred letters on the face of the sun

Periodic plasma protean self manifesting

Speaking of the coming energy

From the negative mass matter and void

Clockwork diagram rotating counterclockwise

Radiating the light of the yung drung kal

To this we offer the breath of our final prayer

As neatly as horseshoe magnet of the worm-hole drive

Contours of palaces pulsating on the ocean’s deep vortex

A fire in the mouth of the occult vision

Eyes resonate with the heart’s vital clay of wisdom

Lapiz lazuli finality of the river’s marmalade dream

Insane in wilderness of the ferric sunbeam

Choosing the moment’s anonymity of power

Golden verse prophecy of truth

Purge the hollow mind’s vertebrate brain

To regain the lost source of it all

In the multiple coplanar dimensions of time

Space shape changes

Bringing him to the willow and the greens

Water clear as stardust to drink and to clean

To give the child someway to live

A step beyond the bodily differences

Fire-water crystals make the new playground

Africa, do you hear the waters rushing in the arctic circle?

Do we hear the strange sound of winds passing through many portals?

Do we remember the past, invoke the future?

Islands submerge canyons blast the sky

We tear each other with words of anger and hatred

Lie beaten on the shore wrapped in the plenitude of that empty substance

Awakening is the only cause to save the world

And join the congregation

The Golden Road (To Unlimited Devotion)

– Joy Roy Choudhury

 



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THE DYING SWAN MOVEMENTS OF THE CLOCK AND THE CLASSICAL EPIPHANY OF ALBERT EINSTEIN’S TIME DILATION: THERE IS NO MORE FIRMAMENT

 

THE DYING SWAN MOVEMENTS OF THE CLOCK AND THE CLASSICAL EPIPHANY OF ALBERT EINSTEIN’S TIME DILATION: THERE IS NO MORE FIRMAMENT 

The Dying Swan, ballet performed by Anna Pavlova circa 1910

The Dying Swan, ballet performed by Anna Pavlova circa 1910

 

Consciousness-Analogue

Colours are splashed by the sun’s primal meridian

Evoking the silence of silvery nights

Dim light’s ambrosiac reminiscer of the seas

Over a book of Hamlet, recollecting

Ancient coins, stamps, murals and seals

Time’s prolific mistress Ophelia is drowning

Drowning in the indistinguishable ether of memory

At the bottom of the floor the mosaic patterns mirror oblivion

Unoccupied by the birth of a star or a stream that flows by in

Words are radioactive decay of atoms causing collapse

Silence is the superposition

Thinking allows us to master the universe

In the holy Ajna, the sacred fire is the peacock’s wish to dance like the rain

Darker the clouds lighter the burden of the sinuous hills

And as the peaks coiled like serpent’s tail He Fathered the deep symmetry of the race

 

 

Events that become the ground reality of things self-collapsed into one possible nothingness frame

Rest all are mathematical projections of the hyperspace functions

Divine Mother, Mirra Alfassa

Divine Mother, Mirra Alfassa

The candle doesn’t mark the end of time but eternity

As long as we live as ‘one in many’, in the many fields of the Symbolist Movement

Crossing the frontier with Mallarme and Laforgue

Into the dead analogous world of parallel uncertainties

Paris transfigures

As Rome as Venice

The flowers in the garden

Bringing Her glory of the spring

Nestled in the relative harmonics of simultaneity

Sharp like the knife’s edge in the chill delirium

Voices ringing in the far-off shores

Felt the constant stillness of the soul.

The actor suffers to deliverance

The mob cracks; the walls, the fire

‘THERE IS NO MORE FIRMAMENT’

Far and beyond as near to nearness compelling thy light

To manifest itself in the synecdoche of universal bliss.

 

-Joy Roy Choudhury

Ref: ‘There is no more firmament’, one-act surrealist play by French playright Antonin Artaud, 1920s