I have always found my Self-Realization peculiar. Derived from the uniqueness of my character in the Great Story. Having never been to the Earth plane before, the very nature of this place assaulted me. I felt tossed and turned by cosmic winds, flickering like a candle flame between the many realms of the Akasha, seemingly without control. I created the Mythica to stabilize that movement, to compensate for the shifting gravities of my mortal Self’s consciousness. In the process, I gained realization into the nature of form itself, a gradual Realization paralleling the natural mysticism of the very origins of what is called ‘yoga’.
Such was not an easy process, nor one which felt blessed or grateful to endure. For a very long time, I struggled with the simplicity of having a sense of Self itself, in which I had no choice but forge my way across the Ocean of sensation.
It was not a thing of lineages or pre-established forms, but the raw and unsculpted wilde of What Is relentlessly pummeling like an endless rain, a crucible where I had to find my way like a feral angel across planes of perception whose context would prove to be the very definition of the human condition and it’s journey to enlightenment. Wrought from the very substance of vibration that constitutes the changing Age of humanity, my form was burdened, like all other incarnates here at this time, with the subconscious imprisonment of manifestation that is the legacy of a civilization of oppression and error.
This was not seen at first. Instead, there was only the pain, the depression, the sense of being disconnected from Source, the isolation, the confusion and the madness. Left to my own devices, I crawled my way across the Shadowlands of the Akasha, constantly fighting to break free of the amnesiac oubliette of the mortal condition. Eventually I would realize that such imprisonment was the very definition of the unrealized and unliberated state, that the inconstancy of my access as well as the patterns of rage and depression were the result of subconscious imprints within the very framework of the Self. Worse still, it seemed I was demanded to do endless process simply to pierce the clouds of what seemed a fundamental incarnate cruelty.
It was a nightmare. The sense of being imprisoned within the Self, chained by the imprinted patterns of a Collective consciousness whose distortions made up the very framework of my being. For decades I struggled through a chaotic storm punctuated by bolts of Divine Lightning, in which, for those brief moments of respite, I was able to See the firmament that lay beneath the folly, the Goodness of God and the hint of a brighter Age of humanity … before being dragged inevitably back into the amnesia, with only the burning notion that I had lost something precious, an itching phantom limb with nothing to scratch.
Within this, I would once again discover the unique challenges that came from my incarnate nature. I did not possess the imprints or patterns of form that define the ‘karmas’ and ‘sanskara’ of the people. Form itself was alien to me. Like a savant childe, I wandered through a World of sensate overwhelm, doing my best to navigate through the reams of propaganda and distortion that lay within and without the Self. Worse still, I was unable to understand or digest the most basic of mortal actions, the nature of cooking, of cleaning and meditation, the very passage of Time itself was like quicksilver between my fingers, an insubstantial dream that could not bear the weight of my footsteps. As such, I spent years in confused isolation, wandering the streets in a fugue, unable to understand or function within what human beings called ‘civilization’.
Though I did not recognize it at the time, I would later come to realize that I had access to perceptions and ranges of understanding defined only in the most exalted of yogic attainment. A sense of the deva, of the sources and solutions to the many vibrational distortions that define the current human condition. In the cherished moments when the prison abated, I felt like a demigod, a magickal being somehow wandering the modern Age, doing his best to make sense of a World of madness and majesty. Over the years of the Quest, I would make my way through the embodied versions of the Worlds of myth and legend, encountering all manner of beings in their own blend of amnesiac and incarnate magnificence. Yet even this gave pale solace, for even in it’s magnificent light there was always the question of what I was doing here, what purpose was served by my travail across the mortal plane.
Despite this, I was driven by inner gravity to help. To find some way of healing the distortions on the planet. Naive to the Earth reality, my natural inclination was to offer aid whenever it presented itself, to assist beings with an ever-deepening talent of healing and recognition of their deeper essence. Gradually awareness dawned that ALL beings were going through the same distortions, the same question and suffering.
This proved to be exceptionally challenging. It seemed as though I was destined to be isolated, that the Universe entire was against me. Not only was I unable to hold onto the basics of mortal life, my efforts to collaborate and share with others were ignored. I slipped deeper and deeper into a constant depression of feeling unmet and unloved, forced in some kind of vibrational exile of endless clearing while the beings around me were given access to the fruits and brightness of the mortal plane.
Desperate to change this, besieged by inconstant awareness, I used what bits of Light I had access to as a means of identifying the causal patterns, the subconscious imprints and limiting beliefs that I felt were the root of the issue. Like the whole of humanity, I was demanded to find some way to heal from the very condition of being human.
As this was happening, a vision was dawning with me. In the subtle realms of energy beneath the surface of What Is, I could See patterns. A map of synchronicities and circumstance that orchestrated our shared unfoldment. Intent on helping the people clear these causal patterns that created their circumstance, I began the creation of the Mythica, a yogic device to reveal the Akasha, the web beneath the Worlds.
Through it all, the inconstancy of my own sense of Self remained an ongoing challenge. Determined to find some way to anchor my consciousness and unaware of the nature of why yogas were necessary on this plane, I conceived and constructed the Mythica, a latticework of support for that flickering Light. Such would be a means for me to remember, consistently, focusing the bits and pieces of Grace that I could remember through the mortal haze.
The Mythica would become my yoga, my point of singular focus, an ongoing autobiography of a yogi that would reveal the underlying causality of our many realities, using my Story and others as a means of Collective transformation. A yogic device, meant to stabilize both my shifting sense of reality and that of others on their own unique Path.
After fifteen years of constant work, she did just that, clarifying my consciousness on the nature of the elements of Self and their movement across the Akasha. I gained tremendously insight into the nature of all human yogas, of what is called ‘magick’ and ‘prayer’ and manifestation. And while I could not claim to have mastery in those willful transformations, still a boddhisattvic Witnessing adorned all of my actions, a sense of the lila, the great play of human life revealing itself in sacred diorama.
In this way, the minutia of form unveiled itself, as I came to witness the subtlest of energies that made up human thoughts, beliefs and civilizations. Honed by the constant onslaught, the coal of consciousness compressed in a diamond clarity, in which I was at last able to see the nature of the challenges that I had overcome, a necessary temperance in order to deliver the Gift of a new yoga to the planet.
The Quest continues.
Share the Magick!