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Entering the Dark Realms | Angel Wings Flutter

"Evil is a source of moral intelligence in the sense that we need to learn from our shadow, from our dark side, in order to be good."
-John Bradshaw
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Entering the Dark Realms | Angel Wings Flutter

Postby Christine » Sat Feb 06, 2016 11:25 am

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She is going deeper, not sure what is taking her there. No choice now, the die is cast.


At some point, some moment on this journey we come to places that don’t yield, so dense that almost all will simply pass them by unseen or turn away. Today I sit in one. It has been there in front of me all along, a place I know.

She takes a step off the edge, she explores.

Ink black, sharp jutting edges to this space, a deeper dense silence is here. The absence of light yet something called me to this place. Some sound, a slow surfacing of an emotion, I wait.

A distant and far away memory surfaces in a hush, a Knowing one penetrates. Great is the sadness, no rolling waves of grief … an eminent sorrow permeates. Sounds of souls, a single soul it seems.

She muses on what brought her here, a longing accompanied by something else, something she doesn’t want to face. She knows now that these are the places she must go.

She has been warned, She has been prohibited yet she dares.


I am flicking back and forth between a white rose and this place. Compassion honed in stone, words emerge trying to bring up some knowing. Consumed. She that consumes.

Black heart rock core.

A fluttering of an angel’s wing, a single feather moves and is almost missed.

She sees, melded, molded, twisted and tangled mass. She sees. No denying this part of Her.

A slow hot tear rolls down my cheek, no gushing sound. My breath, I breathe. So finite is this place.

So many were lost, too many. Consumed in some ancient flame. This will take some time, memories won’t erupt here, they will come like a rising mist. She knows, she is told that it must be so.

Now comes over her a reverence, not to one but to all. She sits. Whispers in the dark she listens. She knows words will not arise from this place, some great secret to be revealed here.

The letting go continues, the light that masks the dark reveals. I feel a tiny smile rise and fall on my lips, a lift. We miss so much only searching for the light, this dark place, a haunting beauty, a remembrance of lost dreams and innocence.

Drawing light from the dark, this depth that is not the Void, something else lays hidden here.

She allows the tears to flow, some cleansing and another piece that is returning. In our rush for light this place so missed, angels lie buried beneath our feet.
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The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.

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Re: Entering the Dark Realms | Angel Wings Flutter

Postby heyokah » Sat Feb 06, 2016 3:00 pm

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"So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing."

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O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,
The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant,
The captains, merchant bankers, eminent men of letters,
The generous patrons of art, the statesmen and the rulers,
Distinguished civil servants, chairmen of many committees,
Industrial lords and petty contractors, all go into the dark,
And dark the Sun and Moon, and the Almanach de Gotha
And the Stock Exchange Gazette, the Directory of Directors,
And cold the sense and lost the motive of action.

And we all go with them, into the silent funeral,
Nobody's funeral, for there is no one to bury.
I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,

And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away—
Or as, when an underground train, in the tube, stops too long between stations
And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence
And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deepen
Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about;

Or when, under ether, the mind is conscious but conscious of nothing—
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

You say I am repeating
Something I have said before. I shall say it again,
Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.

In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.

In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.


Part III from "East Coker," from *The Four Quartets* by T.S. Eliot.


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