Each soul is potentially divine. The goal is to manifest this divinity within by controlling nature, external and internal. Do this either by work, worship, psychic control or philosophy — by one, or more, or all of these — and be free. This is the whole of religion. Doctrines, dogmas, rituals, books, temples, and forms, are but secondary details. -- Swami Vivikenanda
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
On The Nature of Our Devotion To Isis Mighty Mother
Recently, we rededicated the Grand Temple of Isis Mighty Mother to reaffirm our commitment to Isis in performing the Great Work of bringing more Light into this dimension and thereby healing each other and the planet. During our ritual, we symbolically drank of Isis' milk from the sacred chalice. In the Golden Dawn tradition, it is the sweet milk of Mother Isis that nourishes our souls and cures us from all kinds of sickness in body, mind and spirit. Her milk flows out and becomes the Pathway of Souls, but it is also the Akashic vesture of their very existence. We at the Grand Temple of Isis Mighty Mother intimate this mystery in terms of carrying forth the esoteric Word, the Logos. Sweet is that milk of Truth that is ever available in its radiant wisdom to the poor orphan who seeks to become the legitimate son. Thus describes the spirit of initiation: we are reborn into One Family, as if to one father, one mother:
O Great and Bounteous Mother
Who dwells in the sky
And is called the Lake of Milk;
Be thou my mother,
As though thou hast given birth to me!
It is about the nature of our relationship with Mother Isis that I am reminded of Khalil Gibran's apt lesson called "Wisdom and I" in his book, The Way Of The Master (Citadel Press, 1958), at pages 77-79:
"In the silence of the night, Wisdom came into my chamber and stood by my bed. She gazed upon me like a loving mother, dried my tears, and said:
I have heard the cries of your soul, and have come here to comfort you. Open your heart to me and I shall fill it with light. Ask, and I shall show you the path of Truth.
I complied with her bidding, and asked:
Who am I, Wisdom, and how came I to this place of horrors? What are these mighty hopes, these mountains of books, and these strange figures? What are these thoughts that come and go like a flock of doves? What are these words that we compose with desire and write down with joy? What are these powerful and joyous conclusions that embrace my soul and envelop my heart? Who are these eyes that stare at me, and pierce the very inmost recesses of my soul, and yet are oblivious of my grief? What are these voices that lament the passing of my days and chant the praises of my childhood? Who is this youth that toys with my desires and mocks my feelings, forgetting the deeds of yesterday, contenting himself with the littleness of today, and arming himself against the slow approach of tomorrow?
What is this dreadful world that moves me and to what unknown land?
What is this earth that opens wide her jaws to swallow our bodies and prepares an everlasting shelter for greed? Who is this Man who contents himself with the favors of Fortune and craves a kiss from the lips of Life while Death smites him in the face? Who is this Man who buys a moment of pleasure with a year of repentance and gives himself over to sleep, while dreams call to him? Who is this Man who swims on the waves of Ignorance toward the gulf of Darkness?
Tell me, Wisdom, what are all these things?
And Wisdom opened her lips and spoke:
You, Man, would see the world with the eyes of God, and would grasp the secrets of the hereafter by means of human thought. Such is the fruit of ignorance.
Go into the field, and see how the bee hovers over the sweet flowers and the eagle swoops down on its prey. Go into your neighbor's house and see the infant child bewitched by the firelight, while the mother is busied at her tasks. Be like the bee, and do not waste your spring days gazing on the doings of the eagle. Be like the child rejoicing at the firelight and let the mother be. All that you see was, and still is, yours.
The many books and strange figures and the lovely thoughts around you are ghosts of the spirits that have been before you. The words your lips utter are the links in the chain that binds you and your fellow man. The sorrowful and joyful conclusions are the seeds sown by the past in the field of your soul to be reaped by the future.
The youth that toys with your desires is he who will open the gate of your heart for Light to enter. The earth that opens wide her mouth to swallow man and his works is the redeemer of our souls from bondage to our bodies.
The world that moves with you is your heart, which is the world itself. And Man, whom you deem so small and ignorant, is God's messenger who has come to learn the joy of life through sorrow and gain knowledge from ignorance.
Thus spoke Wisdom, and laid a hand upon my burning brow, saying:
March on. Do not tarry. To go forward is to move toward perfection. March on, and fear not the thorns or the sharp stones on Life's path."