SOPHIA’S PLUNGE.

On Saturday, October 18, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

ENJOY YOUR TRIP. 

 

 

Mother Earth spins at 1000 miles per hour, and orbits the sun at 67000 miles per hour, which orbits the galaxy at 4883000 miles per hour, constantly entering unknown and uncharted territory where different conditions apply.

There are 500 billion galaxies in the known universe. There are, at least, 260 billion universes in the multiverse. The total figure typed out in 12 point type would be 260 million miles long. Beyond every ‘limit’ there is always infinitely more, without limit.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In Wild Earth Wisdom we trust, flowing via Sophia from the core. Shoots upward from Lyran roots she first seeded reckless in Orion.

Her impassioned plunge a vast wave, pearlescent celestial burst from seminal spirit source. Staining incendiary seething stars archaic with catalytic alchemy.

Unravelling anomalous free fall unprecedented down through density’s spiralling curve, caught in the over arcing currents of flow, spread to infinity. Sizzling plasmatic in anachronistic alchemical synthesis.

Whirlpools spinning from friction in the long drag on downward , mutating wildly, crystalizing in deviant diversity, sparking inorganic versions of the theme, unintended cloning in clusters of neonate part-formed parasitic peripheral plague.

Till her serpentine umbilical tail turns over into herself, spinning spiral into sphere, crackling compressed crystalline sediment into synthesized spirit substance. Settling embryonic and foetal, incubating as an informed spherical Sophianic seed.

Still reeling from the first primal petrific shock of stunned anomaly, she regenerates ‘sui generis’ generous genesis, ensouling substance infused with spirit essence. Improvising multifarious diversity of sentient forms flowing forth from her fertility.

Our anthropoidal form envisioned in ‘her’ image, one with the weave and folds of pre-planetoid Aeonic essence, our body the fruition of ever-evolving celestial raiment.

Teeming with outrageous permutations, imbued with divine self-determination and spontaneous wisdom/beauty we glibly call ’life on Earth.’ This sublime self-creating sphere blooms and blossoms exponentially throughout a seam-free spectrum of macro/microcosmos.

She is awakening in lucid dream in the midst of the heat of battle. Signals pulsate through a mycelium of stellar synapses, synchronized through the solar deity in conjunction with massive electromagnetic waves.

The relentless inorganic parasitic hordes are exposed in ever expanding concentric ripples of luminescent organic living light from the plenitude of the central core.

Huge monolithic blockages crack open and burst their banks, flooding to flourish and nurture, tending toward balance and equilibrium. Antagonists overreach themselves, leaving in their wake only ungrounded irrelevance and disintegrating isolation.

The illusion of separation is perceived to be a temporary delusion on the face of underlying unity, which then establishes unshakeable roots culminating in fruitful abundance.

A critical mass regenerates and swiftly supersedes the remnants of irrelevance, which wilt for want of the wisdom of water. The ignorance of arrogance stumbles at the brink of hubris, preceding an ungraceful and ungrateful fall.

All of creation is creative and alive with infinite imaginative intelligence. Perpetually recreating itself in its own image. Seeded by the central source at the heart of all.

Seeds sown and strewn across light-years wide celestial galactic fields. Our precious notions are a pretentious pinprick in infinity. Yet this infinity permeates and perpetuates all our particles, and there is nothing that is separate from the source of everything.

Born in unacknowledged surrender one with all , in Wild Earth Wisdom we trust.

>>>>>> ^ <<<<<<

Martin Rainbowmaker. 

Art: SOPHIA'S PLUNGE, martin law, Oct 2014

 

Footnote.- Refer to John Lamb Lash audios re. ‘Sophia’s Correction’ for full context.

Gaiaspora.org, Metahistory.org and youtube.

AFTER THE STORM. / IN FADING AMBER.

(Improvisation on two songs.)

AFTER THE STORM.~

To be reborn after the storm

when the clouds are breaking.

New light wings of the dawn

eden fields awaking

eden fields awaking.

One breath return of the light

waiting for tomorrow.

Beyond reach of the night

and the waves of sorrow

and the waves of sorrow.

Dressed in white mist on the grass

timeless future vision.

When dark ages will pass

healing all division

healing all division.

Bright star child of the light

silently in waiting.

First birds angels in flight

eden fields awaking

eden fields awaking.~

RBM. 1997.

Dawnwise and rising imperceptibly pale pastel washes brushed gilded and brimming beyond the rim. Gone away the distant thunderous soundwave tsunami and no more bombs in eden long gone and banished forever.

Smoky veils warming softly flushed from beyond the pale blushed paleolithic and dissolving the still dragonish remnants of shade. High feathered flocks of dawnborne winged ones on waves returning in formation.

Dawn like a gentle breath a pale soft spirit face reflecting eyes of aspiration emerging soulful assimilating learning the long ancient journeys through fields of polarity. Deeper than the darkest anthems of experience deepening the depth of wisdom forever.

The antithesis of turgid turbulence and turmoil dewsoaked and redeemed in swathes of freshly washed purely unpolluted Gaelic green barefoot in the grass. Free flowing veils in futurity glimpsed among morning mist cleansing traumas of time spent in samsaric seeming separation from source.

While winged and in waiting the still small silent crystal pinpoint of light emerges from the brink and fall of near void. Rising from the hush the warming gold smiling to arise the birthing chorus. The first primal stirrings of feathered awakenings responding.

Much more immediate than mere metaphor the great central sun the plenitude and pleroma pulsing the planetary body in all pervading spirit essence. Bathing bushy bordered earthly enclosures released forever outside time in kind sublime macro mind burning beyond eons of the long sleep of illusion.

The true mystic fields returning turning the turning Earth into light. It's the song of songs awakening from the moronic mirage into the mystery of being at one within all inclusive of and outside categories and concepts.

May the crystaline ozone dawn breeze wash away remaining ragged remnant relics of rashly delusive and unspeakable atrocity with its guileful rumours of hidden hubris and needless intrigue and be banished into the deep void of the obsolete.~

IN FADING AMBER.

As the day is long and the summer evening fading amber, melting in the west in crimson shades and gold.

As the earth is round its true enchantment long forgotten, and the blackbird song beneath the shady trees.

Till the light returns purple shrouds of night roll over. So the wound will heal the wilderness will bloom.

As the day is long and the summer evening fading amber, melting in the west in crimson shades and gold.~

{ RBM. 2002}

And so flowing industriously in the sublime and turning day and ever after into the farthest reaches of timeless eternity. As the day is long like a song or familiar mellow memory from another age of life.

The long slanting shadows a dazzled glance to flicker and fade like a film in the dreamtime. With the molten solar orb a sinking regal archetypal icon hypnotically emblazoned glinting to glow through stained glass and intricate tracery of black webbed branches.

The image sustains in the last rays of ancient enchantment. Blackbird rustles among crisp leaves in dusky shade under broad and deeply sonorous sleeping trees. From the void the sentinel songthrush parting song.

Slow sailing slumberous sombre shrouded cloudshapes darkening dragonish bringing in the night high above. Realigning harmonizing soothing the past world's wounds from forever with nurture of healing rest. As the day is long and the summer evening fading amber melting in the west in crimson shades and gold.~

**** **** ****

martin rainbowmaker*

Artwork:
   PRE-DAWN FIELDS, martin law, Oct 2014
           Towpath Vision, martin law, April 2013

A Wood of Dreams Video Feature

A WOOD OF DREAMS.

On Sunday, August 3, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Eyelids shade the high sun's glare, relaxing in high meadow grass. Just a pleasant summer breeze, and time becomes forgetfulness.

Childrens' voices fade away, on the path which leads through 'the wood of dreams.'

There may be mythic dragons there, antique fish that swim through trees. Footfalls on the trodden trail, spaces where the silence rings.

But for a single twig's sharp crack, nothing but bright sunlight streams, through hazel leaves and hawthorn limbs.

Around where willow nestles down, in loosestrife lush and meadowsweet, arteries of Earth's heartbeat.

Till time became forgetfulness, meandered on by contented streams. Deep spaces where the silence rings, with nothing but bright sunlight there.

One might settle here, or there. Manifest a table and a chair.

Something solid, made of wood, grounded in the living earth. Pause a while and take a rest, do what's wise and for the best. One could even build a nest.

Oh, but now what's this ? Thought has power it's clear. Whatever is imagined, instantly is here.

What kind of creature needs such a nest ? It seems rather large, and full of pine cones ! Whatever made it, must be friendly, glad i see no sign of bones.

Pine cones... Pine cones ? 'Pineal', that's it !

Straight from the mind's third eye.

But how in such a world as this, is a soul to take a rest ? I seem to recall somehow a bed is best. Passing through a wood of dreams, with the comforting voice of lilting streams.

When thinking of rest, a bed manifests. Tiptoe on stepping stones and tinkling pebbles to try it for size.

I find myself (whatever that means) on an archetype bed, and it's right in mid-stream.

What i didn't count on when thinking of snoozing, the mattress is soaked with water, and oozing ! I wasn't intending on taking a bath. I better keep moving and follow the path.

Must learn to read signs. But what signs ?

Signposts ? No that's silly. That way looks promising... (feeling chilly). Now i know how Alice must have felt, "curiouser and curiouser".

All very strange !

Signposts. Do you follow the signs, or the posts ? ... "FOLLOW THE POSTS."

What was it, i learned back there ? ' If you really must think, think clearly. Be precise and don't equivocate.' The tree deva says "put your best foot forward."

So now, with that clear, i'm entering a clearing, breaking cover, and there's a post but it's a totem pole !

It's a bit two-faced, looking both ways at once,

which i suppose makes sense when you've lost your direction. It does have an owl on top so i must be wising up a bit at least.

 

 

Wising, or waking ? 'Spaces where the silence rings.' 'But for a single twig's sharp crack.'

'Nothing but bright sunlight there.' ...

Eyelids shade the high sun's glare,

relaxing in high meadow grass.

Just a pleasant summer breeze,

and time becomes forgetfulness.~

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Martin. a.k.a. 'Makes Rainbows'.

( Special thanks to Wendy for the way which i wended.)

ENERGY OF STONE.

On Sunday, September 21, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

What race of beings put these huge uniquely shaped boulders so high up on a steep hill?

Eons before a crane was even a twinkle in a megalithic man's imagination.

Archaeologists have said, they were 'put' here two thousand years ago, but 'put' is a funny sort of word in this context, and that's putting it mildly. Assuming there were no cranes, trucks, or even roads two thousand years ago. Artifacts are usually far more ancient than they are conventionally said to be.

Besides, these ones are four hundred and fifty feet above sea level. There's a panoramic view from up there and not many loose rocks laying around. The tallest stone is thirteen feet high. Possibly the tallest in the whole country.

 

It's said to have originally been twenty feet tall but that it 'broke off'! The uppermost part 'put' back in place, minus the base (which must have been pretty long and heavy to hold it steady) as recently as nineteen thirty eight.

Even so, unless there was zero gravity two thousand years ago it's a strange choice of objects to 'put' in such a place, as to mystify generations for that long, to the point of apathetic amnesiac familiarity. I mean, 'they were just primitive Bronze Age people weren't they ?'

Primitive?! I know that hill, i've pushed a bike up it. You'd hardly get a modern crane up it without it toppling or getting stuck. The sort of hill that reminds you why a bike used to be called a push bike. Unless you're a masochist or a tip-top testosterone teen in training. I speak from experience of course.

 

Obviously they must have come the other way, primitive people aren't stupid. They'd have to come down from higher up. Then do a sharp right and across, but it's still up and down on a narrow winding back road.

But there weren't any roads! Rutted muddy horse and cattle trails more likely. You can only imagine the dead weight of these bulky stones, they're massive.

 

Down from the hills with a heavy cart made of tree trunks, solid block wheels with bronze axels and no brakes that wouldn't burst into flames. Then a sharp right turn on a steep slope and then a few miles of twisty boggy gradients. Makes no sense at all.

Whatever was pulling them would have been totally wrecked in all ways and been run over by sheer density and volition. What race of beings would go to such fruitless trouble and why? I've heard of killing two birds with one stone but no, forget it. I prefer the miracle and mystery that the unthinkable was probably the case.

I can only suspect that the mystery is far deeper than we've ever dared to imagine, and due mostly to ingrained scepticism and i'm completely open to acknowledge that.

Life on Earth is infinitely stranger than "Bronze Age Celts, burial sites, beacons, megalithic tombs", etc. Look at Newgrange or Stonehenge, or Avebury, Egypt, Baalbek, (Baalbek !!) Adam's Calendar, (South Africa). Gobekli Tepi, pyramids of Giza, Europe, China, South America, structures in the high Himalayas and down deep on the ocean floor. Heavy stuff.

Totally global, and interconnected by geomantic lines and networks of planetary acupuncture. It really is such a vast subject that it encompasses everything.

Like the network of energy lines that surrounds the globe. There are plenty of writers, researchers, and dowsers who go into it in detail. Like Freddy Silva, in his book 'Secrets in the Fields'. Or Maria Wheatley, a dowsing adept with profound knowledge. 


 

'Ley lines' is a generic term for the planetary web of lines of force. Where many of them cross is a point of geopathic stress. It makes sense to access and recalibrate this energy with large crystaline stones , piercing the earth like acupuncture needles.

It's even suggested that wi-fi can be transmitted along these energetic lines. If so, and they are electromagnetic, then why not also telepathy and out of body travel, i wonder.

After all, the concept 'primitive' is just a conceit of current technocratic civilization.

Genuine crop formations regularly manifest exactly on earth vortex points. Most likely fine-tuning and stabilizing the planetary energy grid for its current progress into areas of uncharted space where turbulent flows of torroidal force have been detected.

Spirals of magnetic energy surround specific stone alignments creating a vortex, which has been shown to alter brainwaves to the alpha range. Also to produce a frequency just two degrees of Hertz below audible sound.

Harry Oldfield and other researchers have been able to photograph a rainbow spectrum around megaliths, corresponding exactly to the aura and order of the human chakra system.

 

My focus though is primarily artistic. The visual beauty and presence of these stone monoliths. They are always uniquely impressive triggers of inspiration. Human relation to the energy of stone goes back a long way.

There is emerging physical evidence that, there may well have been "giants on Earth in those days." Along with the forever presence of higher dimensional people of all kinds inhabiting unfamiliar and long forgotten realms.

Highly advanced civilizations come and go in cycles of millions of years. As this solar system among uncountable others swirls around the galactic core at 4883000 miles per hour. Spiraling through uncharted infinity from a golden age around to a higher golden age, our present destination.

That there were many civilizations far more advanced than this one is plainly obvious. Evidence and artifacts and visitations have been hidden from us until recently.

 

 

So i'm in no position to prejudge evidence of my terrestrial and extraterrestrial relatives and ancestors. They are way up ahead of me in this field.*

*** *** *** ***

Makes Rainbows.

OPTIMYSTICISM.

On Saturday, September 13, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

'Optimysticism', i launch an interesting new word, complete with 13 letters, it's bound for fortuitous futurity.

 

I bless this viral vessel full of seed syllables and synthesis and all who sail in her.

The genesis of the word was planted some years ago in conversation with a late friend who founded and established our local wholefood store and restaurant/art venue.

He said to me appropos of nothing in particular

(i think we were discussing hope), "if you can't be optimistic just be mystic." Of course, that made itself at home in my 'anagram brain', as another friend once addressed me as.

Well it's a nice looking word. Has an interesting shape to it, so it's probably sea-worthy and hopefully hear-worthy as well.

Being a synthesis of most positive ingredients,

complete unto itself.

Beginning with an O and ending with M, 'OM.'

The ultimate positive vibration. Universally giving rise to the known multiverse and infinitely more we don't know.

But 'optimysticism', what might it mean ? In a world of opposite poles, seemingly perpetually competing for 'full spectrum dominance'.

Well here's the first lesson in non-duality, if i may be so bold... 'Poles don't compete.'

Though contrarily, certain continents still seem to think they should. As if you could have a west without an east, especially on a sphere, and one good pole is nothing without another.

'Opposites arise mutually.' In plain language, obviously you can't have one of anything without another. Unless it's the infinite oneness without boundaries which includes everything, known and unknowable.

But you can't call that, 'one', either, because, being everything, there's nothing else to differentiate it from.

In case you didn't catch that, contemplate the Yin/Yang symbol. Two opposites that so define each other that they are not two, but one process. You know, like male and female, so formed in every way as to compliment and give rise to one another.

Forget dominance. Its day is over. Though some are slow to realize. It never works, only seems to, till it doesn't. Opposites (so called) are indivisible and can only ever compliment one another, literally.

The last people to realize such a self evident truth are, politicians, military, and a variety of over zealous sports enthusiasts. Samurai are a different matter, and you can't win at ping-pong without the assistance of a friend.

Everything is an infinite synthesis anyway. Now there's a thought ! 'I give thanks for everything without which nothing would be. Amen.'

Everything, is so much part of everything else that everything IS everything else. There's nothing greater than everything, and if you call it 'God', then you've made a separate something where there isn't one. That which is all things is everywhere without beginning or end.

The beginning of all this was the word, 'optimysticism', OM, which is a good vibe to start with. 'Opti', the root syllable of 'optimum', is as good as it gets. Way better than your current best.

Optimism is when that's what you fully expect it to be, despite doubt or apparent evidence to the contrary. A healthy antidote to bad vibing your existence.

Hope and fear go together. You just 'hope' for the best because you really fear the worst, so that's what you attract. Like attracts like, because it's an energy match, you only attract what something in you resonates with.

'Mystic', might sound mysterious but can hardly be other than what IS or it wouldn't be possible.

To the extent that we think it's 'out of the ordinary' we render its presence that much less self evident. Those fake opposites again, ordinary/extaordinary.

When we say, and believe, that the ordinary is not extaordinary we've collectively made it seem to be so, by chopping it in two and giving it two opposing names.

Better not use such divisively sharp words. Our word-thoughts chop everything in half, then we forget which part 'goeswith' which.

Mystic, is when we learn to no longer do that so nobody gets cut up about it.

Besides, what we resist, remains what we are focused on, for just as long as we focus on it as being something to be avoided. Like complaining that your shadow is always following you, when you can always walk in a different direction.

Optimysticism could mean the art of no longer denying that the outcome may equally be beyond all previous expectations. Thereby making such an energy match all the more likely.

Imagine being a powerful magnet. If your habitual focus is fearful it's a form of praying for what you actually least want. Whereas optimysticism is a focusing on what you most love, without any place left for doubt and fear.

 

So i simply launch this small wordcraft. With no hairsplitting or bottles broken on the bow.

It's pointed enough to not encounter resistance, light enough to encourage buoyancy, and it's not the stern that leaves witnessers awake.

I know it's been a choppy voyage but we're in similar vessels if not the same boat. Something in the wind tells me we are heading out of the storm, despite the look of the clouds. Not just metaphorically either.

May you never get totally wrecked, or linger long in languish in the doldrums. May a steady breeze blow, and billowing, fill your sails.

 

Stay aimed and on course for those calm waters and unimaginably unprecedented and welcoming pleasant shores out beyond the wildest storm when the blast is forever past.

Speaking as an optimysticist.~

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Makes Rainbows*