le Enchanteur Divinations Tent

Fun Divination

2006-04-23T00:42:00.000-07:00

try this URL

http://trunks.secondfoundation.org/files/psychic.swf

faucon

Dream Seed - Colourbox

2005-12-22T05:20:00.000-08:00

After the Solstice...

Imagining, wondering, seeing

new things, waiting, planning,

knowing new things,

seeing, trying, testing new things.

A new dream,

a new vision,

a new understanding.
copyright Monika Roleff 2005.

2005-11-29T17:54:00.000-08:00

Deeper, deeper, into the center,
uncluttered mind, single focus.
Calm, quiet and peaceful.

The rose, the rose, the rose.

I stand at a crossroads
and chose the one less traveled.
The centuries drop away
and once more I become transported.

The rose, the rose, the rose.

Deep within my meditation I observe the moving centuries and the many lives I have lived on this plane. I see my Iona counterpart and her journey through Europe towards Alexanderia, I see her accepted into the inner circle and her hours searching the knowledge of the world for her pasts. And now, here, in this century, in the center of the rose, I am taken back to my beginnings.
I see the tents in a sandy strip on the most easterly part of Mesopotamia. I can see myself, draped in white linen, one shoulder exposed, and a golden rope belt holding the wrap together in the front. I seem to be standing in expectation, viewing the Tigris river on the East and the Euphrates on my west. Do I of another time somehow know that Jane of this life and time will return before she once more returns to another realm. If we can think it perhaps it is possible?

Perhaps!

A CHANCE MUSING

2005-11-29T01:57:00.000-08:00

We chanced to catch a bit of wonder on the radio yesterday -- a feature narrative about American cowboy singers in a trek with Mongolian nomads. It was filled with humor and pathos based on the wakening of the cowboys to worlds unimagined. There are no fences there; either on the rolling foothills of the Himalayas, or the hearts and souls of those following paths and traditions more than 8,000 years old. Most inspiring is how these nomads LIVE music with a spiritual intensity. Certainly, they have performers for the evening fire, and indigenous instruments, and plaintive songs of lost loves and future dreams. Yet there is more! Children sing to the horses at daybreak to calm them and tell them of the tasks and dangers ahead. A woman milking a yak 'sings the milk down', soothing the shaggy cow and acknowledging "eke^otukan" -- Mother Earth; not in praise or prayer, but as one might chat with a favorite aunt.

I was taken within what I have learned of Mongolian Shamanism, early Turkic cultures, the Alan and more; and pondered why many in our Western culture see so many things spiritual as "either-or." The problem, for me, is that many confuse religious practice with spiritual enlightenment. Indeed, for some, an immersion in ritual, dogma and tradition is essential to their spiritual growth, and there is no doubt about the heightened spiritual energy present in any gathering of earnest congregation. For others, a more solitary course is pursued; with reading, meditation, discussion groups and mystical experience. A few take a "don't tell, don't ask" approach to such things -- and that is OK too. What doesn't make sense is why people called to shift their base of 'religious practice' seem to "throw out the baby with the bath water!" Christians, for example, when changing to say, a more 'earth based' alliance of beliefs, often turn and disavow all of their early conceptions and understandings. Why? Your personal 'understanding' of Deity, your chosen method of prayer and value base for human interaction need not be the same at all. While many might argue that having all three packaged in a pretty box is desirable, it can also be viewed that such dogmatic structures are a denial of personal responsibility and even faith. Of this we can learn much from our Mongolian brothers and sister for they have no discordance in these areas.

Their knowledge of a spiritual link with 'Source' is infinite, inherent and obvious. In their language a question of, "Do you believe in God?" would be semantically equivalent to asking, "Do you know where your elbow is?" Thus, they spend no time pondering or debating the shape, sex, proclivities or foibles of God! They have no need to reshape deity into their own image and to offer sacrifice or supplication. Their faith is absolute. No feeble attempts by man to change God's nature is going to have any effect, so why try?

They also acknowledge the absolute finite limits of 'human life', both in physical realms we can easily perceive, and some 'other kingdoms' or which we know little. They recognize their bond with Mother Earth (that's where the term originated) and their obligations to the existence of all perceived things. They have an elaborate system of explaining 'unknown' things of which Shamanism is a part; which has been defined as a 'religion' by Western scholars, and is the basis of the religious perceptions of many myths and modern religious practices. They believe, for example, in seven different 'souls', each playing a different role in the dispersion of 'spirit' after death. However, none of this has a bearing on their 'belief in God' which is completely separate. Our bodies and minds belong to 'Mother Earth', our spirit is 'of God', and the 'soul' is the seat of balance between the two. This 'soul' is not eternal, but may linger on for an extended period after death because of the love energy it possessed, but again, has nothing to do with where your 'spirit essence' goes. They also 'know' that what one does here during 'life', especially treatment of other persons, animals and Earth itself will have an influence on what happens to your various souls later on. This is a natural cycling of the Earth processes -- both the body and soul will decay and provide nutrients for new life -- as it should be -- but not 'religious' at all.

Rose Spirit

2005-11-25T17:17:00.000-08:00

I am swimming in a pool of rose otto

Intoxicated by the aroma

Body soothed and free

The walls around me

Delight my eyes

Fresh pink and cream

Colour divine

Emotions of such ecstasy

Sheer bliss

The Rose Spirit whispers

"You have a glimpse

Of your soul"

Rose by Heather Blakey

2005-11-25T13:21:00.000-08:00

Inside the rose le Enchanteur meets 'Rose'

During Meditation

2005-11-25T02:52:00.000-08:00

The Song

There is a song from within the shadows,
with lyrics I can barely understand.
The melody seems to shift syncopation
and follow rules unknown to cord or scale.

Yet my blood quickens at the lilting tune
and I stand close by to hear the words.
My desperate mission of earlier hurry
is but a spirit, lost in whirling dance.

Colorful reflections play upon the wall
and a scent of heady incense fills the air.
A soft, caressing breeze comes from nowhere
and extracts a smile from my aching heart.

I look around but find I am quite alone
and doubt again my sanity under stress.
Yet, I believe that I am wide-awake
and that dreaming does not relieve my pain.

I close my eyes in wondrous, silent thought
and seek the source of blessed, vibrant song.
Then I sigh aloud and laugh in fond relief.
I know ‘tis You that simply called my name.

faucon

Rose Meditation

2005-11-24T22:12:00.000-08:00

Rose Meditation by Heather Blakey

Before commencing this meditation you might like to fill your space with the gentle perfume of Rose Oil.

“Take a deep breath and as you let it out imagine all the difficulties of the day going with it, now take the attention to the feet---" (work up the body relaxing—especially the back shoulders and neck)

“ Now focus on the breath---going in and out—gently and naturedly—imagine a swing door which moves slowly with the breath in and out—"(allow to continue for some moments)

Imagine that you are standing on the edge of the inner petals of this beautiful rose. The perfume of the rose surrounds you. Your senses are overwhelmed by the color

Beneath you is a deep cavern spiralling to the very centre of the rose. Droplets of water form pools nearby. Carefully you make your way into the interior of the rose. The light glows. Look around. Use all your senses to draw in details of your environment.

As you explore you hear footsteps coming. Someone is humming a song

the rose is a rose
is a rose is a rose
And a rose of a rose
of a rose
is a rose from a rose
from a rose
And a rose
in a rose in a rose
is a rose inside a rose
inside a rose
If a rose to a rose
to a rose
is any rose to any rose
is any rose.

The full meditation, by Heather Blakey, can be viewed on the 2005 Advent Calendar

Silky Oak Tree Spirit

2005-11-19T16:05:00.000-08:00

We have set up the divination tent beside the Silky Oak and visitors can go inside the Oak, with the Silky Oak Spirit and have a mystery unravelled. Any takers?

The Shedding Moon

2005-11-15T18:26:00.000-08:00

Tonight is the full moon. It is called the Blood Moon and the Shedding Moon, among many others too. My primary focus will be to let go. I visualize myself unburdened by things or obligations. I imagine myself running into the ocean to be cleansed in the warm sun. My back is straight, bringing only what I can carry. I release the rest.

Finding "Me"

2005-11-06T03:12:00.000-08:00

What is it about divination that has always attracted me…drawn me toward itself? I guess I’ll never know the answer to that one. So, when I heard about the divination tent, wild horses couldn't keep me away from it.

The reflective lake sounded like just what I needed at this point. To gaze into the clear waters and find myself. So, on this night, as the moon glows in all her glory, and nature plays her song for me, I make my way towards the lake. The tall reeds rustle and almost seem to part before me, as I reach the bank and sit down on the mossy earth.

I gaze at myself in the lake. Those shy, brown eyes look back at me. I can hear those voices in my head, telling me how silly I must look. But I resolutely ignore them and gaze on…

The surface of the lake ripples, and the image is gone, to be replaced by…me…but not me…this me has a determined look in her eyes, a strength to her face...none of the soft, yielding lines I associate with myself. And I hear her then, calling out to me.

Be strong, she says. Be bold. You may be shy and tongue-tied on the outside, but you’ve got a core of steel. When something has to be done, when you’ve backed yourself into a corner, you’ve always found me, haven’t you?

As I gaze at her…me…in wonder, the image is transformed to that of an old crone. For a second I look at her in utter disbelief. I never imagined I had an old crone as part of me too! But, yes, I most certainly did.

You’ve always resisted me young lady. At those few times when you haven’t, things have been smooth. All your instincts, all your inner knowings, all of that is me. It’s not wishful thinking It’s not you telling yourself what you think you should her. It’s me…your inner wisdom…which you’ve always doubted.

As her image rippled away, I sat back on my haunches, awed with the wonder of it all.

All Soul's Night

2005-10-30T03:12:00.000-08:00

To mark All Soul's Night I took a ride with Baba, in her black swan, to the Isle of the Dead and met the Queen of the Serpents who guards the entrance to the underworld. I took a small vile of pure Castalian Water, collected at Delphi and we drank to creativity. The Serpent has blessed all travellers on the Soul Food Silk Way.

While Travellers celebrate Halloween and All Soul's Night le Enchanteur wanders deeper into the Serpent Queen's Cave, on the Isle of the Dead, to see her world. She is dazzled by the beauty of the Queen and her Treasury. The Queen has secrets to share.

The Serpent Queen gives le Enchanteur the greatest gift of all. She reunites her with her faithful Spirit Servant who will willingly do her bidding.

Heather Plants One of Le Enchanteur's Dream Seeds

2005-10-29T23:57:00.000-07:00

For Jack, Bessie, Dick, Fanny and all those characters who courgeously climbed, ever upwards, to explore unchartered regions
Seeds planted by those with green fingers always thrive.

Who Am I?

2005-10-28T19:56:00.000-07:00

Once again, Le Enchanteur calls. I wander off to the stables to find one of Fran's donkeys to take me deep into the Forest. I find Nellie who promises to be gentle with me as I am a little nervous. She takes me up to the mountains and around the windy road through the avenue of the giant eucalypts. It is so cool up here, the air is fresh and the scent of the gums intoxicating.

Soon we come to the turn off and we wend our way down, down to the Reflective Lake. I can see the lake through the trees, and ask Nellie to wait for me while I go to drink of these precious waters.

It is very dark down here. The lake is surrounded by huge Ginko trees stretching their branches out over the waters. I kneel by the lake and take a handful of water, splashing my face. It feels soothing. I sit staring into the deep, waiting for the ripples to gradually disappear, for the reflections to become clear again.

There is me, my gentle, kind hearted and loving face I show to the world. As I am watching, the face becomes that of a tiger - the tiger who growls and scratches when threatened. I feel deeply moved by this vision. Gently this vision changes and I see the Brolga dancing in the waters - I am struck by the grace, beauty and sensuality of the dance. I am entranced. Once more the vision changes and I see an eagle - the eagle who soars up high and has a bird's eye view of the world, a view that sometimes others don't see.

What a powerful experience! I stagger up to fiind Nellie patiently waiting to take me back home. I am soothed by the gentle clip-clopping of her hooves on the earth.

Dream Seeds and The Divination Tent - Mystery Solved

2005-10-28T06:51:00.000-07:00

When L'Enchanteur devised the idea of the Divination Tent I knew I wanted to go there, but kept coming and going, not knowing what to do. It took the beautiful sketch of the fertility goddess to birth the Tree of Letters at the Hermitage, thereby setting off the thread of her divination. That is, I had to do the work to get the answer. I had no idea this would be birthed, a lost love letter from an animus, to his anima, separated in another time and space. The Tree had saved this message for me, and now it's where it was always meant to be, in my hands.... not in anyone else's. It's one thing to ask, another thing to meditate, and another to make it materialise. So just coming up to All Hallow's Eve, I have put some old ghosts to rest, finally.....

On thinking of green hearts and things unresolved, I went to the Tree of Letters to find some answers. To my surprise Nature had caught one for me, from a long time ago. It was written on parchment in an elegant quill-formed hand. Puzzled, because I had no memory of it, I sat down under the tree near the profusion of violets in green, and cast my mind back. It read:

Dear Salamander (?),

Weeks, years, have passed since your mother found me wanting, and your father made me wait. I lower my fine hat brim as I write, against the Italian sun. The light blooms on the stone ruins of old, and I feel the warmth as I sit and write to you from far away. Ruins all around me of a Golden Age, I can only find respite in my pen. You would be resolute and angry in the English Countryside, dreaming of poets and colours. They didn't wait to let you come and see me, so I could only leave, knowing I was leaving part of myself behind.

Two years on the ring I sought to please you with lies untainted in my breast pocket, a shining example of love. The world has no choice but to leave love at it's last, and might I have any recourse to believe otherwise, none has come to me.

No letter from your fine pen has reached me in the Italian sunshine, no other has caught my eye. Letters fly from me to you, only to return to me in tatters. I will write until you notice that love does not die. It is only the suspicion of it that lives, back in the place where you were born.

I cannot believe you have not read any of my lines, my poems to you, -- I am dreaded to think these may have been intercepted by hands older than your own. Did you ever see them? Were they only drifts on the wind? White shades against the blue?

Write, as I may wait for you, in the Italian sun, stone warmed by light.

yours in the truest confidence,

Columbine (?) 1670 Italy.

I sat in silence, and wonder, at the tree that had saved this missive, in spite of older hands, so long ago. How was it that it came back to me at last? Green circles, perhaps?

Dream Seeds

2005-10-25T05:45:00.000-07:00

The 'Fertility Goddess' or 'Mother Goddess' is a more complex image than most people think. She is not only the Mother Goddess who commands fertility, or the Lady of the Beasts who governs animals and all wild nature, or the frightening Mother Terrible but a composite image with traits accumulated from both the pre-agricultural and agricultural eras - Maria Gimbutus

In the Northern Hemisphere there were traditionally fertility ceremonies during the latter part of October. To mark this period le Enchanteur is offering dream seeds for travellers to plant, nurture and use to identify their creative dreams.

Shimmering Gaze

2005-10-21T18:19:00.000-07:00

The Full moon is still in the sky when I wake. I take my time bathing
and wear a simple dress of pale blue cotton and my summer cloak.

The Enchantress takes a small group of us on a hidden path. We wait
in a shadowy grove. One by one we disappear into the trees.

Quietly, the Enchantress nods to me it’s my turn. I set onto the
footpath and turn into a clearing.

The lake is peaceful and wide. The water reflects the coming day.
Cranes in the reeds search for food.

I breathe in the cool morning air. Mist collects and drifts across
the water. I smile contentedly and remember why I am here.

I settle myself near the edge gazing into the water,
my reflection still.

As I suspected, just boring old me. A shimmer slowly cuts the water
like a shiver.

A bear appears. I know this bear.
It is me,
when I was afraid living in Los Angeles.
It’s like an old friend, I had forgotten.

In mid thought the water ripples again.

A distant echo…A whisper

Shinjo

A dark silhouette with horns, looms into view.
A samurai in gleaming woven armor.
My samurai ancestor.

But it is me just me.

Be brave. Go forward without regret.

My ancestor looks at me from the reflection.
I see his blazing eyes.

The image softens and it is my eyes. I nod to myself
and my ancestors that are beginning to haunt me.

They are really trying to impart me with their knowledge.
They think if they keep repeating the words
I will hear them better.

I do hear them.

They give me vision beyond myself
my reflection smiles.

Pied Piper Archetype

2005-10-18T23:55:00.000-07:00

When le Enchanteur is in Pied Piper mode there is electricity in the air and Pegasus cannot resist coming to take someone with her, on the wings of imagination. Le Enchanteur is playing a tune that the hardiest of travellers will find hard to resist. Follow her and go for a night ride, beyond that Harvest Moon, with Pegasus. Pegasus will take you anywhere in the world. He is yours for the night.

Heather Gazes into the Waters

2005-10-18T04:21:00.000-07:00

Enchanteur Kneels Before the Reflective Lake Mirror

2005-10-16T05:22:00.000-07:00

Doin' Magick

2005-10-16T03:54:00.000-07:00

It is easy to demonstrate that much of the
arts and fumblings often called 'divination'
has nothing to do with magick. Yet, when
"two or more" gather for any fine communication,
and shared trust to solve a problem or seek
answers to eternal verities, there is a sense
that the whole exceeds the sum of the parts.

For me this quality is best enhanced by doing
everything possible by known and predictable
means first -- by way of preparation and focus.
Any selected method of 'revealing' is secondary
to the willingness of the petitioner to accept
and follow through with suggested options.

If you believe it cards -- I'll use those.
Tossed bones --why sure!
Got any tea leaves or special ashes?
Are runes your thing or drifting birds?
Let's get it on!

The answers are all inside of you anyway.

but then ...

Doin' Magick

I know that you dream of doing magick,
leastwise more than you do now just by living.
That's OK, I recon, if it comes from heart,
and not from greed or manipulation.
There is certainly magick all around,
For feeling and knowing and just in being,
But I'm not so sure about the doin' part
Despite the claims and practiced arts and all.

Just imagine that no one does this magick,
Not by will or intent or spell or prayer;
And that you wouldn't want to if you could,
Cause once you did then it wouldn't be anymore.
If magick is what can't be explained
Or produced by natural science and engineering,
Then to actually do it would reduce
Magick to the done and was and everything.

I will accept that there is discordance
Between what I need and what I only know,
But should I waste invention and creative juice
On what can be done just once by magick,
Or apply my skills and gifts and givens
And save that miracle for something profound,
Like world peace or birthing stars or -- you,
But then I don't need anything at all but love?

A Divination Tool

2005-10-14T15:44:00.000-07:00

The waters of the lake near the Amazon Queen's palace have the power to reveal one's true identity. The Amazonian goes to look in the reflective mirror each day and each day the Raven tells her that they are one. Le Enchanteur takes the receptive to the gazing lake near the Queen's Summer Palace. Gaze into the reflective waters and watch your true identity take shape and stake its claim upon you.

Divinations (1)

2005-09-29T19:07:00.000-07:00

Divination is an art they say,
"of seeing future events or revealing occult knowledge,
by means of augury or alleged supernatural agency."

and

"An inspired guess or a presentiment;
to know by inspiration, intuition or reflection."

Somewhere between these two views
is a reality that may be useful and profound --
but neither can quite stand alone.

We all have experience with predictions
of the 'self-fulfilling' kind,
where the only mystery is who claims credit
afterwards …

and we should be more concerned
with changes in person and perceptions
that 'events' in any case …

occult knowledge is an oxymoron,
based as it is on inscrutable believing
instead of knowing …

and as such are shared only with initiates,
related predictions would not be revealed …

augury is for the birds, of course,
and historically but a political tool…

and 'alleged' destroys the entire structure,
for of what use is an 'alleged prediction'?

The final definition covers every possibility
and would leave nothing that is not divination;
while 'inspired guess' even assuages future guilt.

That 'presentiment' thought kind of touches me;
for surely a 'cast of mind' can make things come true,
if you work on yourself
instead of messing with others.

Seems to me that divination
has nothing to do with conundrums
the gods would fiddle with;
but could mean to 'divide'
a problem up into bitsy chunks
so that they can be swallowed.

Some of those will surely come true,
if even by accident …
or by forgetting the ones that didn't …
or with the wisdom gained in the dividing,
to move the goal posts a bit --
kinda like catching your own forward pass --
which is better than fumbling
like the rest of us,
or so I do predict.

Defining Magick (2)

2005-09-29T08:40:00.000-07:00

Ain't Magick

Now I can't define magick any more than you,
And certainly do not like any told so far;
But I think we can settle on what isn't so,
'cause it is already known as something else.

First off, to make something happen by plan
Or even intent and meditated will
Is called 'resolution', and always was
And it doesn't get better by your sayin'.

A better mousetrap is just mechanics,
And even the internet is man's invention;
And any man's lack of understanding
Is not magick or epiphenomena.

Now it might be magick if you tear this page
In disgust or unwizardly fury,
And toss it out a window into the night
And forget the ripple effect three fold.

For the cat you scare will upset the wooing
Just commencing on the old porch swing,
And as a result of your interferin',
Beautiful Amy will not be conceived.

This event will not matter much to you
Until your son Phil marries that other gal,
And you all are stuck with that shrilling voice
And mean temper and 'specially lousy cookin'.

Defining Magick (1)

2005-09-29T07:11:00.000-07:00

NOTE: for me, MAGIC is of the performing kind that I do rather well -- slight-of-hand,prestidigitation and such. So 'that other stuff',I call MAGICK, just not to confuse

....................................................................................
Tried Magick

I tried to do magick through spells found in a dusty book,
but my glasses kept falling from my nose,
and the grammar was so terrible
I don't think I got it right. But …
you made some coffee anyway, like you always do.

I attempted to see wonders in a copper scrying bowl,
yet I only saw my gristled image
and laughed outright in comedy
and spilt the future certainty. But …
you sang a song at sunrise, though you were away.

I prayed in each ritual direction guided by the clock,
but sneezed some during the smudging rite
and stepped on the Priestess' trailing cloak,
and had to hide 'till after dark. But …
you still hugged me closely, as only you can do.

I got jelly on the Tarot cards and dropped the pendulum,
and stirred paint with this old twisted stick
and can hear Dorkus shrieking still,
and can't stand the third degree. But …
you said that you would marry me, such a special gift.

I think I'll give up on magick and take a walk instead,
where strangers wave at me in passing
and I can see moonlight on the lake,
and perhaps skip a rock or two. But …
you will come and laugh beside me, just because I do.

Many Faces of Sibyl Enchanteur

2005-09-26T20:47:00.000-07:00

You can run but you cannot hide from le Enchanteur when she is in full flight. Sibyl arrives in the camp to let everyone know that the Festival of Lights is going to happen. Mayhem erupts as everyone rushes off to get ready for the gathering.