Contemplation of the Ancient Gods
|THE WEAVING of the CRYSTAL RIVER|
Mahashiva - Shivaratri
I am Mahashiva.
The blue pearl you see before you is the eye through which I look at you,
and the eye through which you look at me.
As we concentrate, it is like the center of an hourglass.
The sands of time pour through.
Eternity within me pours into you.
The hourglass is my drum, which beats the passage of eons.
In the sands, which flow between our minds, are sparkling diamonds.
They are worlds within worlds, filled with my worshipers. The sand grains are the colors of the rainbow and each hold infinities within it.
I hold up a tapestry, a Persian carpet that fills the skies, full of millions of gems.
It is a flying carpet but you fly within it rather than upon it.
The invisible threads, which hold the jewels together, are woven of lives,
and to know the weaving is to know the twists and turns and knots of your spiritual growth.
The spirit of each person is like a carpet.
Some follow old and traditional patterns,
and the spirit is so deeply stamped by its environment
that its individual awareness is submerged.
It is not made of jewels but of mirrors organized by power and authority.
It is a carpet that cannot fly.
It is meant to be trod upon and, in turn, to stand upon others.
Some carpets are dark and knotted and twisted,
the warp and woof distorted and shredded and barbed.
These carpets cling to others and harm them.
They roll up others within their knots and barbs,
and their victims cannot see or breathe.
These are black souls, greedy and grasping, hiding the damage and the shredding.
They must be remade and grace of gods is needed.
But sincere seekers shine like brilliant gems, with depth upon depth.
One can see within like clear water, and the spirit is a deep treasure.
They shine because they have bowed to gods,
and also because they have looked them right in the eyes.
Who can gods respect?
Those who admire them without fear or desire.
It is Shivaratri, the night of Shiva, with almost a new moon.
But it is not perfectly dark.
As you look into the night sky it starts to shimmer,
and clouds start to shine with distant lights.
I am beyond them, as Tryambakam, the three eyed one.
Rays of light come forth, and my eyes are like blue pearls.
My being also shines with blue light as I dance within the darkness,
and the lights which encircle me fan out in rainbows.
I dance life and death upon the carpets of spirit.