Mohaveh aggressively organizes itself around the book of Baruch, to the point of reorganizing and retelling Baruch’s mythology, partially in light of previous work through my more diverse and contingent sources (sources which include: the Popol Vuh, diasporic West African cosmology, and accounts of the Sumerian underworld). Mohaveh named itself fairly early, but only recently began to provide me with a sense of its internal structure. The Kabbalistic work has been essential for that, but so, too, has this strange little heresy reported in A Refutation of All Heresies.
I’m weird about cosmologies. I constantly make use of them in the middle of things, as a way toward structuring a specific spiritual working, but I am suspicious of them and, to be honest, generally think of them as a bit twee and precious. When it comes down to it, though, in the grand scheme that is the shape of human endeavor. Our ideas make so much possible, but it is their fate to be dissolved in the labors of daily life, to be undone and remade.
And, if I am going to talk about Mohaveh, I have to accept that it comes wrapped in its own cosmology, even if it is the cosmology of a sea anemone, all ragged and hungry. So, let me get to that. The aim here is to provide a cosmology that is both complex and clear, instructive and useful.
Talking about the sefirah and the sippur yetzihas Mitzrayim reminds me that I have a little notebook post that I have wanted to make for a while about Pharaoh as a spiritual power. His redemption at the last moment forms part of Ibn al’Arabi’s account of Moses in the Bezels of Wisdom, making him something like a mediating power between the necromantic absorption of Mitzrayim’s wisdom. He also shows up in the Justin’s Baruch as the tenth angel of Mother Eden.
A few weeks ago, I sat down on the floor to do my weekly geomantic reading. As soon as I had drawn it, I could see it was the inverse of a sign that has shown up a couple of times fairly recently. As I sat with it, absorbing the inverse image, I felt this great shift inside my body and a song started to rise up. As I hummed and began to sing it quietly, I got very hot, then very queasy.
I could feel the song catching on the inside of me, tugging, and I had a sense of where it was headed. There was brief phase of futile negotiation (maybe this can just be the subtle sort of cleanse?), followed by a some internal resistance as I huddled close to the toilet, and then I retched.
The movement to the elemental lines in the witness of the body is a movement from the visible to the invisible, from the outer to the inner. There is a distinct but parallel movement in the witness of time. That isn’t immediately apparent in the ascription of the elemental letters to the months, but when you examine the way in which the day can be divided into two sets of twelve esoteric hours you can glimpse the elemental lines within the day itself.
I have the feeling lately that I’m biding my time a little, waiting form some things to come together on the subtle plane and while that entails plenty of attention, it is of the sort that I find difficult to talk easily about. That leaves a little at loose ends with some of my intellectual work, but it also frees me up to just have a little fun.
I came across a book recently which has been just that: Icon, Cult, and Context: Sacred Spaces and Objects in the Classical World edited by Maura K. Heyn and Ann Irvine Steinsapir. Several of the articles address Dura-Europos and intersect with some of the historical themes that I have been talking about, from the Magna Mater to the grimoiric Baal to Justin’s Book of Baruch.
Justin’s Book of Baruch affirmed Herakles as a prophet on par with the Biblical ones, a figure who was charged with bringing about the order of heaven on the earth. However, his conquest is prevented from coming to fruition by the intervention of one of the Mother’s angels, Omphale-Babel-Aphropite. According to the account of Justin that we have, this story is reported with all of the usual sexism that haunts gnosticism, but what happens if we read the story against the grain? I don’t mean simply tell it differently, but read the counter-story already entangled within the first.