Mohaveh owes a lot to both Kabbalism and to Justin’s Book of Baruch. Justin’s work describes the twenty-four angels of Elohim and Eden as trees in the garden, the tree of life (Baruch) being one such tree. Each tree is paired with another (Baruch is paired with Naas, tree of the knowledge of good and evil) and each pair is divided by its primary affinity for either Eden or Elohim. Each angel is a self-contained enunciation and, as I read their being called ‘trees in the garden,’ all of those enunciations are kin to the model detailed in the Sefer Yetzirah.
Okay, well, if I had any questions whether I was on the right track with the last post’s experimentation, I don’t anymore. It has been a useful few days of vigorous communication, the sort where I am struggling to keep up with what is being relayed as I am trying to formulate some kind of response to ti. This morning’s dreams pushed me up early and writing, clarifying what the facial configuration meant, and then dropped something into my lap that, well, I’m not quite sure what to do with yet. The proverbial one to grow on, I imagine.
This is a roundabout way of talking about spirit work and education. I want to talk about a little work that I have been doing. I don’t want to get into the details of it (I can be a little cautious that way, my nod to the injunctions toward secrecy or, at least, intimacy), but I’m hoping the sketch might still serve as an case study.
One of the things I like about an account that distinguishes different sorts of klippoth is that it provides me with a simple but well-structured model of the ‘physics’ of the gnostic fall and the sorts of existence it made possible. I am not big on ‘results centered’ magic, but I do like my models to be as actionable as possible. Here, when I say ‘actionable,’ I mean it to refer to action in its rich, ethical dimensions, not just to its practical, ‘can I do it?’ sense.
In a couple of posts a little bit back, I mentioned that I found the Tet/Yud permutation particularly interesting in contemplation. A few days ago, while reading through one of the articles in Anatolian Interfaces, I came across a story about a gallos that informs it.
Yesterday was a good day in numerous small ways and one of them was following a little nudge to wander by the library. I walk by the new books shelf and the first thing I see is Divine Scapegoats: Demonic Mimesis in Early Jewish Mysticism by Andrei A. Orlov. After having just had a lengthy post about mimesis, it feels like someone dropping an anonymous note through my mail slot, so I picked it right up.
Following the tail of the last post, I want to turn toward the account of the Fall in Genesis, focusing on a couple of details. The first is that the creation of Eve is something of a capstone to the creation of animals. The second is that Eve is not given a name until after judgment has been passed on the Serpent, Eve, and Adam.
Dreams of Dumuzi have been pushing me into the new year. The sorts of dreams that are full, buzzing with strange images and scenes that are difficult to remember, in part because they all seem to be the foreword wave ahead of something bigger. The dreams are all over the place, but behind them is a name and heavy presence: Dumuzi.
Like much of theoretical speculation here, there is a practical case that motivates my thinking about the mythical depths of the seemingly historical Bible. The Bible provides me with many of the tropes through which I have worked out some of the more intimate dimensions of my spiritual court. I am sure some of that is growing up Catholic, but several elements have little to do with the Biblical world of my Catholic childhood. Like Absalom, the rebellious son of David, like Tamar.
This one is longer than usual.
(Which isn’t to say that these stories are strictly Christian or Jewish. They fall into a globally-distributed pattern of myths.)