In Ancient times when stress was rare and bodies were strong, few knew the path while even fewer knew the weigh.
What was the weigh?
Those who knew it were made of a different substance than those that didn’t.
They would suddenly appear, share and mysteriously disappear, only for it to be lost again to leave rumours and hyperbole and myth as its successor, while raising the messenger higher than the message.
The weigh explained not to shoot the messenger while wisdom said: equally, one should neither adorn them. And so the slaves of Gaia became so admired in myth that their weigh disappeared with certitude and in time their equal and opposite was awoken–doubt.
And so man fell so far until mor became less and every mention of the angels became associated with death.
This is the story of how the west was one and how the immortal suns became mortal humans.
This ongoing sojourn comes at the cusp of Aquarius as a reminder of what was and will be again.
The Sun’s Banquet
She had dreamed of this moment, full of confidence, she rushed to step onto the chequered floor. She feared her gown catching on the back of the chair leg. It was a fleeting thought but not in any detail. It was far from inevitable, especially since the chair was an orbicular design, smooth at that and the best that the East had to offer, yet somehow the scene manifested.
The chair was heavy, it was made of Quebracho, though they preferred to call it quebrar hacha in the Spanish town where it was made. Carefully sculpted with comfort in mind, the offending chair had a turquoise cushion embedded in the seat. The arm rest was engraved with the Kemetian markings of the Moorish fleet. Like a piece of living geometry, it was a wonder to look at; it was evidently dedicated to compliment the natural human form at rest.
The bottom of the chair scraped her ankle but the pain was less to bear than the embarrassment she’d have felt had she fallen and tore her garment. Thankfully she didn’t fall and it did not tear. It tugged on the lining of her dress, she pulled it away angrily as though a Jinn trickster was trying to sacrifice her precious moment. The surrounding Christian communities saw Gaels as a strange, superstitious people, though they weren’t really; they knew of many stories of a paranormal nature but the outsiders knew only what they cared to share of their cultured, which was very little as they valued their magic and secrecy as an essential part of protecting and maintaining their tradition.
Luckily the episode didn’t hinder her too much, she continued and looked up at him a little embarrassed as she went down the step. Her frown turned into a smile with a little eagerness in her eyes and a curiosity in his.
Mara had a thin frame which unexpectedly turned curvaceous from the waist down. She moved in a dainty fashion swinging her hands outwards in an exaggerated way. At a glance one may have thought of her as hollow but she was a thinker, an over-thinker at times. The Man raised his sculpted arm. Mara noticed the deep ripples on his forearms, she imagined countless battles with the waves had cut them in that way. She was so caught inside her own mind that she didn’t think why he’d raised his hand, even though she was looking right at him. Her mind was often possessed and busy with abstract thoughts. Her sister standing behind leaned forward and coughed. As Mara and the facing party looked at her she tilted her head, gritting her teeth to signal her sister to act. Marus waited with his hand out, while looking elsewhere as if not to rush or look too bothered. At the moment a cat was poking it’s head around the back door, it momentarily took his attention away. Mara’s mind returned back to the room and hurriedly grasped his hand ready to begin.
The music began (Mozart Opus number 3). As he stepped forward Mara followed; her knee knocked against his shin. He smiled, she frowned. His smile was the conclusive smile of his spirit stepping in slight judgment. He came from a culture that frowned upon judging yet adversely respected the ability to make calculated spot decisions. This practice helped to reach accurate conclusions fast and although it seemed like a contradiction it was the only path to becoming a Seer.
His judgement was absent of ego, his tribe were not accustomed to mocking, they held their emotions in balance; they judged only for navigation. Being surrounded by the deceitful Brits they had very little time for playing hope.
He knew from the past that her hurry to speak without thinking would be out of place there, he wondered if she could be fluid in dancing and with that concern he pulled her towards his chest. She was overthinking and not feeling him yet. Numbness to ones surroundings, at the opportune time, cost even lives/ Only he and Amar knew that he was there to either learn from her or teach her.
He did not interrupt her movement nor did he play as the tide although he could have. Instead, he was gentle like a ripple giving her as much space as she needed. He simply moved as she did with lots of anticipation. They went around the floor a few times. From a distance they looked perfect on the chequered floor, only they felt the nervous tension deep within her. He charmed her by catching her on the many times she stepped before the beat. He soon saw the pattern in her, she wasn’t aware.
When the beat paused she would release his hand, she feared the emptiness, that space between seemed uncomfortable for her. Marus knew the composition well, when he felt the space coming he would prepare to hold her hand tighter, often times she didn’t release, trying to obscure the insecurity that was already obvious to him. He stood ready for the viola to introduce the rhythm once more, he exhaled as they continued. He was used to relaxing throughout a dance but her tension had him busy. He didn’t mind the entertainment, he just smiled. He found it all a worthy experience. He always sought to benefit from each situation in some way, he was taught to be in the moment yet with full awareness of being in that moment. This way he chose how to engage in it and to not become a slave to it.
They finished dancing just before the music stopped. She froze and looked up into his eyes disappointed with herself, although she would have had too much pride to admit it, she knew it was all about her timing. This was the one time that Marus took control, he pulled her towards him and created a series of manoeuvres similar of the beginning of the dance, it took her over 30 steps to realise that he had started over before she started to join in. Having nothing to lose she freed her body from her mind and started to feel less calculated. She was now dancing. Just when they started to flow and her fear had diminished the music ended, Marus bowed her backwards as though she was aware of the sudden end.
She had a surprised look on her face but it was filled with fascination, she now knew of all the times she’d danced she had never really danced. He kept his cheek slightly pressed against hers, she felt the prick of the mans whiskers while being held by the subtle nurturing embrace of what felt to be a woman. He pulled her closer and whispered with his liquorice smelling breath ‘In cogitatione nos separabit, in momento nos unum sumus’- In thoughts we are separated but in this moment we are one.
She listened without understanding but knew that it was a jewel. Rather than asking him to repeat it she walked away bothered for two reasons=one was that the muddled manoeuvres were all about the person she refused to see–herself. And the second was that she knew that he could have spoken in her tongue for her to understand but he didn’t, even though they both knew she wasn’t ready to hear whatever it was.
She was an interesting looking woman, not too tall with a beautifully shaped head with long brown hair and soft skin with a lengthy nose that was just large enough to notice but small enough to appear normal. There was an attraction that confused Marus because even though she could have been considered the ugly duckling amongst the stunning Gael, he was slightly intrigued by her appearance. He said to himself ‘missing number two’ (in Arabic) as he lowered his head.
He remembered the Alkadan lesson in 3’s and 6’s.
The Alkadan was a set of laws of the lower heavens that were called three Will in English. They were taught as earth guidelines to guide it’s inhabitants. According to their lessons, the governing number of the planet they inhabited (they called Tera) was 3 for judgement and 6 for motion. In the lesson 3 meant that sovereign judgement would prevail as with all things on the earths surface, in this case it was rule 1: That energy is genderless, directionless and timeless, it is the will to manifest, manifesting whatever it wills to come into being. 2: The direction and path chosen through choices in duality. These were based on constantly observing into nature, the self, meditation and 3 the result of both as will shall manifestation.
Missing 2 meant struggle for direction, this creates bad timing and spirit possession was inevitable, this would direct the bodies path without ever knowing. The will would be stolen by more powerful spirits that could use one to quite possibly get to Marus. As fruitless as it seemed he found a moment of gratitude for his ability to make spot decisions that were fast and sometimes unemotional. He had always shown emotions amongst those who he had explored and become familiar with. He would look for that glimmer of light but the darkness he was so apt to seeing would always steer him away so not to waste time.
For a moment he remembered the sad fate of a past sorcerer that sought his essence through dark magik and the fate she caused upon herself through challenging the protected Moor. They were all protected in a traditional ritual that was performed on them as a baby. It was a right of passage–an introduction out from the cosmos into the playground of light they called Terra.
After the music stopped the Moors in the crowd applauded but the critics knew the odd pair’s victory was in surviving and not mastering the dance.
Marus Dances with Moira (Kismet Bond)
Although they were from different worlds their principles were akin, she stepped to the left and he followed her, his foot landed just millimetres from her tiny foot, each time. She continued to stare into his tawny face with trust. Knowing he was following, she took her eyes off him, revolved and pertly let go. His arm fell beneath her like a brace, she paused
there in his safety for a moment, their hearts beat for two more moments and together they elevated, bosom to chest, his perfect lips brushed here own, it felt like it should remain there. Marus then stepped back in perfect time with her back step. All
of a sudden they were dancing apart yet in time with each other. At the exact moment she crouched he did also as he raised his arm he found she was his mirror, he looked pleasantly surprised, they both were, their smiles were like that of trusted companions, it was as though if there had been any immediate danger around they would have known at the exact same time to secure each other. She knew him, he knew her, their position were the same, they were familiar souls.
The Deys bore witness to this once in a lifetime event as though they were observing a meteor shower. There was a gratitude towards life and at the same time, a relief that secured the binding of yin and yang as perfect puzzle pieces.
Not a word was said, in fact the words were all said on the chess board floor. Even sentences that had started echoed the room unfinished like sharp chords, suspended in the moment, waiting to be released by the finale, it was done. Moira’s arms and legs roughened by goose pimples, clear pearls of sweat wept from her perineal, she felt loose as though the will had left her body and she was emptied. Every stress that was there before was gone. He too was wet but it wasn’t from work. The dance was no effort at all, it was as though his heart had run around his body, into hers, around the room, out into the cosmos and returned back into his chest. Their bodies were adjusting to their souls return.
Although Marus knew this feeling he had never felt it as intense and never with a Scotia Gael. “Shukra” she said. He replied “tå failte romhat”: and you’re welcome.” Her eyes opened wide. “You would speak our tongue to me?” The Moors would insist on speaking the ancient languages rather than the modern hybridised languages of Europe. They tried to preserve the dying?? tongue. Gaelic conveyed a cleaner and clearer message but they rarely spoke it. This was quite unusual.
“Why not?” said Marus.
“Well, as you wish.” said Mara. “Would you be as accommodating if I asked you to climb the Tor with me.” She was bold she had seen Moorish maidens climb the hill at times but never knew why. Her request was filled with curiosity like a child, she wanted to know and she was feeling quite confident after the dance. Marus thought for a second and asked to be excused. He bowed dropping her hand and walked away towards the stall. As he walked through the curious crowd of Moors and Gaels he could feel the questions but he spoke to nobody but Amar.
Amar was one of the wise ones. He was a little taller in age as well as height but looked like any other Iam that had reached their 361st moment. A moment in their culture was a degree, there were ten in a year or a sol. Each male had to complete after the 36th sun, at this point they reached immortality and their appearance began to reverse. Because of this they had no real age. The 36th sun was where a male became genderless, the only thing that remained Yan was his physical expression.
To hold this degree of restraint was almost impossible for many cultures as their genderlessness would become confusing to their own senses. To hold energy without it being expressed in a superficial way ones pineal had to be opened but this was achieved in an earlier sol, normally around the 21st.
Amar knew what he was going to say. As soon as Marus was within 9 feet of him Amar sent his communication. “Marus, the girl you delivered in your 12th sol, her name was Moira, I believe this is her that I danced with.”
“She had a carbon crown?”
“No it was fire” said Amar but that was her name= Moira, yes, that was her name.”
Marus turned back and walked towards her. She had seen him staring at the God Amar and knew that they were speaking inside. She had a curious look. “You’re hair” said Marus. “Was it once red” she smiled and replied.
“Why yes, but now tis coloured carbon like yours.”
“You’ve a lot to learn Mara.” Said Maris.
He called her Mora, Instead of Moira, being aware that it was a corrupt form of Ma Ra.
???I guess the antiquity of his culture worked in his favour as they were an old people who had mastered the cosmic vibration of sound in all languages, thus being the case, they knew the route of every spoken word. He did so in a mocking way as he sensed she would understand. She smiled every time he said her name.
The pyramidal structure of the room received the returned energy from the cosmos as it applauded their moment of unified motion. The earth received a new wave of harmony. The rest of the evening was dreamy and trusting.