Whilst I have made it my mission to issue teachings every Friday – the day sacred to Venus who is the personification of fruition, grace, indeed of divinity traced within matter – circumstances may dictate otherwise. I may be battling an eruption of destructive, delusional evil that seeks to imprison all within its own neuroses or my acolyte may have a prior engagement. As it happens I could not post last week as my faithful typist’s son was attending a Halloween party at nursery. I was not myself engaged in some convoluted celebration of the season, nor was I battling a cosmic menace last weekend. I hold Halloween and its traditions in the highest esteem, however as I perpetually dance amongst the dead, I do not offer any specific observance during this period. On such a point it would be appropriate to return again to my first significant encounter with the supernatural since my return to these shores. Before I do must add that should my teachings ever suffer from apparent incoherence or tautology you may ascribe it to the conditions under which I am working. On the other hand one should never discount a specific purpose, not readily apprehendible, behind any apparent inconsistencies.
I had recounted how the first apparition awoke a trance state in which I journeyed out into the open air, over the crashing sea. As I perceived a gaze directed at me from the spirit, it began to melt away until I could have believed that I had mis-interpreted a slight shadow cast into the alcove at the top of the stairs. The young men had no such doubts however and as they examined the footage on their cameras, they found an image of a pronounced shadow, inexplicable by the objects spaced around it. Surprisingly, this shadow appeared to melt away rather than abruptly vanish.
As the young men recommenced their heavy drinking and bickered as they set a camera up on the stairs, I sat in a lotus position as close as possible to where the apparition had manifested. By focusing on the clock’s resonant ticking and the sighing of the dissipated wind, I was able to transcend the racket from below. Only the odd flurry of rain against the windows and the creaking of the timbers weaved themselves into my awareness and I rested in a state of Sabikalpa Samadhi (near Samadhi, or living union with God).
I was roused thankfully before the apparition returned (or a second manifested). The voices of the young men raged below in a drunken squabble but what disturbed me was the silence of the clock. Disorientated at first, I took me some moments to apprehend what was wrong. Although the voices bellowed, I found myself listening for a subtle sound. The clock’s rhythm had underplayed our time in the house and when I realised that it was silent I felt a little sad. I stood and eased open its cabinet and saw that its mechanism hung still. Moonlight broke through the landing window and as I turned, its glow delineated the silhouette of an adult standing on the first flight of stairs. It was clear that it was no substantial figure rather it was like dark gauze suspended in a human shape, again I could detect that its head craned toward me and a glinting eye was trained upon me.
‘...Father...flesh...’
The words rang through my mind as a sudden rap sounded within the wood below my feet. I looked down instinctively and when I glanced back up, the figure was, of course, gone.
All attempts at regaining the state of mind through which I apprehended these figures were futile. Nagged by a deep lethargy, I permitted myself the rare luxury of a night indoors where sleep came easily. What sleep I enjoyed was to be treasured, for the following day was to bring further, more vivid manifestations in this hill-top house.
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