The mansion of the morning star flies in tandem with the sun in his circuits; for
its silver windows are as the first clear reflection of that
great light's brilliance. Its towers are with him in the east
when the sun arises in his strength; they are with him, also,
in the west, as he turns to visit other lands. Always near him:
if we see them not in his appearances, their absence brings no
The glory of the sun outshines the mansion
of the morning, and he sometimes draws it too close against his
countenance for its lesser glory to be visible. Yet, it is very
bright, indeed: were it to pass before his face, it would not
greatly diminish the sun's shining. She who dwells therein may
linger in the night to carry some message to the moon; but she
is soon gone to rejoin her beloved, answering his call, and will
follow him beyond our certain knowing.
The lady of the morning star is known by some
on Earth as Aphrodite, the embodiment of love. We do not contest
their view of her; for it was occasioned by the aura of her soul,
and it was inevitable that those who could not fully probe her
mysteries should name her according to their perceptions of her.
She is Venus: called Beauty, by men of the West, and Tipareth,
by men of the East. She it is who has the care of all growing
things. Her first name was Chauwah.
Seven golden points she has upon her crown,
whose lights are mirrored seven times in the golden chain she
wears about her neck to soothe her fading memories of the dark
mountains she scaled on Earth in the early days, before she was
lifted from the seas. It is said by some that she was born from
the sea, arising full-grown from its ancient depths upon a shell.
This is true enough, but it is not strictly so.
She was first born past memory of mortal men
in the garden of bliss; her birth from the waters was as a second
birth: the beginning of her renewal in the mind of God. It is
told she will be carried in that shell-- as in an ark: again,
as in a chariot of fire-- through and beyond the center of all
things, to be seated, at the end of days, in her final place,
beyond the partings of all the veils.
At the inward points of her crown are seven
narrow windows that shine as silver paths upon her necklace below.
We call the light that rims these windows silver, but it is the
color of transcendence, a merging of the visible and the invisible
spectra. The windows begin as narrow paths of light; for she
first walked visible realms by narrow roads, which fanned and
broadened inwardly in her travels, to converge in a path that
lifted her safely to the orb of another, denser firmament than
we have known-- a sky capable of bearing the negligible weight
of such a one as she.
Neither is the mansion that lies beneath those
skies truly known to men: the firmament of her world was fashioned
as her covering. Neither could men live there, should they succeed
in their vain efforts to gain her world without her leave and
the consent of her beloved; for the jealous sun would blaze in
tireless wrath against their mortal frames, overwhelming their
every precaution, should they accost the dwelling of his love.
Flying Arrow lay aside his flute and rested
quietly upon the earth. He had been watching his brother, the
hawk, climb higher and higher on the hunt, wishing he, too, might
fly. He wondered at his desire; for, truly, he was content as
the Great Father had made him.
The manitous were closer kin and flew higher
than the hawk; but he, as yet, had no desire to be as they--
formless, so it seemed, except in their appearances to men, when
they assumed the forms most convenient to their messages. He
understood, at last, that it was not the giddy freedom of his
brother hawk he coveted: he wanted simply to experience the currents
of the sun's breath as clearly as he felt the insistent warmth
of its face upon his own in the heat of the day.
Instantly upon his understanding, the hawk
began to dive. The more it fell, however, the higher Flying Arrow's
spirit arose within himself. It seemed his every memory was being
lifted up-- was changing, in the ascent, to truer images of themselves
than they had ever been on Earth. Small, forgotten details of
unremembered days began to burst with meanings unimagined; and,
soon, he was asleep.
In the first beginning of his slumbers, he
saw his brother, Flying Arrow, laying quietly upon the ground
and looking up at him. As he looked more closely, he could see
the seven strands of silver as they began to travel outward from
the golden bowl surrounding Flying Arrow's head. The features
of his face, as from the seven doors, opened first into the silver
cord; and, soon, all of Flying Arrow appeared therein, to begin
the frequent climb beyond the sky.
How glorious the Great Father had made this
son of all the worlds! Water, earth, air, and fire, and even
things beyond hawk's knowing were as One to such as he. And yet,
it was as though the man, himself, did not know these things.
Many times the Great Father had commanded
the hawk to perch upon the arm of a manitou to signal its approach
unto a son of man who might not, otherwise, notice. Not even
this care was always sufficient to gain the attention of unthinking
men, however; for the manitous sometimes sounded their trumpets
through the hawk's cries to alert them of his coming. This nearly
always won the attention of men, but the hawk was not certain
that it also won their understanding of the significance of his
The hawk began to dive against the serpent
crawling towards the feet of Flying Arrow, and the manitou freed
his servant to other service. Then, reaching out his right hand
from behind the outer veils, the manitou gently cradled the sleeping
man within his palm and began the long and intricate journey
to the Father of Lights. The man had been summoned before the
Throne beyond the heavens. He would speak, in later years, of
She remembered trying to explain to her first
teacher that there was no difference whatsoever between t
and x. The teacher had mocked the child before the whole
class, saying, "And I suppose you would think that there's
no difference between an arrow and a bird, simply because they
both can fly and both have feathers!" If the teacher had
not taunted her with that particular rebuke, she might have hated
him forever; but in the child's later studies, she ran across
an Eastern parable that goes, "Words are birds; and birds
are arrows, to the wise."
As she thought on the teacher's words, she
realized that it was her own immaturity that had opened the door
for the teacher's treatment of her. She ought not to have said,
"whatsoever." She had followed the words, like arrows,
to the source of the disagreement. There were, indeed, differences
between t and x, as she could now clearly see;
but the difference between the two letters was primarily a result
This last teacher had given the class a word
they had never before encountered. An ordinary problem, in itself;
but the class had been assigned to translate the new word from
the Hebrew without the help of a Hebrew dictionary. It seemed
so difficult, and it would be so easy to cheat! But "words
are birds," she remembered; and she decided to toss the
new word into the sky within her mind to see what it would do
and where it would land.
taw, the first
letter: numerical value, 400; traditional significations: the
four elements, the four directions, composites of the four, completion,
totality, regeneration; phonetic equivalent: t, th.
pe, the second
letter: numerical values, 80/800; traditional significations:
mouth, container, pit, soul, face, personality; phonetic equivalent:
alef, the third
letter: numerical value, 1 or 1,000; traditional significations:
ox, horns, seed, power, beginning, principle; phonetic equivalent:
resh, the fourth
letter: numerical value, 200; traditional significations: head,
first appearance, knowledge, intelligence, beauty, fortune, ruler;
phonetic equivalent: r.
taw, the fifth
letter: other possible significations: continuation, sum, perfection,
As she considered the problem before her,
she thought that she just might succeed, if she only knew a little
more! The values of the letters would begin to merge into a unified
concept in her mind, but some element was missing or-- as with
her earlier dilemma while facing comparison of t and x--
not fully developed or expressed, thus preventing completion
of her assignment.
Throwing the letters once more into her mind,
she realized that their individual sounds were not united, as
in a word; and she reasoned, therefore, that the element of sound
was the source of her difficulty. She decided that she would
have to do some research on the functions and significances of
sound in language, and that it would be well to begin by better
understanding the words "phoneme" and "phonetic."
As she opened her English dictionary to the
appropriate place, her eyes fell on an alphabetical table entitled,
"Phoenician Alphabet." There, before her, were the
same number of letters as in the Hebrew, bearing the same names
and having the same numerical significations and phonetic renderings.
The Hebrew taw corresponded to the Phoenician X, also named
taw, and also pronounced as t, th.
"It's really beautiful," she thought,
"how these things work out! If I learn the differences between
x and t well enough, I may end by learning that
I knew it all before I first began!"
As she mused upon the mysteries of knowledge
and of their foundations in the world of experience, a fragment
of verse composed by one of her school fellows came into her
thoughts without fanfare and without explanation: "I will
wear a purple shirt before I'm old: my spinning hands will whirl
the web's wheel around its axis, until the hub splits loose and
spills each single part unto its single destination. And then
I'll sigh, I think, and watch my body wrinkle in smiles."
The aging monk watched his prayer wheel complete
a final turn and circle to a stop. It was time, again, to say,
"Amen." However much he troubled the waters above with
his mantras on behalf of the thousands who lived within his chakras,
the open center never moved-- however long its agitations might
continue! As had been his custom for many years, he would close
his prayers in the four lower realms, leaving their closing in
the four higher realms to the mind belonging to his body of light.
"Om mani pedme hum." As above, so
below. The fires of inner Earth are quiet, and her pores are
open to the waters. "Om manye paedmehumn." As above,
so below. The waters have found the lowest place and are filling
every bowl. "Om." As above, so below. The waters, too,
are tranquil: they are open to the air. "Om." The air
is still: it is drinking. "Aom." The fire is burning
in the thin vapors of the upper air. "Aum."
He gently laid the prayer wheel beneath his
crossed legs and slowly crossed his arms. Tomorrow, the lilies
would open to the sky; the budded rose would learn her destiny
and service. Another interval of rest, and then the dawn. I charge
you, O daughters of the Chakras, that you stir not up, nor awake
my love, until he please.