posted April 18, 2013 07:01 PM            

James Hillman, in his fantastic book, "The Soul's Code: In Search of Character and Calling", writes, among other things, of the myth in our culture of growing "up", and of seeing our ends in the sky. We tend to employ numerous phrases and metaphors to suggest that "ascent" is good, and "descent" is bad. We see the earth as a place we have fallen into, or as a pit-stop, or way-station, before we can all launch back up into the spiritual stratosphere. But Saturn, the Lord of Karma, also rules gravity, and in spite of being a "downer", is also a wise task-master who refuses to leave us alone until we have planted our feet firmly on the ground.

Hillman points out that the Zodiac begins with Aries, ruler of the head, and that we enter the world head-first, while the last sign is Pisces, and rules the feet. While we often imagine that the greatest secrets are abstract, expansive, universal, intellectual, airy, heady, and heavenly, it would appear that the feet remain a total mystery. Could it be that we begin our journey in the airy, the inchoate, the unformed -- in "heaven" -- and that earth is where we end up? Is coming "down to earth" and planting our soles (not our souls) squarely on terra firma the true aim of life?

Those of us preoccupied, if not obsessed, with the sublime, the fantastical, the magnificent, the exalted, and all things of mythical proportions, clothed in glory, have always had difficulty coming to terms with the harsher, shadier, more unforgiving appearance of mundane reality. For many of us, growing up came more difficult that it did for most, since it really meant "growing down". Every great expectation, every manic, ecstatic flight saw us crashing rudely back to earth. The trajectory is almost predictable.

How often have we witnessed the meteoric rise from obscurity to celebrity ending only in loneliness and heartache; when the bulbs have ceased to flash, and the crowds have all gone home? How many of our most beloved, most glamorous artists, musicians, and visionaries ended their lives destitute, drug-addicted, stark-raving mad, howling at the moon, or self-murdered? How often, in reaching for something noble and otherworldly, have they reached for the bottle, and ended up sprawled on the floor, in a puddle of their own vomit?

James Dean, desperate to enjoy the thrill and freedom of a speeding Porsche, met his fate head-on. Is every angel destined to come face-to-bloody-face with "the concrete"? It is, perhaps, not so difficult to anticipate how those of us, anxious for the breathlessness of flight, burning with ardor to enter the precinct of the sun, shall meet our own ends, when at last our waxen wings have melted away and the earth comes up to meet us.

But is there another way?

For, our myths, though generally fascinated by the sensational, the tragic, and the extreme, also speak of ending up in the center, the balance, the middle way. Saturn is, after all, exalted in Libra. Is it possible, for our feet to remain firmly on the ground with our heads in the clouds? If we are centered, can we really span extremities?

posted April 18, 2013 08:42 PM            

Gorgeous visuals, and you already know that I used to love reading my James Hillman books!!

posted April 18, 2013 09:00 PM            

In the deep darkness of grief and pain,
I found the angel of Light again.
She wore no lovely garment of white
But was garbed in robes as deep as night.
I saw in her arms no flower fair,
Instead, a crucifix nestled there.
She didn't walk with joyous tread
Or offer me relief from dread.
But I felt her peace and her quiet power
And knew in that night of awe filled hour
She was the angel of Eternal Dawn.
Lifting her hood I saw her face
And knew the glory that hid her grace.
From earth blinded eyes too dim to see
That only through her, could we ever go free!

posted April 18, 2013 09:21 PM            

Did you change your name?