I was sure I’d posted this meditation log already, but apparently not. Either way, this is from the Greystone Path work I did back in 2013? Something like that. This exercise was to create a mental landscape, to imagine it in your mind, as a way to introduce us to visualisation. The instruction was to imagine we were stading in a meadow at dawn (and not a generic field of wheat as it became in my mind), and to imagine the rest from there.
I’d never had much success with visualisation before, but something about this really worked for me, and I had this whole world open up for me that I hadn’t even been aware of before. I suppose some would call it astral stuff, but I waver on that point, because my work there never goes beyond Bakhu, so I don’t really know what else might be out there, except for that one pathway to Wesir’s hall in the Duat that I went to once. I don’t really travel elsewhere, this tends to me my meeting place instead, where I go to meet gods, and where gods come to meet me. That seems to be how it works, and it works well for me.
So, inspired by a thread over at The Cauldron, I thought I’d share that very first imagining, when Bakhu came alive for me for the first time. In some ways, it’s changed a lot since then, but in many others, it’s very much the same as I describe below. It’s very colour-coded in a lot of ways. Sometimes, it’s always night time, and a full moon rises over the water. And there are a lot more temples there now than there was at the beginning. A LOT more. XD But I thought I’d share, in case anyone else finds this of interest, too.
I am standing in a field at dawn, watching the sun begin to peak over the crest of the hill. The sky is dark, but there is a halo of bright pale light surrounding the blossoming sun. I shade my eyes, turning away, watching as the world becomes flooded with orange light, the first light of the new day.
The field is planted with long grasses, and they brush against my skin as the wind blows all around us. It’s a cool wind, fresh and cold, with the last chill of the night mixing with the salty spray of the sea. I can hear the waves crashing on the shore. Everything feels crisp and still.
Beside me, there is a mossy statue. Towards the east and the rising sun, there is a falcon head made of stone, and it looks white in the growing light. On the other side, facing the west, is a crocodile head. The crocodile is bathed in shadow.
I turn away from the sunrise, and back towards the shadowlands. I’m on the crest of a hill. Down before me, the hill slants down to the sea, where the curving beach of the bay stretches out beyond my sight. There is grass flowing down to the shore, with a well-worn path trod between them, hewn with rough steps that lead down to the beach.
On the horizon in the west, I see the curve of the bay and the hilly land that stretches back from it, and the golden glow of the temple of Bakhu shining against the black night sky. I turn back to the sunrise, seeing the land bathed in light, and leave it. I take a step down into the cool shadows and take the steps down to the beach.
It’s cooler here, and it still feels like night. The sea is dark black, and the waves are strong, but small. I listen to the waves and the swish of the rushes through the air. The shriek of a falcon echoes across the blackened sky, making the stars shimmer. The sand is cold, wet, firm under my bare feet. I take a step towards the water, and feel its icy chill against my feet.
It is as if the mere touch of it is a summons, and a boat gently makes its way to the shore. I wait until it is close enough before wading out to board, sitting on the reed boat, oar clutched in my hands. My feet dangle in the water, unafraid. The water is safe for me, and I am not afraid. I begin paddling, allowing the water to move me as I encourage it along.
I can see the shining temple in the distance, watch as it grows ever closer. The sea embraces me and carries me, and I submit to it, watching Sobek rise out of the water as I lie on His back. Safe in His arms, I give in to Him, asking Him to take me to the temple.
I can feel our bodies merging as we move through the sea. I lie flat against His back, feeling His rough crocodilian skin against my own. I can hear Him breathing, feel the rise and fall of His body as we move. I feel His muscles move with every stroke they make through the water. He is so much larger than me, and He moves effortlessly.
I lie, almost asleep, trusting He will bring me safely to shore. I hold Him tight, arms around His neck, and breathe. I know I will not drown. I know I will not fall. I am Him as much as He is me. Together, we ride the waves, and come gently upon the far shore, crossing the large expansive sea that separates us from the eastern shore.
The shores here are lighter, catching some of the light from the sunrise. The sand here looks silvery gold, and the rushes and grasses wave gently in the wind. The shore here is lined with fruit trees, great large trees bent with the wind, leaving their fruit hanging low enough to reach. I take one, a silverly pear, and its flesh is soft, sweet, and juicy. If I look to the north, following the curve of the coast, I can see where the river cuts a wound into the hills that surround us, making its way down to the sea from the temple. There are hills and forest all over the place, and plains up near the top of the hills. The land is silver and grey, black and white, and if I look in the right place, I can see the shimmering temple reflected in the water.