VISION AND ART Janis Lander © 1996 Introduction The Radical Step
Part One: VISION 1. What is Vision 2. Seeing the the physical. 3. Seeing the the etheric. 4. Seeing the the astral. 5. Seeing the the Spirit. 6 . Working from the Eye 7. The structure of the Eye. 8. Painting from the Eye. 9. No Visualisation - please.
Part Two: ART 10. Connecting with the Muse. 11. Artist's Block. 12. The Fallow Period 13. What is Visionary Art. 14. Vision in Art 15. Cultivating Vision.
Appendix 1 Appendix 2 Note.
INTRODUCTION
This book has been written as a discussion of contemporary directions in the work of visionary artists, both from an understanding of the tradition itself, <1> <1> and and as an indication of the impulses currently at work which will take us into the twenty-first century. It is also expected that the suggested practices will introduce readers to the concept of altered consciousness as a tool in creative thinking. On a more personal note, it is a record of the experiences (up to the time of writing) of the author who, as a professional artist with no prior knowledge of subtle anatomy, in less than three years of daily practise, has developed awareness of the subtle structures herein described. Cultivating awareness of the body of energy radically alters our perception of the human drama. One can only speculate what kind of art would be produced in
our culture if all writers and artists opened their perception in this way. It should also be noted that different people perceive different layers of energy, even within the broad, general context of subtle anatomy, and the structures described in these pages are distinctly flavoured by the author's own vision. All the processes referred to in the text have been developed by Samuel Sagan at the Clairvision School <2> <2> and and are presented here as applied techniques for accessing and enhancing creative spaces. The philosophy of the school is experiential and the students are invited to make use of the techniques in whichever way will best effect transformation of their consciousness. The introductory technique on the third eye, on which the work is based, is presented in Awakening The Third Eye by Samuel Sagan<3> Sagan <3>,, a knowledge of which will immediately enliven the reader's appreciation of this brief essay. THE RADICAL STEP (AN INTRODUCTION TO THE THEORY) The first step of a long journey is often the most difficult. Radical thinking happens when we think outside of the usual mental layer, (a higher frequency than the mental layer), and introduce a concept that does not fit into the established mental pattern. In the case of vision, the first step is simply to accept that we are composed of energy; that this energy is put together in layers, (like an onion); that the layers interpenetrate, (like milk inside water); that the physical vehicle is merely one layer among several, and not necessarily the most interesting, the most significant or the most enduring. If we start perceiving ourselves as bundles of energy, then we might deduce that we can transform this energy in any way we want to - this is Alchemy; and secondly, that we might cultivate a discernment as to the precise nature of this energy - this is Vision. Let us begin the journey towards vision with this perception of the self as a body body of energy. Let us try to feel the anatomy of this body of energy. Let us experience this anatomy as a structure through which energy can flow. Let us understand that the structure was designed for that purpose. purpose. Let us understand that the structure can be weakened when the flow of of energy is blocked, and strengthened when the flow of energy is enhanced. Let us accept that we can transform the structure by the kind of energy we invite or permit to flow through it. Applying this perception to developing vision, we could then say that the third eye is an organ of vision, and when you activate the function (vision) you develop the structure (the eye). The more often you use the structure deliberately, the more developed your vision becomes. For instance, when tuning into the body of energy, the subtle bodies, you might choose a particular quality to focus on, for example: vibration. Vibration or tingling is one of the more easily discerned qualities or modalities of the etheric body. Try this simple exercise: Lie down comfortably with eyes closed and let the physical body be absolutely motionless. First, tune into the dense, heavy, stillness of the physical vehicle. Secondly, tune into the arbitrary limits of the physical body, defined by the skin. Feel the heavy physical vehicle as motionless within the limits of the skin. Thirdly, tune into the vibration of energy moving inside the physical body and extending beyond it. Feel the vibration as a layer of energy within and without the physical vehicle. This is your etheric body.
our culture if all writers and artists opened their perception in this way. It should also be noted that different people perceive different layers of energy, even within the broad, general context of subtle anatomy, and the structures described in these pages are distinctly flavoured by the author's own vision. All the processes referred to in the text have been developed by Samuel Sagan at the Clairvision School <2> <2> and and are presented here as applied techniques for accessing and enhancing creative spaces. The philosophy of the school is experiential and the students are invited to make use of the techniques in whichever way will best effect transformation of their consciousness. The introductory technique on the third eye, on which the work is based, is presented in Awakening The Third Eye by Samuel Sagan<3> Sagan <3>,, a knowledge of which will immediately enliven the reader's appreciation of this brief essay. THE RADICAL STEP (AN INTRODUCTION TO THE THEORY) The first step of a long journey is often the most difficult. Radical thinking happens when we think outside of the usual mental layer, (a higher frequency than the mental layer), and introduce a concept that does not fit into the established mental pattern. In the case of vision, the first step is simply to accept that we are composed of energy; that this energy is put together in layers, (like an onion); that the layers interpenetrate, (like milk inside water); that the physical vehicle is merely one layer among several, and not necessarily the most interesting, the most significant or the most enduring. If we start perceiving ourselves as bundles of energy, then we might deduce that we can transform this energy in any way we want to - this is Alchemy; and secondly, that we might cultivate a discernment as to the precise nature of this energy - this is Vision. Let us begin the journey towards vision with this perception of the self as a body body of energy. Let us try to feel the anatomy of this body of energy. Let us experience this anatomy as a structure through which energy can flow. Let us understand that the structure was designed for that purpose. purpose. Let us understand that the structure can be weakened when the flow of of energy is blocked, and strengthened when the flow of energy is enhanced. Let us accept that we can transform the structure by the kind of energy we invite or permit to flow through it. Applying this perception to developing vision, we could then say that the third eye is an organ of vision, and when you activate the function (vision) you develop the structure (the eye). The more often you use the structure deliberately, the more developed your vision becomes. For instance, when tuning into the body of energy, the subtle bodies, you might choose a particular quality to focus on, for example: vibration. Vibration or tingling is one of the more easily discerned qualities or modalities of the etheric body. Try this simple exercise: Lie down comfortably with eyes closed and let the physical body be absolutely motionless. First, tune into the dense, heavy, stillness of the physical vehicle. Secondly, tune into the arbitrary limits of the physical body, defined by the skin. Feel the heavy physical vehicle as motionless within the limits of the skin. Thirdly, tune into the vibration of energy moving inside the physical body and extending beyond it. Feel the vibration as a layer of energy within and without the physical vehicle. This is your etheric body.
If you have managed to experience the vibration or tingling of your etheric body, then you might want to explore another quality, such as light. Or the quality of levity, or lightness. Or perhaps the quality of inner sound. Once you have experienced these subtle qualities as tangible realities, then your vision is already awakened. It becomes a matter of searching new qualities, new structures, and refining your experience of them. Throughout this writing I make reference to the esoteric model of the four-fold subtle bodies, which describes a human being as having four bodies occupying the same space/time continuum. They may be studied and cultivated separately, but they co-exist and interact for the entire lifetime of an individual. The first body is the physical vehicle, the one we see with our physical eyes. The other three bodies are 'subtle' bodies, so called because human beings need to cultivate subtle perception to see them. They are: the etheric body; the astral body; and the Ego, or Spirit. (1) The physical body (which is somewhat akin to the deepest layer of the etheric) is the vehicle we use for living in the physical plane. I will leave a definition of the physical body a bit vague, since one's concept of matter is constantly modified by one's experiences during meditation. Generally speaking, matter may be regarded as congealed energy, or as energy held together in certain structures by certain forces. How physical reality is perceived by the mind and by the senses varies greatly from person to person and culture to culture. The general well-being of our physical body may be felt in terms of how smoothly the lifeforce, or etheric, is able to circulate. The physical and etheric bodies are so closely entwined that it's difficult to speak of the one without the other. Tuning into the physical body is like tuning into the lowest note on the musical scale: it is the deepest, heaviest, darkest, sub-stratum of ourselves, so deep in our consciousness that it be almost unconscious. (2) The etheric body, called chi by the Chinese, and prana by the Hindus, may be regarded as the lifeforce which circulates throughout the body of energy via channels, called meridians by the Chinese and nadis by the Hindus. In practises such as Tai Chi or Yoga, which cultivate the flows within the etheric body, each exercise or movement will give a direct experience of particular channels in the etheric body. During meditation, in the space of the third eye, it is easy to perceive blocks or disflows in these channels, and use this knowledge as a starting point for the work on the astral body. In the martial arts, the most refined layer of etheric energy, called the jing, is cultivated in the lower chakras and used to perform seemingly impossible physical feats. When I see it in the space of the third eye, this layer has a silvery glow. This same energy, cultivated in a different way, in the heart chakra, and combined with other energies, may be used for healing. In terms of consciousness, the etheric may be experienced as a subtle vibration within the energy when the physical body is absolutely still. As the eye opens, the etheric may be experienced as a modality of light, and also of sound. The most refined layer may be experienced as lightness, or levity, and has a golden quality. From the eye, you are able to perceive the different layers of the etheric in colour and light. Plants and animals also have an etheric body, rocks do not. Much of our interaction with other living beings is through an exchange of etheric energies, pleasant and unpleasant, and this exchange can be seen with the third eye. Each person's etheric body is stamped first by the etheric inherited from the parents, and then by the individual astral body the person incarnates. It is difficult to talk about an individual's etheric without speaking about his/her astral body, or personality, since the astrality of a person gives the individual flavour to the etheric, much like salt in a soup. (3) The astral body is also called the soul. It is the vehicle we travel in from incarnation to incarnation, and bears the memories and scars (samskaras) of our experiences. When you go into the eye and experience the astral body you see all sorts of extraordinary monsters, spirit guides, epic adventures, distant galaxies; in effect, you recover your psychic memory. There is another more beautiful layer that resonates with the Spirit, and to me it looks a bit like the night sky. The astral body is complicated by the mental layer, or logical mind, which likes to fit experiences into neat little boxes, and by the layer of reactive emotions belonging to characters which we have crystallised during a lifetime and which we refer to as our personality. Thoughts and emotions colour our body of energy with an energy that is incompatible with the Spirit, so that when we make a high vertical connection with frequencies of Spirit, or
cosmic fire, our structures are unable to hold them, and the Spirit frequencies become venomous to us. Much of the work on self-transformation is a purification of our energy structures so that they can hold a permanent connection with the high vertical streams of Spirit. (4) The fourth body is the Ego, or Higher Self. This mysterious part of ourself exists for most people in the column of Spirit (above the Head), waiting to be incarnated. We resonate with it during rare moments of opening when we transcend the normal agitated consciousness, and experience heightened feelings of joy, peace, serenity, enthusiasm, inspiration, aspiration, surrender, delight, generosity, tolerance, forgiveness, trust. The Spirit may be seen from the eye as a particular unmistakable frequency of light, but there is great variety in individual flavour. In the beginning of the work, the Spirit may be experienced most readily in the heart chakra, in the atom of light at the center of this center, which, when aligned with the column of spirit, draws the great Light from the higher centers and radiates this Light in such a way that is both replenishing for yourself and nourishing for those around you. When we are resonating with the light of the Ego, we automatically move into high states of consciousness. As the connection with the Ego becomes established, a person's aura changes noticeably: there is a solid quality, and a lot of golden light. The physical and etheric together form the lower complex. When a person dies, this part returns to the earth. The astral and Ego together form the upper complex, which is the foundation of consciousness. When a person is awake the upper complex penetrates the lower complex with consciousness, but awareness of spiritual and astral layers is restricted, if not lost altogether. When a person is asleep, or unconscious, the upper complex leaves the lower complex and travels in astral or spiritual planes. In death it departs permanently. During meditation, depending on how advanced the meditator is, a person may consciously travel to distant astral or spiritual spaces, without losing connection with the physical. This ability to exist consciously in all four layers or bodies demonstrates freedom from the tyranny of physical consciousness. The Sanskrit word moksha or mukti (usually translated as 'enlightenment') actually means 'liberation'. It is liberation from the physical/etheric/astral prison that all adepts seek - although some traditions interpret this as a permanent exit from the physical plane, in the Western tradition, liberation is regarded as the basis for the work of transformation of all of the bodies, including the physical. In the past it was common for people to have a clear perception of the structures and beings of the astral, etheric, and spiritual planes. planes.<4> <4> People People at that time had a different consciousness, more spread in the etheric layer, with high vertical spiritual connections and less astrality. The Australian Aborigines still have a culture based on this pure consciousness as can be clearly seen when studying the dreamtime paintings of the best of their artists. As humans became more incarnated, that is, as the astral consciousness descended more during the incarnation, we became more 'stuck' in the physical/material world, and we saw less. The physical vehicle has become like a prison, we can no longer leave it when we want to: we cannot cannot astral travel, and we cannot die at will, like our ancestors could. On the other hand this imprisonment has encouraged us to create a civilisation based on an aggressive and sophisticated technology, in order to make life bearable. Thus we achieve things on the level of will that our ancestors could not have done - meeting challenges, overcoming obstacles, designing, inventing, adapting, exploring, conceptualising, conquering. We have become self-realising individuals, but at a cost: the astral body, through successive incarnations, has become a complex vehicle bearing the scars of many lifetimes, so top-heavy that our consciousness is riven into the physical. The astral impacting on the etheric pushes the etheric into the physical, and we can't see, or escape. As well, we have lost easy access to high, vertical connections. Rudolph Steiner has argued <5> <5> that that when the Christian Church outlawed the teaching of reincarnation in the third century AD it was in effect a good thing because it meant that man's spiritual life would be focused on incarnation. It was necessary so that the value of a single life, between birth and death, be acknowledged. Now that eastern and western spiritual traditions are merging, we are free to rediscover, explore and adapt all forms of knowledge developed over millennia, for a systematic transformation of our consciousness. The word Chakra is a Sanskrit word meaning 'wheel'. Chakras are centres of energy in the subtle bodies. The third eye is a chakra. There are major chakras, like the eye, the larynx, the heart, the base chakra, and minor chakras, like the centres in the hands. The major chakras are complex astral/etheric/spiritual structures. When streams of
verticality are cultivated during meditation, the Spirit infuses the subtle structures and modifies them. The more Spirit, or cosmic fire, can be contained in the chakras and channels, the stronger the subtle bodies become. When you activate the function, you strengthen the structure. It is referred to in alchemy as the cooking process. Samuel Sagan often says that the great tragedy of human beings is they cannot hold their fire. A careful observation of these structures will give clues and insights as to how a person's energy is utilised or wasted. It is through the mechanism of the chakras that we hold and reflect connections of Spirit frequencies, a bit like the principle of a satellite dish. When people have not worked on their structures, their chakras are usually closed; the energy cannot circulate properly through them, and they cannot hold much light. Each chakra has a different flavour and a different knowingness, so that sustained work on opening one's energy means, in effect, a reclamation of one's power. Channels are the pathways of circulation. They can be felt very clearly during channel release exercises. Much of the work at the Clairvision School revolves around the principal channel, in the very centre of the body of energy. and the atoms (centres) of the major chakras are aligned along it. As always, it is through awareness that these channels can be observed, modified, strengthened. The terms cosmic fire and cosmic waters refer to the two great opposing principles of Spirit (fire) and matter (waters). It is extremely difficult to give a satisfying definition of these states, since they are metaphysical, or transcendental. Direct experience is the only teacher. The situation is further complicated by the fact that there is a fire within matter called kundalini in the Hindu tradition, and Dragon in the western occult tradition. I refer to these principles within the context of states of consciousness, to be explored for the vision and the knowledge they impart. Awakening the sleeping dragon within is central to internal alchemy. There is one last term I need to mention. Throughout this book I refer to a process called ISIS. This is the basic Clairvision technique for sourcing. It is an interactive technique where two people work together in the space of the third eye. One takes the role of connector and holds the space of vision (and offers directions from time to time); the other acts as client and looks at and experiences his or her energy field. Thus the word is an acronym derived from the letters of the process: Inner Space, Interactive Sourcing. It is the most potent technique I have experienced for enhancing vision. At the same time, because the client is able to rest on the energy of the connector, a dynamic field is created where major shifts can occur: clients can move blockages very quickly; they can drop rigid, crystallised structures they've been operating through for years, but which are impeding the creative flow. For instance, a defiant character can be a dynamic force at twenty, but at forty can be counter productive. You can call it re-inventing yourself, or you can call it going with the flow, but essentially it's a way of staying open and flexible. The simple act of observing a flow of energy can change it. The simple realisation that a person is a mosaic of different energies, and then to see how all these energies interact to make the whole personality, (or, in alchemical terms, to fragment the higher self), is an empowering experience. The sharpness and clarity of perception that results from this vision is the first step towards self-transformation.
PART ONE : VISION ONE. WHAT IS VISION
When the third eye is used consistently over a period of time as the threshold to the inner spaces of meditation, a genuine vision develops. For the artist, who has spent years cultivating visual sensitivity, the effect is shattering. When I refer to 'vision', I am referring to a direct visual perception of non-physical spaces, structures, and beings, a tangible experience that feels no different experientially from the familiar sensation of the physical eyes perceiving people and landscapes. The difference lies in the organ of vision: physical objects are seen with the physical eyes; non-physical objects are seen with the subtle eye, so called the third eye; and the field of vision, vast as the cosmos itself, limited only by your willingness to explore it. Let me emphasise that clarity of vision comes from tuning into a space and feeling it, and the energies within that
space. In the cultivation of vision it is more important to feel a space or a structure than to have images of it. The images arrive more as a by-product of the knowledge that comes with tuning into high vertical streams of consciousness. Trying to force images will only lead the seer into false or confusing spaces. Tuning in from a space of openness and receptivity is the best way to approach this venture. In the Clairvision approach, spiritual vision is not necessarily visual. At the same time, there is a clear warning to avoid contriving explanations on the mental layer for experiences belonging to a vaster consciousness. Supermind frequencies (that is, intellectual frequencies outside of the common mental layer), should be kept above the head so that the brain is not affected. Samuel Sagan suggests that when a person experiences a packed thought on a high level of consciousness, it is best to leave it packed, (as a concept). The action of bringing that thought into the mental layer and thinking it, can give an instant headache. All artists have 'artistic vision', which is a certain way of looking at the world, or rather, a certain way of interacting with the world. This is often instinctive, they are born with it, and though it may predispose them to choose a career in art<6>, it can often develop in unexpected ways. Artistic sensitivity can render sensory perceptions more acute, in ways that not everyone experiences, and so creates a certain remoteness for the artist, which, in turn, generates a need in the artist to recreate a plastic form of this individual vision so that others may see it, enter into it. This implies that an artwork is an independent entity, describing a solid and complex space for the viewer to explore, and that much of an artist's skill may be assessed by this criterion. At the same time, insight is a dynamic energy. By this I mean that the insight carries with it an impulse to communicate, a 'eureka!' experience. Thus I would make a clear distinction between vision as the ability to enter into a space of altered consciousness and stay there, enjoying it as a self-contained experience; and vision as knowledge or insight. They are closely related experiences, but may be approached as separate areas to be cultivated. The first experience is to do with the eye, and is about awareness, perception. The second experience is to do with the column of Spirit (above the head), and is inspirational. Powerful centres above the head give us access to frequencies of consciousness outside of the mental/physical reference, ranging from streams of the supermind, to stratospheres of strangeness that easily qualify as alien. And while the experiences are common enough to be broadly categorised, allowing for comparisons to be made in the context of a general discussion, what emerges is that each person experiences the spaces differently, and uses the frequencies differently, according to temperament, talent, and inclination. It is a fascinating experience to sit in a class at the Clairvision School and as a group explore and debate specific structures or frequencies observed during a meditation, or to travel as a group to specific spaces, and later compare notes. It is as if high vertical streams of consciousness that enter a person's energy field are then digested and assimilated in the space of the eye - the eye being the furthest extension downwards of those chakras above the head in the column of Spirit, but at the same time a meeting place and storehouse of both astral and etheric information. Just as the chakras in the physical/etheric complex vary with individuals, so too the centres in the column of Spirit have individual variations, and most important, the connections that flow through the column are specific to that person, on the principal of resonance. It is not always clear whether you are tuning into a high space or tuning into a spiritual being, but if a connection is established with a particular creative, dynamic frequency, then it should be cultivated like any other relationship. You know a connection is actively working in your life when you resonate with the Being and act through that Being. At the same time it is vital to cultivate vision so that you may be able to discriminate between different influences and not be mislead by frequencies of an unclear origin. Just to digress, there is a scene in the Mike Nichols' film Wolf ,<7> where the hero, who is in the process of becoming a werewolf, in desperation swallows his scepticism, and pays a visit to an expert in the field to obtain a means of halting the metamorphosis. The hero in this film is a highly intelligent, sophisticated, New York book publisher, suffering a mid-life crisis. The old professor is a native of Rumania with a string of degrees after his name. The old man tells him that during the course of a moon cycle, the wolf devours the man, leaving only the nature and the heart. Then he looks at the hero and says "I have never seen one quite like you." During the course of the film, another man, the hero's mortal enemy, is bitten and slowly turns into the personification of evil. The old man says: "the demon wolf is not evil unless the man he has bitten is evil." Naturally the film climaxes with a battle between the two wolves, a moral crisis for the hero in which his integrity and courage are tested, involving
the transformation on a Spiritual level. (Let me make note that this kind of transformation is more in line with ancient traditions of transformation like Shamanism, where initiates merged their powers with the Elements, and with the Spirits of certain animals: "Doesn't it feel good to be wolf" asks the old man - "power without guilt, love without doubt...") There is a parallel here, in that any alchemical process involving the integration and assimilation of intense spirit frequencies by an individual, through cultivated practises of meditation, is strongly flavoured by the qualities the individual brings to the exercise. The mind and the heart will determine the quality or flavour of the transformation, for these frequencies are merely powers, neither good nor bad in themselves, and the whole process appears to work by resonance. The more work a person does on himself/herself before making connections, the better he will handle them, first from the viewpoint of ethics, and secondly from the aspect of burnout. People are ill-advised to force a connection they are not ready to assimilate, and it is well to remember that the same ecstatic vision that inspired William Blake to write Jerusalem, had the same astral intensity that sent Nietzche mad, although, of course, it was coming from a different space.<8> (I would go further and say that from my perception William Blake was a high-minded, open-hearted, modest man, who loved his wife and knew his place in creation, whereas Nietzche, on the other hand, had many personal problems which he chose to ignore, using the powers from the column of Spirit much like a drug: as a substitute for interaction with people, thus intensifying his isolation, and making him vulnerable to delusions.) The poet Hopkin s<9> put it succinctly: Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours... TWO. SEEING THE PHYSICAL.
The vision of the eye opens the doors of perception onto worlds behind and beyond the brittle facade which we like to think of as solid matter. Thus, when the eye is activated, perception of the physical world alters in all sorts of unexpected ways: mass is perceived as a fluid substance, arbitrarily contained within the outlines of this or that object, or at times dissolving completely into the spaces between the atoms; space is perceived as something dense and solid, more solid than mass. Because time seems to slow down during meditation, physical light also seems to move in slow motion, more like fluid than high-speed streams of particles, and I have observed physical light splashing off objects in a languid, graceful fashion, quite different from the lightening-fast bouncing motion we are used to. Colours and sounds intensify dramatically. Tuning into a physical colour from the eye is like tuning into a piece of music - the colour vibrates, or breathes, independently of the form that it occupies, projecting itself beyond the flat surface of the form into the immediate space. Thus you can absorb or breathe into yourself a colour (through etheric resonance) and feel the immediate adjustment as the frequency enters your energy. I have used this technique frequently for etheric excretion (cleansing)<10>, and for creating or enhancing spaces for travelling. A particular favourite of mine is the vibrant mauve of the Jacaranda tree, which effects a connection with the Ego. The greens of nature have a potent healing effect on the etheric body, particularly after a rainfall, when the plant is full of water, and the colour has a corresponding vapourish fullness. This experience may be contrasted with the experience of drinking in the deep azure of a cloudless sky: does it affect the etheric or the astral - or both? Is it possible for a colour to work on the one body without having a parallel effect on the other? Nature offers an endless variety of living colours for the artist to work with in creating subtle spaces. The colours of certain crystals can be used discreetly for soothing emotions or enhancing states of feeling. For example, the honey yellow of translucent amber, (not the opaque kind), captures and holds light with a certain tonic effect on the etheric, whereas the strong midnight blue of lapis lazuli works on the mental layer, relieving anxiety and promoting confidence. Different people are drawn to different crystals. The benefits of wearing white clothes for therapeutic work of all kinds cannot be overestimated. If you wish to put this to the test, wear white to a funeral and feel what happens to your energy when waves of grief (other people's grief) wash over you. It is worth experimenting with different colours to see the effects both on yourself and on other people when you are wearing them.
Smells also create a solid space, and can be used for travelling, particularly spices and perfumes. In a deep state of meditation I have had the experience of being suddenly precipitated into a past life by a particular pungent smell. Smells also act directly on the etheric: it is well known that if you breathe in the smells of food when you are hungry, or while you are cooking, your appetite will be greatly diminished. As your eye opens you can pick up all kinds of subtle smells - I remember as a child being fascinated by a woman with a large collection of amethyst jewellery who insisted that amethysts exude a perfume. Similarly, certain unpleasant etheric entities secret e a distinctive odour which can be picked up through the eye. (The eye is also a nose). However, the most peculiar effect is with sounds. In certain states of meditation, I have often experienced a stretching of physical space , or rather, the spaces between the molecules of air seem to loom large, and the particles themselves can be perceived individually. In this underwater-like state, individual physical sounds appear like entities, drifting or swimming through the fluid space like schools of fish, bizarrely shaped and coloured, or washing over you in solid waves. ( One wonders if this is how the world appears to autistic people - weird, wonderful, and totally incoherent.) Because the separation of physical and etheric (or lifeforce) becomes less distinct, the eye offers a vision of physical reality that is at once complex and simple: on the one hand, that which we habitually think of as a solid whole is fragmented into a billion billion particles of light and sound; on the other hand, disparate solid objects intent on maintaining their separate identities are married in the harmonious and eternal ebb and flow of lifeforce. It could be that what people commonly view as solid matter is actually the lowest layer of the etheric perceived by the physical senses, and the heavy density of physical matter is, in reality, a vibration so deep, that one needs to travel into the deepest layers of the unconscious to experience it. It would then follow that the nature of physicality is to be experienced rather by tuning into the forces of gravity in the vast quantum spaces of atoms, than by holding a rock in your hands. THREE. SEEING THE ETHERIC
Having survived the initial shock of physical deconstruction, or rather, deconstruction of our mental picture of physical reality, one then begins the slow and fascinating journey of subtle reconstruction: first the etheric layers; then the astral layers; finally the purest celestial regions of the Spirit. Of course, in practise, it is not so cut-anddried, since all these subtle layers are constantly interacting, intermingling, and it takes a fair amount of skill and discernment to identify, or even experience, layers that are purest Spirit, or purely astral, or purely etheric. The vision of subtle bodies (non-physical bodies of energy) provides a rich vocabulary of forms, entities, structures, beings and spaces, all of which exist on the subtle planes, regardless of whether or not we are capable of perceiving them: snakes and spirals of energy, circulations in the chakras, eddies and disflows in the aura, the chords formed by our relationships, and everywhere extraordinary crystal constructions made of interlocking triangles of light, the architecture of the body of energy. The human etheric body presents like a dynamic, ongoing light show where every emotion, thought, feeling of the astral body registers its characteristic pattern in light, colour and form. A person's state of health will show up in the integrity of structure and quality of light of the etheric body. Etheric and astral colours differ from physical colours in that they hold their chromatic integrity whilst intermingling - if mauves and greens and yellows appear around a chakra they mix freely without becoming diluted or muddied. Our way of communicating during personal relationships is very much affected by our resonance with each other's etheric flavour: the way a person smells (which is to say, tastes), the degree of heat or cold, (indicating an astral, or temperamental, input), the bubbly quality in the jing (that is, the presence or absence of sexuality). All of this suggests a particular way of occupying space, which, together with the heart quality, most defines a person. People with a warm etheric are people whom you want to touch and be close to. People with a cold etheric isolate themselves. As the eye becomes more sensitive, you begin to feel distinctive textures and forms in the etheric, both your own and other people's, as it is constantly modified by the astral flows. You can feel anger as a thick molten volcanic eruption of energy from the lower chakra; excitation as champagne-like bubbles in the etheric envelope; grief as a
burning in the heart chakra, that rises like acid and pours out of the eyes in toxic tears; nervousness as a churning in the solar plexus, and a strangulation in the throat chakra; sexuality has a thick fizzing quality; and a flash of inspiration can be clearly felt and seen as a burst of light above the head in the higher centres. When people are aggressive or hostile towards you, you can see them release at the same time clouds and spikes of etheric energies, often very toxic to the recipient, as well as to the innocent bystander. You can feel someone's etheric as smooth and silken, or coarse ; you can feel it as spiky, sharp, watery, dry or desiccated, too loose, too tight; bubbly and light, or heavy and dense. These qualities reflect the generic or inherited flavour of the etheric, but also the kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions sweeping the astral body. You can literally see a person's thoughts, feel his feelings. To speak of someone dying of a broken heart is factual. To talk of an acid build-up creating ulcers and arthritis in the physical body says as much about their astrality as about their physical intolerance of certain foods. To experience emotions as contagious is simply to be aware of how etheric substances transfer from one person to another. When you hear a person say that someone 'looked daggers at me', or someone 'gave me the evil eye', this is a graphic description of a transfer of energy. When you turn around because you can feel someone looking at you, it is this transfer of etheric/astral energy you are feeling. When the poet Hopkins described inspiration as 'A spur, live and lancing like a blowpipe's flame', he was giving a literal description: such flows of spirit are intense and awakening streams of cosmic fire, as anyone who has experienced them will agree. In the space of the eye, a whole new range of sounds becomes available - subtle sounds. The etheric, the astral and the spiritual worlds all make their own music. When Pythagoras talked of the Music of the Spheres he was referring to the unearthly sounds of the spirit worlds. The different layers of the etheric have their individual notes. When a person is in harmony with himself or herself, the overall tone of the etheric is a harmonious note, like a hum. The pitch varies according to age, and the volume according to vitality. That tone has a value in terms of sound, colour, light. It also has texture and movement. For instance, when I tune into a person's chakras I might hear first of all a sound like a chord, either dissonant or harmonious, depending on the state of being. Then I am able to distinguish different notes in that chord with their corresponding tonal value or colour, and then I can begin to paint a picture of it as a structure with flows and disflows; harmonies and discords; light and darkness; clear colours or muddy; rough or smooth texture; robust or delicate flavour. Is the sound coming purely from the etheric layer, or does it have an astral component? How much of the Spirit is able to shine through? In short, seeing is all about awareness. The eye is also an ear and a nose. You can see sounds and hear colours, you can taste textures and feel spaces. Any frequency of energy implies a presence, or some form of intelligence, and by resonance, it is possible to tune into and move with those spaces and the beings which inhabit them. Etheric beings vary, depending on the etheric layer you are tuning into: there are elementals on all layers; nature spirits; astral beings which inhabit the etheric; and a variety of entities.<11> Some of the most fascinating etheric beings can be encountered by doing sustained ISIS on the charge, the Clairvision term for the connection of the lower chakras to the Great Dragon energy within matter. The vision of the Dragon and the cosmic waters, and the powerful beings which inhabit these layers, has an extreme awakening effect on the etheric body. Different modalities of fire rush explosively through the etheric, producing waves of intense pleasure and a sense of unlimited power. It is wise to cultivate these experiences under the guidance of a teacher, otherwise a person may feel a little unhinged, and unable to cope. These are layers of the will, the rawest part of our energy, pure etheric power. There are certain imprints to be found here, either inherited or laid down in early childhood, that resist all reasonable attempts to dislodge, and have to be blasted, or burnt, energetically, at a more advanced stage of the work. It's because these kinds of imprints are fear-based and therefore irrational that they do not respond to more conventional psychological methods.
Deep layers of the charge have the same transforming power as high frequencies of Spirit. You could say, that facing these deepest layers of yourself is like facing the dragon, or whatever dreaded monster presents itself - the spectre of insanity perhaps. There is no rational approach, just the intention of the Spirit to transform - a 'cold turkey' approach if you like. FOUR SEEING THE ASTRAL.
The astral body, or soul, is more complicated than the etheric because it is further removed from the physical body and because it bears the scars (samskaras) of all our previous lives as well as our current one. The samskaras, once integrated into our energy, have a life of their own, which is why they have such an effect on our behaviour. They can be seen clearly in the space of the eye, or tuned into and felt from the eye - in terms of the experience, seeing and feeling are one and the same. I have seen them as whirlpools or eddies in the body of energy; other times I have felt them as octopus entities with tentacles into the chakras; some times I feel them as clamps, or cuts, or burns. They are always accompanied by emotions or thoughts, resulting in familiar behavioural patterns. At the same time, they are themselves triggered by thoughts and emotions. An exploration of samskaras leads to a penetration of the labyrinth of the mind; or an expedition into the dark, tangled forest of our emotions. It is an odyssey into the past. The work on personal transformation involves a reclaiming of one's energy from these vampires through simple awareness in the eye. When you enter the space of the eye, and travel through your subtle anatomy, trying to avoid the pull of samskaras is very much like Ulysses trying to steer a straight course between the perils of Scylla and Charybdis. Intense work on these samskaras leads to a vivid personal experience of mythological archetypes and age-old symbols, even ancient gods and heroes. All of a sudden, legends and symbols that one has dismissed as clichéd, regain their relevance and potency. Such an experience can give clues for a powerful, contemporary interpretation of these images. If, through the exploration of these astral scars, you remember a past life, you will see all kinds of unexpected details of the scene and the person that you were. If the past-life memory involves that person's death, you will relive it in precise detail, including the moment of death and the subsequent crossing over the threshold from the physical/etheric into the world of spirit. Sometimes you are able to follow the Spirit on its journey between lives. The Spirit travels to spheres of vastness and strangeness difficult to describe. It is hard to convey the intensity of these past-life experiences, the intense reality of them, more real than watching a movie, because you are not merely empathising with someone else's suffering, it is you in this other life who is suffering. So, it is more like a memory that you recover. It would be quite accurate to regard the human race as suffering from general amnesia. Plato recounts a myth which described the incarnating soul as drinking too much from the waters of Lethe, and so forgetting its place of origin.<12> The Clairvision techniques of ISIS give an immediate and startling access to these lost parts of the self, and an insight into how a samskara, as an absence of Spirit, can have a disastrous effect on your present incarnation. The astral faces of these past-life memories will frequently appear on your face during eye-contact exercises, and your partner will see them. You, in turn, will be able to see on your partner's face many different faces in the astral and etheric layers during eye-contact. Sometimes they are the faces of past lives; or they could be the faces of spirit guides; or perhaps some spirit connection made in a past life that is still stamped in your energy somewhere; occasionally you can see the faces of elementals which inhabit certain layers of the etheric; and it is usually possible to see the forms of astral/etheric entities, parasi tes of the subtle bodies, hooked into the samskaric layers of the astral<13>. Seeing faces on your partner's face during eye-contact is a basic experience, and a good way to get into the vision of the eye. Sometimes you can see one of your own faces on your partner. In the space of darkness visible ,<14> the physical form of the person in front of you disappears, and although your eyes are open, they are not focussed. What you are looking at is the energy field of that person, in the space of the eye. The fact of having the physical eyes open merely creates a field between the two of you. You are not looking into the person's physical eyes, because, quite simply, you can no longer see them. Also you will be able to see very easily the connections, or chords, which bind you to the people you are closely involved with, and whether they are healthy or not. Thought-forms, like vivid pictures, can be easily picked up in the astral field. This happens whether or not you are
in the eye, as these kind of energies easily stick in the etheric - so much so, that one of the early practices involves sealing the mental layer so that this will not happen. Still, for the artist, it presents an entirely new way of painting a portrait. It is an interesting exercise to sit on a bus and make yourself receptive to the thoughts of your fellow passengers: having received a thought-form, to then find the source of it. To receive thought forms consciously rather than unconsciously gives a lot of freedom in social intercourse: one is no longer the victim of thoughts and emotions that are not even one's own. The other talent that can be cultivated at this stage is astral travelling. Children seem to do it more easily than adults, which implies again that impaction of the subtle bodies into the physical increases as the astral body becomes more incarnated - a process which accelerates after puberty. The Clairvision techniques of Night Practice are designed to develop awareness of the different layers, and cultivate consciousness during the shift from the physical plane to the astral plane (as when people fall asleep). Thus the precious experiences that we cannot remember from our sleeping hours, are reclaimed by vision: if, first thing upon awakening, a person goes into the space of the eye, and holds oneself in the column of Spirit, gradually one learns to recapture the memories of the night's travels. At the same time, there are all sorts of interesting astral beings to meet and/or observe. Some astral beings live permanently in the etheric layers, and draw their powers from those layers, others, more evolved and mysterious, live in high astral planes. All human beings have connections with different kinds of astral beings, and they can be observed clearly in the space of the eye. Astral beings often present themselves as friends, or guardians. They offer protection to you, and also, if they are powerful enough, they offer certain powers - the vision and knowledge of the astral spaces they inhabit. Quite often, if one's connection to an astral being has been established over several lifetimes, it has, in a sense, been instrumental in lifting one from a dreamy, blobby state, to a condition of sharp astrality. However, at some point in the work, it becomes obvious that it is time to sever the connection to the astral being, in order to open to a much vaster, higher, more powerful connection. This will be indicated to you by your teacher. Connections to astral beings are complex, and often painful, and need to be sourced thoroughly during ISIS for Spiritual evolution to continue. FIVE. SEEING THE SPIRIT.
How do you know when you are feeling Spirit frequencies? Once again it varies with different people but it is generally recognised as a particular frequency of light, accompanied by a lightness, or joy - joie de vivre, the joy of being. And this feeling comes regardless of what activity you are actually engaged in at the time. It is simply a state of being, described by Coleridge<15> as: A new Earth and new Heaven, Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud We in ourselves rejoice! And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight, All melodies the echoes of that voice, All colours a suffusion from that light. Most artists will freely admit to being in love with light. Turne r <16> is purported to have said on his deathbed that the sun was his only god. William Blak e<17> took it one step further: God appears & God is Light
To those poor souls who dwell in Night At the same time frequencies of Spirit have different flavours, activate different functions of consciousness and give different experiences. For instance, there is the common experience of bliss that derives from a particular sweet, nourishing nectar-like frequency, attuned with the cosmic waters. There is another modality of the cosmic waters that gives the experience of vast spreading into a cosmic dreaming layer: on the one hand this can be used for prophetic visions, but overindulgence can induce a vegetative, blob-like state. Then there is a great clarity and precision that comes from connecting with sharp, fast frequencies, attuned with the cosmic fire. There are ideas or concepts that flow with certain dense, supermind frequencies, or what Samuel Sagan refers to as vertical thinking. Then there is the experience of shining like a sun that comes from connecting with the Ego and holding it in the centres above the head, and in the heart. It takes practise to be able to distinguish these different frequencies; to connect with them at will; and a further skill to be able to hold these states and use them for visions, or to take trips, rather than getting hyper, or losing consciousness. There is an art to hooking in, and an art to holding. We are instinctively drawn to people who are able in one way or another to radiate the Light of the Spirit. Stephen Spender <18> wrote: I think continually of those who were truly great, Who, from the womb, remembered the soul's history Through corridors of light where hours are suns Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition Was that their lips, still touched with fire, Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song. Strictly speaking, Visionary art refers to vision by and of the Spirit, however this vision can be of heaven or of hell. They are facets of each other. Hell may be seen as the abyss where all beings are disconnected from the Light. This disconnection is the source of their pain. Whether it is a permanent state is debateable, and there are many mysteries associated with the forces of darkness. For instance, Steiner asserts<19> that beyond a certain level of consciousness, Lucifer is not evil. This might explain why the word 'Lucifer' means 'bringer of light', perhaps in the tradition of Prometheus. However, when I have tuned into some great astral beings, they appear to be highly structured beings of superior intelligence, but they are structured around the principle of chaos. Chaos is a fertile state of infinite potential. To crystallise a structure around it involves a wrong tension. This seeming contradiction causes intense inner conflict, and is the source of their pain. Passing through dark spaces (of despair) without getting overwhelmed, is to walk through the valley of darkness <20> while still retaining a connection to the Light. Artists frequently draw from the knowledge of such spaces to enrich their work, but at the same time get sucked into a downward spiral of depression followed by apathy. There is definitely a skill to handling dark spaces. When you are in the darkness you cannot see the Light, and when you are in the Light you forget about the darkness. In the world of dualities they seem mutually exclusive. Whenever you make a connection with a high astral being, you may feel a sense of enormous power, but there is always an attending conflict. It could be argued that this conflict is part of the transition from one level of consciousness to a higher one, as the voltage is turned up, and so is a healthy sign. However these are individual insights, born of the experience, and there is some confusion at all levels of awareness. Some insights are so vast that it is impossible to phrase them in human terms. (But to be perfectly honest, at the present time of writing, I feel that an advanced astral being would very likely present itself as a powerful being of Light, and I am not sure that I would know the difference.) The worlds of the spirit feel very different in quality to astral spaces. They radiate a fullness that brings profound peace. By and large, spiritual beings can be recognised because they reflect different modalities of Light. They can be experienced individually or in crowds, (as in a choir of angels) They seem to be able to join together in
harmony and separate at will. They have a very different organisation from human beings, and we can only be grateful that they take an interest in us. The most efficient way of making a connection with a spiritual being is quite simply to open the heart and pray. The purity of an open heart is very attractive to an angel, and makes a perfect emptiness for the Light to rest in. Spirit beings are generous with themselves and their Light brings all kinds of gifts to the recipient. The first time I experienced the journey of my own Spirit after death, during an ISIS, was the first time I understood how foreign is matter to the Spirit. I had experienced several past life deaths previously, but I had never been able to follow the spirit after it left the body, probably because the deaths had been violent and traumatic. This death was serene. This was a healthy old woman who died in her bed, having raised a family and been an active pillar of her community and church. The ISIS began with my awareness of being cold, heavy, still like a marble statue, prone, in a narrow, dark space. (I should explain that for this ISIS I, as the client, was lying down with eyes closed, and my connector was seated close by.) I spent a long time with the corpse in the coffin, unable to leave. I seemed to be crushed into a wafer-thin layer by the weight of the huge body of congealed flesh. My Spirit had forgotten how to live outside of the physical vehicle. Finally my connector said (with a touch of impatience) "You're a Spirit - rise!" With an enormous effort of will I forced myself through the opening at the crown chakra and was free of the body, but then, I couldn't get out of the coffin! I panicked! I pushed against the lid, against the walls, I was trapped! I could see the frozen, mountainous body stretched out below me, and I couldn't bear to be near it any longer. It felt like a prison I had escaped. In the ISIS I became hysterical. Again my connector reminded me, very calmly, "You're a Spirit, matter can't hold you, find a way out." So I became like vapour and drifted through the joins of the lid and floated up into the tall thin trees growing around the graveyard. My Spirit hung out with the trees a long time, drifting in the evening breeze, taking great pleasure in being unencumbered. Far below, the neat little graveyard, and the neat little village beyond it grew indistinct in the twilight. Finally my connector said, "You have to go now." So reluctantly I began the journey, without knowing where I was going. My Spirit was as innocent as a child, as forgetful as an amnesiac. I spun backwards a long time during the ISIS as the Spirit went farther and deeper into layers of spaces. Finally it passed through a fire that seemed to be cleansing process. This felt very good. The Spirit stretched out in purest joy, endlessly in space like a piece of taffy, as far as I could see. Then it drew itself together and entered the aura of a great sun, where many presences were gathered, for an assessment. At this point I experienced profound regret, and my Spirit was in pain. "What's the matter?" asked my connector? "I forgot to change" I moaned. It was in this ISIS that I experienced first-hand how close the Spirit is to God in the joyful lightness of its being, and what a dead weight physical matter appears by contrast. Truly, people who live only in the awareness of their physical bodies, are sleepwalkers. The Spirit can feel powerful, like a bolt of lightning, or a trumpet blast. It can also feel soft and gentle, like a caress. It is a particular strength in the heart that can withstand a saga of devastation, and at the same time feels itself reflected in all creation. It resonates with Oneness, and at the same time carries the consciousness of the individual Ego. Most of the time, it's when we tune into the column of spirit above the head, either in ourselves or in others, that we feel most accurately the true flavour of a person's spirit. Coleridge described the flavour and light of the spirit graphically: This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist, This beautiful and beauty-making power. Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne're was given, Save to the pure, and in their purest hour, Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower.. Spiritual Beings announce their presence with subtle sounds: with some it is loud and sudden like a full orchestra, with others it is flowing and melodious, like a harp. They leave a trail of brightness - a swirl of light and colours,
a bit like the hem of their garments. While they are with you, you are bathed in their presence, cleansed and replenished. You are free to drink in their energy like a libation; they are generous with themselves. The cultivation of a particular connection often begins with the recognition of the signature flavour of a being, the taste of its presence. SIX WORKING FROM THE EYE.
With constant use, the eye becomes strong, and then you become aware of its many functions. Not only is it the organ of vision, it provides a space of calm assessment. It is the eye of the storm. It is a space for grounding and centring. It is the first connection with the powerful chakras above the head. The eye is a safe place for artists to view their inner space without getting sucked into the maelstrom. Like a split consciousness, the artist can explore the subject at hand, be it traumatic or otherwise, and at the same time maintain an objectivity or detachment. If it seems paradoxical that a person can be both emotional and calm at the same time, then indeed paradox is the nature of the eye, and of subtle bodies in general. As the work proceeds and it becomes apparent that what we think of as a more or less integrated personality is in reality a number of astral and etheric entities functioning haphazardly inside one person, collected over a long period of time spanning many lifetimes; and that time itself is fixed neither forwards nor backwards, but exists at the point where you choose to focus your consciousness, then the eye begins to assume the status of truth seeker, and you use it to maintain equilibrium in what is a long and arduous journey. Sometimes you will see things in the space of the eye that produce a strong reaction of fear. See the fear as a flow of energy, notice where it comes from (eg lower chakra or solar plexus) and source it. Fear, anger, resistance of any kind, may be used as a valuable tool in understanding how one's energy flows - or is blocked. Traditionally artists have always been willing to trade suicidal lows in return for the rush of creative highs. It is considered the price that one pays, almost an essential part of the creative process. In the eye there are no mood swings. It is a state of consciousness easily accessible, and by habit, maintained. It offers an alternative to drugs and alcohol so frequently relied on by creative people to access the intensity and inspiration needed for their work. Once you get used to living in the eye there is no reason not to be in the eye. You rest in it, it is both the threshold to and the centre of, consciousness. It is for this reason that so many statues of Buddha in south-east Asia have a jewel in the middle of the forehead. At the same time, the artist can use the eye as a tool for discernment between problems of perception (vision), and problems of execution (invention). A work of art can fail for two reasons - either the artist has not been clear as to what he/she wished to say through the image, or because he/she has used his materials ineffectively. Once initial skills have been mastered, it is clarity of vision and confidence of execution that determine the quality of a work of art. SEVEN THE STRUCTURE OF THE EYE
As a structure, the third eye is roughly shaped like a tunnel, going from the front of the forehead to the back of the head. The different areas are specifically suited to its different functions and the different layers give direct access to corresponding layers both in one's own subtle structures and in vast or distant subtle worlds. It is through cultivation of the principle of resonance that one can travel. The front part of the tunnel can be felt as an oval disk of light - a mirror to reflect the world; or like a beacon of light which you can use to shine on the subject under observation. Very often the thing that entities hate most of all is to be looked at, and the particular clarity of the eye has the immediate effect of dissolving chaos and confusion that have kept you emotionally entangled in a situation long after your rational mind has dismissed it from your life. ("The eye is the light of the whole body, so that if thy eye be clear the whole of thy body will be lit up; whereas if thy eye is diseased, the whole of thy body will be in darkness.") <21> This leads to a deeper, more mature understanding of one's personal development, an overview of the individual journey, which can only enrich the artist's work. When the eye is fully opened I feel it as a great hole extending to the cheekbones. As with all the chakras, there is
light all around it. Sometimes, with an adept, this light is so intense it extends like a unicorn's horn on the forehead. (A teacher can use this device to penetrate his students' fogginess. It has an awakening effect, which I have occasionally experienced, courtesy of my teacher.) The space is sometimes perceived as purple in colour, hence the name 'purple space', but I have always experienced it as a crossing over the threshold into a vast darkness like the night sky, so the phrase 'darkness visible' (used throughout Atlantean Secrets) <22> seems both poetic and accurate. The experience of expanding the consciousness throughout these astral spaces, and the encounters with beings which inhabit them, is unforgettable. The Clairvision tradition is one of travelling, and the school offers all sorts of techniques for a systematic cultivation of altered states of consciousness, and the subsequent expansion of creativity. Entire layers of the space may be experienced as a colour. They may be astral or etheric, or a mixture of both. They are intense and quite different from physical colours. There is a knowledge to be gained from simply experiencing them as they happen, without trying to hold the experience or repeat it. Quite often, the moment you try and grasp an experience, it disappears. The best thing to do is remain absolutely motionless, and rest in the space, and let come what will. There are different experiences of Light as you travel in the space, sometimes of singular lights, sometimes of galaxies, as in the 'field of stars'. Some lights may draw you more than others: let yourself be drawn in. The most efficient way of moving in the space is to use the clockwise spiralling offered by the vortices. From the outside, and at the threshold, the structure of the third eye feels like a tunnel, and its inner wall, so to speak, can be felt as a vortex. If you move with the shape of it, you can travel fast and deep. Once you have moved into the space, (or once the eye has opened, which is another way of phrasing it )<23> there are many such vortices linking the different layers. Any vortex may be used for travelling and it's best to travel reasonably fast through them. Thus your consciousness can learn to travel through space and time, and slowly map the different spheres. It may make you feel a little nauseous at first, but this will pass. (When I was first learning to use the vortices, I moved slowly to avoid the nausea. In one vortex I lingered too long and was approached by crawling, nightmarish creatures with burning eyes, which scared the hell out of me. I was advised to move my astral body a little faster next time.) In the central layers are spaces for travelling. These provide an unending supply of material - when one theme is exhausted, an exploration of the space will provide another. The space of the eye is the inner space. It is a reflection of your own individual flavour of consciousness: the astral record of your past lives, the record of the etheric imprints you have inherited from your parents, the major events which have shaped your consciousness in this incarnation. As well, the inner space is a reflection of greater cosmos, ( 'as above, so below...') and so, by resonance, you are able to travel to distant and alien spaces and meet the intelligences that inhabit them. Thus you can infer that there are two experiences of the inner space, the subjective and the objective, even though experience of objective reality is usually filtered through the individual's perception of it, and is rarely wholly objective. It is an interesting exercise, once you have become accustomed to your own space, to sit in front of somebody and establish eye-contact, and go into that person's space with them, seeing their structures and their beings, and in many cases helping them to see more clearly how their energy flows or is blocked .<24> At the center of the structure is the atom of the eye, which is in line with the atoms of all the other centers of energy in the subtle bodies, both travelling down into the physical/etheric layer, and travelling up into the column of Spirit above the head. The atom of the eye is a place of stillness and strength, and imparts a sense of Self, the flavour or essence of the individual Spirit, and a flow of power or will. Thus the eye may be seen as the meeting place for all the streams of consciousness of a human being - the inspiration and creativity, the anguish and confusion, a blueprint of the individual to be explored and decoded. For the artist, it becomes a source of images, symbols, scenarios, concepts, and extraordinary visions. EIGHT. PAINTING FROM THE EYE.
During those good times when the artist feels the 'flow' of the creative impulse, and the painting seems to paint itself - what is happening? Two things: first, the painting has been envisioned complete in its 'unpacked' form, a completed image, so to speak; secondly, the painting has been executed in accordance with this vision, without
'unpacking' it, which is to say, without analysing it. More precisely, the vision has been given a physical form. The first part is a process of vision, the second part is a process of execution, and although they may be approached as separate problems, it is through understanding how the two interrelate, that the finished work retains the freshness and vitality of the original vision. This becomes obvious if one observes art students in class: the first blocking in of the image on the canvas, the outline and tonal blocking are vigorous; as the work progresses layer by layer, it slowly dies, until, by the end of the class, all that remains is a dull, forced picture. Why does this happen? In a beginner, it's because the technical skills have not been mastered, and the student is struggling with problems of drawing and painting. Bearing in mind that the celebrated Australian artist Fred William s<25> once said that it takes 500 paintings to become an artist, this struggle can go on for quite a while. In the case of an advanced student, it is because, in focusing on technical problems, the mental layer has taken over from the inspirational paralysis by analysis. Seeing is also understanding - there is knowingness in the eye. Vision is intuitive, it is a stream of packed thoughts. The minute you unpack a thought you are moving into the mental layer, which is analytical. There is a delicate balance to be maintained between the original concept, which implies everything, and the rendering of it, which is a skilful application of specific technical knowledge. It is very important to keep referring to the initial vision during the work - this means literally taking time out, sitting in front of the work with eyes closed, going into the Eye, and re-experiencing the image as a living entity; then, still in the Space, open the eyes and look at the image you have produced on the canvas. Does it resonate with the original concept? If not, is it because you have not fully understood the concept, or is it merely that you have not been accurate or inventive enough in the physical rendering of it? Here you can use the creative energies as an impulse for an experimental approach to your materials and technique, so that the initial inspiration translates into inventiveness of execution. Beware too much explanation. Mystery is implied, never explained. Too much explanation kills the subtlety and profundity of a work. Since Visionary Art in its truest sense seeks to present a formal image of the mysteries of being and consciousness, it often expresses itself in the language of paradox. However, deliberate obfuscation is always irritating and leads to accusations of pretentiousness. In art the strength of the statement lies in what is left out. The strength of visionary art depends on how clearly the artist has understood the symbolic significance of a vision, and how well he or she can imply these layers of meaning in terms of the human experience, in a 'packed' form, without being obscure. NINE. NO VISUALISATION - PLEASE.
For the cultivation of vision, one must refrain from visualisation (or imaginative) techniques, which will only impede the developing vision. When William Blake announced to a startled visitor that he had that morning had a conversation with the Angel Gabriel, he meant just that, he wasn't making up stories. Vision is direct. It happens. You don't make it up. It flows to you from the centres in the Column of Spirit. It is a powerful stream of frequencies that carry visions, among other things, with them. Preconceptions and expectations will inhibit the natural flowering of your vision in terms of individual direction and flavour. Vision is the knowledge which comes from an experience of states of consciousness. Imagining that there is this or that happening above your head will interfere with your perception of what is actually happening. Many visionaries have given lengthy descriptions of the dynamic flow from the centres above the head <26>. After consciousness is established in these centres, there is a shift into using the flows. Vision is probably the first manifestation of vertical frequencies, followed by other powers such as telepathy, prophecy, communication skills, crowd control and others. It depends on the user. Vision is not about seeing images and interpreting them, as in clairvoyance. In clairvoyance you make yourself empty and then wait for the images to come. Vision is about expanded consciousness. In that state of awareness comes a knowingness, and with that knowledge comes a transformation of energy structures. They become wiser. There follows a maturation of perception over a period until such time as the inner reality is no longer a vague intuition but as tangible as the outer physical reality. Then at some point the reality of subtle perception is more real than the old limitation of physical vision. All kinds of powerful frequencies may be accessed, and their knowledge is made available. One of my fellow students, a composer,<27> has described these inspirational frequencies as 'thunderbolt' frequencies. I feel them more as a slow streak of lightning. But we are all agreed that they are both visionary and dynamic, in as much as you can't just sit with them, you have to do something with them - perform, create, write.
These frequencies are awakening as well as inspirational, and give an artist the impetus to carry out all the less creative but essential tasks of organisation, promotion and business. So in practise, it feels as though one's creative evolution is speeded up.
PART TWO: ART. TEN. CONNECTING WITH THE MUSE.
Apart from the burst of energy, there is often a sense with the creative flow that you have connected with a being who is generously pouring a stream of fertile ideas into your consciousness, ready-made, and that you, the artist, are merely the willing receptacle, the open channel. Writers will speak of the moment when the characters take over, and the story writes itself. Composers will speak of the music flowing through them already composed. During those times when the creative energies are flowing unimpeded I am aware of being receptive to the flow, not as a vague wanting, but as a specific willingness to receive: surrender as an active principle. Wanting can create a passive, static field, a waiting energy; desire creates an active receptivity, in the sense that you make yourself empty in order to receive, and then something flows into the void. (Of course, you have to be very clear about what it is you want to receive, otherwise anything could turn up.) So the challenge with the creative flow becomes a matter of establishing a connection with the muse, and then sustaining this flow while working, despite technical problems, or other interruptions. It is not enough to sit and stare at a blank page, hoping for inspiration to strike, there is a certain way of hooking into a vertical stream, to attract the creative flow. Constantin Brancusi, a sculptor of mysterious and beautiful images, put it this way: "It is not the doing of things that is difficult. What is difficult is getting into the right mood to do them." <28> Most artists I know have a ritual of some sort to get the flow started. It can be a very simple routine. A routine becomes a ritual when it is used (either deliberately or intuitively ) to effect a change in consciousness. It can be something as simple as walking into a room, closing the door, sitting down, switching on the computer. I have often observed artists setting up. During the careful laying out of materials they make the transition from normal mental consciousness to creative consciousness. They hook in, or switch on, or change gear. Mornings are especially fragile. Many successful business people have a morning routine - a brisk walk, a hot shower, a quiet breakfast, a few moments spent contemplating a favourite view, or a structured meditation or yoga practise. This ritual establishes a connection and sets the day in motion. It is a certain flavour of consciousness that is being sought, a certain verticality that is established. Michaelangelo had the habit of sleeping overnight in the quarry where he obtained the marble for his statues. He maintained that the first rays of morning light, shining through the marble, revealed the form of his sculpture to him, as in a vision. His God-given work was to release the Spirit within the stone.<29> Similarly, artists foster the vertical connection. Many writers have a set work time, when the phone is disconnected, there are no distractions and they cannot be reached; they have a particular work place, harmonious with their inner atmosphere, which nurtures the connection. Some writers like to work in the middle of noise and confusion, others prefer a monastic cell. Some work strictly nine-to-five, others prefer to work through the night. (William Faulkner <30>wrote As I lay Dying while working the night shift in a local power station, because he needed the job, but there weren't many interruptions at night.) This preparation sets the tone, creates the receptive field, and without it nothing happens. But the ritual will not in itself guarantee an inspired flow, moreover, inspiration can come at the most unexpected moments, on a bus, or in odd company. So the muse appears capricious, and pours the stream of inspiration at her own whim. Or perhaps we are not fully aware of the factors involved in facilitating the flow. Either way, this inconsistency prevents us from becoming vain of our gifts, reminds us of our frailty, and fosters humility in the artist. Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote of inspiration: 'The word inspiration need cause no difficulty. I mean by it a mood of great, abnormal in fact, mental acuteness, either energetic or receptive, according as the thoughts which arise in it seem generated by a stress and action of the brain, or to strike into it unasked.' <31> To his friend Robert Bridges he wrote about 'The fine delight that fathers thought; the strong/ Spur, live and lancing like the blowpipe
flame...' in the following poem: Sweet fire, the sire of muse, my soul needs this; I want the one rapture of an inspiration. O then if in my lagging lines you miss The roll, the rise, the carol, the creation, My winter world, that scarcely breathes that bliss Now, yields you, with some sighs, our explanation. (To R.B.) ELEVEN ARTIST'S BLOCK.
Having performed the daily ritual, it is not at all unusual for an artist to work solidly, and at the end of a day's work, tear it all up. This is not the time to hit the bottle, sink into cynicism, or engage in other self-destructive activities, but to go into the Eye and try and see the nature of the problem; or merely to rest in the space. If there is a continuing block, then ISIS or a similar technique should be used to source the block as an obstruction of energy, and this in itself can often start a whole new cycle of creativity. Sometimes when you have penetrated the blockage as far as you can, you come to a kernel of non-specific pain so intense, it is just as if someone were sticking a red-hot poker through your heart chakra. Such pain often seems out of all proportion to the outward circumstances of your life, it feels like the accretions of millennia. If you can force yourself to sit absolutely still and hold the pain, these 'encapsulations' can be shifted, and all kinds of inexplicable depressions and negative emotions can be dropped. An ISIS sheds a clear light on your inner space. A successful ISIS will always give a new perspective, a fresh insight, a greater depth of understanding. Despair can sometimes be just the flip side of vanity, and should be watched carefully. But it can also be a pit, and turn into the dark night of the soul that mystics speak of. Certain dark spaces have a sucking power, and can leech your will. Once deeply in them, it is very hard to get out again, one needs to have a routine or process of some kind, to break up the space, or to source the astral connection that draws one there in the first place. The dark spaces contain a truth that needs to be acknowledged, even though it be a limited truth (I am thinking of the power in the dark visions of Goya's last paintings) and from this perspective, the Light, because it excludes this truth, appears also to be limited, so that one turns round and round endlessly in a cage of one's own limitations. Energetically these dark spaces are encapsulations where the Spirit cannot penetrate, and because they are closed spaces, it is hard to open to the Light when one is in them. Something more drastic is needed. I remember on two separate occasions when I was having an ISIS and deeply encapsulated in a dark space, the energy cracked it open like an egg. Alternatively, if one can move through the layers of grief, cynicism, despair, to a place of emptiness where there is no pain, then that emptiness can open to the Light. A perfect example of this can be seen in the film 'Shawshank Redemption '<32>, based on a story by Stephen King. In this film the protagonist is given a life sentence on circumstantial evidence. His first challenge is to maintain his inner light, his second challenge is to bring that light into the dark place to which fate has brought him. There is a magical scene which could serve as a metaphor for this theme, where the protagonist locks himself in the warden's room and plays a Mozart aria over the loudspeaker system for the inmates to hear. A hush falls over the crowded prison as every man is lifted momentarily by the sweet, clear, soprano voices, from the miserable prison atmosphere into a realm of purest Spirit. When he comes out of solitary confinement a mate asks him if he was lonely in the 'hole', and he says, pointing to his head and his heart, that he had Mr Mozart to keep him company. For this man, his imprisonment gives him the opportunity to open to that part of himself that is permanently connected to the Light.
Depression, on the other hand, should be patiently sourced and often yields unexpected results. Lack of confidence often disappears with the gradual cultivation of visionary techniques. If you love what you do then that love will carry you through times when the work seems to be going badly. This translates as joie de vivre the joy of being. If your motive is along the lines of proving yourself, or pleasing people, impressing people, then it is pure samskara, and will fail you at a certain point. You will look at your life as an endless struggle, and wonder why you are putting yourself through it. The only thing we can rest on securely is the Spirit, being the strongest part of the energy. Seen from the eye, the light of the Spirit is extraordinarily beautiful - it has a diamond quality and a sun quality, it is full of music, it is a food you can absorb like nectar or ambrosia, and it is the only thing that can sustain us in this heavy physical layer. When an artist suffers burnout, it is often a sure sign that a theme has been exhausted, and a fallow period is about to set in. Artists' Block feels unmistakably like an obstruction, and can be seen clearly in the eye during ISIS. A fallow period feels more like a general fatigue of the channels of inspiration, as if the muse is having a long lunch break. TWELVE. THE FALLOW PERIOD.
There is a positive way of looking at a fallow period as a necessary time to store new information, absorb fresh stimuli, be open and receptive to new influences. Because the creative flow feels like such a high, when the fallow time first hits, it can feel like a drop in the energy, rather like depression. This is the perfect time to practise meditation techniques, so that even if you are not actively creating, you can at least connect to high frequencies that feel as good while they are with you. This is a sustenance, a feeding process, an active part of the fallow period. It is for this reason Samuel Sagan has said "paradoxically, the device is more important than the Light", meaning that if you have an effective meditation technique, it will carry you through times of low energy. Remember that when a farmer leaves a field fallow, he lets it fall into chaos: he is expecting the sun to shine on it, the rain to fall, the birds to make droppings, the animals and insects to roam around. This random input will help make the earth fertile again. So too the artist should work with the fallow period, not against it, and trust that the creative stream will take him on an interesting detour to an interesting destination. There is the story of Matisse<33> taking a year off from painting in mid-career, and spending the time learning the violin. He said later, after he had resumed painting, that he felt secure knowing that if he dried up permanently, he could always earn a living busking on street corners. Admirers of his work will perhaps discern a certain musical quality in his use of colour in the later work that is not there in the earlier. Even at the end, when he was bed-ridden, and he got his assistants to move large pieces of hand-coloured paper around on the ceiling, he used his circumstances to create the quintessence of a simplified, potent statement of his unquenchable joie de vivre. Probably the most famous example of cultivated inspiration is Monet's<34> love of gardens. Not only did he leave his beautiful gardens for generations to enjoy, but some of his most celebrated pictures are paintings of the garden and man-made lake. In his old age he had a flowering of vision equal to Rembrandt's or Michaelangelo's. In the case of Michaelangelo, who lived a monkish life, dedicated to his narrative vision of God and man, he appears to have crystallised spiritual frequencies to such a degree that by the end of his long life, when he took up architecture, it seems like he moved his consciousness permanently into the column of Spirit and just brought down the packed forms for people to live in. Personal tragedies enrich and colour an artist's work in ways we can only speculate upon. Beethoven's deafness, Van Gogh's bouts of insanity, Modigliani's instability, the death of Rembrandt's wife, seemed not to diminish their intense connection with creative streams, but if anything, intensify their appreciation of a state of consciousness beyond human suffering. There is an alchemy that happens in the creation of an artwork, where the true expression of every human feeling can be assimilated and somehow transformed into a complex whole. In an ideal world it would be wonderful to have the perfect space - an eyrie, a cabin, an office, a studio - and uninterrupted time to create masterpieces, but most of the time artists work in the midst of raising a family, running a business, dealing with personal problems, health problems, political upheavals etc. The struggling artist
syndrome seems to continue in one form or another long after financial success has been attained. There is a wonderful story that the Mother <35> tells (repeated in Satprem's book The Adventure of Consciousness)<36> where she describes an incident during a storm at Pondicherry. She ran upstairs to Sri Aurobindo's room to close the windows and fasten the shutters, but when she knocked and entered, peace reigned in the room: the windows were wide open, but Sri Aurbindo, writing with intense concentration at his desk, created such a solid field of energy within the room that the raging storm remained outside. This, surely, is the artist's ideal - to create a field of presence in the midst of life's chaos, and maintain a high connection, no matter what. A solid technique of meditation works to achieve this ideal. Even if the flow is uneven in quality of inspiration (who can guarantee that the muse will deliver every time) the space is always available and the benefits from resting in that space are tangible. The artist knows that there will be ebb and flow, but during quiet times there is an open invitation to cultivate frequencies that carry remote and different states of consciousness. These are the states that will give the unmistakable visionary flavour to the work when the artist resumes production. A word to women: Tuning into the death space during the first two days of menses can make all the physical and emotional pain more tolerable. The acute disappointment of the uterus, which has worked so hard for that month to prepare the vessel for a spirit, is like a mourning for a lost life. Of course you can fight it, or ignore it, but it's hard to live the normal structured life when the etheric is in a process of disintegration. It's more useful to allow oneself to fall into chaos for a day or two, use it as a fallow period and take the opportunity to tune into the principal of the prima materia in its eternal cycle of disintegration and regeneration, and see what wisdom may come of it. One is more patient with the physical process if one can see it in larger terms as the re-enactment of the drama of birth and death. The fallow period is the time for tuning into fertile chaos, the cosmic principle of unlimited potential, whence all things may emerge. THIRTEEN WHAT IS VISIONARY ART.
In a broad sense all art is visionary in that it reflects an artist's unique vision. But, generally speaking, we reserve the word 'visionary' for works of art that deal with mysticism in one form or another. Artistic intensity and clarity of perception are not by themselves enough to qualify a work as 'visionary'. How do we recognise art as visionary - rather than intellectual, satirical, sensual, erotic, expressionistic, surrealistic, etc? The clearest way is by tuning into the space the artist is painting from. Vision is an experience, you can't intellectualise about it. Visionary art always either describes or implies a consciousness vaster than the normal mental/physical framework. Particularly in painting and poetry, this space can be easily sourced. For instance, Bruegel's<37> painting Icarus depicts a very ordinary scene of a ploughman tilling his field, a fisherman and a shepherd at work, oblivious to the small tragedy happening in the right-hand corner of the painting - Icarus falling to his death. There is no overt reference to God, but there is an overwhelming sense of a reality more lasting than the fragmented and temporal reality depicted, captured in the beauty of the setting sun and the luminous sky reflected in the harbour waters. Bruegel uses the mythological tale of Icarus to illustrate the futility of ambition. At the same time he depicts the labourers absorbed in their work, blind not only to the historical drama of Icarus but also to the beauties of nature, indicating their disconnection from a spiritual life (a favourite theme in his work). This inspired painting prompted W.H.Auden<38> to write the poem Musee des Beaux Arts describing his own response to the vision in the painting: About suffering they were never wrong, The Old Masters: how well they understood Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along; How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting For the miraculous birth, there must always be Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating On a pond at the edge of the wood: They never forgot That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse Scratches its innocent behind on a tree... But the tone of this brilliant poem, with its sharp appreciation of the irony of human suffering, is intellectual. Whereas in the painting there is an unspoken reference to an eternity beyond life and death, the poem is more concerned with a sensitive observation of and weary detachment from the inevitability of pain and suffering. The painting uses images of futility to celebrate the infinite mystery of God; the poem uses incidental images to suggest the absurdity of human existence and the futility of human suffering in the face of cosmic indifference. The poem makes its strongest statement if the reader has no direct experience of the independent life of the Spirit when it is liberated from the astral and physical bodies. Auden's view, so eloquently expressed, is the view of an intellect confined within the limitations of mental consciousness. Dylan Thomas<39> makes an interesting faux pas when he writes: Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightening they Do not go gentle into that good night... And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray, Do not go gentle into that good night, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. In this fine piece of melodrama Thomas completely misses the point, the point being that when a person dies they go from the darkness into the Light, not the other way around. Secondly, to die in a state of rage is the worst possible thing to do, for the passage of the Spirit from the physical plane into astral worlds is always very much determined by the state of consciousness you are in at the moment of passing. There is the Tibetan stor y<40> of a virtuous man who was lying serenely on his death bed, waiting for the moment of his passing, when his nephew leant down and asked him to whom he'd left his money. Whereupon the man fell into a paroxysm of rage and died, thus sending his soul to wander in dark spaces for quite some time. It is well to remember that Dylan
Thomas was an alcoholic, and so the space he is writing from has the flavour of that particular spirit, and the vision eventually deteriorated into delirium tremens. Artists who rely on alcohol or drugs to induce the space of vision, risk their gift as well as their health. It is easy to suffer creative burnout when one is not in control of the intensity of the spirit frequencies that vision rests on. It is surely preferable to cultivate the meditation techniques that will bring the space of vision at will rather than cultivate a dependency. As Coleridge put it: I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within... Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud... These words are especially poignant when one realises that Coleridge stopped writing poetry at the age of thirty, although he lived into his sixties, and continued writing prose. In his early years he suffered from depression and his doctor prescribed an opiate to relieve it. It seems the opiate enhanced Coleridge's poetic vision, and produced such extraordinary works as The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but at the same time burned it in some way and wore it out. There is the telling story of the writing of Kubla Khan: Coleridge awoke from an afternoon nap, and in the threshold space between waking and sleeping, in the cloud of the opiate, with the vision still fresh in his Eye, wrote the first three verses of the poem. There is an immediacy in the tone of these verses that suggests the direct transcription of a vision, without the mind editing it, to make sense (it appears to be drawn from archival layers in the etheric). At this point in the writing, Coleridge was interrupted by a visitor, and when, some hours later, he returned to finish the poem, he could not recapture the flow of inspiration, presumably because the opiate had worn off, and he had no other way of accessing the particular prophetic stream he had tapped into. The last verse, about 'a vision once I saw', is muted in tone, and tinged with regret: ...Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise. Applying this insight to artists like Toulouse-Lautrec<41> and Modigliani<42>, it is very difficult to separate the art from the drug dependency. Since both artists showed precocious talent from an early age, one can only assume that originally the drugs were used as a discrete way of heightening vision, and then gradually the creative flow became inaccessible without the drug. Both artists created a style that relied heavily on elements of caricature and distortion, classic by-products of alcohol, but then, so did Picasso <43> and he was not a drug user. Utrillo, also an alcoholic, survived to a respectable sober age, but his art greatly diminished in quality. So it seems that if an artist wishes to use drugs to enhance vision, he'd better be sure that his gift is extraordinary, with or without the drug, or be prepared to die young, which is a great pity, because artists often have a creative flaring in their later years, when sensual passions and social ambitions fade: Goya's<44> dark vision of titans and demons; Rembrandt's<45> awakening to Christ consciousness; Turner's huge paintings of seas and cities dissolved in light; Cezanne's discovery of sacred geometry in nature; Matisse's dancing shapes of pure colour - all these artists spent much of their early career producing commissioned work for the court, the Church and society patrons. In their later years they turned inward for inspiration, and painted the world beyond the physical world. As Paul Klee wrote during his years teaching at the Bauhaus:
Presumptuous is the artist who does not follow his road through to the end. But chosen are those artists who penetrate to the region of that secret place where primeval power nurtures all evolution.<46> As Samuel Sagan frequently reminds his students: the first stage of enlightenment is intoxication. Intoxication is a high function of consciousness - the inner intoxication that comes with cosmic consciousness from high levels of astrality. (The funny thing is, as one becomes more discerning with the different frequencies of spirit, one can identify them in terms not unlike a winetaster's: some connections are light and delicate, just like a Chardonnay, others are fuller, with more body, like a red Burgundy, some have the richness of port, others the headiness of Champagne.) Compare the tone of the previous poems with the tone in William Blake's poem The Sick Rose: O Rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. Blake has had many interpreters, and most readers find their own way of relating to his extraordinary visions, but on a simple level this poem makes perfect sense if read as a straightforward description of an entity, since this is exactly what entities feel like. The tone of the poem also captures the seemingly illogical nature of parasitic infestation, although a series of ISIS will reveal the moment when the invitation was extended to the entity by the host. Once you get used to tuning into the spaces an artist is working from, it is very easy to decide whether the space is astral, etheric or Spiritual. Astral spaces can be fascinating, exciting, arousing, intense and lots of fun. They can also be highly refined, sensitive, clever and inventive. They can give a powerful vision. It is up to the individual to decide how much truth there is in this vision, or more correctly, how much over-view there is in this vision. Shakespeare used astral spaces to create his masterpieces, but the most consistent tone throughout his work is despair born of disconnection, in the romances: "O, I am fortune's fool" (Romeo), as well as in the tragedies: Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded `time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. (Macbeth)<47> In the comedies he uses the irony of cynicism: Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord what fools these mortals be! (Midsummer Night's Dream)<48>
Compare the tone of Macbeth's words with the tone in one of the later sonnets of that great poet of agony and ecstasy, Gerard Manley Hopkins: Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee Not untwist - slack they may be - these last strands of man In me or, most weary, cry I can no more. I can; Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be... There is, all through Hopkins' work an enormous struggle between his tormented astral body and his enlightened spirit, no more evident than in his celebrated sonnet 'I Wake and feel the Fell of Dark': I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent This night! What sights you, heart, saw; ways you went! And more must, in yet longer light's delay. With witness I speak this. But where I say Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent To dearest him that lives, alas! away. I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me; Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse. Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see The lost are like this, and their scourge to be As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse. No matter how black and desperate the astral spaces Hopkins visits, nor how severe he feels the separation from his God, he carries with him an awareness of infinite mystery, and he places his trust in it. Thus his vision makes sense of his suffering - bearing in mind that the particular Jesuit ideal that he embraced demanded of him a rigorous discipline. The humility of his self-surrender to Divine will acts as a saving grace during times of desolation, referred to by St John of the Cross as 'the dark night of the soul.'
Hopkins had a word which he coined for the underlying supra-natural principle that informs and sustains the natural world: instress. From this he drew his powers of recovery: The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod. And for all this nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings. (God's Grandeur) William Blake, who had a more serene temperament, believed quite simply that "Energy is eternal delight." In Jerusalem he says "no individual can conform to rules, for they mean death to every energy of man and seal the sources of life". The martyrdom that Hopkins endured would have seemed foreign to him: Love seeketh not Itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease, And builds a heaven in Hell's despair. The Clod and the Pebble. According to Alexander Gilchrist, his biographer, Blake had his first vision as a child of "a tree filled with angels". Blake agreed with the gnostic view that creation was the result of a fall from the state of Grace, and that individual redemption occurred through the powers of imagination, or inspiration. In Blake's work, both the poetry and the paintings, one can feel the tension between his vision and his art as he struggles to give form through words and images to the unspeakable and the invisible. He who bends to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunrise. (Eternity) If the artist is concerned with portraying the human psyche, then a sharp perception of astral spaces can yield a rich harvest of penetrating psychological insight and unforgettable characters, for instance the brilliant comedy series Seinfeld, a compelling look at a group of flawed characters living in New York. Or any film by Woody Allan. Or much of twentieth century art, which has devoted itself to painstakingly cataloguing every conceivable twist in the human psyche. Magritte, Max Ernst, Miro, Max Beckmann, Giacometti, Salvador Dali, Picasso, Munch, each in his own style has mapped the astral landscape of passions, dreams, fears, desires, insecurities, obsessions, vanities that paint the picture of contemporary man. The serious art of this century is characterised by a preoccupation with re-defining our notions of reality, and in the process, exploring layers of consciousness. Starting with Impressionism in the late nineteenth century, which broke up solid matter into particles of light, moving through Post-Impressionism, Cubism, Fauvism, Expressionism, Futurism, Surrealism, and a variety of Abstractionisms that culminated in the New York school of Minimalism. The artists tended to experiment with a variety of styles so that in any one work will be found echoes of other movements, and it's often difficult to categorise a painting by a complex artist like Picasso, for instance, unless one is aware that several influences are at work in the one image. Any work of art labelled Expressionistic would be exploring astral spaces, because in Expressionistic art, the emphasis is always on the emotional, even within the context of the spiritual. For instance, the work of Van Gogh, <49> a deeply religious man, has a burning intensity that suggests ecstasy without ever achieving the climax of enlightenment. In artistic terms he is called post-impressionist, because he takes the technique or viewpoint of Impressionism, and combines it with his own highly personal experience of the human condition. In alchemical terms I would say that in his work he focuses too much on cosmic fire and not enough on cosmic water. There is a sublime peace that comes with the balance of opposing principles that is absent from his work. Despite this, or maybe because of it, his images of writhing trees and flaming skies, combined with the vulnerability of his distress, and the tenderness born of his sincerity, make for a powerful vision of certain intense astral states. The other great expressionistic post-impressionist, Gauguin<50>, sought another kind of heaven in the island of Tahaiti. Some of his most beautiful and memorable pictures combine Christian symbols within the framework of a pagan religion. The obsessive sensuality plays an interesting counterpoint to his abiding search for spiritual insight, but he misses the elevated tone captured in the best of Hindu erotic art, probably because he chooses to focus on his own voyeuristic delight in the female form, rather than a depiction of the act itself, in its cosmic significance. (Although that in itself would not be enough to guarantee the visionary quality of his work, as a million pornographic pictures will attest.) What Gauguin does succeed in depicting is a pre-personal paradise, the time before humans became caught up in the astral layers, when we were one with the etheric of nature, and lived in the bliss of permanent spiritual connections of the dreamtime. Bearing in mind that the Europe Gauguin lived in was a Freudian casebook of sexual suppression and social hypocrisy, Tahaiti would have seemed like paradise. However, much of the tension in his work derives from an arranged marriage between the intense astrality of his own temperament and the sensuous and passionate etheric temperament of the Polynesian people, as if he himself was inherently incapable of achieving more than a passing glimpse of the transcendent paradise his pictures describe. In alchemical terms, I would say that the vision of Gauguin suffers from the imbalance of too much cosmic water and not enough cosmic fire. He seems to be suggesting that we need to revert to pre-personal enlightenment in order to regain our spiritual integrity, whereas it appears clear to us now, a hundred years later, that we are evolving towards a new synthesis, combining space-age technology with a re-awakening of Spiritual vision, and its attendant powers. The cultivation of clair vision is not modelled on the old clairvoyance, which relied on the dream state as a gateway to spiritual connection. Because of our more developed astral component we are in the waking state, and we make our invitation to the spirit through active, discerning consciousness. Of the other two post-impressionists, Cezanne<51> and Seurat, the former began his career as an expressionist, and then gradually moved away from subjective emotions to a direct experience of sacred geometry within matter. His famous dictum: 'see in nature the cylinder, the sphere and the cone', was the aesthetic equivalent of a vision of etheric archetypes, and became the basis for a revolution in Western art that has reverberated throughout the
twentieth century, from Cubism to abstraction. In youth Cezanne was a boorish, unsociable man, with an unpleasant temper, and a fear of his overbearing father. His early paintings were violent and expressionistic, reflecting the dark side of his astral body. In his maturity, he learned to channel his defiance into a disciplined, painstaking search for the truth that produced a revolutionary art. His obsessive nature prompted him to paint endless variations on a limited number of themes, slowly paring the image to a masterful economy of tones and strokes. His abstract treatment of volume and space led to a deliberate distortion of perspective that described the dynamic relationships of objects to each other and to the surface of the canvas. He dispensed with the traditional tonal method of chiaroscuro, and instead treated all shadows as solid shapes in themselves. This allowed for an inventive use of warm and cool tones and created the famous 'flat-depth', which has been called 'one of the miracles of art'. In this way he suggested depth within the picture and at the same time retained the integrity of the flat canvas, cleverly suggesting illusion and reality at the same time. His thin, rich colours hold a translucency of inner light within the careful compositions, always leading the viewer to 'the permanent qualities beneath the accidents of appearance'.<52> These three artists between them laid the groundwork for the two kinds of vision prevalent in twentieth century Western art - the opening that comes from intense emotional experience, and the insight that is born of detachment. On the negative side, it appears to me that as we draw close to the end of this century, we are too often presented with works that are either heavy with emotion but lack insight, or works that are clever and intellectual but lack feeling. There is an opening for a new impulse of vision in Western art, and it appears to me that this vision will be the result of a cultivated transformation of consciousness in line with the Western spiritual tradition. FOURTEEN. VISION IN ART
It could be argued that spiritual art, from the paintings on pharaohs' tombs to the carvings on Easter Island, needs to be experienced directly within the context of its own culture in order to be fully appreciated. However, visionary works are energised in such a way that even after the cultures that produced them have long since disappeared, the works themselves retain a certain power. This is the intrinsic magic of a great work of art, as opposed to a piece of craft, no matter how skilful. An unskilled person is capable of producing a crude image of startling power if it is made in the intensity of a visionary space. Conversely, a skilled artisan may produce works of great beauty and intricacy, but the power and intensity of vision may be lacking. Combine the gift of vision with the gift of the artist, and a timeless work of mystery and magic appears, to enthral any future generations who may discover it. There are many ways to depict a spiritual vision: a Buddhist Mandala, an Aborigine bark painting, a Russian Icon, French Symbolist works, Egyptian tomb paintings, Stoneage magic cave paintings. A spiritual work may be figurative or abstract. A work of art becomes spiritual when it moves beyond the decorative or representational, to fulfil a specific function: the concentration of energies for the purpose of meditative dialectic with spiritual spaces or beings. This intention on the part of the artist results in the creation of a style, flavoured both by the particular epoch in which he lives, and his own temperament. Such a stylised image is the result of condensation of the content. The content is compressed into a high degree of density - this gives the image a potency: the power to draw the viewer in and the power to create a space for the viewer to rest in. Visualised energies are concentrated into a visual nucleus that encompasses a whole tradition of perception. That same style can be used decoratively, in designs that are not at all visionary, but make lovely cushions all the same. This is not to say that visionary art has to be of one particular flavour, but if I were asked to select works from this century that most define the contemporary Western spiritual experience, it would be from the work of abstract artists like Paul Klee, Wassily Kandinsky, Brancusi, Piet Mondrian, the Russian constructivists and the later paintings of Matisse. All of these artists in divers ways confirmed the mystery of spiritual presence behind the physical world, undergoing a rapid deconstruction in the light of radical discoveries in the areas of physics and psychology. There is a quirkiness in 20th century art, derived not from the reliance on established adult
orthodoxy, but from the innocence of the trusting child in a confusing world. It's the space of the wandering soul that prays for guidance and trusts its own intuition. To be precise, the primary concern of the abstract artist is the structure of reality, whereas the surrealist is more concerned with our perception of reality, and the expressionist focuses on our experience of reality. One can acknowledge Soutine and Munch as supreme masters of anguish, but what one is looking for in visionary work proper is the sublime balance of dark and light in the human experience that makes sense of the pain and reestablishes connection with the Light - the magic alignment of two polartities, beyond logic, beyond emotion. Some kind of visual equivalent of supra-consciousness. This can be achieved via figurative or humanistic images, or through abstract geometric designs, or a mixture of both. For instance, tuning into the work of Paul Klee, <53> all the qualities of the twentieth century visionary sensibility are there. To view his work is to wander into an uncorrupted, primal dreamscape full of strange beasties and beings, mysterious energies and intelligences - the seemingly irrational forms of creative imagination held together by a disciplined, orderly mind. He has been linked to both expressionism and surrealism, he drew inspiration from oriental art, folk art, children's paintings, Egyptian art. He was a philosopher, teacher, poet and musician. He used his teaching post at the Bauhaus until his dismissal by the Nazis, to develop a theory of art based on the spiritual connection of human creative genius as a reflection of the cosmic impulse of creation: The deeper he looks, the more readily he can extend his view from the present to the past, the more deeply he is impressed by the one essential image of creation itself, as Genesis, rather than by the image of nature, the finished product.<54> Klee believed children's drawings were superior to his because they 'had not been trickled through the brain'. Because of their pictorial simplicity, his paintings appear like children's, but the sophisticated and radiant colour harmonies indicate his desire to 'orchestrate' his paintings, and the simplified forms indicate a carefully arranged formal structure. There is, throughout his work, an intensity of vision that defies categorisation. There are echoes of cubism; evidence of his fascination with the colour experiments of French painter Delauny; Egyptian hieroglyphs; oriental art - but beyond all this a sense of improvisation, where the child's fertile creative space is explored for the pleasure of it, and random shapes appear, chance colour schemes. Then at some point the master takes over, and out of the fertile chaos a theme is pulled, a balance is achieved, much like a person reviewing his life at the point of death and making sense of the confusion and seemingly random detours. All the elements of expressionism, surrealism, naivety, psychological archetypes, primitivism, are all given their voice in glorious polyphony, but at the grand finale create a perfectly balanced complex of counterpoint and syncopation. His themes range from whimsical flights of fancy to a more serious examination of man's community with all created things. The single voice that unifies Klee's work is his clear- minded. open-hearted spirit, with its cultivated child-like innocence, and the cultured sophistication of the philosopher/artist The verbal/visual puns of his titles say it all: Forsaken Garden; Silver Moon-Mould Blossom; Demons at the Entrance; Whose Fault Is It?; The Snake-Goddess and her Enemy; Taking a line for a Walk; Fish Magic; Death and Fire; The Twittering Machine; Full Moon; Play On The Water; With The Eagle; Monument in a Fertile Country; Fire in the Evening. Janson refers to his work as the 'high art of cartooning', but this is to undervalue the intensity of Klee's spiritual connection with the mysteries of the cosmic creative intelligence. Another artist who worked from a space of high connection was the sculptor Constantin Brancusi. To view his masterpiece Endless Column<55>, a monument to Romanian soldiers who died fighting the Germans during the first World War, is to look directly into the column of Spirit with its lattice-work of interlocking diamond forms housing the highest centres for travelling and connection to Spirit worlds. Brancusi compared it to "a stairway to heaven" and elsewhere to "That cosmic pillar which supports the sky and makes communication possible between the heavens and the earth".<56> Drawn to mysticism and the writings of 11th century initiate Milarepa, he began an abstract sculptural tradition that has continued throughout the twentieth century, although the intensity and presence of his work has rarely been equalled. He used essential forms to suggest the opposing sides of energy, as for instance the egg shapes (potential energy) to which he gave such titles as 'The Beginning of the World'; and the Bird In Space series, suggesting kinetic energy. In his series titled 'The Kiss', he managed, with an absolute minimum of chiselled surfaces to contain the tangle and balance of male and female energies within the dense,
square form. To compare the works of Brancusi with the work of Henry Moore, a sculptor much influenced by Brancusi, is to move from transpersonal enlightenment to prepersonal enlightenment. Moore reinvented the language of shamanism with his elegant Mother and Child series, where the emphasis is on the profound etheric connection of the female with the earth energies, and the growing child within the nurturing mother. Gigantic, serpentine, female shapes with womb-like cavities through which nature can be seen, describe a transcendent, blissful state of oneness with the prima materia and the created universe. Just as a contrast, during the second World War Moore was commissioned by the government to make drawings of London during the Blitz, and his drawings of people huddled for shelter in The Tube look so like the vortex of the third eye, or indeed, the vortices of the space generally, that it appears as if the emotional atmosphere of the war induced an astral component into his work that would otherwise not have been obvious. Without using traditional occult or religious symbolism, abstract artists such as Klee, Kandinsky, Brancusi, Moore, succeed in creating images that capture the individualism so beloved of this epoch, and at the same time hold the viewer in an out-of body, out-of-mind state of consciousness, full of mystery and portent. Our generation no longer feels comfortable accepting standardised images of the Divine, and yet, no matter how thoroughly we deconstruct our cherished notions of solid reality, at some point we find ourselves back contemplating the circle, experiencing the crystal; searching patiently for the 'bindu', The Word, the first principle, the self-originated seed of Being, the pool of consciousness which all consciousness draws from, the point of both dissolution and creation. There is a word in Hindu for which there is no exact English equivalent - yantra. A yantra is the visual equivalent of a mantra - both are a means of accessing and harnessing energies, one with sound, the other with image. A yantra is a geometric design to be understood not as an abstract pattern, but as the representation of certain cosmic principles. Indeed, looked at with the third eye, the interlocking triangles, concentric circles, tongues of fire, open squares, serpents of energy, are so precisely what can be seen or experienced in meditation in the subtle structures, that yantras seem to me now to be fairly realistic. I can no longer regard them as conceptual abstractions, having experienced them directly in meditation as living structures in my energy < . 57> Genuine vision relieves abstraction of the burden of relevance which has in recent times plagued non-objective art. Much contemporary western art seems to use non-figurative forms to create analytical hypotheses based on mental constructions. Sophistocated intellectualising is no substitute for the immediacy of vision, It is the empowering of an image with the energy of direct vision that classifies it as art rather than something else. The pioneers of Western abstract art, Kandinsky, Mondrian, the constructivists et al, stripped their art of objective references because they believed that the flavour of the absolute is captured more directly in a generic abstract form rather than the specific variation based on it. They were rebelling against, first of all, realism, representing the hated materialism, and secondly, expressionism, representing vulgar emotionalism. Kandinsky wrote bitterly of the art of his time: 'Connoisseurs admire "technique", as one might admire a tightrope walker, or enjoy the "painting quality", as one might enjoy a cake. But hungry souls go hungry away <58> I .' have a feeling he might make a similar observation if he were to take a stroll around the average contemporary art show: He believed strongly that artists must struggle to find a language that speaks directly to their contemporaries, and he had a clear understanding of the direction art would take when artists moved through the personal stage to the transpersonal:'...the soul is emerging, refined by struggle and suffering. Cruder emotions, like fear, joy and grief, which belonged to this time of trial, will no longer attract the artist. He will attempt to arouse more refined emotions as yet unnamed.'<59> Kandinsky was influenced by the teachings of Rudolph Steiner, and he quoted Schumann in his discussion of the moral imperative within the artist's soul: 'To send light into the darkness of men's hearts - such is the obligation of the artist.'<60> The spiritual tradition in the west has been dominated up until the era of Post-Impressionism by church patronage, which has lead to endless variations on acceptable orthodox subjects, and prompted Kandinsky's dismissal of "a "Crucifixion" by a painter who does not believe in Christ." Raphael' s<61> paintings of the Madonna may be technically superb, rich with lyricism, conceptually innovative and dramatic, (described by one writer as "a
celestial vision of surpassing loveliness") but even so they are still on the level of the tight-rope walker. If the artist's intention is intellectual or decorative, then he will produce an intellectual or a decorative painting, no matter what the subject. El Greco<62>, on the other hand, took hackneyed religious subjects like "The Ascension" and turned them into masterpieces of spiritual ecstasy. For that matter, is Leonardo's painting of the Mona Lisa less mysterious, less metaphysical, than his painting of the Virgin and St Anne, or his painting of The Last Supper? An acceptable 'holy subject' will not necessarily be spiritual if the intensity of belief is not present, if the work is not imbued with the energy of personal experience. Similarly a secular subject, such as a bowl of fruit or a vase of flowers or a simple portrait, may become a powerful statement of spiritual intensity in the hands of a visionary artist. I remember, as a teenager, listening to Desiderius Orban<63> at his school in Sydney speaking of art as a mystical experience. He had the habit of instructing his students to gaze long at the model (in this case, me) and then to sit with eyes closed and meditate on the essence of their vision. After some time he would instruct them to begin painting without further reference to the model and permit the flow of inspiration to direct their work. The work was completed when the artist, looking at his canvas, experienced a moment of recognition. "A true work of art, he maintained, was distinguished by a quality that could be recognised but not described. This quality he called 'spirituality'."<64> Ironically, the richest spiritual tradition in Australian art is also the oldest - the Aborigine tradition of painting the Dreaming. The Dreaming is a complex metaphor that works on many levels: first of all it refers to an Aborigine version of Genesis, the creative epoch that produced the cosmos and everything in it, the heavens, the earth, and all living things. Secondly, it refers to the specific place an individual's Spirit arrived on earth, and the journey that Spirit is destined to follow. Thirdly, it refers to the existence of a social order within a tribe, and the link between a tribe and the guardian ancestors. When an artist paints his or her Dreaming, there is a rich visual vocabulary to choose from, allowing for the painting to be intensely personal, but at the same time instantly recognisable within the sacred imagery of myths and rituals. One of the most fascinating aspects of the Aborigine Dreamtime paintings is the consistent use of ariel perspective, suggesting the point of view of astral travelling. This creates a deep space between the viewer and the image and allows for a sense of time to be introduced (as in a prophecy or an archival memory). Since the image often depicts a journey, or an initiation, the ariel perspective, through distancing, lends the qualities of movement and time to what are essentially flat forms. Ritual chanting or deep meditation often accompany the progress of the work, and the best works produced from this tradition are utterly compelling in their visionary power.<65> When technical mastery is combined with direct vision, a third mysterious element is created: presence. I would define presence in a work of art as not only the power which derives from the artist's skill, but the presence of his state of mind, extending as a tangible field of energy from the painting into the space it occupies. This effect may be achieved both through abstract and figurative images - Blake used traditional figurative myths but reinvented them in the telling through his own mystical insight; Egyptian tomb painters created detailed scenes of after-life journeys with simplified but powerful stylised forms and voodoo artists create stylised, terrifying masks of demons for the same reason medieval stonemasons carved gargoyles at a certain height on Gothic cathedrals. An abstract artist like Kandinsky, in paintings such as Dominant Curve<66> or Layers,<67> is able to create high astral spaces with abstract, archetypal forms of his own invention. 'Each period of culture produces an art of its own which cannot be repeated. Efforts to revive the art principles of the past at best produce works of art that resemble a stillborn child.'<68> wrote Kandinsky in 1912, in defence of the new abstract art of the early twentieth century. It seems to me that in the latter part of the twentieth century, many serious artists are still rehashing the preoccupations of analytical cubism, De Stil and minimalism, which properly belong to another era, whereas the challenge of reinterpreting the myths and symbols of the Western spiritual tradition in the face of the disintegration of established religions, has been left to illustrators and inspirational, 'new-age' decorators. It may be because it is currently unfashionable for artists to embrace a traditional spiritual quest, but more acceptable to affect existential alienation from God and man; or it may simply be that artists genuinely feel the tradition itself is spiritually bankrupt and beyond resuscitation.
However, it should be noted that the tantric tradition is alive and well in India, after millennia of interpretation, in the work of artists such as G.R.Santosh, P.T.Reddy, O.M.Prakash and Biren De. Loosely referred to as 'NeoTantra' in various exhibitions<69>, this art reflects the way many Indians are changing to adapt to a contemporary, global culture, without losing their cultural and spiritual heritage. The symbolism of their forms, while painted in a way that suggests European abstractionism, is steeped in the ancient tantric language of inner alchemy. This may perhaps point the way for those western artists who find their spiritual selves trapped in an intellectual dead-end <70>. . I will leave the last word to John Donne <71>, an Elizabethan poet who lived in a time closer to ours in temperament than more recent centuries. His was an age characterised by scepticism, scientific discovery, and an uninhibited gratification of the senses. Throughout his 'divine poems' one can feel the palpable tension as his considerable intellect wrestles with the passion of his spiritual hunger. The irony, the wit, and the clever use of paradox all argue against the essence of the spiritual experience he craved, which is beyond the rational mind. In this sonnet, emotion and intellect are balanced in a sensual image which, oddly, unexpectedly, perfectly describes the penetration of an earth-bound soul by cosmic fire: Batter my heart three-personed God; for, you As yet but knock, breath, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new. I, like an usurpt town, to another due, Labour to admit you, but O, to no end, Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend, But is captived, and proves weak, or untrue. Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain, But am betrothed unto your enemie: Divorce me, untie or break that knot again, Take me to you, imprison me, for I Except you enthrall me, never shall be free, Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. FIFTEEN CULTIVATING VISION
Exercise 1 Awakening the Third Eye. This exercise is described and explained in great detail in chapter three of Awakening the Third Eye, by Samuel Sagan. (1) Use the vibration of the Larynx during friction breathing to connect with the Eye, and then gradually explore the different spaces of your Eye. (2) You can be in the Eye with your physical eyes closed, in which case you will explore your inner spaces.
(3) You can be in the Eye with your physical eyes open, in which case you will see the physical world differently: meaning your senses will pick up physical information differently. You can feel intoxicated just by being in the Eye. You can feel 'stoned' just by being in the eye. Being in the Eye alters your state of being, it is another kind of consciousness. (4) You can rest in the Eye in moments of distress, in stressful situations, in times of confusion. It is a haven of peace and calm. It is your Eye of the storm. If you find yourself caught up in the midst of conflict, you can be in it but not of it. You can use the Eye to deflect or reflect hostile energies.
Exercise 2: Clear Mode is a simple technique for the cultivation of heightened awareness: (1) Pick an activity, decide that that activity will be the one in which you are automatically in the clarity of the eye. Do this consistently for a week. (2) Note the changes in your energy when you are in the eye, as opposed to when you are not in the eye. How does the world look to you? How do you react to people? situations? What brings you out of the eye? (3) Add a few more activities to your clear mode practise, until a large part of the day is spent automatically in the eye. (4) Notice which situations or activities automatically pull you out of the eye into emotional or mental states. These are your key to the major samskaras holding you in negative behavioural patterns. Use the eye to penetrate these spots with consciousness. When you have a clear awareness of what it means to be in the eye, how it affects your perception of the world, of yourself, then apply this understanding to your work: (1) make sure you are in the eye before you begin to work. (2) take frequent breaks to re-establish connection with the space during the work. (3) be aware that you are in the space of the connection, and that the connection is working directly through you. (4) be sure that the connection is with pure verticality, the highest part of yourself. (5) if you feel physically fatigued, do a night practise. (6) if you feel etherically polluted, practise etheric excretion, if you feel etherically drained go for a walk and absorb earth energies, or have a swim or a shower. (7) if you feel the astral is blocked, do an ISIS. (8) be vigilant that your connection is with the Spirit.
Exercise 3: Separation of the subtle bodies from the physical. This is a lying-down practice, referred to as 'Night Practice', to be performed every time you want to have a rest or go to sleep. It promotes a conscious awareness of the actual moment of separation when the physical vehicle is left behind, and the consciousness takes a trip. Cultivating awareness of the layers of consciousness leads to a direct experience of the body of energy, and to the development of vision.
Essentially Night Practice is about refining the consciousness through experiencing the subtle bodies as separate entities. It is also the beginning of astral travelling and 'lucid dreaming'. If you use the night practice technique in conjunction with music, tuning into the sounds will take you to certain spaces. There are a variety of Night Practice tapes available from the Clairvision School. You can use them in different ways, according to which structures and spaces you wish to explore, and according to whether you wish to use the practice for recovery, vision or travelling.
Exercise 4; Threshold Consciousness. There are certain crucial shifts in energy fields that provide an opportunity for heightening awareness. Sunrise and sunset are classic times; also changes in the moon cycle; the summer and winter solstices; certain powerful conjunctions; and the precious moments of falling asleep and awakening. An adapted version of night practice should be used consistently when dropping off to sleep, in the sense of taking off, and waking in the morning, as in landing. There is a razor's edge between waking consciousness and sleeping consciousness, which is neither waking nor sleeping and it is possible to feel the click as you pass across it. Retaining consciousness while in the sleeping or dreaming layers may be gradually cultivated as an act of will. Upon awakening it is advised to stay in the eye and remain motionless for a short while, so as to recover astral memories of travelling during the night. You can also combine Clear Mode with Threshold Consciousness, simply by being aware every time you pass through a doorway.
Exercise 5: Sacred Geometry. There are many ways of using archetypal shapes to intensify meditation experiences. You can use eye contact with a physical picture, such as a yantra, or a Tarot symbol, and let the image work its magic on your energy, or you can go into the space with eyes closed, and direct your consciousness into the layers where the archetypes are stored. A classic example is the use of three ascending triangles during night practice, to assist with a smooth transition from the physical to the astral. A geometric shape can be used in the astral as a signature, so that if you meet a guardian at a threshold, you can gain access to a space - providing your shape is acceptable of course. There are many mysteries associated with sacred geometry, in accordance with ancient rituals for the summoning of certain powers. A simple practise of meditating regularly on these geometric forms will reveal many unexpected secrets in the space.
Exercise 6: Walking. Sri Aurobindo was a great fan of walking, so are the people of Tibet. Walking can be as much a moving meditation as Tai Chi, if one walks with awareness. It is a perfect opportunity for practising techniques of the eye, at the same time there is a loosening of the astral body from the physical/etheric, which is why one feels so relaxed after a walk. Because the physical body is still going through the physical motions of walking, and a certain amount of alertness is needed so that one doesn't fall down a hole, one is able to cultivate an active separation of the astral from the physical, without losing physical consciousness, and gauge exactly how present one is at all times.
Exercise 7:
Sounds may be used to enhance third eye awareness, particularly birdcalls, which are like an ancient, beautiful language that we once understood, and also wind music and water music. Certain traffic sounds, especially if heard in the distance, have an effect on the astral. Some composers can lift one to very high creative spaces. Many artists take advantage of this and listen to music while they are working. However, if, like me, you are one of those people who sees sounds, then listening to music can be very distracting and interfere with the creative process. The human voice has the power to move energy and create spaces, not only chanting and singing, but also speaking. Working on the voice can change a person's entire energy. Also. if you are ever contemplating a business or personal relationship, make use of the telephone. The telephone is an amplifier of astral frequencies, and any falseness in a person's voice is immediately amplified; so also is the heart quality. It is always very easy to ascertain the space a person is speaking from on the telephone. All kinds of sounds and music may be used during meditation to create spaces and facilitate connections.
Exercise 8: Earth energies. There is everything to be gained from cultivating sensitivity to earth energies. Simply tuning in to our connection with the earth via the lower chakras can be grounding and strengthening. There is much information and practical work on earth lines, ley-lines and dowsing. Trees are living beings, full of knowledge, and can act as conduits between us and the earth. Sitting in communion with trees is powerful and emotionally soothing. Trees are capable of absorbing our emotions, they find such complex energies interesting, so be generous with your grief, your anger and your despair. Our physical consciousness rests on our experience of gravity in matter, and the earth is the largest container of physical consciousness that we have direct access to; tuning into it is like tuning into the deepest layers of our subconscious. It is also an interesting exercise to try and distinguish the intelligence of the earth being itself, as distinct from all the elemental and astral beings which inhabit it.
Exercise 9: Water energies epitomise the etheric; the female; primordial waters; maternity; cleansing. Just the sound of water can take me deep into the space. I believe one could base one's entire meditation practice around water if one wanted to, starting with breathing techniques under the water, and climaxing with the enlightenment of walking on it.
Exercise 10: Star energies have a potent awakening effect on both the astral and the Ego. Tuning into stars before going to sleep is a time-honoured way to assure good travelling. As well, drinking in the energies of the stars can feel as if one is touching the sphere of very advanced beings. Different stars have distinctly different energies, just as they have different colours. Different people are drawn to particular stars, and can rest on this energy in difficult times.
Exercise 11: The Moon cycle: tuning into the energies of the waxing and waning moon offer immediate openings during practises of self-transformation. Alchemically, the Moon (representative of the principle of cosmic water) is a reflection of the Sun (representative of the principle of cosmic fire) in the physical/etheric layer, so the power of the moon is all about manifestation. The waning moon is the time for clearing all kinds of negative beliefs from the mental/emotional layer, and the limiting characters that have crystallised around them during one's lifetime -
one can waste one's whole lifetime living in a character that is merely the product of childhood conditioning. Such conditioning may have been discarded on an intellectual level, but it lives on in prejudices, emotions, and irrational attachments. The waxing moon is the time for making permanent connections with high states of consciousness, and for the welcoming of powerful energies into your life. Quite often a goal set with clarity and decisiveness in the first part of the cycle, will come to fruition in the second. The time of the new moon is a time to be protective of one's energy as there is a shift happening and an instability in the space. The time of the full moon often gives an opening of vision, as the space is expanded and access is easy. Some people are very uncomfortable at the time of the full moon, and avoid all forms of social intercourse, as they feel unable to protect their energy. Other people revel in the feeling of vast etheric expansion, and rest comfortably in the moon's fullness, enjoying the expanded vision that it brings.
Exercise 12: Relationships: stay in the eye during all kinds of interactions with different people, so that you are able to see the interactions as tangible flows of energy, and understand how they affect you. It is always a great relief to realise that much of your emotional turmoil is not yours at all, but an energy you have picked up from your loved ones. You then have the chance to 'avoid certain loud and aggressive persons', as Max Ehrmann suggests in Desiderata, or if you are feeling centred, you could try radiating the light of the Spirit from the atom of the heart chakra, as it has a calming effect on those around you. Intense sexual experiences have a major awakening effect on the etheric, so long as the heart chakra remains open. It's my observation that if the heart chakra is closed during sexual exchanges, both the etheric and the astral bodies are damaged.
Exercise 13: The heart connection. Visionary art always has a strong heart flavour. There are many ways to work on opening the heart chakra, but essentially, every time we interrelate we are given an opportunity to open the heart. The space of the heart is all-embracing and non-judgemental. From this space we can radiate the Spirit through the most refined layers of the etheric. It is not uncommon to advance spiritually without developing the heart chakra, but there is an essential human quality of earthy warmth and good humour in an open heart that is noticeable when absent.
Exercise 14: The power of Prayer. It is not difficult to pray: just become like a child - innocent, helpless and trusting. Spiritual beings are eager to make a connection with us, so there is no need for us to go through life feeling alone and abandoned. All that is required is an opening, but we learn in childhood that it is dangerous to be open, so we close off, developing an inferior samskaric armour that lets only a small amount of light in or out. When eventually we reconnect with the Light, we are clothed in an infinitely more powerful armour, and the more open we are, the more Light we can hold, and the more Light we can radiate. However, there is that crucial naked moment when we drop the samskaric layer in order to open to the Light, without having any protection at all. This step from the darkness to the Light is like walking over a precipice, and the fear holds us like a straightjacket. So basically, opening to the Light is an act of trust, which is very difficult for adults to achieve. In this approach, we begin with a cultivation of the third eye techniques, which can be used as a basis for developing vision. I wish you good practice. Copyright (c) Janis Lander 1996
This confers International Copyright under the Universal Copyright Convention. All rights reserved. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of review or research, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced by any process without written permission.
Appendix 1. Artists, authors and film makers referred to in the text.
Woody Allan W.H.Auden Max Beckmann Beethoven William Blake Constantin Brancusi Pieter Bruegel Paul Cezanne Samuel Taylor Coleridge Salvador Dali Leonardo Da Vinci Birren De Robert Delaunay El Greco Max Ernst William Faulkner Paul Gauguin Alberto Giacometti Francisco Goya Robert Graves Gerard Manley Hopkins Paul Klee Wassily Kandinsky Magritte
Henri Matisse Michaelangelo Milarepa Amadeo Modigliani Piet Mondrian Claude Monet Edvard Munch Henry Moore Freidrich Nietzsche Pablo Picasso O.M.Prakash Pythagoras Raphael P.T.Reddy Rembrandt Sogyal Rinpoche Samuel Sagan G.R.Santosh Satprem Jerry Seinfeld Georges Seurat Shakespeare Chaim Soutine Sri Aurobindo Stephen Spender Rudolf Steiner The Mother Dylan Thomas Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec
Dylan Thomas J.M.W.Turner Maurice Utrillo Vincent Van Gogh Fred Williams Tom Wolf Paramanhansa Yoganandra
Appendix 2. Source material for further reading.
Alchemy. Anthroposophy Astrology Art Nouveau Australian Aborigine Art Celtic Mythology Cosmology Egyptian Art Greek Mythology Icons Kabbalah and The Tree of Life. Post-Impressionism Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood Mandalas North American Native Art Occult Symbolism Russian Constructivism Sand Paintings Tantric Art
Theosophy The Tarot Yantras
Note about the Author. Janis Lander is an artist and writer. She completed a Bachelor of Arts degree from Sydney University, majoring in Fine Arts and Literature; and a Dip.Art from Julian Ashton Art School. From 1975-1982 she lived and worked in California, collaborating on various screenplays. At the same time she continued to explore different styles of painting. Since 1982 she has lived in Sydney. Her work is clearly inspired by the natural surroundings of Parsley Bay, where she lives. Through her paintings we also see a reflection of her deep interest in trees and earth energies. She has executed many private commissions and portraits, and exhibited in many regional shows. As well, she has designed posters and record covers. She is represented in private collections in Australia and overseas, including Germany, France and U.S.A..
EXHIBITIONS 1996 Solo Show - Eaglehawk Galleries, Sydney. Solo Show - Clairvision School. 1995 Group Show - Gallery Gaia, Paddington Group Show - ZEST, Sydney University 1994 Group Show - Graphis Galleries, Woollahra 1993 Group Show - Brandling St Painters Group 1992 Group Show - The Wall Gallery, Paddington. 1991 Solo Show - The Cove Gallery, Circular Quay Group Show - Incursions Co-operative '91 Group Show - The Wall Gallery, Paddington. 1990 Group Show - S.H.Ervin Gallery Group Show - The Rocks Gallery. Solo Show - Goodday Café, Circular Quay. 1988 Group Show - Kelly St Kolective, Ultimo 1987 Group Show - Holdsworth Galleries, Woollahra Published Books: Vision And Art (a presentation of the tradition and a discussion of current trends.) Published as an electronic book on The Internet, July1996 : web site http://clairvision.org/
Books in progress: Between Lives An illustrated story for children.
Titus And Boyd. An illustrated story for children Virtual Art Gallery On The Internet- Paintings of the Subtle Bodies
Web Site; http//clairvision.org/ 1996 Janis Lander is an accredited member of the Clairvision Practitioners Network, and conducts both private sessions and practical workshops in vision and creativity.
Endnotes 1 Chapter 13 addresses the question of a definition of visionary art, and offers a discussion of the tradition of spiritual art and current and future directions. 2 The Clairvision School is a western school of esotericism designed to train people to a high degree of selftransformation, spiritual development and esoteric knowledge. The school offers long-term weekly courses as well as intensive residential courses designed for interstate and overseas students. For information write to PO Box 33, Roseville NSW 2069, Australia. 3 Sagan, Samuel: Awakening the Third Eye, Clairvision School Press 1990 4 There are many references in the rituals of indigenous peoples to astral travelling, for instance Australian aborigines, American Indians. There is a wonderful scene in the film Little Big Man ( C.B.S. Fox 1970) where the old Indian chief decides he has witnessed one massacre too many and his time has come to depart this world. So he goes up on a hill and lies down to give up his Spirit, but much to his irritation, his Spirit will not leave; his people have lost the ability to die at will. Samuel Sagan says that this ability was commonplace to the people of Atlantis, and that gradually as humans have evolved, the relationship of the subtle bodies to the physical body has altered. 5 The Temple Legend, Rudolf Steiner, lecture 2 6 Of course there are also people who have artistic vision but choose not to develop it. The French have a word for this: artist manqué 7 Wolf Columbia Pictures 1994 8 According to Steiner, Nietzche received the dark force of Ahriman full intensity. His unstable nature would have made it difficult for him to assess such a vision, in the way that all Spiritual leaders have to deal with visions of hell as well as of heaven. Even Jesus was tempted by the dark forces: Matthew 4:1; Luke 4:1 9 Gerard Manley Hopkins 1844-1889 10 Various techniques of purification and protection are described in chapter V111 and chapter XVII of Awakening the Third Eye by Samuel Sagan. See especially XVII.11 and XVII.12 11 For detailed information about entities read Entities Parasites of the Body of Energy, by Samuel Sagan, Clairvision School Foundation, 1994 12 The myth of Er, at the end of the last book of The Republic. 13 Sagan, Samuel, Entities, Parasites of the Body of Energy, Clairvision, Sydney 1994 This book via case histories, describes the process of first seeing an entity, understanding its influences and then having it cleared.
14 The term 'darkness visible' is a Masonic term, referred to in their rituals. I am using it here in the sense in which it is used in Atlantean Secrets by Samuel Sagan. In this epic novel the phrase 'darkness visible' (apart from being a pun of sorts) serves as a literal description of the space of the eye, used in the story for communication, for vision and for travelling. 15 Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772-1834 16 William Turner 1775-1851. 17 William Blake 1757-1827. 18 Stephen Spender 190919 Steiner, Rudolf, The Balance in the World and Man, Lucifer and Ahrihman, p.15. In a series of lectures given in November 1914 Steiner says:'...in their rightfully allotted place, Lucifer and Ahriman work beneficially; in their wrongful place - there they are injurious.' 20 Psalm 22, Knox translation: 'dark be the valley about my path'. 21 Matthew 6:22 Knox translation. See also Luke 11:34,35 " If thy eye is clear the whole of thy body will be lit up; when it is diseased, the whole of thy body will be in darkness. Take good care then that this principle if light which is in thee is light, not darkness..." 22 Sagan, Samuel, Cairvision School Foundation, Sydney, 1996, Atlantean Secrets. This is a four-volume epic describing among other things, energy practices in Atlantis. 23 The paradox of the third eye is that when you are moving into it feels like you are moving into or through a tunnel, but when you are in it, it feels like being in a vast space. See Awakening the Third Eye III.10 for a more detailed explanation. 24 See Regression, Past-Life Therapy for Here and Now Freedom, by Samuel Sagan, Clairvision School Foundation for a description of the process. 25 Fred Williams 1927-1982 26 See: Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yoganandra, Self-Realisation Fellowship, this edition 1993; The Adventure of Consciousness by Satprem, Sri Aurobindo Ashram Trust 19<68>. 27 Oonagh Sherrard. 28 Constantin Brancusi (1876-1957) Romanian sculptor. See Varia R: Brancusi, Universe Publishing 1995. 29 The Apuan Alps was a place Michaelangelo returned to several times to excavate blocks of marble. The solitude and wildness of the place appealed to his creative imagination as much as the high-grade marble from the quarries (see The Life and Times of Michaelangelo pub. Paul Hamlyn, p.23.) H.W.Janson in A History of Art, p.358 wrote: 'As he conceived his statues to be bodies released from their marble prison, so the body was the earthly prison of the soul - noble, surely, but a prison nevertheless. This dualism of body and spirit endows his figures with their extraordinary pathos; outwardly calm, they seem stirred by an overwhelming psychic energy that has no release in physical action.' 30 William Faulkner 1897-1962. He won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1949. 31 Gerard Manley Hopkins: Poems and Prose. Ed. W.H.Gardner 32 Shawshank Redemption (Castlerock 1995) 33 Henri Matisse 1869-1954.
34 Claud Monet 1840-1926. 35 The Mother 1878-1973. Born in Paris, she came to stay with Sri Aurobindo (1872-1950) in Pondicherry in 1920. She took charge of the ashram at Pondicherry until her death. 36 Satprem, Sri Aurobindo or The Adventure of Consciousness, translated from the French by Tehmi, p.87. Sri Aurobindo Ashram Trust. 1968 37 Pieter Bruegel the Elder 1525/30-1569 38 W.H.Auden 1907-1973 39 Dylan Thomas 1914-1953, Welsh-born poet, playwright, novelist. 40 This story is quoted in Awakening the Third Eye p.193. The Catholic Church had a strict teaching on the subject when I was a child: if you died in a state of Grace you went to Heaven; if you died in a state of mortal sin you went to hell; everybody else spent time in purgatory. Eastern spiritual practices are more scientific in their approach: in The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, Sogyal Rinpoche describes an incident he witnessed as a child when a monk, Lama Tseten, lay dying, and his master Jamyang Khyentse reached his bedside about ten minutes too late, the monk had passed on. Whereupon the Master sat down beside the bed and brought the monk back into his body so that he could take him out again the right way. Thus the monk was able to effect a smooth transition at the time o death. Sogyal Rinpoche describes this incident as a 'display of spiritual mastery' pp 6-7. 41 Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec 1864-1901 42 Amedeo Modigliani 1884-1920 There are numerous stories of Modigliani's working habits: 'Lunia Czechowska noted that he worked best in a rage stoked by cheap brandy or rough red wine'; and Jacques Lipchitz recalled that when he commissioned Modigliani to paint his portrait he was told "My price is ten francs a sitting and a little alcohol." (The Great Artists, pp.2411;2412. Marshall Cavendish Ltd.) 43 Pablo Picasso 1881-1970 44 Francisco Goya 1746-1828 45 Rembrandt 1606-1669 46 Klee, Paul, On Modern Art, Faber Editions, 1966, p 49 47 Shakespeare Macbeth Act V sc.5 48 A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act III sc.2 49 Vincent Van Gogh 1853-1890 50 Paul Gauguin 1848-1903 51 Paul Cézanne 1839-1906 52.Janson, H.W, A History Of Art.Thames and Hudson, p. 505 53 Paul Klee 1879-1940 54 Klee, Paul, On Modern Art, p.45 55 The Endless Column, 1937-38, cast iron covered in golden bronze, Tirgu Jin, Romania. 56 Chave, Anna C. Constantin Brancusi, p.251
