“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”
- Anaïs Nin
As we walk the paths and tracks of life there is a constant urge within that asks us if we should stay or move on at every waymark and fork in the road. The choice to stay, to make the sojourn at an oasis of pleasure, bane or blessing is given at all times – and with this death comes as a shady friend to ask us to stay and accept the state encountered. Our journey in the world brings meetings with other pilgrims, journeymen and lovers – here worlds can collide or merge. In our journey we all take on guides – willingly or by our acts and declarations to the world – and our guiding stars and the intelligence of our daimon will prepare the unique map that is your life – a journey of a thousand possibilities...
At times we restrain our selves, because we do not want to lose ourselves. Quite often we do not want to lose ourselves because we have laid down our anchor in still and safe waters. We chose a state to remain in because it is safe, because it leaves us free from hurt. But is it not through our scars and wounds we give light the call to enter our soul?
In this journey we know as life – this combination of states where we constantly chose to stay or leave – lies at the essence of love with his fiery arrows and flapping wings. The most misunderstood angel of all, Cupid – Eros – the fruit of love becoming mercury and movement when taken as daimon will perhaps give little rest at the stations chosen, but he will inspire loving-kindness, a constant passion and ignite love again and again as the honey drenched steps on the track of life is taken.
By taking on Eros as ones lantern and staff fights will occur, darkness will embrace land and heart and passion will beat in the rhythm of confusion as we make our selves vulnerable. This is his passionate nature moving the world and worlds. This means that even on the path of love destruction, hatred and antagonism might seek you out (because, it naturally makes part of its mystery…) – to give you those blows that enables light and bitter- sweet orchids to enter your soul. The lover is at all times armored with honey – it be soaked in poison or herbs of revelry and debauchery – and as such the warrior lover is like the samurai that breaths frost roses on his or her blade and cut through ignorance and hatred with a passionate smile that enables the journey onward for all involved – if they accept the light to enter.
The cult of Eros/Cupid in Antiquity had few sanctuaries - as he was the juice of life itself! The process of becoming as we move away from temporary death and embrace the ecstasy of constant being, renewal and becoming! The question is at all times if you want to live your life in ecstatic waves or in the staircase of death and forgetfulness…
In the shimmering lights of the lantern of Eros life is a forest – a forest of symbols. As we enter this wood we can walk as lovers, warriors, goats, peacocks, ghost and whatever chosen and taken. The choice assumed reveals beacons of light and guides that take us towards the peaks of a life lived in passion and the valleys of refusing life and hence - death. The lover will seduce life as much as death and spread honey of venom or lust as each state realized is left in celebrations of life… Because in love we also find a rainbow of polarities – and the powers to conquer it all – the essence of the journey itself. If this be your journey love herself will reveals herself in the woods of the world, red of tooth and claw, but draped in peace and the promise of rest…her embrace will be a living temple that brings oracles and passions to the journey itself – or as Charles Baudelaire told it in one of his evil flowers given from his heart of love…
of confused words is, sometimes, allowed to fall:
Man travels it, through forests of symbols, that all
observe him, with familiar looks.
Like far echoes that distantly congregate,
in a shadowy and profound unity,
vast as the night air, in its clarity,
perfumes, colours, sounds reverberate.
There are fresh perfumes, like the flesh of children,
mellow as oboes, green as prairies,
- and others, rich, glorious and forbidden,
having the expansive power of infinities,
amber, musk, benjamin and incense,
that sing of the ecstasies of spirit and sense.