A Little Bit Messy
Have you ever wondered what exactly goes on in the place I call The Mystic’s Parlour? I hope so because that’s what I’m going to talk about this week.
I virtually constructed (for lack of a better word at time of publication) an ethereal space based on the Rosicrucian concept of the Celestial Sanctum, and it’s evolved into a cosmic-level home for my esoteric experience, including tarot, Daoist studies and cultivations, my magical practices, and now, my writing. I suppose some version of The Mystic’s Parlour has always been part of who I am. As the last one born in my family, years after my older siblings, I grew up very much like an only child. I spent a great deal of time alone, but I was always content and happy. My vivid imagination was, and still is, fed by my favorite authors and the worlds they created within the pages of their books. Throughout my childhood, I regularly traveled time, space and distance, without ever venturing farther than the branches of the Sycamore tree in the front yard, or my dad’s dormant ice-cream truck parked for the winter in the side yard (I drove all over the world in that thing, with piles of itchy, green, army-issue bankets to keep me warm). As I grew older, I taught myself how to walk between all the worlds, and how to recognize the portals to those worlds whenever they presented themselves. I’ve always been my own place of refuge, and it now has a name.
The Mystic’s Parlour I envision during my meditation sessions is a comfortable space full of colors, textures, soft lights and shadows, and the things I find important such as tarot decks, books, crystals, magical tools, sentimental trinkets, and a smally furry creature or two. It’s cozy and warm in the winter and cool and inviting in the summer. It’s messy, but a ‘clean’ kind messy littered with curated clutter, but no crumbs or spills or yesterday’s tea mugs hanging about. I imagine the room is wrapped in a magical orb, which is both delicate and strong with an iridescent shimmer like a soap bubble, and tidied up regularly by a house elf. If this is the case, I should probably check their compensation. It requires a lot of dusting, and I wouldn’t want my competent caretaker searching for greener pastures.
This imaginary place resides on the cusp between the direct contradiction that is my imagination and my reality. Comfort is a priority, but part of me wants it to be sleek and modern, with clean lines and lots of clear space and everything out of sight and in perfect order, in a high-rise apartment with an urban vista view. Another part of me would like to live in a quaint bungalow with an overgrown garden and lots of nooks and shelves for the books I’ve left unfinished and the many scraps of paper I’ve tucked into notebooks that hold my writing thoughts and other scribbles. I want both places to coexist at the same time. I think the closest compromise would either be in New York City, overlooking Central Park or in the Garden District of New Orleans, yet another part of me wants to be near the beach so neither of these places are the answer and the reason why I’ll probably stay exactly where I am. None of this really matters howeever because the mystical parlour inside my head is perfect wherever it, or I, physically exists.
This past weekend marked the pagan cross-quarter fire holiday of Beltane (in the northern hemisphere). The hours between sundown on April 30 and sundown on May 1 mark the half-point between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice. This time also marks the half point of the wheel of the year. The veil between the worlds is at its thinnest point, the same as it is at Samhain, on October 31 (this is reversed in the southern hemisphere and it’s very confusing now that the internet brings us all together). During these days, we walk between the worlds of the living and the dead, between the worlds of humans and otherkin, and there is almost no differentiation between the world we know, and those we don’t. We may not be consciously aware of this but if we pay attention, we’re bound to witness something we can’t fully explain. Time inside The Mystic's Parlour hangs in a state of suspension that's very much like these days. It's the time in between time.
Dawn and sunset are the time between bats and birds. First, the darkness gives way to light. After a few hours, the light begins handing back a little more darkness, moment by moment, until the shadow of night overtakes the sun. We often refer to these times as liminal and while that’s true, it doesn’t mean the space in between times is empty. There is always overlap. The paths of the birds and bats crisscross in the twilight at both dawn and dusk. The seasons give and take their warm sun and cool breezes before they finally settle. The tide covers the beach, then recedes. This is the best explanation I can think to describe the location of The Mystic’s Parlour. Somewhere between Central Park and the beaches of the Gulf of Mexico. Between night and day. At the threshold between this room, and the next.
I’ve recently discovered Solfeggio frequencies as part of my evening-into-night transition. When I say discovered, I really mean ‘have become obsessed with the concept of’ Solfeggio frequencies and how they connect with the Chakras, and how the Chakras are prevalent in many beliefs and cultures. The meridians of our bodies are connected to the meridians of the earth. And the meridians of the earth are connected to the web of the cosmos. Vibrational frequencies are the language of the cosmos, and our bodies connect to and react with those frequencies to heal the damage caused by stress and toxins that surround us. I’ll post a link down below for anyone who’s interested in giving them a try.
Immersing myself in the different frequencies has enabled me to connect with the energy of The Mystic’s Parlour on an entirely new level. It’s previously been a non-descript place to park all my metaphysical thoughts and ideas but incorporating this cosmic power has allowed it to take shape and form into something more than an ethereal concept. It’s becoming as tangible and real as any brick-and-mortar building. Moreso, even, because this building is immune to the imperfections and weaknesses of something constructed of fallible materials.
Energy refuses to stand still and must have somewhere to go. For me, this means re-examining the tarot, looking for both the deeper and broader meanings of the cards, one card at a time. It’s an exercise in patience and inner fortitude as I’ve always tended to skim over details while trying to get to the finish line, or the answer (old work habits die hard) and I'm now teaching myself to slow down. The card I drew on the first of May, to serve as a beacon and point of focus throughout the month, was The Hanged Man. My initial download from this was to get comfortable and settle in because I have a lot to examine from this new perspective. I’ll let you know how the month goes in a few weeks.
The Mystic’s Parlour is flexible, adaptable, and accessible and is an environment well suited for the work I must do in order to connect with the magic contained within on a deeper level, in order to bring a more profound version out into the world. The stoop’s been swept, and the welcome mat is out. It’s a little bit messy but there’s tea and maybe some biscuits, and there is room for anyone who would like to stop by. I hope you’ll continue to come along for the ride, and we can explore the mysteries of the cosmos together. This could get interesting.
Here’s a link to the Solfeggio Frequencies on the Meditative Mind YouTube Channel. I’ve been using them at night, on the Meditative Mind app as I fall asleep (a headband with flat headphones was the gadget I didn’t know I needed) and while I almost never have trouble falling asleep, this has taken my ‘good’ sleep right off the charts.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=goyZbut_KFY
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