The modern day mystery school is not bound by location.

We are taught in dreams, downloads or what I prefer to call the Song of Creation.

 

Repeating, forgetting

That we create reality from our I Magi Nation,

Wondering why we can no longer trust information.

 

What goes in must come out.

Consciousness bio feedback,

Dancing with itself.

 

Holographic fractals looping in time cycles;

A Hall of Mirrors spinning wildly on a Merry Go Around ride.

We are all trying to figure it out.

The hidden world of what lies inside.

 

Through observing nature the ability of seeing clearly becomes ten fold.

Finding the right wisdom in the right moment awakens

Forgotten knowledge and memories of old.

 

Every class room is different as the furniture is rearranged upon the stage,

Yet in each repeating cycle, the teaching remains the same.

 

The path of truth and creation

Is not an easy path.

It is not an immediate way to happiness

As we muddle through darkness and despair

In ignorance of our past.

 

To become a responsible Creator

In the face of challenges and adversity

Is not a comfortable, cosy way of being.

As we meet steep hills and deep ravines,

Seeing wisely in all directions is to experience the difficult things.

 

Yet a fulcrum of balance

Stabilises each of us from within.

A pillar of light aligns us as the pendulum;

Swaying between constellations,

Illuminating inner stellariums.

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Tuning the Inner Compass dial on the radio.

Navigating towards a station called Home.

 

Finding the middle place we find attitude, strength and grace.

In there, we overcome all manner of extremes,

As we recall the arts and inner wisdom teachings

Imparted to us by the ancient Magian Priests.