The Process

by Sam M. Phillips

I walk into the study,

I select paper,

I select pen,

I slow my breath,

I slow my thoughts,

I remove my shirt,

I sit at my desk,

I place pen and paper before me,

I ring the bell,

I let silence break

And then come back,

Here and now,

In the silence,

I write,

Ignoring all else.

My mind turns to the river,

I contemplate the way it flows past,

What is here now will soon be gone,

Such are the worries of life.

I cut out areas of perception

In order to allow others to flood in,

The reality of the psyche,

A passive state,

Concentration on nothing.

I am ruthless,

Now possessed,

I am yours,

Take me to that other faculty,

Open the unnamed sense,

And provide nourishment for it.

Lesser Arcana,

Speaking of youth,

An interpretation,

You are sure to be both

Right and wrong.

I mimic warfare,

Diamonds and hearts,

The Sun and the Moon,

They work as one,

Work against each other,

Then both fade.

A whole realm,

Satisfying study of what is within,

The heart of the ancient books,

And the ten aspects of God.

I seek a grounding,

And a liberation,

Each path, a symptom,

Each door, a symbol.

Form of divination,

Complex correspondence,

Rules and disciplines,

Explored intellectually,

Then cast away,

Harsh, dogmatic, pedantic.

Capable potential,

Another seeker,

The first forty years spent

Taking just one step,

A monastery,

Joining a desert to a forest,

The trees hold learning,

Am I a machine?

Hour by hour,

Gone,

Then here again,

Who answers when I call?

Moment of intensity,

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Emotions, meanings,

A lecture with no words.

Complete trust,

Remove effort,

Let the stream of consciousness flow,

Secret knowledge,

Coming from practice.

Each small pin,

Each tiny screw,

Moving restlessly,

An antidote to this attitude,

The moral sounds obvious,

The pen cannot translate.

A silver bullet and a sorcerer,

Letters written in ancient language,

Exaggerate a weakness,

Be patient,

It will come.

It is haunting me, haunting my house,

Sticky yellow fingers claw their way into my mind,

A tingle flows down my spine,

I ignore it and go deeper.

An opportunity,

Confidential letter,

Who are you to invade my thoughts?

I am weak in the wrong ways,

A ruby ring,

Illuminate and then realise,

There is no secret,

All is known.

Spirit medium,

Witch,

Tortured,

Not my fate in this life,

But my soul still bears the scars.

Speaking universally is disagreeable,

I can only speak for myself,

But my own life reflects the whole,

The universal.

Revelation of beast’s immortality,

Shifting from body to body,

An endless journey,

The true body does not change form.

Selected to perform a sacrifice,

A prediction is forthcoming,

A student, a ruler,

Live long and short,

And reappear within this life.

Recover what is lost,

A photograph and a bad omen,

Recall a marriage,

Stretched out.

Over-anxiety,

Must calm down,

Release myself from my surroundings,

What will any of this matter,

In ten years time?

More complex than what appears on the surface,

All is more interesting than you give credit,

Be at peace, be still,

Hear the birds, feel the pen scratch,

Flow with the subtle variations

That bubble and boil within this body,

I will never have another quite like it.

A magic brew,

An eternal two-way affair,

Give me life,

And in turn,

I will lend you mine

For a time.

Without me,

You are nothing,

Without you,

I am nothing.

Relax and grasp the deeper levels,

Stir the cauldron,

Surrender to the emotional storm,

Watch it,

But do not identify with it.

A new, broader reality opens up before me,

I must stay vigilant,

I see a desert, pink and purple,

With no horizon,

It is neither day, nor night.

Time dissolves into a pool,

I cup it with my hands

And drink deeply,

Muse poet,

Magician,

Be born.

A second illumination,

Degenerate into fire,

Turn to ash,

Turn to earth,

Grow from seed,

Then burn.

A conviction,

Magical methods,

Divination,

Prophecy of an old castle

Built on a steep rock,

Dominate the landscape,

Flow down over all things,

Cast your malevolent shadow,

And watch the death come.

Moon men and Earth women,

Pull me under,

Make me a sceptic,

These spirit writings have no purpose,

Only the state of trance matters.