The Cosmic Logos (20 page)

A
symphony of vibrant pastel colour played upon the glittering celestial walls that formed the miraculous foyer in which Tory stood.

DK had brought her forth to this dwelling inside the outer court of the sacred city and although the area was huge they were the only occupants. The master had explained it to be a kind of quarantine area where the physical bodies of spiritual initiates could reside in peace, whilst working out any leftover karma they might have via subjective world service. This interlude as a spirit before making the Great Renunciation, gave the soon-to-be adepts some experience in subjective world mastery and protocol.

The architecture of this ‘quarantine area' alone was completely unlike anything Tory had seen before, as it was built of thought matter and not physical matter; therefore, the laws of physics did not bind it. The walls curved all over the place. In one semi-circular area, stairs ran up both walls to meet at a platform in the middle, where an archway led to chambers. The unusual thing about the horseshoe shaped stairways was that the stairs had no definable supports — they rested on thin air. The sweet scent of a thousand flowers that always accompanied an Otherworldly mist, was prominent here as were the strong pulsing vibrations of a ley crossing. Uluru in Australia was a major ley crossing as well, but if Uluru marked the navel of the planet, Shamballa was the heart.

‘We are in the Otherworld?' Tory asked, as her surroundings appeared denser than astral substance, but not as solid as physical world matter.

‘This outer court of Shamballa resonates to a vibratory rate of the etheric world, yes,' DK granted.

The etheric world was the overall picture of cosmic space and acted as a matrix for all the seven planes of expression and their inhabitants. In Sanskrit, the mother goddess was named Matrix, meaning ‘that which gives form'. The etheric world could support all manner of forms: physical, astral, mental, causal and beyond. Kuthumi's library, like Taliesin's labyrinth and the Sensor-sphere, were composed of physical matter in etheric space. This was the first mental structure Tory had ever encountered.

‘Mental matter is very susceptible to thought forms,'
the master said, explaining the amazing architecture and artworks. ‘Any thought forms!' he stressed lightheartedly. ‘Which is why it is so important that only the pure of heart enter the sacred city.'

‘Have the security measures here ever been breached?' Tory moved to admire a beautiful etheric sculpture of a robed man.

‘They cannot be breached,' DK told her confidently. ‘To the distorted heart, Shamballa does not exist. It cannot, as it would be beyond such a soul's capacity to raise their rate of vibration to a level which would allow them to perceive the sacred city, let alone enter it. Furthermore, Shamballa is destructive to all elements of separatism; the threat would destroy itself.'

‘He's so beautiful,' Tory uttered, having come to a standstill before the statue.

‘It's not surprising that you think so. That is the Lord Maitreya,' DK enlightened her.

‘Christ,' Tory deduced from what she'd learned.

DK nodded and pointed out: ‘Not to be confused with the Master Jesus.'

‘Yes.' Tory confirmed her awareness of this. ‘The Count already explained that little conundrum to me. I had spent my whole life convincing myself that the Master Jesus had been more of a hindrance than a help to mankind, but now I know otherwise.'

DK understood her reasoning. ‘We can hardly blame the Masters for mankind's misinterpretation of spiritual doctrine. Most men only hear what suits them.'

Tory could have stood and stared at the statue all day, but DK reminded her of the quest at hand.

‘Come.' The master headed towards the ethereal staircase. ‘Rest your bones and let your mind do your bidding for a time.'

 

Upstairs and down a corridor, which featured ornate, fanned ceiling buttresses awash with undulating pastel colours, DK guided Tory to a chamber that was more dimly lit than the corridor or the foyer. The walls, ceiling and floor in the room were a mottled indigo and violet which exuded its own light. However, due to the dark colour scheme, it appeared to be night and it took Tory's eyes a few moments to adjust.

The only furnishings she could readily discern were two crystal beds situated in the centre of the round chamber. These were much like the healing cubicles of ancient Atlantis, only the composition of these beds was an etheric crystalline substance.

‘Who is the other bed for?' Tory turned to ask DK and spotted the Count and Maelgwn entering the chamber behind them. This was the first time Tory had ever perceived her husband's aura and it glistened with light and vibrant rushes of colour. ‘You look amazing.' Tory voiced her awe.

‘You took the words right out of my mouth.' Maelgwn smiled and embraced her fondly for a time. ‘You'll never guess who the Count was once.' Maelgwn left one arm about his wife and motioned to the master in question.

‘You'll never guess who DK was,' Tory exclaimed, just as excited.

‘Taliesin,' they both replied at once.

‘How did you know?' Tory was surprised that Maelgwn had blown her punchline.

‘Your father told me.' Maelgwn motioned to the Count again.

Tory looked at the Count, rather amazed by the news. ‘Dad?'

‘Oh, yes,' said the Count, winningly. ‘In that reincarnation his soul-mind was primarily under my influence. The primary preoccupations of my Ray at that time were incantation, magic and ritual, and Myrddin was one of the greatest ritualists ever known. But enough of the past,' he decreed, as they were getting sidetracked. ‘Let us get cracking on the future.' He gestured Tory and Maelgwn towards the etheric cubicles.

‘Your bodies will remain here, but you can return to them at any time should you feel the need to consult one another, or should you find you need a break from subjective world experience,' the Count explained, as Tory and Maelgwn took a seat on separate beds.

The etheric crystal did not feel entirely solid beneath them. It felt very buoyant, like the water in a float tank but more solid in mass and dry.

‘Should you need to consult with us, your advisors,' the Count continued, motioning to DK and himself, ‘it is not necessary to return here and fetch your physical forms as we can see your etheric forms just as readily. As always, you can find us with a thought.'

Tory looked across to Maelgwn seated opposite her and he raised both brows to query: ‘How about a kiss for good luck?'

‘Luck is not a factor,' she grinned as she leaned across the void between the beds to meet his lips halfway.

‘That is one physical world pleasure I will miss,' Maelgwn admitted as they parted.

‘It is one all feel they shall miss,' DK advised, ‘for any physical union between soul-mates is like sampling the divine nirvana of being a whole soul. However, there is no wantonness, desire or personal satisfaction attached to the ultimate union.'

‘You certainly know how to motivate people,' Maelgwn warranted, sporting a huge smile as sat back onto his healing platform, and Tory did likewise.

‘You are both now aware of your subjects and to join your charge you need only to wish it,' the Count explained as Tory and Maelgwn lay down, their eyes never leaving each other. ‘The Logos will guide you forth to the appropriate time for contact, just as it was upon your initial contact. This time, however, your subtle bodies will accompany your consciousness, so that you have definition for the other guides influencing your subject.'

‘My subject has other guides?' Tory was concerned by the news.

‘Oh, yes indeed,' DK emphasised. ‘Governing many different aspects of her life, health, marriage, career, friendships, not to mention the low-grade elemental beings that latch on.'

‘Low-grade elementals?' Tory repeated the part that was of particular interest to her, although the Count saved DK a lengthy explanation.

‘There will be an Oversoul, who will fill you in on all of this,' the Count advised as he and DK distanced themselves from their charges.

Maelgwn held a hand out to his wife and as she returned the gesture, the crystal cubicles on which they lay slid together to form one and the couple joined hands.

‘Have you ever known two initiates to be as homesick for oneness as these two?' the Count commented to DK as they exited the chamber and sealed the door, leaving the room in complete silence.

‘What an amazing day I've been having,' Maelgwn announced lightheartedly.

‘You've made contact with our boys, haven't you?' Tory thought to inquire after their wellbeing. ‘Are they in trouble?'

He squeezed her hand to reassure her. ‘Nothing I can't muse them through. You just concentrate on your own subject, and let me know if you need my advice on anything.'

‘I'm beside you all the way, if you should need me.'

‘I will always need you.' With one more squeeze of her hand, Maelgwn let it go and rolled on his back to close his eyes and concentrate.

She knew he meant that he needed her in a spiritual sense, thanks to the duality of the male-female principle of their soul-mind. ‘I wonder who we really are?' She knew Maelgwn was trying to concentrate but she couldn't resist musing the notion aloud. ‘What master soul-mind will awake in the causal world once we are one again?'

Maelgwn smiled, having wondered the same thing himself. ‘There is only one way we shall ever know.'

‘I'm going,' Tory took the hint, and closing her eyes, she pictured her subject.

 

Tory found herself in a small but comfortable first floor apartment that appeared to be of the same period in the late twentieth century that Tory had originally left — it felt decidedly strange to be back to where she'd started.

Her subject was seated on the lounge watching television. In the physical world the writer would have believed herself alone in the room, but from where Tory stood there were quite a few entities floating about the woman she was to muse.

There was an old woman knitting, wearing nineteenth century clothing, who sat next to the writer on the modular lounge. A cat spirit was curled up on the subject's lap. A rather dubious looking entity of a dark, vaporous elemental nature, was hovering around the subject, changing forms as it babbled away to itself. ‘Go on, have another cigarette, you know you want one. Or how about a drink? You haven't had a drink in ages!'

A kindly looking monk, who was sitting on the lounge on the far side of the subject, was making his own appeal. ‘What you need is to have some dinner. You haven't had anything decent to eat all day.'

Above the subject's head a tiny ball of light was flitting about, but the most spectacular being in the room was a breathtakingly beautiful female spirit, with long flowing hair that was so white it sparkled silver. Her vaporous form was attired in long flowing robes of
mauve and violet. She was lying high above the subject's head overseeing all that took place below.

It was this entity, which Tory assumed to be the Oversoul, who spotted the new arrival first.

‘Ah, you must be the new muse … thank heavens.' The beautiful being floated over and stood in front of Tory to greet her. ‘The Master DK has been promising to deliver you to us for ages.' All the spirits present, bar the dubious elemental, looked Tory's way — the ball of light, floating above the subject's head, ceased all motion.

‘So, you're the one who threw the big fairy light show.' The cat spirit jumped off the writer's lap and strolled over to join the conversation. ‘What an inspiration that was! It intimidated the last muse so much that he went and found himself another subject to make feature films with. I've been tossing around an idea for a story myself, but the judge here,' he ticked his head towards the Oversoul, ‘has ruled that it's not my department.'

Tory was a little taken aback to hear the unusual looking cat speak. She thought him unusual because of his ears, which folded forward, and his tail was shorter than most cats. ‘What is your department?'

‘To make our subject and her husband maternal,' the cat explained, ‘for the benefit of the kid.' He nodded his head towards the tiny ball of light suspended in midair.

‘Is that what it is?' Tory was delighted by the information.

‘Arthur, a little silence please,' instructed the beauteous Oversoul. ‘His last human incarnation didn't turn out very well,' the Oversoul explained.

‘I was a stockbroker,' the cat butted in again. ‘The stress killed me by the age of twenty-six.'

‘So Arthur has been granted leave to pursue a cat's life for a while, in the company of a couple of human beings who will make him understand that life as a human is not always as stressful as his last incarnation was.'

‘I'm not to be just any old tomcat mind … I'm to be a pedigree Scottish Fold.' Arthur strutted around looking impressed with himself.

‘You haven't been born as a cat yet, I take it?' Tory clarified.

‘No, no.' The cat sat himself down. ‘My soon-to-be owners will be moving house within the year, to the upstairs unit of an old federation house I've picked out. So, I'm waiting until after the move before I inspire them to come and get me. It's a good thing you've turned up now to muse my owner out of the rut she's in, as she isn't doing a whole lot to inspire me to go back to being a human so far.'

‘I'm Astarleia.' The Oversoul recaptured Tory's attention and smiled warmly. ‘I act as a kind of coordinator for all the guardians and advisors of this subject.'

‘I'm Tory Alexander.' Tory returned the polite introduction before jumping back to a point of interest that the cat had raised. ‘Our subject is in a rut?'

‘I'm afraid so.' Astarleia looked back at their despondent charge. ‘Since her last muse left, it's been very hard to keep her motivated about life in general. She tends to thrive when her imagination does.'