In the first part of this entry I made the attempt to put my experiences of day one to three into words. Following the day of publishing Saturn, Part I, I received quite a few pretty positive feedback messages. So I guess my intention is slowly unfolding itself in a beautiful way and I’m thankful for that. As I promised, here is the second part of my Saturn days.
I keep my original ritual setting as described in the first entry without changing anything. After the usual steps and meditation I use the mantra again to open the veil. During chanting I see a huge androgynous head that takes up all the space in vision. It is glowing in every imaginable shade of blue. Eyes closed it looks light and massive at the same time. At the moment of opening the veil my perspective changes. I find myself in the middle of the head which is opening up together with the veil. I try to make it open its eyes but it is not about this tonight.
During the communion I receive an image of a pub like environment. The only sources of light are a few fireplaces. Apparently I am sitting at a table made of dark wood, my companion sitting at the other side. He looks like the prototype of a bit senile man in his last season of his life, the one who always keeps telling the same stories nobody ever believed but is given a mug of beer and told something along the lines ‘Sure, old man’ and left alone. In fact he knows pretty much everything and is only playing the role assigned to him. We’re having a drink. I ask him to restore my musculoskeletal system. He laughs out loud and replies that’s only possible if I set boundaries. This resonates with me as something I really need to do so I part respectfully and close the space.
On day five my intention is to comprehend – not only to understand mentally – what I have to learn from Saturn. During the communion part of the ritual I receive probably the most intense and powerful image of the last few days. From a rather big distance I see a white being hovering in the air above a dark city. It almost merges with the night sky with its enormous wings in shades of black, grey and dark green. He looks intimidating to be honest. Suddenly a sentence comes up. “He always is worse from a distance.” Within the blink of an eye I am lying in the embrace of these wings which seemed so terrifying before but are soft and warm and make me feel secure and loved. There is peace, comfort and trust.
The second image of that night is me in the middle of the universe with all its unbelievable wonders looking down onto a dark nebula that it spiralling clockwise upwards into my direction. A second sentence comes up. “Nothing vanishes.” I understand that everything that ever was and will be is returning into this nebula. My whole physical body is filled with energy and concentrating itself at my head almost as intensely as a touch.
That night brings me a dream as a gift. I am wandering through a place that vaguely resembles to the so-called Flak towers. Those were constructed by Nazi Germany in several cities of Germany and Austria. They were used partly as defence against air raids and partly as air-raid shelters for civilians. A few of them are in use for different purposes nowadays. The one I know from the inside is not for claustrophobic persons as its thick walls and rather narrow passages might trigger uncomfortable experiences.
The place feels claustrophobic to me for sure. There are everywhere things showcased in glass cabinets and a lot of people staring at them. I catch a glimpse and realise those are all objects that have been used through the history of mankind, starting with very basic tools from the Bronze Age until technologically advanced devices we now use daily. Finding my way through the crowd I recognise old friends and lovers. One is only interested in photographs. I want to have a chat with a former lover as I still have some mixed feelings towards him. We manage to talk in a corner but the situation is more than only a bit awkward as he’s acting as cynical as usual and we can’t clear up anything.
I find myself in a remote chamber somewhere that is used for cleaning supplies but empty now. I break down and cry ‘I don’t want to sleep on the floor again’. The intensity of my feelings makes me almost wake up but right on time a man appears in the chamber and introduces himself as the janitor, the ‘keeper of the house’. He consoles me and urges me to clean up the place together with him.
Suddenly I see a busy street with a lot of cars heading into both directions. A little white kitten wants to cross it and I’m forced to watch the scenery without being able to intervene. Although it is dangerous it miraculously finds its way through the tires of the cars and makes it to the other side without being harmed. I wake up still crying.
As chaotic as it might sound the dream unfolds itself pretty logically to me as a reflection of past experiences in my life. The key sceneries are twofold though. First, the ‘keeper’ or ‘master’ of the house cleaning up and second, the kitten that survives. Both represent essential parts of myself from different perspectives and tell me that I can’t change the past but I can clean it out.
The least intense ritual day is the last one as the only images that appear are those from the first five days but no new ones. What struck me as fascinating during the whole working were the ups and downs in the clarity and intensity of the images. Some came pretty easily, others took their time. The most beautiful and reassuring one was the experience on day five, the comprehension that death is terrifying from a distance and loving when it finally comes.