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by Melanie Fire Salamander
Recently I had a reading with my friend Erika Ginnis. I like getting readings from other people to supplement my readings for myself; when another reader confirms impressions I've gotten, I feel I'm on the right path. For example, last year and this I've been processing a lot of death energy. I didn't announce that to Erika when she did my reading, but she knew it, since she knows me. But it was beyond coincidence, I think, that she saw in my aura the same image I'd seen myself, a woman in a cloak of night sky. This image, an image of Hecate, has recurred for me throughout these last months. I'd never mentioned it to Erika, yet she saw it clearly.
She went on reading, eyes closed, flicking her fingers, combing the energy; then her eyebrows rose, and she said, "Oh!"
A pause. I waited to hear what she had discovered.
"A long time ago, you put a lot of your creative energy into a fantasy world."
I had that dawning feeling of "it feels right" that often comes with new, good information. "That makes sense," I said.
Fantasy worlds figure big with me. I have made one quite consciously, as the basis of a fantasy trilogy. The map and place names that delineate the world of my books date to my early teen years. It didn't surprise me that all the intense energy I put into that world had a correlation on the astral realm.
"A lot of your creative and spiritual energy goes into maintaining this world," Erika continued. "When you get a crush, for example, it's not about the boy; the energy goes to the other realm."
That made sense as well. As with many of us, when I get a crush on someone I often don't relate to that person, rather to an eidolon, a fantasy ideal of my own making. The scenes I create in my head are created also on the astral realm.
Such is my understanding of the astral plane, the world of dreams. Many teachers have told me, and in my meditation and magickal work I have confirmed for myself, that everything we manifest occurs first on the astral plane, in kabalistic terms Yesod, the ninth sepiroth, the level of the Moon. All then precipitates from the astral plane into the world of form. Not only does the astral contain everything's beginning, it also contains many things that never appear on earth. I have manifested aspects of my fantasy world in many ways, but I was not surprised to hear dreams of mine stayed grouped together on the astral plane.
One of my ongoing projects, though, is to manifest my dreams -- not leave them floating in the ether.
"What should I do with this fantasy world?" I asked.
"You can do anything you want with it. You can maintain it if you want but choose not to have all your energy go to it." A pause; Erika's eyes moved behind her closed eyelids. "You created it as a way to avoid intimacy and certain levels of pain. A lot of it's about dealing with your parents -- when you were doing that, you lived in the fantasy world, instead of here."
That too made sense. As teens, many of us created magickal worlds into which to run away. I drew one version of mine, that map of the world; I wrote out many others. Kids' fantasy worlds aren't necessarily all fey and sparkly, like mine -- think of those boys in the back of class drawing obsessively, darkening and darkening with black ballpoint ink the lineaments of beautiful streamlined cars. Or, usually less visibly, beautiful streamlined naked girls. Sometimes those cars and girls manifested from the astral; sometimes they didn't.
With my permission, Erika began helping me energetically reclaim my fantasy world, as I chose to do. I reclaimed the energy after reassuring the fantasy world that its "death" would recycle its energy in positive ways -- because the world too was an entity, a living being.
You might consider, if you're a dreamy type, if you're not also the unintentional host of a fantasy world. Do you feel a little lost, as if a chunk of your energy might be elsewhere? Do you have a hard time manifesting your dreams? Try getting into trance and checking whether you've got a fantasy world to which your energy is going.
To do so, simply find a comfortable place where you won't be disturbed, and position yourself to meditate, either lying down or sitting up, whatever works best for you. Then ground and center and get into trance. (If you don't already know how, check out Erika's excellent articles on these and related subjects in earlier Widdershins at www.widdershins.org. The first article in the series is "Body-Wisdom: Grounding," in volume 3, issue 6. Another article of hers pertinent here deals with dreams and the astral plane, "When a Dream is Real: The Energy Work of Dreams," in volume 4, issue 5.)
Once you're in trance, look around your aura for a trail to a fantasy world, or simply ask your guides or Higher Self the question, "Do I have a fantasy world?" If you do, your next step is to make contact with that world, and do what you want with it. As Erika told me, you can do anything you like. You can explore it and learn about it -- not a bad start. You can choose to maintain it if you want, or not, whatever you desire. The whole premise of this practice is that at one point you yourself created the world, and all the energy in it is yours. But be gentle with your world, if you find one; it too is a living being.
In working with my fantasy world, I engaged in a dialog. Erika suggested I assert my "seniority" over it -- in other words, gently reclaim its energy as mine, and assert my ability to work with this energy as I chose. Once having made contact, I projected these concepts to the world. The world accepted them but replied to me with some fear. I was able to reassure it that I respected and valued it, that it could be recreated at any point, that its "death" need not feel like a loss. Suddenly I found the world's energy easy to reclaim. Of course, Erika and I had already begun the process during my reading.
One repercussion of reclaiming the energy is that I now have, if anything, too much energy in my system! My raised energy translates into bouts of insomnia. But I know cures for sleeplessness, and I'd rather deal with a lot of personal energy than have a whole energy world draining me without my conscious knowledge.
The episode of discovering my fantasy world with Erika left me contemplating fantasy worlds in general. When I was a child in the Midwest in the '60s, fantasy was escapism. Daydreaming was bad. I was always being scrutinized, I felt, to see whether I "knew fantasy from reality" (a phrase from some child-rearing book). I did know the difference. A question the book didn't ask was which I preferred.
Many times, when I was young, I stood on the playground and wished the wind would blow me away. I passionately wanted to find a world in a grove of trees or a wardrobe, like the children in the Chronicles of Narnia. How far were these desires from my nascent paganism -- from myself at 12 years old offering a bowl of cottage cheese to the juniper tree at the corner of my family house, thereby freaking out my mother? Not far.
Before I believed in my heart the world was animate, was full of spirit in every molecule, as I believe now, I wanted to believe it. Before I knew the world was fantasy made manifest, I wanted to live in fantasy. I was determined at least to manifest my fantasies as writing.
The world of the imagination, of artistic inspiration, is not different from the astral plane, where we go when we meditate. For me, a sterling illustration of this coidentity is that writing a story feels to me very little different from leading a guided meditation.
When I lead a meditation, often I don't have more than a rough outline, if that much. The imagery I describe to my hearers rolls out before my inner eye pristine and new. Often I reuse imagery -- I've often followed the same forest paths, come to the same circular clearing where I find the Goddess's throne. What I'm doing, I feel, is creating or reusing a place on the astral.
So too when I write. I visualize the spaces I plan to describe before I write about them. This visualization is, I believe, creation on the astral. Each time I describe a new place in my writing, just as each time I describe a new place in guided meditation, I create that place.
Could I manifest those places in the world? Certainly. I don't bother to a lot of the time. (The castle of the Thaniderivans doesn't need to show up in downtown Seattle.) But the next time I look for a place to live, for example. I'll visualize it first. Then I'll do magickal work to manifest my dream. Visualization alone doesn't create on the physical plane, in my experience -- you must consciously work to move your dreams from the astral to the mundane if you want them to appear.
On the astral plane, you can also go to places that already exist, either on the dream-plane only or in the world as well. You can meet beings from dream or reality too. A friend of mine as a teen often went in meditation to a magickal round garden engirdled by a wall that contained all the plants in existence. There she learned herbalism lesson by lesson from a kind and knowledgeable teacher. Her jaw dropped when, many years later, her teacher walked into the metaphysical store where she worked. When my friend approached her teacher, the woman gave her a smile. "Oh, I've been visiting you in dreams, have I?"
Not only do we go to the astral plane when we meditate, we also go to the astral when we fantasize and daydream. Fantasy and daydream are less pointed, less focused than formal meditation, but they're another door to magick.
To me, the difference between trance and daydream is one of depth. In trance, my mind lies mostly clear, thoughts occasionally drifting by like clouds in a windless sky. If my eyes are open, they focus on the candle or Tarot card I've been using as a focal point. My vision narrows, and everything looks shadowy, as if through smoked glass. My body is calm, my breathing deep.
Daydream feels more light. Thoughts tumble through my mind, then scatter. My breathing is as usual, and my eyes aren't focused at all. Daydream is another form of trance, one that's not as deep.
But daydream and fantasy have their place. In case you still have the idea fantasy is bad -- drop it! Respect your fantasies. In them, inspiration begins. If you want to find inspiration, in an art or in other work, the world of fantasy and daydream is the place to look.
To reach this place, let your mind go a little loose; let it play. Good times for me to seek daydream are when my mind drifts before I go to sleep, or when I wake with time on my hands and take a long, warm shower, letting my mind slip free. I also often use a part of my formal meditation time to let my mind wander. One caveat -- you can spend lots of time daydreaming. If you're committed to a meditation practice in which you actually meditate, save time for deeper trance.
When in the land of fantasy, have fun. That's what fantasy is for. In pleasure, in release, we find new energy. Inspiration comes from this energy, from flitting ideas, pictures, whispers, thoughts.
If you get ideas and fear you won't retain them, write them down or give yourself a mental anchor. An old-fashioned kind of anchor is a string tied around your finger. You make another type of anchor by holding your thought while touching something in the outside world, for example touching your thumb and finger together. To recall the idea, you invoke the anchor by recreating it, touching your thumb and finger together again. Or you can make a kind of mental "mark" to hold a thought -- I often remember the number of ideas I've had and give each a one-word name. They aren't necessarily all lofty ambitions or glittering poetry -- they can be something like "Bring grapes to the ritual," too. I make these mental anchors because I find it useful to reassure my consciousness I'll retain the information that goes by. Doing so frees me to go further in daydream.
Traveling the astral plane has proved a good and useful thing for me in seeking inspiration. The astral plane is where the Muses live. I'm an habituée as well; I have to be. Both my ritual and my writing involve manifesting solid forms from the land of breathless wonder.
I'm not alone. I find everyone knows the land of fantasy. We all have created worlds of fantasy, as children and adults. You yourself may have a fantasy world hanging out unconsciously, attached to your energy, in which case it's useful to investigate and own it.
But make no mistake: Your fantasy worlds are real. Or did you think that these solid things around you, the chairs in a room, the rain outside, are the only reality? Absolutely you have the right to think so, but for myself, it works better to acknowledge other realms. So too will it for you -- that's my opinion.
So find and build your castles in the air. Go from room to shining room; look at the brilliant thoughts and lost to-do lists that adorn them. Open the locked door, find the hidden hallway, the shadowy portraits, the garden hung with twilight. Your dreams are there, waiting to come home.
Melanie Fire Salamander, a Sylvan Tradition witch and psychic reader, reads Tarot at Stargazers on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. She can help you create personal charms and spells, work through energy blocks, meet spirits and deities in meditation and begin work in the Craft. Craft advice is always free. Reach Melanie at Stargazers at (425) 885-7289, at home at (425) 222-4541 or at melanie@talerian.com.
Also mentioned in this article is Erika Ginnis, who offers spiritual counseling and coaching, psychic reading, healing and classes though her practice "Inspiration is the In-Breath of Spirit." For more information on Erika and her work, contact her at (206) 669-5881, erika@inbreath.com or http://www.inbreath.com
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