Venus and Her Lover

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Venus and Her Lover Page 2

by Becca Tzigany


  Inspired by Nassim’s and Amalia’s success at raising financial backing, we prepared a proposal and made contacts, seeking investors in the Pillow Deck business and support for our artistic venture. Seated at my keyboard, I longed to write again... not a market analysis but poetry. When would I write poetry again? But Pele would not allow it... not until I had dealt squarely with first chakra survival issues. No high-flying poems until I could pull up power from the seething, molten core of the Earth. Firmly connected to my root, shouldn’t I be able to expand my auric field so I could attract and hold prosperity? In my meditations, I breathed in greater capacity to receive more support for our work. It never occurred to me I might have to empty first. Before long, a marketer joined our team, so we planned a sales campaign and sought funding for the second printing of The Pillow Deck. One day James and I received a letter from our friends Paul and Monica, and in it: a check for $5000. “A swing loan” they called it, to help us swing through our precarious times. James and I humbly accepted our friends’ generosity, but each month our bank balance ebbed lower, like a torn gunny sack steadily leaking grain.

  Our savings were nearly exhausted, but surely a windfall was imminent. Pillow Decks were selling enough to foresee a second printing, but we did not actually have enough money to run the presses. Our creative energy was being funneled into business strategies for our physical survival, while our artistic muses gasped for breath. How long could we keep this up? Our high wire act, Venus and Her Lover, had us suspended in mid-air. We were working without a net... in fact, we performed our acrobatics above a pit of bubbling red-hot lava, courtesy of a robustious island goddess. This was our life in Hawai’i – between trapezes.

  Polarity

  Nassim was fine-tuning his theory of spin. “Everything is spinning,” he said to us one day.

  “Well, you are, brother,” James joked. “Do you even know if you’re coming or going?”

  No doubt familiar with this conversation, Amber chuckled and pulled out a cutting board, ready to chop a line of pineapples that sat on her wooden counter. Even though Nassim’s research was being funded, they lived in a humble coffee shack on the lower slopes of Mauna Loa volcano, albeit with a million-dollar view of Honaunau Bay.

  Nassim continued. “From galaxies to stars to planets to atoms to sub-atomic particles – everything spins.”

  “What causes the spin?” James asked.

  “There’s a fundamental force of angular momentum in the space-time manifold – in the vacuum itself – that forces everything to spin. That force is a torque term that we’ve added to Einstein’s field equations,” Nassim explained in his French-accented scientific jargon.

  “But wait – when you say ‘vacuum,’ you mean the aether, right?” I asked. Nassim nodded. I continued, “But isn’t the aether everywhere? Uniformly everywhere? We’re all One because we’re all made of the same stuff. Why should it want to spin?”

  Nassim answered, “You know how we’ve talked about geometry? It’s just the fundamental nature of space-time, how it organizes itself and moves. When there’s a difference of densities of the vacuum, torque is produced.” I wonder what causes the difference of densities, I thought, but Nassim was already galloping along with the conversation. “Just like water going down the drain... it doesn’t go straight down; it spins as it goes down. We see the same form in a galactic disc – with its galactic halos and vortices – they call them galactic polar jets.”

  “Polar jets?” James asked.

  Nassim pulled out a paper and sketched the plane of a spiral galaxy, showing polar jets above and below, that at the top and bottom bent back around, forming a halo.

  “Polarity... duality... the Masculine and the Feminine... You’re saying this is the nature of the Universe?” James said.

  “Well, yes,” Nassim said. “Because of spin. The torque forces of space-time have spun everything into existence.”

  “Of course! The Hermetic Principles of Polarity and Gender!” I said, referring to two of the seven eternal laws set forth in The Kybalion. “Thoth, or Hermes Trismegistus – Thrice-great Hermes – was an Egyptian god who handed down his sacred knowledge... some say from Atlantis or ancient Sumer. The Principle of Gender states that the Masculine and the Feminine manifest in all planes, and they beget creation. Gender generates.”

  Nassim liked the mention of Egypt and Atlantis. He went on. “Look how it works. It’s a feedback loop, based on the shape of a torus.”

  In response to our mystified looks, Nassim explained. “A torus, like a donut. But because of polarity, there are two donuts, on top of each other. And what’s at the center of the donut?”

  “Duh, a hole!” James answered.

  “A hole, a singularity, a black hole,” Nassim confirmed. “Because of the Coriolis effect, one donut spins in one direction, and the other donut goes in the opposite direction – spin and counter-spin. A particle, for example, moving over the structure of space-time – with torque and Coriolis effect – is pulled toward the equator, then shot out toward the edges, and then back around to the poles.”

  Nassim was tracing big circles with both arms to illustrate. “So you see? Information moves toward the poles – vortices made by spin – in toward the singularity, and then centrifugal forces push it back out at the equator, where the galactic disk forms. When it gets far enough out, it gets caught by the gravitational field and pulled toward the poles. A feedback loop! Say an electron carries information from the material world, falling into the vortex and going to the singularity – a black hole – where it informs the vacuum, and then the infinite information of the vacuum is carried out when the electron emerges again. And that’s happening to an electron constantly, continually, blinking in and out, at the speed of light.

  A feedback loop of information... that creates self-awareness, consciousness.”

  Considering how I could catch that spinning ride, I said, “So we’re ‘out here’ having our 3D experience in the material world, but when we meditate or focus inwards, we can receive that infinite information from the aether ‘in there’? Flowing in and flowing out... Thoth’s wisdom again: the Hermetic Principle of Rhythm.”

  “See why we are each crucial to the expanding consciousness of the Universe? We talked about this before, that the Universe needs our feedback, because each of us has an absolutely unique perspective, literally a unique point in space-time, a unique point of view,” Nassim said.

  He went on. “And now I understand more fully how the whole thing runs on spin. In fact – now you’re going to love this – if we look at a top-down view of the spinning torus... if we look down the vortex or polar jet of the torus, and imagine the path of a particle being sucked toward the black hole, do you know what we see?”

  Nassim sketched a very familiar symbol: the yin-yang.

  “You’re kidding, right?” James exclaimed. “You mean to tell me that this ancient symbol of duality – the icon that illustrates the play of the Masculine and the Feminine – is really just a snapshot of how energy moves in Creation?”

  “Exactly, James,” I cried. “The play of the Feminine and the Masculine, the dance of Creation. Yin and Yang are the polar manifestations of the Tao – or should I say, aether? And the yin-yang was always understood as a picture of a process, of cyclic transformation, of... continuous Creation. Wow, Nassim, this is amazing.”

  “Wait,” James said. “You just said that information is pulled into a black hole. I get that. But then you said it shoots out of the black hole? I thought nothing could escape a black hole.”

  “That’s the standard view,” Nassim agreed. “And now, finally, scientists are agreeing with what I’ve said for years, that there’s a black hole at the center of every galaxy. But my theory goes even farther and says that galaxies are the result of black holes – not the cause – and that material reality is actually produced by the central heart of the galaxy con
tinuously. Stars emerge from the central black hole in spiral paths moving toward the edges.”

  “Continuous creation!” I exclaimed. “Remember? That’s a principle of Tantra!”

  “That’s right,” Nassim agreed. “Not just one Big Bang, but continuous creation at all levels of singularities of our Universe. Because don’t forget – there’s a black hole at the center of every galaxy, and every atom, and everything in between.”

  “You’re always talking about the Star of David and the point at the center,” James commented. “And that’s the structure of our material reality... with a black hole at the center of every atom…?”

  Nassim carried the thought forward…” and the center of every planet, and every star, and every galaxy, on and on. Absorbing information and radiating information.”

  “The bindu – the seed – at the center of the double tetrahedron… the two polarities surrounded by their two spinning donuts of continuous communion between finite manifestation and infinite aether,” I said, correlating the ancient Tantric symbol of the shri yantra with the double torus.

  Amber appeared with a big bowl of pineapple and papaya chunks. We each plucked some from the bowl, chewing thoughtfully as we gazed out over the blue Pacific Ocean. I savored the acidic sweetness of the juicy pineapple, feeling both mentally exhilarated by our conversation and serene within my body.

  “One more thing,” Nassim announced. “We’ve talked about how we humans are the data transfer boundary between the contractive and radiative sides and why it’s so important for the Universe to know itself through us. You know where the black hole of that double torus is inside us?”

  I thought for a moment, and reflexively put my hand in the middle of my chest.

  Nassim smiled. “Certainly you know, Venus. The center is in our heart.”

  ALIGNED WITH VENUS

  When ancient Sumerians called out the name of Inanna, they were summoning both the goddess and the planet. Adept in astronomy and mathematics, they recognized that the Evening Star and the Morning Star were not two different heavenly bodies, but different manifestations of the same one. After the Sun and the Moon, Inanna (the planet we call Venus) was the third brightest object in the sky. Absent for two months, when she reappeared as the Evening Star in the western sky, people knew the rains would soon begin and they could plant their fields. Prayers for fertility of the land accompanied public ceremonies to the life-giving power of Inanna and her lover Dumuzi, celebrated by ritual lovemaking.

  Imagine the joy with which the return of the Evening Star was greeted! Couples carried woven mats to their rooftops to make love under the starry vault of heaven, vivid without any light pollution. Except for a capricious breeze rustling the date palms or a dog’s bark, the night was undisturbed, until the moans of passion swelled to a symphony of pleasure in the city. Lovers’ sweat shone in the silver light of Inanna; her reflection sparkled in the waters of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. Sweat – orgasm – rivers – rains – fertility – Inanna elicited all that flowed. She would reign over the night sky for 263 days, by which time the harvests would have begun and babies conceived with her blessing would be ready to be born.

  Then she would disappear for three days, only to return in the eastern sky as the Morning Star, heralding the dry season and the time of preparations: grain to be stored, fruit to be dried, defenses to be fortified, trading ships to be stocked, babies to be strengthened. All must be readied for the hot Mesopotamian summer and the two-month absence of the goddess Inanna.

  Inanna’s symbol was the star: the eight-pointed star denoted the Venus-Sun conjunction every eight years, and the five-pointed star marked the path she traced in the zodiac during those eight years. Sumerian and Babylonian astrologers studied the heavens and the apparent effects of the movements of the heavenly bodies on their society. Accordingly, Inanna/Ishtar brought them love, beauty, sexual ecstasy, fertility, strength, and prosperity. The ancients were fascinated with the mathematical perfection of the planet’s dance through the cosmos. One Venusian day equals 2/3 of an Earth year: a musical fifth, a most pleasing harmonic. Likewise, Venus orbits the sun 13 times in eight Earth years, during which time the two planets align five times (at the five points of a “star” in the sky). The numbers 5, 8, and 13 are part of the Fibonacci sequence, one of Nature’s favorite mathematical relationships (found in shell spirals, flower petals, seed heads, pine cones, tree leaves, and so forth), and related to φ (phi) and the Golden Mean, which became the basis for the superb geometry of ancient Greek sculpture and architecture. I well remembered feasting my eyes on Golden-Proportioned art in European museums.

  Pythagoras, the Greek mathematician, studied astrology in Babylon and carried his knowledge back to Athens. Luminous bodies in the sky personified as gods and goddesses!... the idea grabbed ahold in ancient Greece. Aphrodite the planet was celebrated for her geometric precision – and as a goddess of divine beauty. As societies reeled across the canvas of history, Inanna became Ishtar, who became Aphrodite, who became Venus; the golden planet trailing her powers of love, life, and cosmic perfection up to this day.

  So here I lay on a black sand beach on an island in the middle of the Pacific... a child of Venus if ever there was one. How easy it was for me to lavish my body with coconut oil and surrender to the heat of the sun and murmurs of Mother Ocean... how natural to revel in the sensuous pleasures and beauties of Paradise. Be that as it may, I acutely felt the charge of Inanna; James and I had conceived, birthed, and nurtured Venus and Her Lover, and it was our duty to bring it up to stand on its own legs in the world.

  I heaved a sigh, sinking even more into the warm black sand... perhaps the eroded remains of ancient Lemuria. The previous night I had joined the Dolphinville community in celebrating the Venus Transit, one of the rarest of planetary alignments. Over 70 people had gathered at Sky Island Ranch, the home of dolphin researcher Joan Ocean and visionary artist Jean-Luc Bozzoli. Nassim spoke to the group from an astronomy point of view, Joseph Mina elucidated the astrology of the event, and I recited my poem, “Rebirth of Venus”. The planet Venus finds itself visibly between the Earth and the Sun every 105-121 years, and its passage, or transit, across the face of the Sun occurs in pairs eight years apart. That night at sunset, in Hawai’i, Venus began its “eclipse” of the Sun (really it was a tiny dark dot compared to Sol). Eight years later, in 2012, the second Venus Transit would end just before sunset in Hawai’i on June 6th.

  After the explanations, Joan had led us in meditation, invoking the guidance of ancient Lemurians, spirit guides, and Star Elders, and encouraging us to learn “pod consciousness” from the dolphins as we came together and strengthened the power of love and cooperation. As we expanded our awareness, she said, we would have more contact with interdimensional and extradimensional beings, who could show the way through these times of fear, vengeance, and destruction. She explained that 2004 was an opening of a doorway, through which we could establish peace on Earth, before the closing of the doorway in 2012, by many predictions the “end of the age.” This Venus Transit raised another notch the Divine Feminine on Earth, bolstering the influence of unconditional love. The pendulum had been swinging back throughout the last century, but if you measure the status of women among people by how they revere their goddess(es), we still had a ways to go. I remembered all that Inanna was to her people. Here in Pele’s realm on the Big Island of Hawai’i, by using our position at 19.5° latitude as an acupuncture point of the Earth Mother as well as an energy upwelling place, we could share our love with the planet and send it out to the Universe. We all visualized this. Meditating with scores of people nourished me, reminding me of my priestess days in our pyramid by the beach on Caribbean shores.

  In the 1980’s Joan Ocean had embarked on what she called “participatory research” with dolphins. Instead of studying captive cetaceans in an aquarium lab or netted pool, she preferred to interact with them in the wild and
discover what they had to teach. Her experiences are detailed in her books, Dolphin Connection and Dolphins into the Future. It occurred to me that James and I were also doing participatory research, which we documented in Venus and Her Lover. Like some brave (or foolhardy?) Acapulco cliff divers, James and I had thrown ourselves into the Sea of the Collective Unconscious, where we did our best to keep our heads above water as we invoked archetypes, balanced and merged our own Shakti and Shiva energies, and set our course to reach the legendary Isle of the Thousand-petalled Lotus at the crown of our voyage. For us, we were learning to live our lives according to Tantric principles using the “sink or swim” method.

  Here on the Big Island, the community of dolphin swimmers continually shared with one another their tales of healing, wonder, enlightenment, and exhilaration in the sea. We, too, had learned to swim with them: stroking a ways out to meet them, making no sudden nor splashy movements, keeping hands at our sides, not chasing them.

  My first underwater contact with them was remarkable. As I swam out into a broad bay, I heard high-pitched squeaks and tried to follow them. Suddenly I caught a flash of light grey in the blue depths – too fast for me to follow, so I just floated there, peering through my mask at how sunbeams filtered through this gaping ultramarine dimension. Then, without warning, a pod of about a dozen dolphins sped toward me. Before I could react, they encircled me and hung suspended in the water around me. Then, as if on cue, the dolphins bombarded me all at once with squeaks and high-frequency chatter for about a minute. Just as suddenly they turned, and with a pump or two of their powerful tails, they disappeared. Laughter erupted through my snorkel so fast, I had to put my head above water and rip off my snorkel and mask, and there, gazing at the slope of the volcano, I guffawed at the distant palm trees. My body tingled with such an overdose of joy, I could only hoot and holler. That was how the dolphins welcomed me to Hawai’i.

 

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