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We must begin by going back: As a child he had a decisive dream. It first appeared as nightmare, but in due time it proved to be his myth – the story of a life.
Go picture this: The child, passively standing at the shore of a large lake. In front of him a hooded figure takes the stage and gives him an important task that clearly cannot be solved by anyone else than him. The water is still. No words are spoken, but the intent is unmistakable. He is to journey downwards. And so, he does. He dives into these dark waters of early Understanding. Frightened, oh yes.
Then suddenly something appears – something that makes the child succumb to utter panic. Behind him, a creature of the deep comes closer. A serpentine existence adroitly moving in its’ element, hastily catching up with our untrained diver, hungrily hurling itself forward to, he thinks, devour – me.
This dream came back multiple times. It was always the same essential images. Always the same awakening – right before the moment of fangs in flesh.
At some point, during a conversation with his mother, it started dawning on the boy what this underwater night journey might be all about. The clue was spoken through her, the mother. She said something like this: Maybe, this creature, that you feel is so ferociously hunting and haunting you, is not just there to swallow you, but also here to help you find whatever it might be that you are searching for deep down there in the waters. Believe me: That is what she said. And so, it all began.
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Fast forward for another vision of the dark that proved to be decisive. This time, he’s not a child, and not alone, but travelling in the company of a silent, watchful woman.
Let’s just stick to the image: Right behind the man and woman is a terrifying spectre; a humanoid presence veiled in black – the darkness only breached by tiny, ominous glimpses of light reflected from some kind of metal carried by this figure of the night. A weapon, I presume.
Terror takes hold of him, while she remains quite unconcerned. He desperately tries to signal for an already moving train to stop. But no, they are alone.
The vision ends in front of a completely conventional family house. His mind is clear: We’ve got to go in there. This is the place to face the horror. And verily, I tell you: He was cut open.
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And here we are: To me, Our Lady of the Abyss is the enchanting Huntress of the awakening to an earthborn harmony of contrasts. She is the one who brings me deep down under to savor Her most exquisite liquid of Sorrow – and thus, as I accept the piercing of the rose, She is the one who drinks the rushing essence of it all.
Initiation to Her was, is, and ever will be, to leave behind that piece of fake jewelry that ‘I’ have all too often been calling my self. Truth be told: Death shows me how to dance – in Trance of Sorrow. Time engraves me with beautiful scars. Certainties, not faith. Materiality makes everything real, as Lust gives unimaginable joys on Earth: Salt, honey, semen, milk, and blood. To give and to receive. I think you understand.
The nature of Her Work is, simply, to take it all, and only then to give us something else – so we may rest & vibrate up on high in Her bottomless sea of Understanding. Devotion is to give myself without counting, happily pouring out the essence for a chance of Union. Service is to live & love, knowing the Law of Abundance, in blessed recognition that every human being is here to dive for pearls and dance as stars – of flesh.
To Her, to Her,
one particle of dust,
Lady of the Abyss,
Saturnian Dancing Queen
of Sorrow, Lust, and Laughter.
My joy is to see your joy,
over and over,
here.
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As he died to make men holy,
let us die to make things
cheap
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