CIRCLE OF THE MOON

A pathworking by David Goddard
Excerpted from his book The Sacred Magic of the Angels.

 

Sit quietly and relax. Let your breathing be deep and even, but without any strain. Turn inwards to the still centre of your being, the eternal You.

Around you rises a pale green mist that is irradiated with silver motes of light. The mist slowly envelops you... you shiver slightly at the touch of the astral chill, but you soon adjust. You find yourself gently rising... floating like a feather upon the evening breeze.

When the mist fades... you find yourself standing upon the summit of a hill, in the evening disk. The Sun has just sunk in the west, and the first stars are spangling the sky, like diamonds upon indigo velvet. Although it is too dark to see the valley below, you can see the silver ribbon of the stream that flows through it; and the white bark of the trees that grow on its banks.

A cold muzzle touches your wrist. Startled you turn to find, seated beside you, a great wolf-hound. It coat appears a soft white in the starlight; and around its neck is a collar of moonstones linked with silver. The hound gazes up at you with indigo eyes, and with an intelligence that belies its animal form. Now that the surprise of its arrival has passed, you smile, and reach forward a hand for the wolf-hound to sniff... then scratch it behind the ear, and smile at the sound of its wagging tail thumping upon the ground.

Now, that the introductions have been made, the hound rises and begins to descend the hill. You catch up... and accompany your new companion, with your hand resting lightly upon his fore-shoulders. Closer now to the valley, you can hear the stream's waters tinkling as they journey to some great river. The high treble of a nightingale sounds from the trees ahead, as you step onto the valley floor. As if, this were a signal, a full Moon rises over the tree-tops and ensilvers the whole valley with its light. Every blade of grass, every leaf seems to be spun from silver tissue. The air itself seems suffused with deep violet radiance. Even the white owl that flies overhead seems fashioned from the Moon's own heart.

For a while you both walk by the stream, drinking in the beauty of the scene; and pause from time to time to stroke the trunks of the weeping-willow trees. Then, a little 'moon drunk' you play hide-and-seek with your guide amongst the cascading curtains of the trees' branches. You feel completely at peace, and contentedness in this valley; as if you had always. somehow, known it.

Chasing after the wolf-hound, you stumble upon a glade among the trees. In its centre stands a circle formed of nine upright dolmens; each stone twice your height. In the centre of this circle is a stone font; water filling it to the brim shimmers in the moonlight, and pale grey atremesia grow around the font's base. An atmosphere of power and awe permeated the glade, it seems to emanate from the font and from the tall sentinel stones that encompass it. You wonder whether you should re-trace your steps from the glade; but the wolf-hound looks up at you, and slowly wags his tail as if to reassure you that all is well. Putting your apprehension aside, you follow the guiding hound, who begins to lope around the stone circle's perimeter. Your misgivings forgotten, you enter into the spirit of the game and try to catch the great dog's tail; as the Moon rises higher and higher in the vault of heaven.

Abruptly, the wolf-hound stops in his tracks. You have to swerve aside quickly to avoid colliding with him. The hound sits looking up into the sky. You follow his gaze... and see that the full disc of the Moon is almost directly overhead. Throwing back his head, the hound emits a howl that fills the valley, and echoes back from the surrounding hills. In the aftermath of the howl all seems silent; even the tinkling stream seems subdued and remote now. The wolf-hound stands and begins to trot, weaving in and out of the nine stones. He looks over his shoulder at you as if to say "Follow". You do.

Human and canine, representatives of two kingdoms of Creation, interweave between the members of the third, the mineral kingdom. It becomes a dance; the quartz embedded in the stones glimmer in the moonlight as you light step takes you in and about them. You've lost count of the circuits you've both made - just dancing in the silver light in this enchanted place. The wolf-hound turn inwards, following... you both spiral inwards towards the circle's centre ... and come to a halt a little way from the stone font. Again the hound emits his mournful howl, as the Moon comes directly overhead. A moonbeam - an 'arrow of Diana' - floods downwards to illuminate the circle, and a perfect image of the Moon is reflected in the font's still waters.

The shaft of moonlight seems to grow in brightness... until it becomes a pillar of silver-blue fire; uniting the Moon above with her image in the watery mirror below. The column of moon-fire pulsates and turns... increasing i strength and diameter. The font becomes lit by the lunar flame and its appearance takes on the gentle lustre of pearl. Now, filled to overflowing, the moon-fire spills over the font's rim and pours onto the ground, and flows out to the circle's edge. As the cold, silvery fire sweeps past your legs, a thrill of icy power rushes up you spine... and centres at your fore-head. The sensation affects your vision... a curtain of swirling colours covers everything: purple, indigo, silver haze, deep magenta and purest violet fill your sight.

Adjusting to a higher level of cognition, you see scene with spiritual perception. Each of the dolmens in the circle is now a vast crystal; receiving and imparting the Moon's power, vibrating, singing as it resonates. Each one linked to its sister stones, each tone different; forming an appegio of sound. You know now why the ancients named such circles 'choirs'. And standing between each crystal monolith.... is an Angel ! Nine members of the Host of the Cherubim form a circle with the crystals, transmuting and augmenting their energy.

The Cherubim wear the forms of beautiful humans; beyond the distinction of gender yet balancing the noblest aspects of both. Their large, slanted eyes pierce the cosmos, and all levels of being lay open to their sight. Strong are they - the Cherubim - strong beyond the imaginings of mortals. Their presence is one of irresistible power, yet that power is ensouled by a brooding love. Their aura-wings are living glories that both veil and frame them. Each Angel is crowned by a flame of white brilliance.

For the third, and final, time the wolf-hound howls... and as the sound fades you hear the song of the Circle of Power more clearly than before. The huge crystals hum deep bass notes, like a mighty organ. In response the auras of the Cherubim grow in intensity and flash out musical notes that descant those of the crystals; high, sweet notes of unimaginable purity.

Facing you, across the font, an energy-pattern begins to form. Coloured a silver-shot violet, it gathers in size and substance... it quivers open... to reveal the Archangel Gabriel, high servant of The All-Holy One. The 'thought presence' that the Archangel of the Moon wears is nine feet in height, and his violet and silver wings brush the circle's perimeter. He is robed on the blues of heaven and of the oceans. Upon his forehead is a diadem upon which, in letters of fire, shines the Name of God. In one hand Gabriel weilds a Rod of Power flowering with white lilies; and in the other he bears the Chalice of the Moon. The Archangel's eyes are green as a storm-tossed sea, and all around is the sound of mighty waters.

Here, before you, stands the 'Mighty One of God', the Annunciator of the Christoi. Awe has you by the throat, as the slanting, green eyes of this celestial being - who was before the galaxies were born - holds you within his gaze. Yet, despite the transcendent power of the Archangel, you are aware that he is veiling his potency; stepping it down so that you might be enabled to endure it; and communion take place. There is a tingling in your mind... an adjustment... like a radio being tuned. Then, by his mind-touch, the Archangel's voice sounds bell-like in your mind.

"Hail, Child of Earth, Offspring of The ONE. Much joy is ours that you seek your heritage; and call me, and my Brethren, to assist you upon the Great Journey to Divinity. For we be of One Source, you and I. Use the sacred knowledge imparted to you, and profane it not, so that flowers may adorn your path. Call us when the cycles are propitious - known to Those who Know - by the brightening and dimming of that satellite that is your planet's Moon. Now gaze, if you will, into the Font of Vision..."

You look into the waters of the font... and there forms an image of a strange crown. It has two horns, and between them rests a crescent moon and a single star. Wonderingly you look back up at Gabriel.

"By this sigil you can summon me from the uttermost. Let your mind create it in silver fire, and I will be with you. Since the days of Enoch, now the Prince of the Countenances, have I been called to answer humanity's prayers. Use it wisely. You may return to this Circle of Power whenever you have need. The Guide will bring you; but know that he be no true earth creature, but a spirit of the Moon. With practise you shall have speech with him. Now, if you will, receive by me the Blessing of The One"

The Archangel's face grows brighter, and brighter, until its radiance makes you lower your face. But the eyes of the Archangel remain in your mind, eyes that have beheld the Divine face unto face.

When you look up again... Gabriel and his train of Cherubim have gone. You are standing in a circle of nine grey stones, next to a weathered stone font with rainwater caught in it. Lying at the base of the font is a large wolf-hound with a collar of moonstones linked with silver. The Moon is now sinking from sight behind the hills that surround this sacred valley.

With the guiding hound you leave the Circle of the Moon... and return by the willow trees along the stream's bank... towards the hill by which you came here. As you mount the sloping sides you hear the hooting of an owl; and wonder if it is the same owl you saw in flight; Oh, how long ago?

At the hill's summit... you turn to look over the valley, now hidden in shadows again. A pale green mist that sparkles with silver motes begins to rise; it is time to thank your guide. The wolf-hound rears and places his front paws upon your shoulders. He licks your cheek with his warm tongue... as he does so you hear his voice in your mind. "My name is Atliel. Come and play again." The mist covers you, and you experience the same floating sensation as before.... until you find yourself settled gently into your body.

Make sure you are fully aware of the physical level; have a good stretch and a warm drink. Then record your interior journey before the details and emotional response fade from memory.

Copyright,© DAVID GODDARD, and SAMUEL WEISER PUBLICATIONS, 1994