Here you find the most complete version of my Vision of Psyche to date. The booklet by that name The Vision of Psyche is posted in its entirety below.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Vision

of Psyche

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Vision of Psyche, the various versions of, has appeared in different works over the years, works such as: The Birth of Psyche, Technos & Psyche, Advent (the poem “Song of the New Age”), and in the book manuscript The New Age Vision. Some suggestion of the Vision of Psyche can also be found in various other works; in fact, hints of it are found just about everywhere throughout my work. Through the Labyrinth, A Guided Astrological Meditation is based on the Vision, though Psyche is not named in it and nowhere in the meditation itself is it stated to be derived from this primary Vision. In the evolution of my life work, the Vision of Psyche is the Advent of the Word that is The Mythos. The MYTHOS, in fact, is the great work to come.

 

Given all that, I have come to realize that the Vision of Psyche has been buried all this time in all of these various works—if one is not familiar with any of them, then one is not fully aware of what my Vision is. This short work, The Vision of Psyche, readily and explicitly makes it available on its own. There is no searching for it among other works—here it is.

 

This version of the Vision of Psyche I expect will itself expand over time. Who would experience the Vision in this reading must surely realize that at every moment unfolds Threads of what is here only hinted at. My challenge to someone is this: Setting aside all stock, readymade abstractions, who might interpret my Vision by co-creatively dreaming it forward?

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                ***

 

 

 

 

 

                        The testimony of the poet

                        spoken as

                                          & out of

                                                        

                                The MYTHOS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                        The MYTHOS begins somewhere

                        and must begin with someone

 

 

 

 

                                                ***

 

 

 

 

 

                                 This is no daydream fantasy

or imagination’s fantasy work of fiction;

it is not merely an interesting or striking image to have run by

        on your always of course busy schedule;

                this is no

                        “a nice Vision to have,”

as those who have offhandedly said to me think—

No, it is not simply a nice Vision to hang on a keepsake ring,

it is a challenging, demanding, exacting, unrelenting Vision,

it is a Vision that overwhelmed & destroyed the Who-I-Once-Was—

My life has not been pleasant & easy for having received

        such a Vision,

but has been made ever more difficult.

This Vision is not meant to be merely nicely, poetically clothed,

however the Melody might at first seduce, but is in essence a Vision

        furious

to announce a New Age that would turn this sham, cheapened world

        upside down.

This is no throwaway image in a marketplace of images;

        it is revelatory

                               VISION—

 

Who now opens the pages of the poet’s testimony, 

do not tell me this Vision you will encounter is nice;

say rather it is overwhelmingly beautiful in its promising impact  

        for global transformation—

It is the Vision that soul in this life has always yearned for,

it is the Vision of New Life I live for.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                ***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                              In childhood I remember

I was blinded because of my love for the Sun—

I would look up from play & I would gaze into the Sun;

it was as if radiantly it were a God to me.

                             And it was some years later then,

a youth I was coming slowly to the realization,

how it eventually came over me, that I was to give myself

        to the Sun—

                           A new Dream of the Ages

I had yet not the faintest idea of

was slowly preparing itself through me—

My life was to be a new Dream sent forth

        by the Sun.

Such was the nature of my secret life.

 

 

                                          I never realized how deep

the defining image of the mid-century had gone,

its monstrous visage of the bringer of death—

The Mushroom Cloud played over & over

        on our television screen—

I saw it pictured again & again in the magazines.

The Bomb was always coming for us & would find us,

the new hydrogen Bomb, so enormous its devastating power,

would promise one day, we were told, to annihilate us all.

The absolute danger for all life on Earth had gone

        to a place so deep inside of me,

                                                           I had no idea—

For I had glorified in my youthful vision a Futuristic City ,

I saw its towering glittering spires rise spectacularly into the sky

        under the Sun,

but come my university years I was to see that City destroyed,

exploded into millions of flying splinters, a horror of perdition,

a devastation so complete this Plutonian death I saw,

that I despaired of the purpose of my scientific studies,

        I had to turn from,

 

                                                                           but there,

above the ruins of the City—in this vision of mine—,

a sparrow hawk hovered in the sky (the sparrow hawk

        that was to become my familiar)

                                                                       there,

where the Sun was always the God I had known,

        I turned to,

                          even as I was blinded.

 

 

                                       Years later,

a Muse came to me & sang to me

of distant western waters...

 

 

 

        From afar, a Melody I heard...

 

 

 

                                                         At the cliffs of The Cruz,

Santa Cruz upon our most beautiful Bay of Monterey ,

near Lighthouse Point famous of West Cliff Drive ,

the appointed place was destined of Revelation—

To the left, I would see the distant peak of Loma Prieta ,

dark summit of the backbone ridges of the Santa Cruz Mountains ;

in the foreground, directly in view across the shallow of surf

        of Cowell Beach ,

the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk & Municipal Wharf ;

in the distance, looking across the bay southward,

the Santa Lucia Mountains were ghostly giants rising

        beyond Monterey ;

if it were nighttime, the strung beads of lights

would glimmer in the far distant dark of Monterey ,

going out to the peninsula point of Pacific Grove.

It was here I would take walks, whether day or night,

and meditate upon these changing of day to day bay waters,

here, at the edge of the western continent where we stand before

the great mother of Ocean, Her vast watery crystal of the Pacific,

where once I gave my life to those waters deeply holding

        their Vision.

                                        It was that time when

two of us from the Midwest

arrived in this new world that California was to me,

and a horrible soul wound I suffered shortly

from the utterly unexpected loss of her;

the love I was naïve to assume would always be there

        suddenly

                       was not there—

                                                             Half of me

had seemingly ripped itself away from me,

                               I felt a gaping hole where she had been—

Through the pain & tears, I gathered myself & hurled myself,

the Who-I-was, into those deep, receptive waters of the Bay;

I descended like the Sun into a death of self into the sea,

and one day it was—oh, two or so years later—

after various of earlier visionary intimations & dreams

—I saw the sparrow hawk of my youth dive into the sea—,

after a Melody that had always guided me

        I heard

                    sang from the Bay,

               came to me,

                                   was granted to me,

 

                                                            a VISION—

 

                                                    One day,

a particular day that is lost in memory,

through my Eye I realized I saw, whether day or night,

as I walked along in my ponderings upon the cliffs

        of West Cliff Drive ,

                                         it would come to me:

 

                                           THE VISION—

 

                                                     I looked into the Bay,

it was at night I remember once, and I saw there

        this eerie glow,

a glowing I saw this churning & roiling of its waters,

        out in the Bay,

                                out in the middle of the Bay—

                                                     And suddenly rising

from that mysteriously glowing, bubbling place

out in the dark waters of the Bay, a Fountain I saw,

        my Eye beheld,

rising, rising beautifully out of the Bay,

 

                                                       a Fountain,

 

a resplendent, up-rushing Fountain of illuminated Water,

a Living Fountain I saw there filled with Light;

a Fountain I saw composed of up-rushing, arching streams

        of subtle Fire & Water mixed,

a Fountain rising into the Air over Monterey Bay —

Such a beautiful, such an uncanny & fiery-lit Fountain

        I saw!

 

                                                                        And there,

rising in the midst of the topmost up-rushing sprays,

amidst scintillating, shimmering veils that appeared

        out of Air,

                         a figure I saw!

A radiant Divine Figure I realized I saw—

Goddess of this place & of this coast, as I came to know Her,

I saw standing atop, as if in mid-air hovering there,

                                                  at the topmost of the Fountain,

showered in the glimmering of transparent, iridescent veils

        of emerald, sapphire, ruby, silver & gold,

a vibrant shimmer all about Her as if at one with Her

in the continuous up-rushing of the Fountain’s myriad sprays

that diamond scintillated like the Sun upon sea;

She hovered out of the midst of the topmost arching sprays

of this extraordinary Fountain born out of the deep before me.

She was sharing the Waters from the depths of the Fountain,

out of the depths of the Bay, through the up-rushing Waters

        of the Fountain itself,

She was sharing these Waters in the open Air above,

        under the open sky,

I saw Her as the supreme Revelation of the Fountain—

For She was not simply in the Fountain, but was as if

        at one with it,

                              for all was scintillating as one.

Divine Image of soul She was to become for me,

She hovered out of the Fountain as beautiful as was said

        of Aphrodite of old.

 

                          And the Eye of me

opened more & so I saw more:

I saw Her scintillating Form as if in a sort of fast frame motion

        continuously transforming:

She was not of one phenomenal form only, however She

        would at first appear,

                  but was of many forms, numerous forms—

Goddesses that were all guises of one Goddess I saw in Her.

And though the Divine Figure first appeared to me

        as an ever-changing Goddess,

                                                        She was in fact more—

She was a dynamically shapeshifting figure revealing multitudes

        of Divine Forms,

She was the Form of all the Divine Forms I saw,

for I saw Her as the Divine Androgyne, appearing as both

        Goddess and God—

                                      the Female & Male in-one of the Divine.

I saw Her then as Divine Shapeshifter—revealing all Divine Figures

as if emanations of the facets of one Formless Light,

        as if a Sun-embedded crystal of liquid one might behold.

Indeed, I saw Her as the Goddesses & Gods of all times & places,

in all the guises of their appearing to human experience & imagination,

She could reveal the Form of each Divinity,

                                                                      She could embody

as the particular Divine Power for a people, in a place,

        for that time—

She hovered in the mid-air of the Fountain before me,

        the Shapeshifter Divine—

                                           And each Power I saw She was

could further embody itself in human form,

for Her face revealed now the face after face, the numberless faces

        of those born of Earth—

Now I saw a continuously changing, whirling mosaic of persons

play out across the veils that shimmered as at one with Her,

        for all persons of all ages I saw She was:

The infant & child & youth that through Her Form grew;

the young men & women, the young & old mothers & fathers;

and the old, old elders & those breathing their last—

The passing, always changing, mortal form as myriad as the stars

        I saw.

                  And now stories, like moving pictures,

played out across those shimmering veils of Her protean Form:

Stories my mind’s Eye saw of all peoples of all times & places—

going back & further back, the stories of all global tribal peoples,  

of peoples of ancient city states, of empires, of civilizations rising

        & falling;

                        peoples of the modern nations, their stories,

& of a worldwide growing humanity numbering in the billions;

stories of emergence & flourishing, stories of disappearances;

stories played by the powerful of tyrants, despots, & rulers,

        of warrior heroes & their followers,

                                 of the enslaved & of the oppressed;

stories of the famous & obscure, of the wealthy & of the poor

        & of the outcast;

stories of the wise teachers, of builders & artists & thinkers;

stories of the great lovers & great adventurers;

stories of great friendships & great causes & of revolutions;

stories of secret societies & dark conspiracies, of Dark Ages

        & the flowering exuberances of Renaissance;

stories of the brilliant loners & always the legions of the untold faces

        of the faceless masses:

I saw the parade of all, I saw a history of our human Story

        play out in all

                              upon those shimmering veils—

The pageantry of the Great Story of evolving humanity

        I saw

                 upon those shimmering veils.

 

                                                               And the private

& collective sufferings of all who have embodied

        on this Earth

strummed through me such chords of sadness & compassion! 

As if I heard there a Melody, a Melody aching for an answer—

It was for an answer the Vision itself would one day

        in its fulfillment be!

 

                                        For I saw the human Story of us

as the Labyrinth of soul, and saw in its corridors

        such endless suffering—

Such suffering I saw, such grieving, such misery & agony

        in faces—

I saw untold misfortunes, untold tragedies, untold murder

        & mass genocide!

I saw the sick & diseased, the disabled & mangled;

I saw the justly & unjustly accused & saw the sentenced;

I saw the ruined & wasted & numberless regret-filled lives;

        & countless the victims I saw—

                                                  of disasters, of heinous crimes,

of wartime atrocity, of political oppression & regimes of madmen

        who murdered millions.

Millions upon millions who suffered & screamed I saw,

before sword & spear, before crucifixion & fires of Inquisition,

before the gun & cannon & rapid fire modern machinegun,

before the bombs dropped & missiles targeting

        & exploding;

                              and to witness the terror & torture,

the gas poison, the mass graves, of a World War Holocaust;

I saw those too who were vaporized & who vanished

        beneath the flash of the great Bomb.

Endless millions upon millions, forgotten throughout the Ages,

such a spectacle of human suffering I saw there

that my heart took the stab again & again to witness it all—

Too much, too much, too much had suffering taken place

on this tiny orb in the great, ceaselessly changing,

yet remaining ever the Same, the ever & ever,

        always-newly-revealing Universe.

Endless struggle, endless conflict, endless suffering!

        And always the questions,

                                       Why? And for what?

 

                               All of Earth's peoples I saw,

stretched in endless cinematic parade,

generation upon generation, from primeval past

to what future to come, for all persons upon Earth </