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I am a mystic madman, a wandering wildman, scholar of esoterica, dilettante sadhu, dready-headed hippie (only have a few jata on the back of my head right now, though more be forming of this third set of knotted hair), gentle yogi, fierce foe of falsity. I was a preacher, but I renounced that. I was married, but she renounced me. I was a grad student at one of the top universities in the world on my way to becoming a professor, but I realized they taught lies there too. I am protector of souls, lover of mountains, smoker of herb, fond of hot springs, oceans and lakes and rivers and rain and sunshine, devotee of Devi.

Hindu Gods and Goddesses

Friday, August 4, 2017

A Fantastic View . . . Who Might You Be . . . True

Superheroes and saviors, villains and tricksters.  All of us have our roles to play in this grand lila, this Divine Play that is eternity.  Intricate plots that last ages long, a Dance that is what we are really doing with forever, and the afterlife is in truth our here and now as nigh all of us have died and taken rebirth many many times. There are heaven realms and hells, but in truth the afterlife is here and now as much as it is some future thing.
Forever is immanent and already.  Such a shame that so many people await the "pie-in-the-sky-by-and-by," when every moment, "the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand."  All the magic and wonder and bliss of God and eternity is to be found being here now, finding the Divine at play in your everyday and discovering that heavenly bliss is what we are meant to know in the moment, right now!

As Joseph Campbell did imply by his work, Myths to Live By, there are within the ancient and abiding archetypes, those figures and figurations of myth and sacred story, heroes and gods of renown, patterns worthy of contemplation and even emulation, if not clues to one's true path extent in and to be embraced
in whatever given life.  The truly inspired and well writ myths and tales of heroes and gods grant a view of templates that already order reality, patterns that we unconsciously repeat as if ingrained in our DNA--whether or not that is whence such information is conveyed to and through people through generations.  One example of such a repetition might be exemplified by how the elements and mythemes of the Ramayana are so succinctly repeated in the story of the Trojan Horse (though it is possible that such similarities are a result of an intentional rewriting of the original, I ought note).  Some archetypally rife stories beg to be played out again and again . . .

In my personal trip to figure myself whilst exploring the variety of constructions and tellings proffered by the world's religion's and myths, I have found that indeed my own life seems very much inscribed with preordained patterns applied from amongst the most ancient of mythologies.  I do not assume that everyone will find such succinct parallels, homonyms and nigh cognates to grant each precisely the same sort of insight I have been granted thus, but perhaps such a way of reading of the mythemes and mythic figurations writ o'er the mundane factors of one mystic's life lived will provide inspiration for others to seek and discover how the potentially extraordinary secrets of any given soul's sacred role in this life might be already manifest and waiting to be unveiled in little clues and hints clearly enough told in one's life story as lived and, perhaps, as anciently writ.

Bhairavi is a particularly terrifying form of the Great Goddess.  Most often depicted doing devotion to a Shiva linga set in a gazebo shrine, Bhairavi is perhaps most noted for one mode of battle She employs when fighting a horde of demons:  Bhairavi, normally very beautiful in appearance, turns Her appearance so terrible that the demons puke and shit their own guts out, eye balls popping out, etc.  Bhairavi is also very much into wordplay, and I do suspect She is behind many of what I have determined to be subtle spells somewhat surreptitiously planted within any number of languages to keep the people intoning these hidden mantras to help tune their lives to the eternal, to invoke the ancient Divine despite the speakers' ignorance.

 The sound represented by the Devanagari letter ई, or "I," is touted to be one of the names of Devi Sri Lalitha Sahasranama, Maha Shakti, the Great Goddess of the Universe.  Thus, every time someone in the English language uses the personal pronoun "I" said person is invoking the Great Mother!!  Another intonation, mantra, "cheer" and I would argue, spell, somehow subtly slipped into the American English vernacular is "Hooray!! Hoorah!!"  Hari-Hara is a form of God when the Maintainer and the Destroyer, Vishnu and Shiva, are manifest in one Body.  Every time a crowd cheers, "Hooray!! Hoorah!!" they have intoned an ancient and potent expression of the Divine.  According to the Vedic understanding of reality (not unlike the perspective of quantum physics, not to mention as implied by the artifact of "magic words"), sound vibration is the source of the manifestation of reality, as the ॐ (properly pronounced AUMñ) is touted as the Primal Sound.

Utilizing a consideration of such wordplay, I have found some very intriguing clues in my bid to understand myself, to discover the weave of words that along with other indicators has helped me to find my proper "myths to live by."  Again, such a method is not necessarily a template to uncover clues in every life examined for clues to who one really is, but in my own case and in relation to my experiences this lens has revealed some extraordinary coincidences.  In my fantastical view of my life and story, a particular pattern has emerged to my eye that seems to figure me, archetypally, anyhow, as Hari-Hara, if homonyms and homophones are indeed a factor worth considering.

My mother (deceased) and father are named Dorothy Janet Archer (maiden nickname J. Schroeder) and Vernon Shelby Archer.  In Hindu mythology, the mother and father of Krishna are Devaki and Vasudeva. Krishna's foster mother is known as Yashoda.  My first and middle name, Jeffrey Charles, does sound phonetically rather close to Hari-Hara.  I have a small melanistic patch on the left side of my torso that seems indicative of human mosaicism, a genetic skin condition which is portrayed in murtis (sacred pictures/representations) of Hari-Hara, as Krishna (the left side) is a black guy, and Shiva (the right side) is generally light skinned.  Said condition sometimes indicates tetragametic human chemerism which is a condition where two separately fertilized eggs become one person, again fitting the figure Hari-Hara.  The only surgery I've had in this life was the removal of a benign tumor removed from the right side of my throat, perhaps reminiscent of Shiva as Nilakantaka (the Blue Throated One).


My son with Holly Kay Archer (now Wood) was given the name Kieran Drew Archer, which does sound quite like the name Kartikeya, the son of Shiva and Parvati who was conceived on the edge of the Ganges River.  Kieran Drew Archer was conceived on the edge of a waterbed, as I recall quite succinctly walking into the bathroom after a particularly intense bout of love-making wherein I was kneeling beside the waterbed with his mother lay on the edge thereof, and realizing we had just made a baby.  My younger sister Lisa Susan Archer to some degree seems to fit the archetypal role of Subhadra, Krishna's younger sister who married Arjuna.  Any number of other nigh homonyms and homophones and other factors seem to fit with the parallels between my life and the figures of the Hindu Gods Vishnu and Shiva, as well as the fact that I unwittingly began to act out something of the plot of the Pine Forest Myth of Shiva, a pattern of rather perverse or at least unseemly practices that some tantric sadhus are touted to enact in emulation of God the Destroyer, well before I was introduced to Hinduism to any degree.

Whether such are merely cool coincidences or are cues planted to assure me that I am on the proper path of devotion, are in fact indications of self-realization or even of the state of being an Avatar, these exercises have inclined me to consider it certainly legitimate to explore the subtleties of a given life with the expectation that somewhere therein and by whatever number and means of hints and clues granted by some playful expression of the Divine are answers to many of any given life's quest for meaning, to expect that there are subtleties writ between the lines that might well tell important secrets of one's true path.  As many tout (whether accurately or no) that the lines on the palms of your hands and one's date of birth can give many clues to a persons fate, certainly such clues are also inscribed in the names and words woven into one's life and associations, memes and mythemes granting meaning to one's life.  Explore your own life with the expectation that indeed, in the mundane facts and factors of any given life is a wealth of information of the true history and fate of any given soul, and at the very least an interesting exercise in archetypal explorations...







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