For Mothers and Grandmothers and all our Ancestors~~How Astrology connected me back to you~~

#tinaheals

Nothing in life ever made sense, everything was too arbitrary, too random, too chaotic. There was a larger pattern somewhere there, I knew it, I sensed it. But how could I find that design? I knew somethings were connected and sometimes events and scenarios repeated themselves. Why? I’d ask myself. What on Earth was the connection?

But the connection was not just on Earth you see! The connection is quantum, the connection is everything. Looking up at the sky, I knew that there were stories there. There was a pattern up there I realised, but did that pattern somehow relate to the one below.

Then I discovered astrology. I think I was sixteen and it changed the way I looked at life. The planets above spiralled through the highways in space and entered different signs. Sometimes they appeared to go retrograde. No they are not moving backwards, they just appear…

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For Mothers and Grandmothers and all our Ancestors~~How Astrology connected me back to you~~

Nothing in life ever made sense, everything was too arbitrary, too random, too chaotic. There was a larger pattern somewhere there, I knew it, I sensed it. But how could I find that design? I knew somethings were connected and sometimes events and scenarios repeated themselves. Why? I’d ask myself. What on Earth was the connection?

But the connection was not just on Earth you see! The connection is quantum, the connection is everything. Looking up at the sky, I knew that there were stories there. There was a pattern up there I realised, but did that pattern somehow relate to the one below.

Then I discovered astrology. I think I was sixteen and it changed the way I looked at life. The planets above spiralled through the highways in space and entered different signs. Sometimes they appeared to go retrograde. No they are not moving backwards, they just appear thus to us.

The situations and scenarios that led me here have to do with the veil lifting slowly. Yes the pattern exists. I was ecstatic. Kinda EUREKA moment there! AS ABOVE SO BELOW. The natal chart became a fascination for me- mine, my mom and dad’s, my baby brother’s. I became obsessed reading all kinds of astrology books.

II used to go to the National Library, which is the largest library in Asia to study up on the occult. Astrology was a favourite. Things started to fall into place and in fact this perusal of this ancient subject got me more and more interested in spirituality.

By then Blavatsky had happened to me. Bailey opened my mind to ESOTERIC ASTROLOGY and till today I have not stopped learning from them. HPB has made herself known to me through many meditations, channellings and writings which I will share with you as and when she asks me to.

Her first instructions came when I was asked to open this group on FB around nine years ago I think.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/hpblavatsky/

Again I divert. Back to how astrology not only made me connect to the COSMOS in an abstract way, it also directly connected me to my ANCESTORS. Developing my psychic gifts have opened up so many portals, so many narratives and meta-narratives, so many visions and illusions, so many worlds and Universes. Every human being is gifted with this psychic capability and BECOMING AWARE and BE-NESS(state of just being) are steps to come closer to these powers. They will manifest in everyone in due time.

My mom left today. She was with me for the past month and a half and today she is gone.  sit on my WC and howl my lungs out. The cry is primal, it is raw and it is NORMAL(especially under a Pisces Moon, ah, it is also the last Moon to conjunct Chiron, in Pisces as well). Crying and letting go of emotions is very healthy. Do not stop anyone from crying, let them CRY for fuck’s sake, there is too much Pisces going on here. ha! Their tears are cosmic healers. The tears will not only cool your breasts as they fall on your chest, they are the balm the Universe is sending you. Let them come, let the floodgates break. This primal feeling took me back to the Scorpio full moon we just went through. Boy! Was that heavy!!!

The Gemini season is lighter, less intense, but it is intense when the Moon in Pisces squares Saturn in Saggy.

But still I cry…I cry for all the time lost, the useless harsh words uttered by me in moments of rebellion(very strong Uranian energy), the intense events that I afflicted on her(Moon in the 7th can do that for you, especially if it happens to be your SEVENTH HOUSE).

I cried for my lost childhood and I cried for my daughter. Her granny is her whole world you see. I cried for all the lost hugs and kisses, all the sweet stories and tea-parties, all the lullabies and playing dressing up.

I cry for the LOSS OF INNOCENCE, I cry for IMPERMANENCE! Because as a mortal, nothing scares me more that these shifts. I know not that everything is a vibration, pure mathematics. I only know of emotions and raw feelings- of pain, loss, suffering(Pluto aspects in the natal chart do this) and of course of love and bliss. But every feeling, every sensation is TEMPORARY.

No matter how strongly I try to hold on to it, they just disappear, like evanescent bubbles, each bubble a Universe unto itself. So many Universes coming into being and then dissipating while new ones appear.

Dear Ma,

As you are well aware, I have been doing these special RELEASE and FORGIVE meditations since February. It is done to FORGIVE ones parents. We have to forgive our parents for every thing we may blame them for consciously or unconsciously. You know that as we have spoken in-depth about this.

You know how everyday I have created this sacred spot for you where you and baba have visited. I have surrendered all my anger and resentment maa, you know that. With each meditation, I have released you from any known or unknown karmic ties of suffering that I might have unleashed on you. In turn all I ask is your forgiveness. I know you have always, already forgiven me. The Dasein has anticipated your forgiveness ahead of time.

This meditation that I created to forgive you made me overcome so many psychological repressed issues that I finally let go. I wrote about it, I meditated on it and cut the toxic chords forever. I have grown maa, ready to take flight on my wings and be the butterfly you wanted me to be.

This overwhelming crushing sense of loss at you leaving has left me so vulnerable, that today I understand that the meditation has opened up this block and today I experience FORGIVENESS as I have never done before. The intensity was rapturous. A rush of endorphin, Release of serotonin. Oxytocin.

Maa today I cry as I know that our story must end one day and that breaks my heart. I know we have had a complicated herstory. I know ma. Lilith in Cancer can do that you know. See this placement of Lilith means that the mother will sooner or later, through her action, words or deeds hurt the person!

Yes maa I was hurt and I hurt you. I took your protective love to be oppressive when I should have looked at the scenarios with less selfishness and more compassion. Today I know what it means to be a mom as I cuddle my daughter in my arms, as I smell her hair, as I listen to her sing to me or when she kisses me. I know how mothers feel. I know how you felt.

Maa you have a sensitive artist’s soul and no one can hold a candle to your illumination. Your heart always so full of live and wonder! You are a gift! To me from the Universe. Maa you have been my first Guru, my first spiritual guide.

From teaching me Shiv Puja to Adyastotram, from taking me to yoga classes since I was ten, to making sure I meditate daily during my school and college life. Maa today I see how important you have been in my spiritual journey. You are irreplaceable in every way.

You know maa, as a child I had this inexplicable fear of losing you. It was my worst fear and you know what as I explore this spiritual vibe, I can tell you that although I know how interconnected life and death are, it still makes my heart skip a beat when I think that one day you might not be there.

As the North Node has entered Leo, everyday I am becoming more of me and today I forgive you for every bloody thing. And maa, today I am sending spirals of love vibration to all the women I have shared my mitochondrial DNA with. I love you all.

Thank you ~~tintin

Dear Gita,

I want you to know that you are a part of my soul tribe and you are truly a remarkable woman. You lost two children and still continued to spread your love and light to the world. Your contribution will never be forgotten while me and my daughter are alive.

Your stories will live on through the mouths of my descendants I promise you that for you may have ended just this life, not the IN-finite fractals of narratives and meta narratives we have created through incarnations.

I met you in one of my most intense regression sessions last week. You are a part of my 144! Gita, I release you from all stigma, shame and guilt that society may have thrust upon you. I also release you from every karmic pain and attachment I might have inflicted on you knowingly or unknowingly.

I ask for your forgiveness and readily forgive anything and everything for LOVE is all I feel. You see nothing matters except the huge samsaric seas of consciousness where we have forayed together since infinity.

Gita I love you and always will.

Thanking you deeply~~ tina

Dear Namita,

You left leaving me hollow from inside. Your stories, your songs, your spiritual side, left a profound impact on me. There is so much to say today and I wish you could see the work I am doing. I know you knew where I was headed.

Your fascination for books and literature amazes me today. What depth of knowledge you had about Bengali literature and culture. What insights and you never shied away from providing me with guidance.

The paternal grandfather is the 10th from the 10th = 7th house and the Moon sits in my seventh house. The Moon(SUBJECTIVE MIND) has to do with INTUITION and you have helped me immensely to develop that gift.

You have meditated with me as a child. You have shown me the details of havan and puja. Namita I know you have suffered, but each time you have opened your heart and let the light shine through the crack and you have taught me the same.

I have learnt to open my heart from you. I pay homage to you and your mother Namita and all the great women who created you and me in turn. I send you spirals of love energy.

Thank You~~tintin

I bow down to all the mothers and grandmothers of my lineage going back to 14 generations and beyond. I salute you and your femininity.

I bow down to all the mothers and grandmothers out there, through all of space and time.

I bow down to the original FEMALE who is all our ancestor.

I bow down to the MOTHER MATRIX or DEVI energy.

I bow down to you in reverence as I am a vibration of you, as you are of me. We are FRACTALS of that ONE CONSCIOUSNESS swimming through SPACE. We are the Universe watching itself.

Blessed by the Sun in Gemini, this is my offering….I don’t know why but I compelled to urge you to CONNECT with your MOTHERS and GRANDMOTHERS~~Please call them…please…astro

The Plan~~A Novel by Tinaheals

 

Help me Publish!!! Email ~ tina@tinaheals.com

http://www.tinaheals.com

Rajani and the twins moved from their gigantic ancestral home to a modest apartment,

He continued working, but had lost interest. Only two clients remained with him, the rest hired his son who now also usurped his office. So with a very modest salary he began to educate and care for his granddaughters. He became father and mother, friend and teacher; he became their anchor in the stormy sea of life.

It would be time for weekly nail cutting, ear cleaning, hair oiling sessions; amidst squeals and protests, he would pacify them singing, shohe na, shohe na, kande poranooo with dramatic eye movements and wild gestures, especially when they tried to tell him to stop, that had them rolling on the floor laughing.

Slowly but surely, the trio began to put the past behind them and move on. The girls taught him to laugh again, to live again; life had given him a second chance to bring up his two girls again, he just wished Sita could experience this life with him.
He took them to Benaras, BodhGaya, Hrishikesh and Haridwar; they went to so many places in their country, even remote ones where tourists don’t usually set foot.
They’d be lost in the world of Hanuman as he destroyed Lanka, they’d be crying as Ravana abducted Sita, they’d be deeply moved when Karna would be going to battle against Arjuna knowing he’d lose, they’d be fuming with anger when Duryodhana insulted Panchali and time would fly as dadu would read to them the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, the Bhagvadgita and other sacred texts. The way he could tell the story, the simplicity, yet, the profundity in them, deeply touched the girls. Even while imparting knowledge from the Upanishads, he tried to make it as palatable as possible for the children, tell me how do you explain Tat Tvam Asi to seven year olds, yet not only did he try, it’d be fair to say, he succeeded too.

He could see his daughter Mita in the girls, different attributes of her visible in each girl.

He loved Nina’s poetry, she had rawness to her emotions, something primordial to the way she described reality even in that young age; surely poetry was to be her meditation and so it was.

The chotto ektakar shingara and the radhaballi,

Breathing furiously.

Inhabiting my Sundays, my frenemies.

She’d written this haiku, barely aged seven and it made him laugh. She’d captured something of Kolkata in those lines; she’d grabbed a slice of their times together as they strolled down Sarat Bose Road on sultry lazy Sundays.

It’s absolutely true that nowhere except Kolkata do you get that tiny shingara or samosa for one rupee, it has peas in it and the Bongs cannot have enough of it. And what of the Radhabollobi? Try it, you’ll see. You may get acidity, but it’ll be worth it, vouches every Bengali.

Rajani loved these girls like he had loved their mother, but being a very enlightened soul he treated them all alike, even Arunava, but at times he was left wondering as to where he went wrong with that one. But Mita was his pet; he had a special soft corner in his heart for his eldest.

None had his spiritual depth except Mita and this bonded them immensely, every time he saw her, his heart wanted to embrace her. Khuku, he called her, his little girl and she was so much like him.

“Aye khuku aye…” he would play this song in the gramophone and Hemanta’s voice would flood the house.

She had his striking peaches and cream skin and almond shaped eyes like the goddess Durga, with abundant tresses swimming down to her knees and an hour-glass body which was as ageless as Time itself and looked like some Kumartuli’s sculptor was sculpting Maa Durga from clay. Shakkhat Maa Durga, people would comment.

Yes, she was breathtaking! Her intellect was sharp; she was thoughtful, critically questioning and deeply analytical. Many an afternoon was spent in discussing literature, philosophy, poetry and the scriptures of all religions. Her father enjoyed immensely the display of perspicacity while she explained some particular issue, idea or philosophy, her face shining red with passion and emotion. What radiance! Then she fell in love with Shubho at Scottish Church English honours class.
It was an exam. John Osborne’s play, “Look Back in Anger”, was the monster in question and 100 marks were at stake. Mita had not studied this play and her paper sat blank. She spotted Shubho in front scribbling away with immense concentration. She poked him a few times. He looked back and couldn’t take his eyes off her. In a state of suspended bliss, he handed her the paper. She took it with a squeal of laughter which thrilled him to the bone, and began to rewrite it in her words.
Now let’s fast forward, SHUBHO and MITA are married in Kartik purnima, the full moon beckoned a life of abundance and plenitude for them.

As Mita adorns Shubho’s neck with the baramala and the shubhodristi happens where they gaze into each other’s eyes, it’s like a dejavu. The breeze outside caresses his hair while he stands there looking at her, she’s carried on a piri by her brothers, uncles and cousins and her eyes are between two paan leaves and in that moment they both knew that no matter what life would bring it would be worth nothing without the other.

Mita gets pregnant which turns out to be pretty complicated with twins sharing the same amniotic sac and placenta, throughout the seven and a half months, she’s under strict supervision and spends much of her time reading, writing and talking to her daughters. During the course of her seven month pregnancy she almost dies twice and the lives of the twins are threatened, but she manages to trick fate into submission.

These girls, they had to see the sky wearing the bright blue cloak of a spring day, they had to experience the rain on their faces, caressing sometimes or slapping away, soft some days and as pokey as thorns on others. They had to see the cheetah run, they had to eat tangra macher jhol, oh, life in its complexity and multitudes had to be experienced by them, she thought.
Karma my dear friends had other plans. Mita and Shubho die tragically young, leaving behind only Rajani to take care of the twins. Their disappearance happened in Kedarnath temple during an annual pilgrimage they always undertook.
Rajani had to don the parent costume once again, this time for Nina and Zeenia and he was determined to play the role to perfection this time. As perfect as it could be! So now to get back to the story. Dadu is what Nina calls Rajani, the Bengali appellation for grandfather.
As she sits in front of this dead body, she thinks of her dadu. He would know what to do; he always knew what to do. Such were Nina’s thoughts. Delusion arises from anger, Dadu told her one day as she was furious with Joida, the Oriya driver who had not given her a minute to stand and chat with her friends after her Rabindra-sangeet class at Dakshini, to top it off he had the gall to speak rudely in front of them.

The dominoes fell,

The words like torrents

It was inevitable.

She’d written this haiku she remembered for the occasion.

Joida loved her as his own daughter and that was the excuse for the harsh treatment. She had almost wanted to slap Joida. But Dadu intervened. “Little one your mind is bewildered by delusion. You think that Joi is being pushy, but actually he is just trying to protect you. See, you lost your reasoning as your mind was bewildered…and one falls down, when reasoning is destroyed.” Dadu fell on the floor dramatically.
That made Nina smile even in her malaise as she sat in limbo, with dried blood on her hands. She deliberated with the thought of saying, “Out, damned spot,” but then decided against it. The dead body just lay there. Her hallucinations where he wakes up as some terrible ZOMBIE in a B-Grade film and chews her down bone by bone is funny, she observes. I can have funny thoughts, even in this scenario.
Then she notices that there were many parts of her, or no, there are many Nina’s inside of her, ambiguous and confused, each thinking that random thought while observing the others and then she notices that there is a Nina who’s also observing, but she has no thought as the others did, no opinion. She just watches. Not for the first time Nina could distinctly hear the separate voices- how diverge, how contradictory, how ironic were they, but this time there was a force to them that was lacking in the past. She tries to swallow, but her tongue sticks to her insides, parched and dry, it desperately needs some water.
The young housekeeping attendant is right outside Nina’s room and would have turned away, but a trickle of blood manages to seep outside. The attendant examines it carefully, and then thinks of what to do. Should he go and inform his supervisor? No he decides against it and taking a master key from his supply trolley, he puts it in the key hole and turns it.

The scene which greets his eyes chills him to the bone and a blood curdling scream escapes his lips shattering the quiet of the early morn. He looks ridiculous, scared out of his wits, barely coherent in his thoughts, he looked like a two year old who had seen a ghost in a Paranormal series on telly.
It’s Nina who surprises me. She didn’t even bat an eyelid at the shrill shriek. She just sits there, stares at her abyss. What did she see?? The abyss staring back??

the_twins-1382139739m

Image is not mine. Not my copyright.

Om Tare Tu Tare Ture Soha~~

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Who is Tara? Tara is the second manifestation of the MOTHER MATRIX and a part of DASAMAHAVIDYA. She is also refereed to as BHAVATARINI, as in she helps cross over this samsaric ocean.

Each MAHAVIDYA or aspect of the DEVI is related to a planet. TARA rules over JUPITER, the planet of good luck and EXPANSION!

Tara is the very embodiment of LOVE and she is the very same as KALI and KAMAKHYA according to the YOGINI TANTRA.

In Tantric literature, there are three manifestations of Tara~~ Eka Jata, who manifests as Kaivalya(ULTIMATE PEACE) or unity with the Absolute; Ugra Tara, who protects us from the miseries of existence and Nila Saraswati, who imparts Jnana or knowledge.

Tara is the presiding Goddess of Speech and the Shakti of Hiranya Garba Saura Brahma. Hiranyagarbha being a Sanskrit compound meaning “the Golden Egg” or “the Egg of imperishable matter.”

In Hindu cosmology, it refers to “the golden egg or womb” from which the universe was born. In the Vedas and Brahmanas, Brahma is not named, and Hiranyagarbha was the source of all things. In the Manusamhita, Hiranyagarbha was Brahma, who divided the egg into two parts, the heavens and the earth.

H.P.B refers to Hiranyagarbha as the MUNDANE EGG, androgynous or non-dual, after which it was divided into Viraj and Vach, the male and female principles. The Secret Doctrine’s Stanzas of DZYAN state that the Hiranyagarbha is in itself triple (Hiranyagarbha, Sakti, Sankara, or Brahma, Vishnu and Siva).

Tara is the very essence of all THREE- the TRINITY! And will in time bring about SURYA PRALAYA.

Pralaya (devanāgarī: प्रलय) is a Sanskrit word that means “dissolution” or “melting away” (from laya: “to dissolve” and pra “away”). In Hinduism it refers to a period where the universe is in a state of non-existence, which happens when the three gunas or qualities of matter are in perfect balance. The idea of pralaya is part of a cyclic model of the universe (present in several Eastern philosophies as well as in Theosophy) where the cosmos is said to appear and disappear regularly within the Absolute Reality:

As the sun arises every morning on our objective horizon out of its (to us) subjective and antipodal space, so does the Universe emerge periodically on the plane of objectivity, issuing from that of subjectivity—the antipodes of the former. This is the “Cycle of Life.” And as the sun disappears from our horizon, so does the Universe disappear at regular periods, when the “Universal night” sets in. The Hindoos call such alternations the “Days and Nights of Brahma,” or the time of Manvantara and that of Pralaya (dissolution). The Westerns may call them Universal Days and Nights if they prefer.

~~Theosophy Wiki

What is a SURYA or SOLAR PRALAYA?

A solar pralaya comes when seven Planetary Chains have been accomplished:

Within one solar period (of a p[ralaya]. and m[anvantara].) occur seven such minor periods [rounds], in an ascending scale of progressive development. . . . The solar period [is composed] of 49 rounds.

~~Theosophy Wiki

While immersing oneself in Tara sadhana, you must remember that you are calling upon the ULTIMATE FEMININE MANIFESTATION OF POWER, therefore be prepared to immerse yourself in her literature and dhyana or meditation.

When Tara is invoked successfully, we can truly see ourselves as the GREAT EXPRESSION OF DIVINITY we truly are. Creativity is supercharged when she is awakened in our beings. It is believed that Vyasa who wrote the Vedas wanted to immerse himself in Tara worship.

He tried and he tried, to no avail. Therefore he travels to Mahachina(Tibet), met Shakyamuni Buddha(yes the ORIGINAL dude) and learnt to invoke Tara correctly. He worked on the eighteen Mahapuranas after invoking the Tara energy. It was her grace.

Tara is above Maya as she is the CREATRIX of it all. One can achieve all material success with her grace, but she is the GREAT LIBERATOR. As in she shows us the way out of this MAYA or the GREAT ILLUSION.

Tara is surrounded by eight Yoginis: Mahakali, Rudrani, Ugra, Bhima, Ghira, Bhramari, Maharatri and Bhairavi. The Hindu Mahavidya Goddess Tara figures prominently in Tibetian Bhuddhism- VAJRAYANA BUDDHISM.

No one can be certain as to who invoked Tara first- Bengal  or Tibet? In Bengal(where I come from, the very heart of Tantra) Mahavidya texts such as Mahabhagavata-purana and Brhaddharma-purana originated and the SHAKTA or devi worship is very much a part of our psyche. Bengal is one state which practices no FEMALE FOETICIDE as we see our daughters as expressions of the GODDESS.

Bengalis are true FEMININE ENERGY worshippers and we birthed many refined forms of Goddess worship. Tibetan Buddhism had twenty forms of Tara. Of this White and Green Tara are popular. OM TARE TU TARE TURE SOHA!

I love Tara with all my heart, whether she is in Hindu form or Buddhist. I practice a lot of Vajraya meditations, so Green and White Tara are my absolute favourites. Black Tara provides hardcore protection if you need that and Blue Tara is NILA SARASWATI, a very esoteric form of Saraswati and the PATRON OF ARTS.

I have been invoking TARA since I have been a child and she has never failed to interact with me. She does so through numbers, colours, scents, memories and sometimes dreams. She is my companion when I enter meditation and I never leave my bed without saying the Tara Gayatri.

Aum Tarawai cha vidmahe

Maha ugrawai dhimahi

Tanno devi prachodayat.

 

These devotional or Shakta songs dedicated to Tara have made me cry and laugh so many times. They have such deep meaning and such musings…SUBLIME!!!

SHREE TARA STOTRA

!! Ghora roope mahamaaye sarvashatruvashamkari
Bhaktebhyo varade devi traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (1)

!! Suraasuraarchite devi siddhagandharva sevithe 
jaadyapaapahare devi traahimaam sharanaagatham !! (2) 

!! Jattajoota samaayukthe lola jihvaanukaarini
druthabuddhikare devi traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (3)

!! Soumyaroope ghoraroope chandaroope namostute
srishttiroope namstubhyam traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (4)

!! Jadanaam jadathaam hamsi bakthaanam bakthavatsale
moodatha har me devi traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (5)

!! Hum humkaarmaye devi balihomapriye namah
ugratare namstubhyam traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (6)

!! Ashttamyaam cha chaturdashyaam navamyaam chaikamanasa
shannmaasaei siddhimaapnoti naatra kaarya vichaaranaa !! (7)

!! Budhim dehi yasho dehi kavitvam dehi dehi me
kubudhi har me devi traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (8)

!! Indraadi devisha vrindavandite karunaamayi
tare taradhinaadhaasye traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (9)

!! Mokshaarthim labathe moksham dhanaarthim danamaapnuyaat
vidhyaarthim labhate vidhyaam tarkavyaakaranaadikaam !! (10)

!! Idam stotram padedhyasthu saubhaghyam labhate nara
tasya shatru kshayam yaati mahapragya cha jaayate !! (`11)

!! Peedaayaam vaapi samgraame japye daane tadhaa bhaye
ya idam padathi stotram shubham tasya na samshaya !! (12)

!! Stotrennanena deveshi stutva devim sureshvareem
sarvaan kaamanavapnoti sarvavidyaanidhirbhavet !! (13)

!! Iti te kadhitam divyam stotram saarasvathapradam
asmaat parataram naasthim stotra tantre maheshvari !! (14)

Namaste!

http://www.tinaheals.com

tina@tinaheals.com

Venus squares Pluto~25th May, 2017: Eyes wide shut!!!

Tinaheals

May 25, 2017 11:22 AM Venus 19 Aries 07 square Pluto 19 Capricorn 07
Sex is more exciting on the screen and between the pages than between the sheets. ~~ Andy Warhol
But it doesn’t have to be, does it? Let me explain to you how you can harness sexual energy to manifest what you seek. This astro is so sexually charged that it might be a bit too much for many people and we have to collectively find resolutions for our sexual problems. Especially as we exist in a RAPE CULTURE. A healthy attitude towards sex has to be developed if we are to progress and find equality.
Sex is no big-deal. IT IS ABSOLUTELY NATURAL, and also MAGICAL!
Do you remember the 4th of March or the 20th November 2015? Maybe 19th April, 2016? Or on the 11th September? 2016 of course! Breathe and steady yourself. Calm your mind and take…

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Prologue~The Plan, a novel by Tinaheals


Publishing parts of my novel…help me publish!!! Fund me!!!

Prologue

The hunger in her soul, the song in her eyes, and the vibration of her heart called out to me from the hologram.

What hologram? The one you exist in my friend!

It’s the cosmic television, like the one you stare at for hours every day. What else do you do when you return home from work after a long tedious day? TELEVISION na?

That same kind of television; imagine it in a slightly grander scale, nope, maybe not just slightly, imagine it to be grander on an unprecedented scale!

A cosmic television! Aha!

You experience me and your three dimensional space as you do images on the T.V.

Listen listen, at this level, everything there is, was or could be exists as a super-holographic sequence. Everything exists simultaneously. The albatross of doom over your head?

Forget that bird, listen carefully. These lines exist now and have always existed, in a sense I have always been talking to you, you in the hologram, me in it, sometimes out of it, nope I’m in it too; she is a hologram.

I don’t know quite how to explain it,

Something in her craving for truth, something in the way she depicted existence called out to me. A very abstract, unquantifiable sentiment entangled the abstract in me. Things don’t usually impact me as they do you.

I am myself an abstraction concretized!

This Book of Life and Death may give you some answers. Are you looking for answers? If not then bandh karo and chalo.

A story it will be, yes definitely! Let it oscillate in your mind. Let it do the disco dancing.

The ouroboros of a story, without a beginning or an end!  Now you’re confused. Don’t be it’s just a story or is it? But while observing this story, remember, I take the artistic liberty to leave anything out, the very subtle nuances, the finer intricacies are often not done justice with words; soak the emotions up, let them begin to ferment in your mind and sprout ideas, thoughts, actions like a bean when soaked in water overnight; such strangeness does exist and such a strange narrator may or may not.

Time, time, time, cut its throat,

Ambiguity personified.

Derelict dreams, dysfunctional dilemma.

In the beginning was the word and then I appeared as the silent witness of all this mess, , the frequencies or sound in the light and the vibrations or light in the sound.

Mighty civilizations have appeared and disappeared without a trace, Zeno’s paradox has been thought of, if everything has a place, then place must also have a place, yes or no, to ad infinitum; the megaliths of Puma Punku have been built but now lie scattered as shattered memories of a bygone past that no one knows anything of, the dinosaurs have roamed the Earth and have been destroyed on the Western Ghats, the Kumari Kandam was lost to the sea taking with it a chunk of land from what you call India, and of course emperors, maharajas, kings, Prime Ministers have been assassinated, dethroned under my watchful gaze.

Listen to this, it’s her poetry. These few lines she wrote that had this stark honest, raw and original feel to it, yes, it made sense in all the nonsense and it made me want to collect this in the Book of Life and Death.

The human body is the war ground of Kurukshetra,

Reality lies is the five senses,

I see you, I hear you, I feel you, I smell you and I taste you!

In the world of dreams there are no differences,

I still see you, I still hear you….you get the gist!

The dream world is full of thoughts,

They are like drops from an ink pen, falling blot after blot,

They are like smoke from an incense, here one minute, gone the next.

They are like lightning, you see it for a nano second,

They are like thunder; you hear it, loud and clear, but then just the sound of the rain.

I am vexed!

These thoughts, they are my defence, my escape, my dream.

It was her grandfather, a kriya yogi, one of Babaji’s very own crusaders, who told her this truism as she crunched autumn leaves under her feet; the sound thrilled her to the very bottom of her soul- crunch, crunch, crunch!

Yes the human body is the esoteric Kurukshetra, more on that later. Who is Babaji? Even I don’t know.

 

Think about it, think long and hard,

Of the fragments, the notes all jarred,

The way things are designed, the way things feel,

In reality, there are no eyes, no ears, no mouth, no tongue, and no touch!

Is this a little too much??

Only electrical stimuli interpreted by our brain,

Do not ridicule this concept, do not think it insane!

You’re definitely wondering how you got stuck in here? Reading these lines and for what…do not despair my friend, it’ll be well worth your time, just read on, enjoy a writer’s psychosis.

There is no material reality,

I am asleep, I am dreaming, I do not realize,

That all is just perception!

These words they create just the sensation, an awareness of stimulation!

Now I wake up from this dream,

I seriously think I have entered another one,

The so-called real life, I hear it scream!

What is this life, but a dream? Do not for one minute think that your dream world is any more real than this solid physical world you inhabit, in fact the Sun, the Moon and the real you are all hidden away; it is every bit as real, yet, unreal. Makes no sense, it probably never will, but just read on…sapna, sapna, sapna…

Now this, it seems as true as my dream world,

How am I to know the difference?

My reality is blurred, it swirls and twirls.

This world is nothing but a habit,

Our belief, our dogmas, our prejudice!

A futile edifice, a worthless emphasis, an abject sedative

Of Nothingness!!!

Form = emptiness, emptiness = form
Emptiness is not separate from form, form is not separate from emptiness…all is nothing and nothing is all.
Whatever is form is emptiness, whatever is emptiness is form, you know that the atom that you’re made of is empty, yes, my friend, mostly empty. Hulk-like we stay in the understanding that the body is solid, but it’s not.

 

The brain is not the Perceiver or the Perceived!

Who am I?

What is this world?

Who are you?

Who thinks these thoughts?

Who is this ME?

Who is writing these words?

To what avail?

 

I’m just a ghost in the machine,

An echo of an echo of an echo,

Reverberating through time and space!

Who is this seer?

Who contemplates this Universe to be unreal?

Who has all these thoughts in the head?

Only questions and never an answer!!!

A man and his thoughts are indefinable, and why so, because in the beginning he is nothing. His identity is shaped by what he can conceive of for himself; imagine all the poets and novelists creeping through the alleys in the urban atrocities looking for inspiration, staring at hollow faces coveting their neighbours meals or wives, the morbid fascination to see accidents, CSI shtyle. The flâneurie you take, to clear your mind, but there are questions and more questions…how is the human reality carved out from this nothingness?

Yoni shariram- the form appears from the vagina of Gaia,

Of Dharitri, of Zemia, of Erde, of Terre…

She is the mother, the sanctum sanctorum of creation.

This human body is the cause of such conflict,

There is segregation, separation and destruction,

In her very womb, we have been tricked by addicts of violence.

 

For a split second during meditation,

Comes the realization-

It is the Atman,

Matter has no self governing existence,

All things perceived, interpreted and seen,

Is a dream within a dream, a dream within a dream…?

 

The Indian subcontinent is the setting. It’s an oxymoron really- the youngest country, the oldest civilization!

The Sapta Sindhu is the beginning point in this case, then mutated to the India you see today the children of Lord Macauley, yes, you; at one point it was taken over by the East India Company, it’s holy books misinterpreted, unbridled fabrication of its history by so-called scholars who sought to assuage the Imperial agenda. The modern Indians, good little examples of Macauley’s vision; Pygmalion of the British Raj, just perfect, innit?

Bapuji Gandhi, assassinated, yup shot through the heart by Godse, GOD SAY?? Subhas Chandra Bose taken out of the equation, “Give me blood and I’ll give you freedom,” his naares did not do him much good, Delhi chalo, a flop show. The resilient cries of Vande Mataram drowned to the gunfire of the English army; what else could be expected? The British crown required the Kohinoor, which was just a drop in the pond, but you see why they had to control Bharata. Silks, spices, treasures, ancient texts, secrets, UFO anti-gravity technology and what not!

And then the finale- the unrestrained Anglicization of a country steeped in timeless tradition and time-honoured culture where every Indian was made to feel ashamed of their skin colour, clothing, customs, mores, literature, traditions, values and hoary heritage. Brownies were good as kerani, slaves, considering themselves as babus, who were created to suck up to their English civilized lords, the great white civilization.

Sycophants gathered in large numbers to appease the egos, fill up the stomachs and pockets and offer their heads and arses (maybe not literally, bloody buggers) in return to the Angrezi Babus. For what? Goods, ideas, concepts from vilayet! Aha! What amazing things they had and yes it was deemed to sell off the country piece by piece for these lovely things and for progress.(???)

 

The body of ancient Bharatvarsha hacked to create Pakistan and Bangladesh, its bleeding remains termed as secular India.

A new era began with the corporate takeover and rampant Americanization, you’re all living in America, HAARP and underwater nuclear detonations creating Tsunamis, the death industry of Macdonald’s and KFCs, fast food bhaiyaji, engineered famines with the Monsantos of the world, Islamic jehadis and Durga Vahinis, unrest and suspicion, religious intolerance and forced conversions, death and destruction, Nehru’s dynasty and Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi’s legacy of khadi and molestations, Congress under an Italian and BJP under the butcher of Gujarat as the country jostled and elbowed its way into the twenty-first century to sit at that table with the big white boys; witness, I was to it all and will continue to be….

The H-Bomb at work almost destroyed what you humans built, but do you seriously think this was first time in history that such a disaster occurred- nuclear weaponries have been used before in this very subcontinent. Yes my friend…Now I am become Death, the destroyer of world, yes Opperheimer, you can be the key to destruction of your world in your times. I have seen it happen and we’ve all been destroyed by it until another dawn awakens to the call of the creator. A new hologram is fractalized!
The watcher must now be a narrator and I must say it as I see it, Time for you right now is anthropomorphized.

Impatient kya boss? What about the story?? It’s coming, wait for it or you want it instantly. In this age of instant coffees and instant karmas, do you want an instant story as well?

Let’s do some akkar bakkar for a little bit more; arre don’t be so grumpy, chumpy. Humour me. Tick, tock, tick tock, it goes on and on in your psyche. Think hard, who am I?

Got it? Or no? Well…

You are in fact my slave, from the aam admi to the Prime Minister with his acche din slogans, from Mr. Mukesh Ambani cocooned in his billions of dollars Antilia, to the hungry beggar on the street. I rule your life, your little everyday existences.

I keep everything from happening at once. You can’t even imagine what chaos that is. Measuring me through the clock or your wrist watch all day, do you now know who I am, can you at least guess. I think you’ve got it, so do you know me?

But of you, I know all, every little detail.

Your little human condition, your little miseries, your tiny triumphs, your pathetic tears, your belly rumbling laughter, does have a way of making the world go round the Mulberry bush, you get the drift?

Well I have all the time, so let’s begin.

Funny concept, can time have time? Can an infinity be greater than another infinity? You smirk, but trust me the world is far magical than you have been made to believe, haan ji haan, sure it’s about cheque books and Kaun Banega Crorepati, but it’s also about altered states of consciousness, states you cannot ever envisage. Life is not about black and white or green and red, it is shades of colour you cannot ever hope to see with your eyes, life has colours you can never hope to smell, taste or touch. Yes colours can be felt in those ways, just not in your world! And in some worlds I am not as relevant as yours, and in some I have no relevance! I do not exist!

Do not go all freaked out on me, can you not imagine TIMELESSNESS; but it exists, I warn you, especially those OCD freaks out there, desperate to control everything.

Enough of meandering….
So who am I? Let me formally introduce myself. I am TIME and as promised I do have a story, a juggernaut of a story, an unstoppable monster and you’ll be forced to submit like wide-eyed little chunnu-munnus listening to your nanis at bedtime.
 

Twins. Rape. Murder.

Bollywood, breast augmentation, brainfart.

Poetess, plastic surgeon and the Sleeping Beauty.
Titillated?

Come on now, I know I have you! A violence-loving society like the one you’ve built starts salivating at all these contextual concepts when thrown at you. Murder is sweet, but mutilation is sweeter.

Blood and gore thrills you, outrageous humiliation of the body sends tingles through your spine, so stop this bourgeoisie sensitivity where you appear dismayed by such plots, but deep inside you can’t wait to curl up with your Sidney Sheldon! or Shobha De!! or Chetan Bhagat!!! by your bed side, reading about sex, rape, murder, call centres where Arun is called Aaron leading to a suppressed pathological schizophrenia, cheating on your spouse, wife swapping with keys and other new born urban atrocities.
It’s not every day that TIME tells you a story, a story about infinite probabilities.

A bit about me, saale, haramzade, time waste mat kar! A note in the Book of Life and Death!
I have existed for eternity. To you the word eternity probably will have some signifier, what can a finite mind grasp of the infinite?? Still I ask you to think about it. Think of something that never ends. Is that even possible, you ask?? The cogitation must never cease.

You think, therefore you exist, right??? Or you eat and defecate, therefore you exist, or is it copulation which cements your existence?

But what is the point of a process if it never ends; you will think to eternity about one question or be involved in sexual intercourse for all times(it’s not even a possibility) or eat yourself to death.

Does that mean you exist or not? Is it just the process of cogitation or copulation that makes you “exist” or is it the cogitative/copulative subject that’s important?

The journey or the result? A particle or a wave? Or a bubble?

Haramkhor time, procrastinating must have been my invention.
Mankind has managed to fall from an incredible level of sophistication to a dark age of barbarianism, like the age you’re an inhabitant of. It is a cycle- civilization and destruction!
Anyway, even though you did not exist, TIME was always already there! There is no escaping that idea.
I was born too you know, not as a babe from a mother’s womb, but as a concept from your mind.

To let you into a secret, I did not always exist. All I know is that this visible world is finite and periodical and so am I. I exist because of you.

I am born and then just like you gone with the wind; believe it or not, you and I are same in this way- WE ARE MORTAL!

This cycle of birth and death of TIME is the alpha and omega of recreating worlds. So in truth, you and I are finite, but IT, infinite.
A linear sequence of events is how you’d describe Time, but what happened when you were not there to count, the Big Bang baba? How did I exist?? So in a way, my dear friend, I exist in your memory and expectations, so essentially I live with you and die with you. Do not think this idea to be so far-fetched, even I can be put to death in your mind! Baap re baap, yes sir! I am fearful of my obliteration, of my extinction. I am born from you and I die with you.

I am your slave!
Well now I have your undivided attention to be sure. You humans love to know you are important in the equation. Am I right? But then you are, right?? God’s greatest creation. Hah!!
A plastic surgeon. A Poigant poetess, Phd student. A wannabe Bollywood starlet. No it’s not one of those haikus she writes.

Cadence of morning breeze-

Lofty silences-

A cup of tea.

Haikus she writes…
Yes I know Bollywood, the Bacchans, the Khans, the Kapoors, I hear the little whispers here and there, I see the deals done under the table, I know of the clandestine fornications in the back seats of SUVS, I know of which homes were wrecked by whom, and all the jazz! That’s some serious junk info. I’m the official knowitall bhai, for now I’m Mumbhai.

The Book of Life and Death is not a conventional book as you understand the definition, it is ever changing, an entity in itself, capable of conscious thoughts and feelings.
This story has come to my interest inumerous other worlds I inhabit.

Yes, you are there too and if I look, I will find you. The difference between you and them is that they know about these worlds, their consciousness shifts from one to one and they have observed me observing! Maybe it’s my imagination. In the many-worlds that exist, all the possible outcomes of a quantum interaction are realized.

You know all that you see around you, the world, the stars, your family, your lover, the Universe, it’s actually not just a Universe, and it’s actually a multiverse. Imagine the hairs on your skin, your world is one such hair on the body of abstract space, the evolvement happens in a deterministic style, embedding all thinkable possibilities within it.

So these twins- NINA and ZEENIA are moving through the arrow of time. They are moving to a fixed point, in one reality and to another point in a different world. Momentum and position are never constant, they’re all probabilities. But you get an omelette from an egg, not the other way round, the same way radio waves disperse from the antenna, never converge into it.
So now finally let’s cut to the chase and begin at the beginning. Not the conventional beginning point, but the very beginning of our story.
to be continued….

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