Messages from a Transcendent Dimension

One winter afternoon in New York, February 1943, at the height of the Second World War, my mother, her sister, her sister-in-law, and a close friend, met to talk about the life-and-death struggle that was tearing Europe apart. (My father was serving under General Montgomery, in North Africa). Suddenly, although the windows of the apartment were closed because of the cold, they heard a roar like thunder and the glass door onto the terrace was blown inwards by a powerful blast of air. Lightning flickered all around them although there was no storm. They cried out in terror, and went to shut the door, but suddenly felt a tremendous presence in the room and, falling on their knees, were overcome with awe. Then they heard a voice which told them to write down what they heard. I have brought together these Messages in memory and in love for my mother and love for the Higher Assembly of Beings who watch over the life of this planet. They have been the foundation and the inspiration of all my own work. May they reach those who can assimilate their teaching and take it further. Their words are witness to the fact that we do not live in a dead, insentient universe that is without consciousness, purpose or meaning. On the contrary, we live in a universe that is alive, sentient, full of wonders, peopled with countless beings in higher dimensions, as well as in other galaxies and on other planets — all directed by an evolutionary intention. 

What they transmitted to my mother and her friend in 1943, is more relevant today than it was eighty years ago since the dangers we face are far greater now. AI technology is racing ahead, urged on by the same male competitive ethos that is driving the further development of nuclear weapons, the dangerous work of gain-of-function laboratories and other technologies which harm the miraculous organism of the human body and interfere with the delicate balance of the planet’s life — all involving the participation of people who do not hold the best interests of the planet at heart. Our survival demands that we relinquish the ongoing rivalry and struggle for power between nations which could destroy the Earth and ourselves with it, and choose the alternative path of love and service of the planet and all the precious orders of life it embraces. This is a key moment in our evolutionary journey. The choices we make now will determine our future and whether there is a future. The Messages say that if we are to experience the Blessing of the Millennium, we need to end all war and killing now. Women are one half of humanity and, therefore, hold the balance at this crucial time of choice. The power of millions of women, coming together to protect this Sacred Planet, could not only eliminate war but allow us to write a New Story.

- Anne Baring, Excerpt from 'Messages from a Transcendent Dimension'

Asherah

 

In the Book of Genesis, God discusses creating humankind “…in our image, after our likeness…” It is not the only instance in which the deity appears to refer to another being present by using the plural term. It is more than a passing use of language. What we know from earlier writings is that there actually was more than one, because God, or ‘El’ in the texts, had a consort, whose name was Asherah. While the Hebrew Bible does not explicitly state that Yahweh had a wife, there are references to Asherah in the context of worship and religious practices in ancient Israel and Judah.

What happened? The goddess who was God’s equal partner was quietly edited out of the texts so that the masculine deity could take the credit for creating everything. But it did not end there. Asherah was turned into a wooden idol that had to be destroyed, and her destruction marked the definitive end of any female deity in the whole of scripture. And so we speak only of “God the Father” and “God the Son”.

But in other beliefs we know that Osiris had his Isis, Odin had his Freya, Jupiter had his Juno, Zeus had his Hera, and Shiva has his Shakti. And yet Asherah was depicted as the very Tree of Life, nurturing her creatures who sought sustenance from her branches, for what she fed them from her leaves would always grow back in abundance.

Asherah, then, was seen as the provider and the sustainer of life, and not just as its co-creator. How much have we lost in what is now the world’s most widespread religion by banishing this vital sustaining female life force from scripture?

Art: 'Asherah' by David Bergen

Where my Books Go

 

WHERE MY BOOKS GO

All the words that I gather,

And all the words that I write,

Must spread out their Wings untiring,

And never rest in their flight,

Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,

And sing to you in the night,

Beyond where the waters are moving,

Storm darkened or starry bright.

- William Butler Yeats

Artist: Kristin Vestgard

The Beginning

"Where have I come from, where did you pick me up?" 

the baby asked its mother.

She answered half crying, half laughing, 
and clasping the baby to her breast, -- 
"You were hidden in my heart as its desire, my darling.

You were in the dolls of my childhood's games; 
and when with clay I made the image of my god every morning, 
I made and unmade you then.

You were enshrined with our household deity, 
in his worship I worshipped you.

In all my hopes and my loves, in my life, 
in the life of my mother you have lived.

In the lap of the deathless Spirit who rules our home
you have been nursed for ages.

When in girlhood my heart was opening its petals, 
you hovered as a fragrance about it.

Your tender softness bloomed in my youthful limbs, 
like a glow in the sky before the sunrise.

Heaven's first darling, twin-born with the morning light,
you have floated down the stream of the world's life, 
and at last you have stranded on my heart.

As I gaze on your face, mystery overwhelms me;
you who belong to all have become mine.

For fear of losing you I hold you tight to my breast. 
What magic has snared the world's treasure 
in these slender arms of mine?" 

- Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)

WOMAN

 

In search of the desert witch, the shaman-woman,

Forget the archetypes, forget the dark and petrified profile,

Do not examine the clouds

Packed on the horizon, violet and green,

For her image, do not chase

The ready-made abstraction, do not gaze at symbols,

As long as you want her without a face, without a scent

Or voice, as long as she does not squat

To piss or scratch herself, as long

As long as she does not snore under her blanket

Or grin when she early in the morning

Grabs the stone-cold millstone,

As long as she does not have her own peculiar face,

With light bags under her eyes or with a stripe

Topaz shining in the black

Of an eye, as long as she does not limp

As long as you try to simplify her meaning

As long as she only symbolizes power

She is kept helpless and conventional

Her true power fled back, further into the past in,

We cannot touch or name her

And silenced by those who need her

She suffocates in unspeakable loneliness.

Art: Cailleach Bheur by Victoria Ni Keltica