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.At the point of emergence I often did weep and my tearsseemed to be drops drawn directly from a shoreless sea of inex­pressibly deep feelings.This time I lingered longest at the archetypal level.What I seemedto be observing was a complex interface mechanism of angles.Howwas I to grasp the intricacy of this sublime network of geometical pat­terning principles? "Every angel is an angle." I stammered, aware thatthis couldn't possibly make sense to Howard or anyone else.The40 Journeys into the Bright Worldstatement was no mere pun.I wanted desperately to convey the ideaof the livingness of those angles through which an abstract series ofemanations underwent a conversion into particularized modes of ex­istence.Like sunbeams refracted by water, rays of pure energy werebending downward into specific shapes and forms.Coming closer to the earth level a flood of related conceptsdeluged my brain.1 thought of the astrological aspects which are thebasis of horoscopy, of the angles of pyramids that exemplified thevalue of pi, and most of all of the 360 archaic Egyptian gods of time.Observing how the flow of energies that enlivened the bright worldwere directed into meaningful designs I understood why the Egyptianpriests deified the degrees of the circle even to the extent that this wasthe core of the teachings of their mystery schools.Was this why theancient occultists of many different cultures worshipped the sacredproperties of numbers? Amazing to think that our remote forefathershad so well comprehended the animating geometry of the universe!I remembered my guru.It seemed that he too had passed this wayand blazed a trail of light that others could follow.Then, as always,inside my inside-out world there was my "alter-self" Howard.Ourangle was the same as though we had been fused into onedichotomous being.We were moving together like intermeshedstrands of purple and gold silk and there was something importantabout the direction we were taking.Evidently we were making a turnthat would create a significant definition of the design we were weav­ing within a much larger tapestry of flowing colors.We were changingthe angle and I could see that this was going to be hard to accomplish.The point was too acute; there was pain in the process of making sosharp a bend.It was like the screech of chalk on a blackboard or thebumt-rubber pressure on the tires of a car as it swerves round a cor­ner.I was trying to engineer this vector so that I would be on the outeredge.In this way it seemed as though I might shield him from theabrasiveness of the contact with the harsh surface that was resistingour progress."Please, please put him on the inside and me on the out­side!" I begged."I don't want him to have to feel that pain.Let me beat the point of the angle."But already the gods of the 360 degrees were retreating back totheir austere Olympus, the angels of the angles had flattened intoblack and white lines, and space was a place of static surfaces.Asalways, the awareness of de-amplifying my consciousness, like step­ping down an electrical current, was accompanied by the frustrationof realizing that there was still no way that I could link these con­trasting realms.There simply weren't enough memory fibers to makethe connections, or even to create a verbal reconstruction.However, amathematical analogy did suggest itself.It seemed to me that my situation was similar to that which atwo-dimensional plane being who, for the sake of analogy I will callThe Geography of the Bright World41"Mr.Square," might encounter if he were trying to explain thedynamics of a cube to his surfacy friends.If Mr.Square could contriveto rise up and down at an angle to his accustomed plane he might tosome extent experience the qualities of the cube.He might evenbecome cognizant of the fact that he had always been a cross sectionof this fuller, deeper state of being.But once the vertical motionceased he would again become hopelessly horizontal.Now if Mr.Square could somehow get "high" and thereby ascendinto the third dimension his two-dimensional compadres would pro­bably assume that he had merely gone away, leaving only the pro­jected shadow of himself behind.They might also suppose that he hadin some mysterious way been diminished, whereas actually the scopeof his awareness had increased [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]