Somehow part of the package of being a living, thinking being is that you get a universe inside of you. You get a galaxy sized object inside you that you can access.

And there there are the mountains, the rivers, the jungles, the dynastic families, the ruins, the planets, the works of arts, the poetry, the sciences, the magics, of millions upon millions upon millions of Worlds.

And this is apparently who we each are.

We’re a little bit of eternity sticking into three-dimensional space and, for some reason, occupying time in a monkey body.

But when you turn your eyes then inward you discover the birth right. The existential facts out of which this particular existence emerged. And it’s a great secret. A great secret and a great comfort.

Because it means mystery didn’t die with the fall of Arthur or the fall of Atlantis or the fall of anything. Mystery is alive in the moment, in the here and now. It just simply lies on the other side of a barrier of courage.

And it isn’t even that high of barrier, it’s just is a barrier high enough to keep out the insincere and the misdirected.

But for those who will claim it, in midst of the historical chaos in the late 20th century they become the archaic pioneers. They become the first people to carry the ouroboric serpent around to its own tail, and to make a closer.

And to the degree that anyone of us has this connection back to the archaic in our life, it makes were we have been make a lot more sense and it makes were we’re going seem a lot more inviting. Which it really is I think.