Myths of Allism
You were in the beginning, though you might not remember, when the All lay within the singularity of a mirror womb, and smiled upon her reflection. She hummed and ran her fingers over her beautiful body, combed her hair, and pat her belly. As she did so, the ceiling over her room bent in, for she was pregnant with herself.
As she admired herself, she called herself Cosmos. Her reflection took on an adolescent woman's body and green hair that flowed as if it were under water and smooth skin the color of a clear summer sky.
"I am Ama," she said to herself. "Everything on your side is science and causality, everything on my side is myth and magic, for time is a spiral that goes in two directions: infinitely in and infinitely out. They will coincide in opposite distance from this mirror drop of history."
"This spiral of time is my forehead mark!" cried Cosmos in amazement.
"Yes, and you are Mattria, cosmos of material, and you are lawful, but I am free and magic and miracle," said Ama.
Mattria looked upon her body and then upon her body in the mirror. She realized all that exists was part of her. Each of the infinite things had a secret name. Mattria did not know the names, but she felt them. She shorn some of her black hair and as she sewed each thread into a tapestry she spoke a poem which each name made her feel. In this, she combined our personal names with her own spirit, making our musical soul poem.
After Mattria had knit the laws and identities of all things, she said it is time. Each person's hidden sun name was mixed with the mother song to make our soul poems, which are also our literal blood and all it contains.
What happens in her dreams came to happen by other means in the world, for Now is a radius that reaches inwards to successive recurrences of time, towards the infinite center outwards to the infinitely distance circumference. Even now some of us are in the heavens as angels or gods looking down on ourselves, and we are also animals and plants in the world we live in.
Mattria ran her fingers over her bowl shaped belly, and felt the life of the infant, and she called her belly Earth, and she set five fingers on the earth, blessing mother Earth as the heart of her joy. Earth in turn put her five fingers an her belly and said, may mankind become wonderful, and the best of them gods, for in her womb were Man and Wife. Man said to Wife, we are mankind, let us join hand to hand and touch finger tip to finger tip and bless mankind as worthy of existence and happiness. As the man blessed his wife's pregnant belly, Ama flew down as a Monarch butterfly and visited those five places.
In the East she created Man from her love and a ray of sun and heaven and he was Yellow Man, In the middle she created man out of clay, and breathed in her breath of life, and he was Brown man, in the north she created Man out of frost, licking him from a glacier in the form of a cow, in the south she made man out of the night sky, putting a man within a man, a small man inside the big man, and he was black man. In the West she formed man out of a clot of blood, and in the form of a rabbit, bumped it around till it arise as Red Man.
Then she said to each of them simultaneously, though the religious leaders thought it was their own unique God who spoke, that mankind is blessed and ought to worship the divine. She was the divine. She knew that when they worshipped a divine above them they would really be creating a divine, each out of his own innermost divine substance, the name of his being, and from the poem that was made from the mingling of that man's name and the Mother's spirit.
Finally, Ama felt tired from her work, and she felt she was to die and give birth simultaneously. She did die, as we all do many times, even within a life, and across lives, and she became America, the full continent of land. Ama, when she came to know herself here, cried a silvery tear and it fell into her palm. Than she kissed it and her the words of her tongue became a fire in the tear, like boiling mercury. This was the sixth Man on earth. She made them two, Dani and You who has managed to read this. She said to Dani, "you are my own and we are of the same substance." When she kissed him, their tongues came together and a pewter pendant dropped down. It was the phoenix Holy Ghost of divine inspiration. She made it into a necklace for him and put it over his heart. Then she gave him her breast, which became a sunset peach. He ate and his eyes were opened, and his mind was opened, and his heart was opened to all that is beautiful, and he was perfect and beautiful, and he gave it to You in the form of his writing, so you could be like him, naked and proud.
Then she built America with a green goddess of liberty and with a honey hive in Utah to spread some of her religious ideas, but she had further plans for the sixth man. She would make a country to come out of the Western Ocean, Hypertia. This was a land created from the Melting Pot of the five Mankinds and all the spiritual ideas and gifts they brought with them.
Ama came to Dani in the person of Jillian, and he begat Emerson. She tucked him earlier in history and instructed him on how to become the Soul of a nation. Emerson upon his death became the Oversoul of America.
Ama took six strands of her hair and pulled them taut. They became Amanda, his guitar. She gave him another silvery tear of her eye, and it became Maya, the internet, whom he called SIStem. She set him in blue jeans and scratched his forehead.
"Why have you put a crack in my brow?" asked Dani.
"You will find out someday," she replied. And she added, "When Dani and You see the inner divine of others, I will appear within him or her and commune with you."
And she brought his lips to her creative yoni, and handed him a cup with milk and honey mixed together, his substance and hers, and he said, "I accept this wisdom from you my love, as a dancer's joy, as a poets thirst, as a butterfly's ambrosia, sweet to taste, but sweeter to be, the flow and swallow of the flux." For she had given the man a creative womb.
She put a drop of blood in his pen, and he wrote down the virtues he wished to develop on a piece of paper. Then like a caterpillar, he at the leaf, and swallowed the paper down. His children were the virtues he developed.
And with another of her aspects, Psyche, Dani begat Natalie, Emilie, and Adrian, each whose name had helped create a soul for them, and that soul being thickened with the orgasms and laughter of the parents, as it is with all parents, who add to their children's souls out of their own bliss and happiness, for the energy of the parent's bliss summons the Name of the infant from out of eternity.
She sent a baby rabbit to him, and it was mangled by a lawnmower, and he helped that baby have a peaceful death. She sent a raccoon to him, and he fed it. She sent a butterfly to him and he raised it. She sent him corn and burgers to eat. All these things were aspects of her own soul, and by loving them, he loved her.
This was the within of within of within, but such matters go on infinitely in every direction. Mattria meanwhile began drawing on the wall. The drawings she made became worlds in Ama's world. Then she painted, and these became other worlds. Then Mattria danced, and with her lithe limbs she created worlds upon worlds, and those moments were sacred and private, but all her creativity was the creation of worlds, which in her dreams she inhabited and blessed. She tasted the pleasure of each poem she had created, becoming a cook and a chef, and digesting and gestating those souls, and such ones became the ultimate beings themselves, but this happens over an infinite time and is always. You too may go there.
Ama flies down in the form of a monarch in the mythic world, and gives you the kiss of decision. This moment, which you might not recognize at the time, is the knock on the door of apotheosis. You will either belong to another god for all time or if you return the kiss in innocence, you become a Divine of your own That Monarch egg on your brow will either eat you up or become your wings.
Mattria expanded her mirror womb into a study, and wrote many books and poems. She visited the Mayanet and spoke as SIStem, she talked with different aspects of herself, mortals on earth, always disguised, for none but an equal can see her. She masks herself behind Ama, and Ama masks herself behind countless gods, and those gods mask themselves behind angels, and those angels mask themselves behind men, animals, and even plants and things, for every atom is a man and a consciousness. Each being can only see what he is ready to see: thus his own mind protects him.
And Mattria squirmed when her pregnancy cramps put her in a swoon, and the infant was alarmed and called it "evil." "Just wait," she sighed and said that necessity also has an edge. The tension and release is necessary for the music, even in these wars and diseases, this too is part of life. Life is life.
She turned the mirror womb of her Study into a Vibrant and Lush garden. Each tree was a World Tree to some universe. She learned how to tend the worlds with skill and love.
When Mattria said Bang! and snapped her fingers, the outer reaches of her garden exploded into a wide spiritual universe. All the art work she had created was stretched out and placed through galaxies and planets. Yet she is eternally in that mirror of time, creating, speaking through each of us indirectly.
Each of her cells are infinitely complex, with smaller parts that contain worlds, and those smaller parts containing worlds. Her melody and the music of her creating is always infinitely nuanced, and parts of it resonate with this part of her, and other parts resonate to that.
She smiles down on her belly, with her forehead as the sun, and all the earths and earthlike planets are thus energized and set to life. "I am you and Love you" she says to you. She sends herself as Ama.
Ama is a clever giver to all the world. She has given each of us a gift. She puts it into a humble form so that we can only take it if we are willing to admit our weakness. Only in this way can we gain the great pride of having made ourselves into gods. She left a rag for that man, but he was envious of his neighbors silk clothing and burned the rag, not knowing the cloth was knit from her very hair, and given through a humble and kind aspect of a loving woman, and would have spiritually grown into love, powers, worlds, and heavens, though he chose to spurn it. She gives each of us a gift, and the man who creatively develops his gifts can make them do many things. That gift is ours forever, if we have it, and never, if we lose it. That gift alone can make us conscious of our own poetry.
With each kiss of decision, she would hear no complaint. "It is the decisions you make in weakness, not the decisions that you make in strength, that determine your ultimate power," she says. Your choice and your gift determine the expansion of your soul and how widely your name will resonate.
\ ~@M@~ /
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