First it's Malkuth, The Kingdom: then up to The Foundation, Yesod: next, if you wish, is Hod, or Glory: and its reflection, Netzach, Victory: on to Tiphareth, Beauty: hence to Severity, Geburah: and up to be blessed by Mercy, or Chesed: then Binah, Understanding: and Chokmah, Wisdom: to return to the Crown, our Kether.
Each of these is a sephiroth. Malkuth, Yesod, Hod, Netzach, Tiphareth, Geburah, Chesed, Binah, Chokmah, Kether. That's ten spheres, ten worlds, plus one, the Abyss, the eleventh, like the eleventh letter of several alphabets: K. Khu: Creative Power. Kteis: Vagina. Daath it is called, for Knowledge.
That's why real Magick is with a K.
Kether is an existence of non-being.
The Crown is at the top, below it three pillars of 3, 4 and 3 sephiroths. Three to its left and right, four right below. Directly below is the 11th.
Daath is a state where all exist; as opposed to Kether, nothing, Daath is everything. But it isn't as simple as that: Kether is nothing because everything came forth from it, before it "came." While Daath is everything, within it are at least semi-distinguishable entities.
Kether is pure unity. Intelligence without need for activity.
Daath is the depths.
The Tree of Life is a map of your mind, soul, world, universe and consciousness.
The three spheres of the pillar to the lower right of Kether, from highest to lowest: Binah, Geburah, Hod: Understanding, Severity, Splendour.
The three spheres of the pillar to the lower left of Kether, from highest to lowest: Chokmah, Chesed, Netzach: Wisdom, Mercy, Victory.
Below Daath: Tiphareth, Yesod, Malkuth: Beauty, Foundation, Kingdom.
Malkuth is the Kingdom, this Material Orgy we're existing in: Earth.
Yesod is the Moon.
The stepping stone out to the unknown universe beyond. That which reflects the majesty of all the other sephiroths toward Kingdom.
Tiphareth is the Sun.
Like the Sun, it's at the center; spawn of supernovae, as the Son is of the Father; and in a state of nuclear transmutation, as Tiphareth is conduit between material and ethereal, self and soul, Yesod and Kether--which each venture a toll paid, a sacrifice, like nuclei decay, or a Man on the Cross.
...AN ASIDE: Because of this research into the understanding of the Qabbalah and the Tree of Life, I've noticed an evolving pattern of organization with my thoughts. Being very vigilant and diligent about which thought or idea to entertain or persue, reject or retain, ban or embrace. Ideas are very dangerous. They rule us. We can't live without them. We are their puppets. They are the blood of purpose. (And purpose of Imagination.) Be wary of which idea you let into the front door--or backdoor--of your mind. By practicing discrimination one develops clarity and focus. This useful phenomena began when I started to follow The Beast's advice: attempt to file everything according to the sephiroths' boundaries, meanings, symbols, etc. With the little knowledge I had, I did this, and the phenomena re-invented itself, like an intelligent computer program, into what it is now. When one only allows the absolutely necessary into the mind one has more energy left over to throw attention to other subjects of consideration. Unlike before when I had numerous ideas vying space and care in my mind--like a jam-packed vehicle with each passenger demanding for their change or requesting their fare to be passed all at the same time--I (being the "driver") would burn out much faster during the day. END ASIDE...
From Foundation you can either go to Splendour, to its upper left, or Victory, to its upper right.
Just recently I had a very direct form of Victory happen to me. The agent was my partner. She destroyed some replaceable bits of me; which I naturally resented at first, but soon was thankful for. She was brave enough to demand of me; something she is not used to do with anyone, especially her parents though she so wished she could. She took a chance and it paid off. Victory is Venus. It's about love. The surrender of ego in exchange for the blunt bolt of that most ancient emotion--which is also as I see it the raw and earliest form of telepathy--Love.
Netzach is the planet of our emotions, the empress of which is Lady Love.
Splendour is intellect, or the planet Mercury. The realm of which philosophers loiter, and artists indulge, and inventors toil. This place spawned communicative arts. It is here where prayer was first employed, and the energies of the universe named. Together Hod and Netzach meet at Tiphareth and create Beauty; the plan is made up in Hod's basement as their muse in Venus is evoked into their hearts' esteemed thrones--and the secrets become unveiled in the platform at Tiphareth.
Yesod gave me the notion once I walked one of its many paths in its garden of ideas, and upon picking a rare breed of flora voyaged thither to Hod to formulate thy plan of attack all the whilst chanting my love and purpose, which rested in the heart chambers of Venus with a green glow of triumph. Assuring the fulfillment of that initial potent notion: I do all this in Malkuth, asleep, or sleep-walking, or wide awake: But always dreaming. Malkuth, my bed, Hod, my mind, Netzach my heart and Yesod my imagination: the human circuits of my self.
*FURTHER MORE ON NETZACH: I've realized now the need to worship Woman. Men need their Venuses. You do not have to be an artist to be in need of a muse. There is a woman at the center of our lives: this woman you could also view as many women in just one woman. To make this easier on your mind you need to think of all women--whether the ones that have been, are, or will be--as one woman. Her diamond selves litters the eras. That is the concept. Doesn't mean you worship them all--goodluck to your sanity! To all, you may respect. But one from the lot you got to escpecially pick out: and worship: it's an ancient tradition: by doing so you worship as well Mother Earth, your biological mother, your sister, your grandmother, and Eve (genetic and scriptural). Like Venus, in Grecian times, you honor the universal mother by worshipping your wife, lover, etc. This also underlines--finally--with clarity the intense longing for singular glorification: each one of us blokes needs a Venus. And that Venus must be tangible. She must not only be your goddess, but at some points, your slave: she needs to worship you the same way. This fulfills her need to worship a god. That's why the only true way to love is to love with total abandon: as if you've entrusted your soul to the winds of the times, or to divine beings. Women need--and do--worship themselves. Men definitely do. In this practice we honor that special characteristic that make us male or female: by loving the godliness within. By directing this energy to the opposite sex you fulfill that instinct to sacrifice, give up, surrender...to your polar opposite, your "soul mate": with love, hence in Netzach you reign. NOTHING FURTHER ON NETZACH, FOR NOW*
Chesed is Jupiter. The largest planetoid. And the most gaseous. Wherein suffused or component to its airy seas is the adundance of intellectual and universal appreciation for itself, as itself. Its size attests to its importance, this is emotion in a stellar sense, in a stretched in time-and-space sense, a nuclear and molecular sense, from the physics of celestial beings to the physics of vibrating-strings sense. It embraces these fields as a whole: it is bottomless in its understanding and being self-cherished. It is displayed in human terms as a good deed unseen and unheard and done anonymously: without expectance of anything in return: for a return would blemish the act of Chesed. Just as life does not--or shoud not--expect anything from its being created. We did not do anything to have deserved life. Creation is seen as the ultimate Chesed act. From nothing, for nothing, something!
...AN ASIDE, RE: CHESED: The universe don't owe you smack, and the universe includes people, people don't owe you jack: the gift of life, of breath, of food, of habitat, or action and thought the greatest package one can ask. It's incredibly appalling how much people--including me--waste time, physical and emotional energy, focus and thought on extremely minute occurences of injustice so-called: like having to wait on line for minutes, minutes! like three minutes let's say or worse five, let's say--but so what? does that merit the clerk a frown from your snobbish plate of features? or the person before you who was ordering, does that person have to be cursed underbreath? And worse, even if you're veiled in a sunshine smile: but your insides are volcanic from rage and indignation: well, I am so sorry for you (me included). But it's the truth that we neglect the greatest act of Chesed staring at us at every corner or curve of our world. The masters of the universe--so-called--can't even control their temper: their temper is controlling them, hence, the intellectual and malformed production of the devilish idea Pride, and other noxious, invidious slithering things that go about veiled in the light. Eternal life awaits, there goes the promise of all religion, and so our material bodies are fooled, and remain walking sleepers. A new religion should be maintained: that of death as tutored as impending, at every post and tree, hiding, ballooning with demonic cachinnation: and let us respect them their natural right as the other single most important element of our lives, the counterpart, or bridge to all life: our darling, dirty uncle Death. Enough of this hypocritical fear of The Lord. In your hearts the truth whispers--whispers now for it has been reproached once to often by you and others. The truth that only you know yet everybody knows and no one speaks of: and disrespects by bowing down--conning themselves they kept face somehow--to the reigning fad's thick and dark eyewear of prettified ruse and religion which extinguishes the individual down to a number or animal. Are you the taxpaying SSN# ending in 3145? Are you the mechanical organic drone that sits up and down like a good dog and pays off his installment plan every Sunday for that sweet, melodious real estate in Heaven? God doesn't need money. The church needs money. But really, who needs money, the poor and hungry fucking sentinels that pepper the entrances and exits of your favorite holy stomping ground! We've forgotten Chesed. We live in the-something-for-something-better world, and it is or should be a sin, for shame, this grand hypocrisy. We reflect the leaders that govern us, and, yet, in the puddles among the mud after the rain Chesed sits and waits, in silent kindness under the revolving sky, happy and unknown and unseen. END ASIDE...
Next up is Geburah, the Red Earh, or Mars. Here is the oven that burns all unwanted, useless organisms and accouterments; the excess is junked, only the pure will remain. This crimson atmosphere isolates the loose, floating concepts that haunt us and perform parasitical procedures on our subconsiousness, silently, if left to their devices they would eternally nibble at our better ideas, corrupting our future; Imagination is a big place, bigger than the known universe they say, a lot of danger lurks under her strata of realtiy-sheets. War Gods rule here, and under their swords, axes, shields, and hammers they hunt down the malignant characters that loiter the platform of our minds with their armies trained at locking in on the impure half-awake elements that escape from the Qliphoth, the Tree of Death (which we will get to at some point later), for all misleading elements are spawns of that Tree. The channels that mark her face are evidence of the strength of her sons' blades smiting the imperfections that have passed through her Judgement. Lava is her blood, volcanoes her pores, desert her flesh and she is the definition of might, discrimination stern and thoughtful. She cares with hands hewn from rough love, and you need her especially when you are being too nice for your own good, too dumb from sentimentality, too understanding it hurts you without producing knowledge. You need her to be firm and confident when handling people who don't understand the inner workings of a managerial mind; though your actions might be misinterpreted at onset its beauty in the long run will be tasted as intelligent and fruitful, like one's hard, loving father, or mother.
...A LITTLE MORE EXTRA DATA ON GEBURAH: My mother was always high on her. I understand why. She had led a life ruled by great forces that took control of her and abused her. Her idealism for one, really took her for a ride. Her own mother thought she knew better than she and had happen to wrongly advice (push?) her--though I know she thought it was well meaning of her to do so. So, she was very hard on me as a result or redemptive act. That as my history, I know Geburah like the back of my hand, and though it has been of great utility at times, I've hated it for the longest time: as long as I've hated my mother, in fact. But I regrettably played it as a one-way street, I could be easily hard on others--pleasurably tough, I might add--but not as hard as I could on my obstinate, stupid self. Well, the shadows are drawing thin, the light from the windows of the agents of Geburah forcing me to walk the straight and narrow and teaching me things brilliantly suffused with power, goodness and unveiled, simple acumen. Like work, for example, plain old simple hard work: such charismatic thought-processes lead off from this mundane act, much confidence and propriety is earned with each plain intense performance. Geburah required me to realize that sometimes ideas, and even language, can lead us off into the wrong sunlight. END OF EXTRA DATA.
Geburah isolates the nonsense and bans them from re-entering her and employs limits as balance for Chesed whose purpose is to expand, invest and give. Beyond them, or I should say, before them, is Binah, Understanding, who is (traditionally) Saturn in this continuing vein of metaphor...
But I think a more accurate interpretation of her would be time-space, the womb we've never left, the tub and tomb of the still-blooming, sure-to-end and re-begin universe, the darkness that surrounds us and let's us play in this stage we call existence, or to some, even consciousness. This is appropriate for Binah is related to the color black wherein swims all colors, all answers, veiled until her secret is unlocked through study and contemplation and a bellicose focus on love. A history of experiences deemed as black if faced with respect and balanced, conscious inebriation and sincere want for clarity will earn us saturnine understanding of the whats, hows and whys of those dark times, dark clouds re-interpreted as tools and products of the love that wills us to be refined as beings, as creatures of progressive consciousness, made of and by the building blocks of Understanding, of Binah. Isn't the vastness of outer space loneliness defined in physical reality? Imagine yourself, lost between the worlds, loitering in loneliness, silence, amongst yet apart of distant white specks, a journey within a cold sphere of endless, intangible black. This is Binah, and in silence, with love, you shall find her precious coffers, and ironically, they shall all be unearthed from your very soul. For once stripped to the bare minimum, as a man forced or who decides to walk naked among a society of clothed Earthlings (for which I call those unlit, not in-tuned or sleeping men), all answers loosen from their wombs to entreat light and yourself, as a ripe fruit, to be chosen, picked and utilized for consumption...eventually to be returned to its source of life, the land from which it sprang, the paper upon which Wisdom or Chokmah wrote on, the four-dimensional time-space of earth and universe. For every instance you are changed from amassing understanding through each trial or trying situation you die, i.e. change, and this is how Binah ends her sentences. Little and big deaths are her punctuation. To know her is a test, and to pass these tests is to know her intimately. From the combined energies of Chokmah to her left the liberated idea-stuffs from Kether are unleashed at her to be nursed and realized as the beginnings of matter through pure intuitive construction. As the sun, Kether, produces photons, Chokmah, which hits the mud-covered seed, Man, on earth, Malkuth, to struggle through dramas of dirt, weather, and herbivores the life form founds a dark and realistic understanding, a sense of mother and universe: Binah.
Man, I am rambling, I initially planned this out as a very simple and straight forward "overview" but something this special really affects me and possesses me to ramble. This article is now unbalanced because of my late proliferation. I'll take care of that at some point close to this paragraph, amending the unintentional asymmetry to an acceptable aesthetic rhythm. Another of the beans I mean to spill is my intention of first giving an accurate, traditional account of the Tree of Life and then applying my personal interpretations on it, which will also come soon after this--should have been--brief and succinct overview (if I have begun yet with those interpretations). Moving on--
Chokmah. The second sephiroth right after the first, Kether. If Kether is the first consciousness, the first emanation, Chokmah or Wisdom, is the first gale of thought out of its solar perimeters. Ein--or Ayn--Sof is the Divine Energy driven by Divine Will which leapt out of, well, itself (actually it is defined as a practically--but not absolutely--unknowable tri-system of En, nothingness, En Sof, limitless nothingness, and En Sof Or, limitless light) to produce first Kether, then Chokmah, and so on, until we reach Malkuth. In a way Kether is the Malkuth before the Negative Veils of Existence (En, En Sof and En Sof Or) and Chokmah is where thought initially occurs. But this isn't any kind of intelligence that can be pinned down and analyzed, this is pure Wisdom, and an aspect of its radiation is intuition. Knowing without the benefit of knowledge, or Daath, since it comes before it. What authorized the scales of the coral snake that paradigm of color composition for the purpose of intimidation and deception in the assistance towards its survival? The fore-thought of Chokmah written in ancient DNA. What ganged-up the gases under the attraction of gravity to produce the star, our Sun, the father to our Earth, if not our god-father scribe Chokmah? In creation, Before the Word was uttered then heard and understood in Binah, there was the Will, or momentum of super-stellar force that brought forth all, but the Word was conceptualized and given body and tone by the naked, burning, plotting fathers in Chokmah. Once in Chokmah, Kether will magnetize you.
...be continued.
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http://www.themystica.org/mystica/articles/k/Tree_of_Life_1.html
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