The Songs of Dismembered Gods - Exploring the Archetypal Roots of Astrology

by Ray Grasse

All meaning is an angle.
— Ancient Greek saying

For thousands of years, mystics and philosophers have proposed that our world is underlain by a matrix of fundamental principles, sometimes known as archetypes. Just as all musical compositions are based upon a limited scale of notes, and all images are variations on a spectrum of colors, so all phenomena and experiences can be broken down to a primary set of universal symbols, or cosmic principles.

For the astrologer these are associated with the planets and signs, while to the ancient Pythagoreans they were described in terms of the divine Numbers at the heart of existence. Plato and his followers spoke of the transcendental Ideas, of which everything in our world is but a shadow, while for Kabbalists these were associated with the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet and the ten sephiroth on the "Tree of Life."

But what, truly, are the archetypes? And what gives them their meaning and power? For instance, when discerning the presence of Mars in a common fire, or the principle of potentiality in an egg, or the workings of Aphrodite behind the forms of love, what is it we're really seeing? In this essay, I’d like to suggest that in such moments we're witnessing an underlying geometry at work and that each archetypal principle represents a mathematical relationship or proportion. I'm not referring here to the obvious kind of geometry or math taught in high school, or even the manner of "sacred geometry" some writers point to within the curves of seashells or the shapes of crystals. Rather, the geometry I'm describing here is visible only through a kind of metaphoric perception that links the symbolic language of form to the essence of meaning.

The Anatomy of Meaning

As an example, let us consider a simple symbol — a circular patch of blue. For centuries, artists have used blue as a symbolic element in their paintings. From the color of the Madonna's cloak in the religious art of the early Renaissance to the old guitarist of Picasso's blue period, painters have ascribed a wide range of meanings to this color.

But is there an objective way of determining the nature or essence of blue? A scientist might answer by saying that blue is a particular wavelength of light. A Zen thinker might answer by saying that blue is simply what it is. However, we might also say that blue is a proportion, or a quality of relationship. To explain what this means, let us rephrase the question slightly, using a simple word game we have probably all played.

Instead of asking what blue means, let's ask: If the color blue were a fabric, what kind of fabric would it be? Presumably, most of us would choose a fabric with a smooth and soft texture, like silk or satin, rather than something rough like burlap. By the same token, if blue were a kind of food, what kind would that be? Most of us would select some food on the cooler and milder end of the flavor spectrum — say, a fruit sorbet, rather than something hot and spicy, like Mexican food.

Simple as such exercises may seem, they engage us in a highly sophisticated process of thinking, one that requires us to look not just at something in itself, but at that thing in its relative context, and then to compare that to equivalent patterns in other contexts. In other words, as the color blue is to the visual spectrum, so silk is to the spectrum of possible textures, and fruit sorbet is to the spectrum of possible tastes, and so forth. This way of perceiving is not comparing "things" so much as relationships or relative proportions.

This is to say that the meaning of any thing — a color, fabric, feeling, smell, or idea — is in essence a type of relationship, or ratio, not merely in a poetic or abstract sense but in a highly tangible way. Without relationship or context, no meaning is possible. This is easily demonstrated by trying to imagine a particular shade of blue set against an entire world consisting only of that shade of blue. Not only would the patch of blue become invisible, but the very notion of blue would soon cease to hold any meaning. Rather, what we know to be blue takes on its unique qualities only in relationship to other shades, other hues of the spectrum, possessing no intrinsic properties by itself. The ability to translate symbolic qualities across widely differing contexts thus involves a sophisticated metaphoric perception of the inner proportional qualities embodied by a thing or an event.

We see a similar kind of transference in the mysterious psychological process known as synesthesia, in which sensory data taken in through one sense organ are interpreted by the brain through an entirely different sensory modality — as when an individual claims to hear the colors of a painting, or taste the sounds of a symphony, or see the smells emitted by a flower. Every one of us engages in a synesthesia-like process of thought when we employ metaphors in our everyday speech, such as when we say a melody is "sweet," a person's retort is "sharp," or an obligation is "heavy." What we're really doing is translating relative qualities across divergent fields of experience by drawing on the mind's ability to see through to the symbolic heart of phenomena, to what philosopher Gregory Bateson called "the pattern that connects."

In mathematical terms, this same understanding of proportional meanings and internal relationships, and their translation across different contexts of meaning, can be conveyed through the principle of the ratio, the root of our word "rationality." As Aristotle knew more than two thousand years ago, the basic structure of meaning may be likened to a fraction and its inherent tension between elements held in proportion. Translating qualities of meaning across contexts (as with the metaphoric equivalence of the color blue with fabrics or foods) may thus be likened to a set of relationships, such as the following:

As 6 is to 9,so 12 is to 18 or
6/9 = 12/18
or
6:9 = 12:18

Each side of this equation expresses itself through superficially different forms, yet contains the same qualitative essence or internal ratio as its complementary term — namely, two-thirds. The number six in the fraction 6/9 is not in itself similar to the number twelve in the fraction 12/18, and yet in terms of their respective relationships, as numerators of equal value, they are exactly equivalent. Their form is different, but their essence is the same. The same kind of equivalence exists between entities even more different than this, such as between an auditorium with a seating capacity of three thousand in which two thousand people are sitting, and a water tank with the capacity for nine gallons but holding only six. Entirely different situations physically, yet each conveys the mathematical principle of two-thirds, or the ratio 2:3.

For thousands of years, spiritually oriented mathematicians have perceived a deeper truth in the way variable and transitory forms express eternal truths by the inner relationships they embody. In ancient Egypt, enormous emphasis was placed upon the principle of the fraction, a fact often interpreted by scholars as reflecting the relatively low level of mathematical sophistication in that civilization. Considering the great subtlety of Egyptians in metaphysical and symbolist matters, however, it is more likely that this emphasis on fractions indicates the tremendous importance they placed on the principle of proportionality. For the Egyptians, almost all relationships were expressed as fractions of one — as for example, one-third, one-seventh, one-fifteenth, or one-thirtieth. As John Anthony West has noted, the importance of fractions based on the number one in Egyptian thought seems to illustrate their awareness that all forms of meaning derive from a relationship to the singular principle of divine unity, or spirit.1

Proportionality and the Theory of Correspondences

This concept of proportion sheds light on a key doctrine of metaphysical philosophy through the ages — the theory of correspondences. The American transcendentalist Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote,

"Secret analogies tie together the remotest parts of Nature, as the atmosphere of a summer morning is filled with innumerable gossamer threads running in every direction, revealed by the beams of the rising sun!"2

Astrologers, like many others, have long subscribed to the notion that our world hangs together through a complex network of correspondences that joins phenomena among categories quite different from those described by science.

And as Emerson himself hints at here, the key to understanding correspondences lies within the concept of analogy. When viewed in terms of their internal proportions, things that have no obvious relation can be seen as linked by metaphoric relationship to their respective contexts. Thus, for example, gold, the heart, kings, lions, and the Sun are superficially very different, yet are linked vibrationally because of the way each one occupies a position of centrality or eminence in its own domain. That is, as gold is to metal, so the heart is to the body, the lion is to other animals, and the king to other human beings.

Proportionality pervades everyday life and everyday thinking. The analogy game we played earlier can be used to reveal a variety of insights about ourselves:

If your body were a make of car, would it be a Cadillac? A Volkswagen "beetle"? A Model-T Ford?

If your lifestyle were a kind of restaurant, would it be a fast-food establishment? A family diner? An exotic Oriental restaurant?

If your biography were a novel, would it be a tale of high adventure and intrigue? A philosophy book? A mathematics textbook? Or something else entirely?

We can even use the same technique to uncover the proportional values that define our moods, our relationships, and our spiritual aspirations. Both the psychological and esoteric traditions abound with stories of skilled observers reading the character of individuals through such things as handwriting, facial structure, vocal inflections, and even the rhythm of someone's walk. In each of these instances, the inner personality has manifested through a particular set of forms — sound, image, or movement — with the same qualities of personality informing each modality of expression. Thus, the traits indicated by a person's handwriting will also tend to express themselves through that person's speech or body language.

The Elemental Qualities

Proportion can also help us to understand the thinking behind Eastern medicine, astrology, and alchemy. When a doctor of traditional Chinese medicine or Hindu Ayurvedic medicine speaks of excesses or deficiencies of heat or cold, dry or wet, in a person's state of health, Western doctors may search in vain for objective corroboration of this seemingly arcane diagnosis. However, these terms actually refer to proportional balances within the body that can be sensed only through a metaphoric or relational mentality. Thus, when a Chinese doctor prescribes a remedy with salamander skin as a key ingredient, a patient might wonder what chemicals underlie this strange choice, but the real motive may be the quality of heat (or yang energy) this ingredient imparts to the patient.

Likewise, when an astrologer speaks to clients about the preponderance of air in their horoscopes, the reference isn't to any literal abundance of the element but to a relative emphasis on signs linked to air in the chart, as compared with those linked to earth, water, or fire. This proportional emphasis, in turn, reflects itself in certain qualities of personality. We use the same language when we say that a person is "earthy" or "spacey" or has a "fiery" personality. Such terms are metaphors that reflect a qualitative assessment of the inner essence of a personality in terms of subtle psychological states.

The ancient Greek philosophers further subdivided each of the four elements into finer shadings of meaning, or sub-proportions, with water described as being a combination of "moist" and "cool" qualities, fire viewed as a combination of "hot" and "dry" properties, and so on. The accompanying chart shows the traditional relationships, laid out in geometrical form.

Each of the elemental properties shown in this chart exists within both our external life and inner personality in varying combinations. Whether we recognize them consciously or not, we betray our intuition of these qualities when we say that a person has a hot temper, is emotionally cold, or has a dry sense of humor. While such judgments may not correspond to literal qualities, they convey real information and relate to a range of specific behaviors that could not be described by the opposite term. A dry person cannot be truthfully described as juicy, nor a person's fiery temperament as icy; these terms may be poetic, but they are accurate descriptions of real properties, not mere projections of the human imagination.

Each of the planets in a person's horoscope has a set of elemental or metaphoric qualities as well, which express themselves symbolically through the area of life connected with that planet. Consequently, a man who has the planet Mars in the 7th house of his astrological chart (the area related to partnerships) will tend to experience heat, dryness, or fire in his interactions or relationships, manifesting in heated or passionate relations, or perhaps as angry exchanges. Similarly, a woman with Saturn in the 1st house (the area governing the personality and body) may tend to be cool and dry in temperament, while another woman with the Moon in the same position might be more moist or emotional in her behavior. Any significant relationship between the planets in a chart likewise tempers each planet's qualities. Mars in relation to Mercury, for example, will bring qualities of heat and dryness to a person's mental nature, as well as to any circumstances involving communication, while the Moon in relation to Venus will bring qualities of moisture and coolness to romantic or social experiences.

The essentially proportional or "fractional" nature of planetary symbolism can be demonstrated by means of our earlier word game: If Venus were a musical composition, would it be hard rock or a lush melody with sweet-sounding violins? If Mars were a kind of food, would it be a mouth-searing chili or an ice cream sundae? And if Jupiter were a kind of building, would it most likely be a functional office building or an imposing cathedral?

For the esotericist, the pervasiveness of such qualities as hot, dry, cold, and moist in so many systems likely testifies to a common perception of the subtle astral dynamics underlying ordinary events. We might say that physical reality is a surface reflection of deeper archetypal processes, around which the tangible circumstances of our lives cluster, like iron filings in a magnetic field. Yet, we can only detect these dynamics through a metaphoric perception of those forms through which these qualities manifest.

The Mystery of the Self

If all meaning is a type of relationship, then every symbol is at base a duality — a unity comprised of two or more terms held in dynamic tension. This echoes the duality at the heart of experience itself — the interplay of the Sun and the Moon, the active and reflective principles of consciousness. As one way to understand this, simply consider your experience at this moment: It may seem as though there is someone inside your body actively looking out at the world beyond you, as if these were two separate realities. Yet, mystics have long contended that these two realms are but different aspects of the same seamless continuum, which the mind misinterprets as distinct and different.

This touches upon one of the great paradoxes of esotericism: Is the "Self" a unity or a duality? Actually, it's both. As some ancient mystics expressed it, the Self is a One that eternally functions as a Two. What does this mean? Awareness is eternally reflecting upon itself. This, in turn, generates a vibration that is the great "OM" shimmering beneath all creation. Kabbalistically speaking, this underlying consciousness is the fundamental I AM THAT I AM residing eternally radiant beneath all surface modifications of mind. With roots deep in this luminous Source, consciousness is eternally self-aware, continually self-regenerating.

The ancient symbol of the ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail, and physicist John Wheeler's famed illustration of the "participatory universe," describing how the universe is aware of itself through observers, both express a similar idea: consciousness doubled back upon itself in self-reflection.

In some traditions, the paradox of the Self being conscious of its own nature finds expression within the symbol of a serpent eating its own tail, also known as the ouroboros. (see figure above) The meaning here is subtle: The Self must forever eat of (i.e., reflect upon) the Self in order to sustain the Self. It is through this act of Self- reflection that the Self not only regenerates its own existence, but all the existences of which it is aware. It has always done so and will forever do so, for were the Self to ever cease meditating upon itself, it would cease to be, and if this could happen unto one's own spiritual being it could happen to all. And in the infinities of existence, if it could happen to one, it would already have happened unto all, and you would not now be here [reading] this. 3

The Primary Archetype

By their very nature, all symbols and archetypes are dualistic and secondary reflections of truth, like "fingers pointing at the Moon," as some Buddhist writers have expressed it. In mythological terms, the process by which Spirit unfolds into myriad forms of meaning is poetically evoked through the archetype of the dismembered God who, like the Egyptian god Osiris, or even the nursery-rhyme figure of Humpty-Dumpty (!), is severed into pieces — symbolizing the fragmenting of consciousness as it "falls" into time.4 Like light dividing into colors as it passes through a prism, or notes synthesized from shapeless white noise, so within time and space Spirit fractures into many parts, and each embodies some facet of the divine nature much in the way a particular color represents a particular frequency of the spectrum. In a sense, the archetypes could be thought of as fragmented aspects of our own being.

But while all archetypes are secondary and imperfect by nature, mystics have believed that one archetype comes closer to mirroring the divine Source than any other. This may be called the first or primary archetype, and is expressed by such symbols as the image of the Sun, the number One, the god Ra in Egyptian thought, or the Tai Chi principle in Chinese mysticism. All other archetypal principles draw their significance from their proportional relationship to this root symbol.

A simple way of explaining this idea is through a musical analogy. Western music is based on a scale of seven notes: do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti. Each note of the scale draws its meaning in reference to the primary note do. If a soprano were asked to sing the note fa by itself, she could not do so. That's because the note fa can only be determined once a do has been established. On the other hand, if a singer were asked to sing the note do, any tone at all could serve. Unlike the other notes of the scale, do is the primary archetypal tone; completely independent and self-referential, it creates the context by which a musician establishes the entire scale.

This notion of symbols drawing their meaning from a fundamental source by means of proportion applies to many of the esoteric systems we’ve been discussing. For example, just as the planets of our solar system shine by the reflected light of the Sun, the planetary symbols of astrology derive their meaning from their proportional "angle" to the solar principle of consciousness. We find a similar pattern described in the spiritual psychology of yoga, where the chakras of our subtle body are said to "shine by"— draw their awareness from — the light of the Ajna chakra in the forehead, the seat of our Higher Self, and symbolized by the Sun. 5 Similarly, in math and numerology, we find that all numbers draw meaning from their relation to the number One, the first principle. We can’t speak of the number 7 except in terms of seven ones. In both geometry and astrology, all angles have meaning only in reference to a primary starting point. In a circle, we must identify a primary or "home" point in order to measure the degrees to any other point on the circumference. That is, a 120-degree angle, a 30-degree angle, or a 180-degree angle can be located only in relation to a 0-degree point.

The pervasiveness of this pattern throughout various systems tells us that all symbols exist in relationship to the ground of Spirit, or Self-conscious awareness. In a sense, every archetype expresses a particular trajectory relative to the Divine, like the angels (or shall we say angles?) mythologically constellated around God's throne. So, while all archetypes might be regarded as "spiritual," since they're rooted in the divine Source, the primary archetype represents spirit at its purest or most concentrated. Spirit in the mystical sense can be thought of as awareness in its undiluted form, in a state of complete and absolute attention upon an object or itself.

The Archetypal Music of Experience

In the same way that the archetypes draw their meaning from their proportional relationship to the central archetype, so all of our experiences draw their meaning by reflecting the illuminating consciousness at the heart of being. Each person's life represents a particular arrangement or musical scoring of divine qualities expressed through the archetypes of our being. Our lives are thus the songs of dismembered gods, the harmonies of divine energies in proportional relation to one another. In the symbols of the horoscope, we find a concise map of the archetypal qualities at work in our lives. With the sky serving as a vast canvas portraying the arenas of soul, the planets at the moment of our birth symbolically reveal where the archetypal principles are focused for each one of us. As they manifest through the circumstances of our everyday lives, these universal principles appear to be relative and proportional, or rather, they express themselves in relation to particular contexts.

For instance, the archetype or "note" of Jupiter (expansion or opportunities) might manifest in the life of a desert nomad in the form of stumbling onto an oasis, or in the life of a native living in the rain forest as the discovery of a rare medicinal plant. To use another example, a person born with an emphasized Saturn will tend to be a late bloomer in the sense of being slow to develop his or her potentials and personality, in keeping with the archetypal quality of slowness associated with this planet. But this slowness is relative only to other humans — not compared with a sequoia tree planted at that same moment!

That is to say, while the horoscope for a person or a creature reveals a blueprint of archetypal or universal principles, these principles will always express themselves through the transitory contexts of a person's life. For instance, I sometimes hear the question: If a cow were born at the same instant as a great world leader, why wouldn't it likewise ascend to power, just like that world leader?

It's precisely because astrology is a language of relative proportions that the horoscope will express itself through whatever context is at hand. Two destinies sharing the same horoscope are linked not through the specificities of each life story, but rather through the proportional curves of each life, played out within its particular framework. To continue our analogy somewhat facetiously, we could speculate that when the world leader experiences a great political victory, his bovine "astro-twin" might have a particularly good day at the feeding trough! The horoscope won't reveal the objective details of what will transpire, but rather the proportional archetypal qualities underlying them.

Re-membering the Gods

For the average man or woman, the play of archetypes is often experienced in unbalanced, or even chaotic form. Continuing with our musical metaphor, in the symphony of our lives the seven notes of the cosmic scale frequently manifest as a cacophony of sharps and flats — as unbalanced emotional or mental states (anger, egotism, lust, cold logic, etc.). In Kabbalistic terms, the kingdom of our spiritual nature has fallen into disarray; the King — the observing consciousness — has lost his crown, and civil war ravages the country. In yogic symbolism, it would be said that our planetary or chakra energies are not in their central or balanced modes; in particular, one's core spiritual awareness is not ruling from its natural place within the third eye in the forehead, its light having become scattered throughout one's being.

The goal of mysticism is therefore to create order out of this chaos — "stopping the war," as some Buddhist writers have put it. Externally, this involves cultivating a balanced lifestyle that eschews extremes, while internally balancing the uncontrolled energies at each chakra level by drawing them into the central channel, or sushumna. In this way, the energies of the root chakra are returned to their rightful place within the center of the spine, the energies of the second chakra are balanced within the center channel, and so forth. Through a deepening reflection upon the source of being or consciousness itself, aided by mantras, breathing techniques, or visualizations, energy is progressively lifted up through the spinal channel into the head region, thereby restoring order to the kingdom. With this, the dismembered god is re-membered; observer and observed collapse into one, and all dualistic qualities, contrasts, proportions, and meanings are subsumed into pure awareness, having been reduced to ashes by the radiant light of the enthroned Self.

This state of balanced Self-consciousness has been depicted in a variety of ways. In astrological symbolism, it finds expression in the image of the Sun — or more accurately, the marriage of the Sun and Moon. In geometry, the notion of balanced Self-awareness is sometimes conveyed through the image of a triangle, specifically at the peak where the two angles of the base rise up and merge into one.

The same essential trinity is also found in such systems as the Chinese concept of Tai Chi, where the pinnacle of existence branches down into the polarities of yin and yang; in the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, the uppermost cosmic principle of Kether branches down into the dual sephiroth of Binah and Chochma. In all such systems, the two lower points of the triad represent the polarities of masculine and feminine, whereas the upper point signifies the balancing of these great opposites.

Sometimes, this triune symbol is further expanded into the image of a four-sided pyramid, whereby a more complex view of esoteric psychology is conveyed. Here, Self-conscious awareness is shown to consist not just of an observer and an observed (a Sun and a Moon), but also the act of observing, as well as a fourth factor variously defined by mystics as "memory," "the sum of all parts,” or “the creation of Spirit.” In the Kabbalistic tradition, this four-fold depiction of consciousness finds expression within the tetragrammaton, or four-lettered name of God. While there are differing interpretations for this linguistic symbol, at its most subtle it represents a formula for enlightened Self-consciousness itself — the potential of each sentient being. 6

The pyramid and the tetramorph express the coming together of the four-fold aspects of consciousness. Although the Egyptian sphinx does not have the four attributes found in the classic tetramorph, lacking the hooves of the bull and the wings of the eagle, it nonetheless conveys a similar insight: multiplicity within unity, the joining of the lion (animal nature), human (mental nature), and solar rays (divine nature).

In astrological terms, this four-fold symbol is associated with the four fixed signs of the zodiac — Leo (the lion), Taurus (the bull), Scorpio (the scorpion or eagle), and Aquarius (the human or angel). In the fire sign Leo, we find consciousness in its active, observing aspect; in the water sign Scorpio, we see consciousness in its reflective aspect, as the observed; in the air sign Aquarius, we see consciousness engaged in the act of observing, hence the association of this element with the mediating principle of mind; while in the earthy sign Taurus, we find the preserved memory of soul's activity, hence the association of this zodiacal symbol with possessions and wealth. In both the Old and New Testaments, these same four creatures appear in a variety of passages, including the vision of Ezekiel, the visions of Revelations, and the iconography associated with the apostles Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, who prismatically reflect the supreme mystery of the Christ principle.

In its most succinct form, these four symbols are collapsed into a single composite creature, technically called a tetramorph, displaying the head of a human, the wings of an eagle, the body of a lion, and the hooves of a bull. In meditation, this image expresses the condition of perfectly balanced awareness, the four aspects of being — observer, observed, the act of observation, and the memory tract (or sum of all parts) — brought together in unity.

Having awakened to the condition of enlightened awareness, the mystic can now re-enter the world without fear of becoming lost in the "maze of Self" — the phenomenal world — for he or she now realizes there is nowhere in the maze where Self is not. Like multiple mirrors reflecting the Sun, the manifestations of the world are no longer viewed as "symbols" because they point to some reality beyond this one, but because they mirror the consciousness perceiving them. All things are now revealed to partake of the same essential nature. Established in the source of true awareness, all things shine forth with the radiant truth of Self, as the Bengali mystical poet Ramprasad expressed it: "This realm of reflection we encounter consists of mind, earth, wind, water, arranging and rearranging with increasing complexity. The principle of subtle energy evolves naturally into tangibility, blossoming as billions of worlds. A single sun reflects in countless water—bearing vessels. As these earthenware worlds are broken, one by one, the sunlight of primal awareness remains the same." 7

 

From Sound to Image: The Hans Jenny Research An especially striking illustration of the proportionality principle can be seen in the work of Swiss researcher Hans Jenny. Based on earlier work by the 17th-century German physicist Ernest Chladni, Jenny's photographs show how, in response to sounds, the metal filings on a metal plate will reorganize into beautiful geometrical patterns in correspondence with the unique qualities of those vibrations. Jenny's research has captured the imagination of artists and philosophers throughout the years, likely because it suggests something important about the mysterious process of transformation — and perhaps even the proportionality underlying our own lives. In that shift from sound vibrations to geometrical patterns on a metal plate, something has crossed over — but what, exactly? A set of relationships, or internal proportions and ratios, but expressed now in entirely different mediums.

Author's note:
This article has been adapted from chapter 11 of my book, The Waking Dream: Unlocking the Symbolic Language of Our Lives (Quest Books, 1996), and was published in The Mountain Astrologer magazine, February 2011.

Notes and References:
1. John Anthony West, Serpent in the Sky: The High Wisdom of Ancient Egypt, Quest Books, 1993, pp. 113-114.
2. Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Complete Writings, Vol. H, William H. Wise, 1929, p. 949.
3. Shelly Trimmer, cited in my book An Infinity of Gods (Inner Eye Press, 2017). Trimmer
(1917-1996) was an American-born yogi, astrologer and occultist who studied under Paramahansa Yogananda during the early 1940s.
4. In ancient Egyptian mythology, Osiris was god of the afterlife and the preeminent symbol of regeneration and rebirth. In the most well-known version of his story, from Plutarch, he was trapped and ultimately murdered by his brother Set, who then cut up his body into fourteen pieces and scattered them across the land. |sis then gathered up those parts (minus the phallus) and bandaged them together, leading to his eventual resurrection and deification as god of the underworld.
5. For a more detailed explanation of the chakra/planet correlation, see chapter 10 of my book, The Waking Dream: Unlocking the Symbolic Language of Our Lives. Also, see my article, "Astrology and the Chakras: Toward a Sacred Psychology of the Horoscope," in The Mountain Astrologer, April 1996.
6. The notion that the four—lettered name of God (or tetragrammaton) symbolizes enlightened self-awareness is evidenced by the Old Testament story of Moses encountering God in the form of a burning bush. When Moses asks God to divulge His true name, he is told in response: I AM THAT I AM (IHVH or, in Latinized form, JHVH, generally pronounced "Jehovah"). In other words, in the act of ascending to the mountaintop — a traditional symbol for enlightenment — Moses discovers that "God" is none other than awakened Self-awareness itself.
7. Ramprasad, as quoted in Lex Hixon, Mother of the Universe: Visions of the Goddess and
Tantric Hymns of Enlightenment, Quest Books, 1993, p. 77.

Image sources:
Elements, ouroboros, pyramid: Ray Grasse
U image: John Archibald Wheeler, public domain
Iron filings: Hans Jenny, public domain
All other illustrations: CC0 Creative Commons, via pixabay.com

First published in: The Mountain Astrologer, Feb/Mar 2011.

Author:
Ray Grasse studied with two teachers in the Kriya Yoga tradition, Goswami Kriyananda and Shelly Trimmer. In addition to The Waking Dream, Ray is author of Signs of the Times: Unlocking the Symbolic Language of World Events (2002, Hampton Roads), Under a Sacred Sky (2016, Wessex), and An Infinity of Gods (2017, Inner Eye). He is associate editor of The Mountain Astrologer magazine since 1998. His website is http://www.raygrasse.com

© 2011/18 - Ray Grasse - published by The Mountain Astrologer

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