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The Pines - The Nymphs

Iris, divine, ineffable maiden, messenger Goddess of winged feet, you are the one who protects initiate women who work in the flaming forge of Vulcan.

Was it perhaps not you, oh sublime beauty, who delivered the celestial message from Juno, Goddess of initiate matrons, to bold Turnus, the warring Rotulian chief commander?

After the solemn libations, the war-like Turnus, as a new Achilles, was soon moving threateningly across the open Trojan plain with his whole army. This is how it is written and known by the divine and human.

However, the Trojans were neither tardy nor weak. They reunited themselves at once in the war room, and with a great clamor they streamed into the battle line.

Terrorizing, Dantesque, and dreadful was Turnus, who prowled round the Trojan walls in a fury, going one way and another. It was a strange destiny to repeat in Latium the same epic combats of defeated Troy.

Nevertheless, this time the Trojans, in spite of being veterans of many wars, did not commit themselves to a fair fight with the enemy on the level plain, because of Aeneas’ absence. For these were the orders they had received from Aeneas, the greatest of warriors, as he left them.

What later happened is known by the legend of the centuries... The fire, the flames, the blazing torches crackled threateningly.

The Rotulians, blazing with anger, wanted to burn Aeneas’ fleet. But Cybele herself, the Divine Mother Kundalini, is said to have beseeched the help of the Cosmic Christ, great Jupiter, son of Cronos, and thus, Jupiter helped the Trojans.

Fortunately, those ships were made with the sacred wood of pines, from trees gladly given to the Trojan warrior upon the Holy Mount of Ida, where the Christ (Jupiter) had his favorite forest.

Oh, the astonishment!.. Oh, the marvel!... In an instant, each one of these mysterious ships, instead of burning as a fatal holocaust, was miraculously changed into a nymph of the immense sea.

Ah!... If only the human mind had not degenerated so greatly... Many times I, myself, have seen tender maidens dressed as brides, as if ready for their wedding celebration.

Yes, oh God! I have seen these innocent souls at the foot of each pine. Truth? Yes, these are plant elementals.

These are truly the elementals of the pines, each one of these Christmas trees has its own soul.

When will the Christ cultists once again establish their sanctuaries within the forest filled with pines?

Do these trees have powers? Who would dare to doubt it? Could perhaps the warriors of Turnus, the new Achilles, have turned the Trojan fleet into a holocaust?

If people would awaken consciousness, then they could converse face to face with the nymphs of the boisterous ocean.

If people would awaken consciousness, then they could talk with the elementals of the pines.

Nevertheless, oh what pain!... Oh God of mine!... These poor people are profoundly asleep.

Ah! If those who investigate in the field of occultism could truly comprehend the author of The Metamorphosis of Plants [by Goethe]. If they could understand Humboldt with his Cosmos. If truly they could intuit the Timeaus and Critias of Plato the Divine, then they would approach the amphitheater of the cosmic science and they would penetrate into the mystery of the magic of plants.

If those who study occult anatomy could comprehend the mysteries of Devi Kundalini, if truly they would love Cybele and divine Jupiter, if they would work in the Ninth Sphere, then they would be admitted into the elemental paradises of Nature.

Let us now remember the chorus of the nymphs of Calypso, in the very occult work The Adventures of Telemachus by François Fénelon.

The fairies spread on the moss of a millenary rock a fine lace tablecloth. Its beautiful figure could be compared to those subtle textiles which are sometimes formed by the cirrus in the sky. Upon it were placed Atlantean-made dishes that had colors that brought remembrances of the Talaveranean zone (which was in fashion a few years earlier) from afar. They served them a meal of frugal appearance, but which was so nutritive that it seemed to fill all of them with happiness and youth.

Wheat, rye, honey syrup, corn, cocoa, walnut, kola nut, sopari bread, are what the Hindustani adepts give as a sign of alliance to their disciples. The honey, the non-fermented must, a thousand juices, and indescribable molasses constituted their dishes.

These were delicious dishes that not even Brillat-Savarin had ever tasted, and that neither Montino and Altimira could ever comprehend.

A certain fragrant liquor that was served in an agate cup, that was evoking memories of the Holy Grail, placed this group of brethren into a mysterious and strange state in the end.

They were joyful, happy, and filled with vigor and youth, capable of embarking without any fear into the most terrible adventure.

It is relevant to say that this group explored Atlantis and knew all the mysteries of that submerged continent.

I also knew two other marvelous nymphs when I was navigating on a sailboat in the Caribbean Sea.

They came to encounter us through the boisterous waves. They were of an incomparable beauty.

One of them, a delicate maiden, was the color of violets. She floated over the waters, sometimes walking with a rhythmical and innocent step, sweetly approaching, agile, and simple. She was without any animal quality, yet she had a lot of divinity. She looked rather like an Indian female with bare feet.

The other one was the marvelous color of coral. Within the cordial shape of her mouth, a strawberry had left its purplish red, and in the subtle delicate draw of that visage, her eyes shone.

The aurora dawned upon the ocean; I saw them, and when uttering the word of light, they spoke to me. Then, very slowly, they approached the beach and rose upon the cliffy rocks.

I became a friend of these two marvelous nymphs, and when I think of their powers and of those changed ships of Aeneas, I submerge myself into meditation and prayer.