Ineffable enchantments come into my memory, poems of love, and things that are impossible to describe with words. Certainly, what I have known, what I have seen, what I have palpated in the house of my Father and within all of those resplendent abodes of the great City of Light, known as the Milky Way, can only be uttered with words of gold in the purest dawn of the Divine Language.
It was a night trimmed with stars; the projected rays of the moon penetrated into my haven and pretended to be a shawl of silver. The profound blue of the sky was rather an infinite ocean where the stars were twinkling.
Meditating like this, I abandoned my dense form and penetrated into ecstasy. There is no better pleasure than the feeling of oneself as a detached soul, for then, past, present, and future are brethren within an eternal now. Filled with a delectable, unutterable, and indescribable spiritual voluptuousness, and impelled by the mysterious force of longing, I arrived before the doors of the temple.
The door of the sanctuary was sealed with a great boulder that blocked the way to profane people. Oh heart, do not desist before things of mystery! “Open Sesame!” was my exclamation, and the rock opened in order for me to enter. So then, when some intruders tried to do the same, I had to grasp my flaming sword and cry with all the forces of my soul, “Get ye hence profane and profaners!”
I had penetrated into the great temple of this Milky Way, the central sanctuary of this gigantic galaxy, the Transcendental Church. The terror of Love and Law reigns within this venerated place. Only the Sidereal Gods can prostrate before the sacred altar of that terribly divine temple.
Joyfully, I advanced towards the place of prostrations and adorations. Here, there, and everywhere, in all the blessed places of the temple, a multitude of humble and simple men were coming and going, who rather resembled submissive and obedient peasants. They were the Bodhisattvas of the Gods; they were Men in the most complete sense of the word: creatures who enjoy objective knowledge, who are one hundred percent Self-conscious.
Certainly, I could evidence completely and without a doubt that nothing that could be called “I” or “myself” existed within these human creatures; these Men were completely dead. I did not see within them the desire of standing out, of ascending, of climbing to the top of the ladder and wanting to boast of themselves, etc. These creatures had no interest in their existence; they only wanted absolute death, to lose themselves within their Being, that is all.
How happy I felt while advancing through the center of the temple towards the sacred altar! Certainly, I was marching arrogantly, energetically, with a triumphal step. Suddenly, one of those “humble peasants of pick and shovel” was walking by, blocking my way. For a moment, I tried to keep walking arrogantly, haughtily, and with disdain.
But, oh God of mine! An intuitive lightning bolt fulminated me to death, and I then vividly remembered that in a forgone time, in the remote past, I had committed the same error while in the presence of this humble peasant. That past error was clearly present within my mind. With horror, terror, and fear I remembered the dreadful instant in which, with frightening words uttered from the sacred altar, amidst lightning bolts, rays, and thunder, I was cast out of the temple.
The whole of this past event revived within my mind in a thousandth of a second. Then, repentant, I stopped my arrogant and proud march, and feeling contrite, regretful, and remorseful in my heart, with modesty and submission, I prostrated myself before this peasant. I kissed his feet while addressing him in this way, “You are a great Master, a great Sage.”
But that creature, instead of being satisfied with my words, answered, “I do not know anything, I am nobody.”
I answered back, “Yes, you are the Bodhisattva of one of the great Gods who is the governor of many constellations.”
My joy was immense when that authentic Man blessed me. I felt as if I had been forgiven, and joyfully continued my way towards the sacred altar. Afterwards, I returned into my physical body.
Many years have passed and I have never forgotten that temple sealed with the sacred stone.
Behold I lay in Sion a chief corner stone, elect, precious: and he that believeth on it shall not be confounded.
The stone which the builders disallowed, the same is made the head of the corner. And a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offence. - I Peter 4:8
The old medieval Alchemists were always searching for the Philosophical Stone, and some of them performed the Great Work with complete success.
Speaking with blunt frankness, it is our duty to emphatically affirm that this stone is sex.
Peter, disciple of Jesus the Christ, is Aladdin, the marvelous interpreter who is authorized to lift the stone that seals the sanctuary of the great mysteries. The original name of Peter is Patar with its three radical consonants: P, T, R. The P reminds us with complete clarity of the parents of the Gods, our Pater, Father, who is in secret, the Phitaras. The T is the Tau, the cross, the divine Hermaphrodite, the black Lingam inserted into the Yoni. The R is fundamental in the fire, it is the Egyptian Ra. The R is also radical in the powerful mantra INRI:
Ignis Natura Renovatur Integra
The fire is found latent within the stone, and the ancient people made the spark to leap from within the living bosom of the hard flint. My memory brings the remembrance of the Stones of the Lightning, the Orphic Galactite, the Sculapian Ostrite, the Stone with which Machaon healed Philoctetes, the Magic Betilo of all countries, the Howling, Oscillate, Runic and Uttering Stones of the Teraphims. The chalice of the Christified Mind has as its base the living Stone, the sacred altar.
The mantra ARIO prepares the Gnostics for the advent of the Sacred Fire. This mantra must be chanted every morning, dividing it into three syllables: AH... RI... O... prolonging the sound of each letter. It is advisable to work with this practice for ten minutes daily.
This chapter is from The Gnostic Magic of the Runes (1969) by Samael Aun Weor. The print and ebook editions by Glorian Publishing (a non-profit organization) are illustrated to aid your understanding, and include features like a glossary and index. Buy the book, and you benefit yourself and others.