Tree Of Life Meditation

Here is an interesting take, if we consider Lilith energy as a manifestation of Mother Chaos, the Wild Mother, or the Matriarch of the Rejected, then her “children” would indeed be the creatures that thrive in the hidden, the overlooked, and the feared spaces. If as an embodiment of Lilith energy represents Mother of the Castoffs, then her children these “beasties” wouldn’t just be literal insects, spiders, or scavengers but also the metaphorical creatures of the psyche. • The unseen, the discarded, the outcast • The fears and phobias buried deep in human consciousness • The things that crawl and multiply in the dark, both within nature and the mind In many ways, insects and scavengers are the great recyclers of the world, they break down what is dead and return it to the earth. If we take that idea further, Lilith’s role becomes one of watching the cycle play out endlessly, knowing that no matter how many of her children die, more will be born, and the balance will continue. This would fit perfectly into a larger mythological framework where Lilith is not merely a “demoness” or an enemy to order, but the dark mother who oversees the turning of the wheel, the decomposition of the old to make way for the new. This also aligns with a greater esoteric truth 🔹 That which is feared, reviled, and cast aside often holds the greatest power. 🔹 The cycle of life is not just about growth and ascension but also about decay, breaking down, and rebirth. 🔹 The largest biomass on the planet is not made up of the apex predators, it belongs to the small, the forgotten, the many. And yes, if Lilith energy is tied to this endless death and rebirth cycle, then of course, she would have to witness thousands of her children dying daily, not as an act of punishment, but as the natural course of things.

Return Of The Ancients – By David Moylan In the endless expanse of the Duat, the Egyptian underworld, Anubis stood before the grand Temple of Ma’at, his form towering and regal. His jackal head gleamed under the pale light of the moon, eyes glowing with ancient wisdom and purpose. For millennia, Anubis had been the guardian of the dead, the keeper of souls as they passed into the afterlife, weighing hearts against the feather of Ma’at to determine their fate. He had watched over the delicate balance between life and death, order and chaos, and had maintained the sacred rites of passage for all who sought eternity. But now, the cosmic balance was tipping. The earth realm had grown disconnected from the ancient ways. Mortals, lost in their pursuit of power and material gain, had forgotten the old gods, the ones who had shaped the very fabric of existence. The whispers of forgotten rituals no longer reached the heavens, and the temples once filled with offerings stood silent. The world was teetering on the edge of collapse—rife with war, division, and destruction. The time had come for the ancient ones to return. Anubis had seen this day approaching for centuries, though he had waited patiently for the signs. And now, they were clear. The stars aligned in a pattern that had not been seen since the dawn of the first dynasty. The air in the Duat had begun to hum with a power that stirred the sands of time. It was time to act. With deliberate grace, Anubis strode through the gates of the temple, entering a sacred chamber at its heart. The walls were inscribed with hieroglyphs older than memory, detailing the rites that could awaken the ancient gods and spirits—the ones who had walked the earth long before the rise of man. At the center of the chamber lay a great portal, sealed for eons, its surface shimmering faintly like the veil between worlds. Anubis knelt before the portal, his long fingers tracing the inscriptions on the ground. He began to chant in a language that had not been spoken aloud in over ten thousand years, the words vibrating through the air like thunder rolling across the desert. As he chanted, the hieroglyphs on the walls began to glow, lighting the chamber with a soft, ethereal light. The ground beneath Anubis trembled, and the shimmering veil of the portal began to shift. Slowly, it started to open, revealing a swirling vortex of darkness and light, where the spirits of the ancients stirred. He spoke to them, his voice commanding yet reverent. “Ancient ones, gods of old, spirits of the first dawn, it is time to return. The earth realm calls to you once more. The balance has been broken, and the mortals have forgotten the sacred ways. Their world is crumbling under the weight of their hubris. Come forth and restore the order, as you once did in the beginning.” From within the portal, the shadowy forms of the ancient gods began to emerge. First came Osiris, the lord of the afterlife, his emerald-green skin glowing with an inner light, his crook and flail held with regal authority. Behind him, Isis, the great mother, whose wings unfurled as she stepped forward, her eyes filled with both compassion and fury at what had become of the world she had once nurtured. Thoth, the scribe of the gods, followed, his ibis head bowed as he inscribed the events into the cosmic ledger, his presence signaling that history itself was about to be rewritten. One by one, the ancient gods and spirits returned through the portal—Horus, the falcon-headed god of kingship and justice; Sekhmet, the lioness goddess of war, her burning eyes gleaming with righteous rage; and Bastet, the cat goddess of protection, who padded silently through, her gaze fierce and protective. The earth trembled with their return, and even the winds seemed to change direction, carrying with them the energy of ages long forgotten. Anubis stood tall as the ancients gathered around him. He could feel the power radiating from them, the raw, unbridled force that had once shaped mountains, guided civilizations, and ushered souls into the afterlife. But this time, their task was different. They were not here to rule or dominate, but to restore. The earth had fallen out of alignment with the cosmic laws, and only the return of the ancients could bring it back to balance. Osiris stepped forward, his deep voice resonating through the chamber. “The mortals have forgotten us, Anubis. They no longer honor the old ways. Do you believe they are ready for our return?” Anubis bowed his head. “They may not be ready, but they are in need. Their world is on the brink of destruction, and they have lost sight of their connection to the divine. It is not for them to decide—it is time for us to remind them of who we are.” Isis raised her wings, and the light of the portal brightened, casting long shadows across the chamber. “We will bring balance once more,” she said, her voice like the soft breeze before a storm. “But they must choose to embrace it. We cannot force them to remember.” Anubis nodded. “That is why we will walk among them, as we did in the old times. We will guide them, teach them, and if they are willing, we will restore the harmony between the earth realm and the divine.” With that, the portal fully opened, revealing the path back to the earth realm. The air crackled with the energy of their impending return, and the very fabric of reality seemed to ripple as the ancient gods prepared to cross the threshold. One by one, they stepped through, each carrying with them the weight of eternity, the wisdom of the ancients, and the hope of restoring what had been lost. Anubis was the last to move, but before he did, he glanced back into the depths of the Duat,

Two days ago, I found myself walking among the graves of my ancestors. The sun filtered through the trees, casting golden light upon the earth where so many had been laid to rest. I sat beneath a tree, allowing its warmth to touch my skin, opening myself to the quiet wisdom of the place. I came here to honor those who walked before me. To acknowledge the ones who fought, suffered, and survived so that I could stand where I am today. As I sat there, letting the light sink into my third eye, I realized something: they had laid my foundation long before I knew what I would face. Some time ago my ancestors came to me in a vision. They handed me a foundation stone, though at the time, I didn’t understand what it meant. I see it clearly now. That foundation was emotional stability, a gift they placed in my hands because they knew what I would face before I ever did. They saw everything I was blind to, they knew everything I did not, and they prepared me for the battles ahead. I didn’t see any of it coming. I was clueless. But they knew. And they had a list, checking it twice, seeing who was true and who was not. That day in the cemetery, I walked among the graves, and my attention was drawn to something unusual. There were massive gravestones towering over the rest, adorned with symbols of wealth and status. Many bore the Masonic cross, enclosed in a circle, a mark of those who had built their legacy in stone. But then, I saw one that broke me. It was a grave for a young girl. Only twelve years old. I stood there, staring at the carefully built memorial, feeling the weight of her family’s grief. The care they had put into honoring her. The way their love had been carved into stone, as if trying to hold onto something that time would eventually take away. And in that moment, something hit me with undeniable force: It doesn’t matter if you are homeless or a billionaire. It doesn’t matter if your grave is a towering monument or an unmarked stone. Love and loss feel the same in every heart. Grief does not care for wealth. Death does not recognize status. We are all the same in the end. For all that we think we are, we are nothing but dust, passing through, just like those before us. And yet, for all that we are dust, we are also everything. Because even though our bodies fade, love remains. The grief we feel is proof that something deeper than flesh and bone connects us all. It is proof that our value was never in our status, our possessions, or the weight of our names. The people who remember us don’t carry our achievements in their hearts, they carry the moments we loved them. This is what my ancestors wanted me to understand. They built my foundation because they knew what I would face. They knew the anger and fire that would rise in me, the sexual energy that would demand mastery, the spiritual warfare that would test my very soul. And they knew that without a foundation, I could be swept away like so many before me. But I wasn’t. Because I took the stone they gave me and built upon it. I took what they could not finish and carried it further. I learned not just to receive wisdom, but to refine it, to take my pain, my passion, my power, and turn it into something greater. And now, I share this truth: We are all connected. Not by status, not by blood, not by wealth, but by the simple, undeniable fact that we are here. We live. We love. We suffer. We grieve. And in the end, the only thing that remains is the love we leave behind. So love deeply. Be kind. Leave something behind that cannot be carved in stone, but will be felt in the hearts of those who remain. Because in the end, love is the only thing that endures.