Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Painting Mary Magdalene, Part Two

So, I was already feeling the magic of the process, and with each painting session, I was dropping deeper into my experience of my intention co-mingled with the transmission of information from the
Magdalene energies, when it was time to outline the face.  As it happened, I started painting late one afternoon on my patio, with the sun beginning to set behind me.

As I stood before the canvas, the sun cast my shadow.  Now, having done a lot of symbolic and internal processing of my psychological shadow, this spoke to my heart and mind. It was a visceral experience of combining my energy, with the energy of what I was to create, with the archetypal energy of Mary Magdalene.


My own shadow became the perfect outline for the Her portrait. Given my love for the Feminine Divine and the strong belief and trust I have in Oneness and inner knowing that the path to the Divine is within, this made perfect sense to me. It gave me chills as I began to draw in the first features of the outline of the face, hair, and neckline. I loved the flowing of the colors and remember working very fast with dance-like fluid movement.


I loved the way that the colors changed as the face took form; first bright and and deep, then darkening with time in stages as the paint dried on the canvas. It was a metaphor, to me, for the development of personality, or spirituality--at first brilliant and new, bright and promising...changing and fluid, then deepening into darker hues and settling into reality, being cast in against the backdrop of daily living, finding it's niche--no longer as a moment in time, but fading into the shadows, as an expression of balance.


When she dried this time, it seemed she was in a long dark cave, the light had receded, or deepened, or integrated. It was as if she were looking out through a long dark tunnel. Yes, I imagine the process Mary went through after the exile from Palestine to be like that. Loss of life partner, family, home; running from Romans and religious leaders; the uncertainty of the future; being off-cast from the community of love.


But I wasn't done. As this version dried, I prepared to outline more features I knew I wanted to add. I wanted a crown of twelve stars for my Queen of Heaven, for to me, it is Mary Magdalene who is the Holy Bride and partner in the Hieros Gamos, the Sacred Marriage. I wanted to include her symbols again, this time in the foreground. And, I wanted to cover the blue veil (representative of the untouched virgin), with the red veil (representative of the fully embodied woman who embraces her sexuality).


When I stopped after outlining, I again placed the painting on my altar, to meditate. I was intrigued by everything that had been revealed. The painting looked cartoonish to me, and I wished I'd stopped after the deep, dark version before. But darkness did not become Her, and she wasn't through with revelation.

I was tired, and only wanted to rest and meditate. So I set up the canvas on my altar, and turned off the lights. It was dark now, after cleaning the brushes and putting away the paints. It was a gentle warm night. I climbed into bed, with the painting on the altar near the foot of the bed.

What I saw amazed me, and I was so excited, I tried taking pictures of the phenomenon with my phone, but the photos didn't quite capture the candlelight, and the automatic functions kept adding flash, or enough light to take a picture.


Staring back at me that night, was not Mary Magdalene, but Jeshua. Out of the combination of the candlelight and the outlining, and the darker shades in the paint, or the parts that had yet to dry...I don't know...there was a different face. It was masculine. There was the hint of a moustache, and a goatee-like beard. The eyes were entrancing. The turquoise blue, in that lighting, turned dark, almost black. The crown of stars resembled a crown of thorns. The outlined veil seemed to be a halo.

I was amazed. I tried taking pictures, but realized that the phenomenon in that moment was for me alone, and I went back to my meditation, that brought great calm to me. Despite the story I was telling myself, that Mary Magdalene must have been devastated, lonely, sad, in grieving when she arrived in Gaul, present day Southern France, She was showing me that She was not. That She was not separated from Jeshua by time or space or circumstance. That they were and ever shall be One.

When next I was to paint, I had a clearer vision of the power and certainty and trust that I now hold of my Priestess Sister, Mary Magdalene. Her beauty and majesty came through, with lots of reds and turquoise.


And although the current stage of this painting has dried to a more muted palette, I have not been called to change a thing. I've been meditating with this Mary for over a year now. She's been speaking to me, giving me material for my book, filling my dreams, calling me to plan and organize a trip to Southern France, where her energy still lives on.


I'm not yet ready to add the small details, of eyelashes, and shading, and definitely not ready to cast a wash over Her that will change Her colors. Who knows? Maybe the painting is finished. Maybe it's waiting for the next pieces of knowledge I am to gather in France.

My pilgrimage to France is about healing the heart of religion and the gate of rebirth of the Feminine Divine, which will bring balance and compassion to a world greatly in need of it. As a symbologist and ceremonialist, I feel that the current fascination with Mary Magdalene in mass culture is no accident. Many of my friends have either already been to Southern France, or are heading there soon. As we each heal, we bring consciousness and compassion to ourselves, our families, our circles and our world. It is time. Welcome back, Mary. Restored to honor.

For information about my trip, click here. There's still space, if you're hearing the call.