MEDITATIONS ON THE QABALH
by Gwyddon Thomas
THE THIRTY-SECOND PATH
MALKUTH to YESOD

Begin the meditation by closing your eyes and breathing deeply, emptying your mind of thoughts and worries from the mundane world. After you have released all bonds with the material, float freely for a few moments. Then bring your thoughts into focus on the Tau.

You find yourself standing in the Temple of Malkuth. Beneath your feet runs a great expanse of black marble shot through with veins of green. Four immense statues define the edges of this temple, for beyond them there is only darkness. Entwining around the base of each, to the height of a man, are vines heavily laden with grapes of every description. The tendrils run along the marble floor toward the center of the temple.

Each statue is lighted from beneath by a great bronze brazier. You walk to stand in front of each figure, leaning your head back to observe its illuminated features. You notice one is lion craved from citrine, next a huge obsidian bull, then an eagle of peridot, and finally a human figure made of cinnabar. You gaze in wonder, as each seems to be carved from a single piece of stone, until you hear a faint piping. Turning toward the center of the temple whence comes the sound, you espy the double cube altar upon which sits a small stone lamp with a tiny flame, but this flame burns so pure and white that you cannot look directly at it. Beyond the altar is the source of the music.

There stands a heavily muscled man-like creature deeply engrossed in his piping. In this place He is Adonai ha-Aretz, God of Malkuth, Lord of the Earth, but you know him by another name. The piping continues, gradually rising in tempo and volume.

A figure moves away from in front of one the statues, so entwined in leaves and vines that you had not noticed him standing there. Here is Sandalphon, but, he too, is known by many other names. He reaches forth and plucks a bunch grapes hanging there and offers them to you. You accept. As the cool, sweet juice of the grapes runs down your throat, you are filled with warmth and awareness, a sensuality that embraces all the physical textures and smells of the Earth.

The piping picks up a jaunty air and streaming from between the giant statues come shining men and women accompanied by creatures you thought only existed in myth. Dancing and twirling, they encircle the temple and the God. Arms reach out inviting you to join and you begin to dance. Grabbing hands and horns, and swished by tails and manes, you whirl and laugh. All guilt, shame and self-consciousness leaves you. The music rises and crescendos, then drops down to more mellow notes.

You notice you have come to stop in front of a large cavern, marked on either side by an enormous pillar, one white, one black. Some way down the cavern, a lone veiled woman dances alone. A pale violet luminescence surrounds this figure reflecting off the walls of the cavern. She paused briefly in her dance to beckon you through her veil. You are torn between leaving your new found innocence and following the pull of the guide. You look back. But, smiling, the crowd nudges forward through the entrance.

As you enter, you realize that this is not a natural cavern, but a tunnel formed from buildings and temples fallen together. Your guide turns and proceeds down the path. You pass by great crumbling edifices covered now with mosses and lichens. All the works of men caught up together in a giant decaying mass as the Earth reclaims her own. Here a marble statue of a noble warrior, the arrogant muscles turning to dust and gravel. There the books of feeble and great alike are covered with mold and damp. You stop before the throne of a proud king, now crushed and broken between to columns. The gilding gone, the wood has sprouted new roots. You rub the grime from one of the jewels and wonder at the brilliance of it. But the light grows dim as your guide increase the distance between you and you hurry to follow. The path slopes downward, the air thick and close with the smell of the Earth, but you continue.

Finally the path begins to rise steadily toward a light brighter than your guide's. The path crest suddenly and you find yourself staring into a wondrous garden. In the center of the garden is another altar. its' small lamp made of shell. Before the altar sit three pale women. A young girl, with a wreath of flowers around her brow, sits and spins wool of an indefinable colour. Next to her, a woman wearing a diadem cards the wool. Thirdly, an elderly woman in a mantle sits before a loom weaving a pattern you cannot quite comprehend. You stand on the edge waiting for an invitation to enter the garden. After a while you realize that an invitation is not now forthcoming.

You turn back to the cavern. Your guide is gone, but now you know the way and hasten back through the tunnel to the Temple of Malkuth. Arriving there, you find the piping subdued and the ensemble sleeping in various configurations of beautiful men and women and creatures. Here and there have been left spaces in the crowd. Finding the space that you know was left for you, you snuggle in. Then, comforted by the warmth and closeness, and lulled by the piping and sweet smell of jasmine, you rest your head, close your eyes and sleep.