Most
of you who visit this site will be more than familiar with Storm
Constantine's novel Stealing Sacred Fire, the third in her
Grigori trilogy. I have just finished reading it for the second
time, and enjoyed it, if it were possible, even more than I did
first time round. My heart has warmed to the characters and taken
them into its centre to be cherished there forever. Shemyaza, Ishtahar,
Daniel, and all the others mentioned within the pages whose presences
are so vivid, colourful and vibrant, they give one the distinct
feeling that after having read the final pages and closed the book,
they are still very much alive elsewhere and their story continues.
Storm, just as the the magicians in ancient times, has successfully
re-activated these archetypal energies and filled their forms
with new, spiritual power. And we, her readers can benefit greatly
from this.
The novels are not only spellbinding, they can also act as an
aid to magical experimentation. So many chapters are flowing over
with a profound symbology, which, once contemplated upon, effectively
triggers off expanded awareness, and sets into motion the mechanisms
of transformation.
Take, for example, my own experiments with Chapter 15, "Finding
Kharsag,' where the group have decided to spend the night in the
Valley of Stones. They are forced to defend themselves against
the Djinn, who are described as tall figures, stepping out from
blue flames, robed in black. Their faces and heads were covered,
but their eyes could be seen "glinting wetly." The Djinn
had the ability to transform themselves into thick, twisting skeins
of red black smoke, whilst attempting to penetrate and destroy
the protection afforded by The Seven Swords.
I was so intrigued by this passage, I had an overwhelming desire
to comprehend the essence of these entities. And so I decided
to meditate on the aforementioned passage of events. That which
follows is an account of what ensued from that contemplation.
I began meditation at 9 p.m. precisely, after reading and re-reading
the relevant passages. Pressure quickly began building up on the
crown of my head and a rainbow starburst of pulsating colours
released themselves behind closed eyes. The impressions, when
they came, were strongly defined and vibrant.
I felt myself to be in some sort of tunnel, far below an ancient
city. I had a sensation of water splashing about my feet. I knew
this place to be a place of power, a place of primeval darkness.
Vapourish streams of misty substance rose steadily out of the
blackness and I was aware of a pungent, overwhelming smell similar
to that of balsam or vanilla.
A face suddenly blasted its way into my inner vision, a face
it will be impossible to forget. Not solely due to it strangeness
of features, that were so unlike those of humanities, but due
to the power of expression and the unearthly beauty it possessed.
Light appeared to crown its head, the skin colour was close to
the shade of tan coloured suede, and the eyes were startling gold
and shining. The intense stare and brilliant lustre of those eyes
was so unnerving, I was forced to lose the connection.
It took me a while to recover, and for quite some time after,
I was acutely aware of an unseen presence still hovering in the
room. Unable to rid myself of this conviction, I decided to dispel
all thoughts of otherworldly beings, by furnishing my grumbling,
nervous stomach with hot sweet coffee and cream cakes.
The next night I mustered up enough courage to attempt the whole
process again, but without success; nothing really happened, just
a faint impression of being watched.
That weekend, however, my partner and I decided to take a trip
to the country and stay in our caravan. A cousin of mine had been
a little under the weather of late, so I decided to invite her
along too.
After showing her to her room she began to unpack, and I noticed
a few paperback books slung carelessly on her bed. On closer inspection
all my senses registered in one big chorus of shock and dismay,
a book, written by Graham Masterton titled The Djinn -
talk about synchronicity!
Later that night, when everyone else had retired, I eagerly leafed
through the pages, finding many references to the entities that
had so intrigued me only a few nights previously. According to
this writer, "Ali Baba and the Forty Theives" is an
elaborate myth veiling a more sinister truth. He is in agreement
with the ancient sources who give us a vastly different account
of this popular adventure story
Apparently, Ali Baba began loosing his magical influence, becoming
eclipsed by a great wizard known as Ali Shama, who, purportedly,
could make carpets fly and cause the dead to rise.
Angry and envious, Ali Baba decided to seek out and make a pact
with a strange sect of Necromancers who lived in the hills. These
wizards, so it is said, indulged in dangerous and obscure rites
and were known as the N'zwaa or the Unswa, and sometimes by an
unpronounceable name which meant, 'Those-Who-Adore-The-Terrible.'
And the outcome of this visit? Well the N'zwaa summoned a great
and terrible Djinn for Ali Baba'a personal use known as "The
Forty Stealers of Life" -- this, in the course of time, became
"Forthy Thieves."
Ali Baba'a Djinn had the ability to change shape and become whatever
it wished to become, in accordance with certain magical limitations.
It could transform into a monstrous centipede, a hooded figure,
a cloud of smoke -- many things -- all inflicting mayhem on humanity.
It might be a good idea to make certain that all lids are placed
firmly on all jars in the future.
I'm convinced that the powerful symbology and dynamic archetypes
portrayed in Storm's novels has the effect of opening hitherto
sealed off regions of the mind, and it my sincere belief that
some immortal force sought to make its presence known through
the medium of natural channels.
About the Author:
Pixi lives in the U.K. You can email her at pixi209@yahoo.co.uk.
