Below you’ll find a transcript through which I’ll guide you into connecting to the Temple of Ma’at. (Audio file coming soon!)

I have taken the Blue Ray there, and I have been taken there by Anubis (patron and protector of souls and embalmers, preparing the dead for Amenti or reincarnation). Most guided meditations for Sirius or the Blue Lodge can take you there if you choose to focus on her, though there’s more than one temple in the system! This particular temple is for communing with Source, the infinite black womb of void itself. Ma’at is just one representation of this principle.

Ma’at is an ancient deity, an entity that humans were never able to fully anthropomorphize. Even in her deified humanoid form, those who tuned to her preached her formless form. For she is the void, birthplace of all creation. The Spirit of Truth, bearer of divine will, champion of empathy, essence of balance and element of cosmic harmony. When we live with Ma’at, our hearts are light – filled with compassion and wonder. It was to Ma’at that even the pharaohs were beholden, and whom all mortals pass through and into upon death. She represents every vibration in existence.

Recommended crystals: Labradorite or Azurite, or similar (blue galactic connectors/transporters). Angelite works too. If you want a boost, add any amplifier or vibration raiser (apophyllite, quartz’s, etc – Labradorite counts as a booster too…)

If you aren’t following a Pace sequence, I recommend doing Activities between your Opening Ritual and Dreaming Ritual.

 


 
It’s dark here. Black.
 
 
In the dark, we think things will be heavier, lower, about to fall. Our bodies tense up waiting for…
…surprises.
 
 
Yet, it’s also as if everyone is floating on air, moving lightly, swiftly, agily. It’s as if the room is actually filled to the brim with light, we’re just absorbing so much of it, so that everything reflects black.
 
 
Like right when you come inside on a sunny day.
 
.
.
.
 
Everyone is so grateful, radiating tears of appreciation for the benevolence of Oneness. We are delightfully ecstatic, yet always soothed, calm and centered. I want to feel this way forever. I do. I am feeling this way forever.
 
.
.
.
 
Outside, the children play as all children do across the universe. Laughing, stumbling, feeling the echos of their lives.
 
 
Yet in the Temple, it seems dead silent. The silence of knowing Death’s truthes. Yet, there is also the security of immortality. It is known here.
 
 
And it’s not silent at the same time. It’s as if the echos have sounded and overlayed, recurring so many times overlapping that we no longer have the sound of an echo, but an everhumming that twinkles in the subaudible.
 
 
It’s delectible. It’s the love of everything. It is the peace of being in the presence of the fertile void filling itself.
 
.
.
.
 
We drink from clay bowls. Tasting a sweet yet umami, cozy flavor – almost like burdock. Almost like lavender. The herbs here are different, but the essence is the same.
 
 
Anyway, it’s delicious, and yet it tastes like nothing, or rather, like myself.
 
 
We drink, we pray, we walk up to the central portal, an etheric crystal I can barely see the shape of, it’s shining so bright. I know it has perfect symmetry, yet I cannot count the many sides and facets. We touch faces with the goddess through it, absorbing her and sharing ourselves.
 
 
We pray.
 
 
We ask nothing of her in our prayers. It’s reverence, surely. It’s more like basking in her, in our own will, than seeking response. Because we know, we get response out there, we thank and ask and thank and ask, everywhere else. We are in constant conversation with her/it/god – Our Source – every single moment.
 
 
In here though, it is a temple to existence, existing. When one stills and distills all activity, what is left is The Experience. The one so many of us seek and yearn for, recurringly, in other bodies, other places, but here it is quotidien… We know it is always beneath every sound and above every crown…

.
.
.

We’re silent, solemn and sacred. Words cannot describe the bliss of this silence…

 
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
 
Maat2