The Great Mother, Alchemy and David Jones: The Small Folk’S Tale of Earth Medicine

By Birgit Dyone Edwall

This is a book about sacred symbols from all over the world. All told by beings protected by the Great Mother, she who once was the very Heart and Soul of every godchild. And still is!

Tumbling through the tale, the Little people, will share their gifts with the readers. Here you will find the mystical quintessence, the treasures, the alchemical gems, long sought in many legends, lores and mysteries created on Earth. The great plunge into the wet is a great lesson for Heart to redefine her positions, while she highlights the pollution of Mother Earth. The Great Mother is Mother Nature, the archetypal woman in God and the long lost Goddess. Her story, with the wee folks illustrious wits and zealous labours, is personally and magnificently told

Time Lords, shape shifters and animals will speak; a Sun master will rise above the horizon. A Star temple will emerge from the very land of the Grail, the land of Merlin, and also, of a mystical David Jones! Readers will be given insight into the craft of rolling the rocks, or true Masonry, as it has never been done before. The question may arise, did one half of soul miss out on something vitally important while stuck head-long on working the physical gold?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 17, 2004
• ISBN: 9781418423933

Birgit Dyone Edwall

Birgit Dyone, born and reared in the North of Sweden, made a wonder voyage to England. Little did she know what the journey would entail. She worked as a laboratory technician in London. The planned stay for a year turned into an exile of 17 years, where friends and boyfriends in the 70:s and 80:s music scene were intermixed with the learning of new skills such as an Astrologer, as a Yoga teacher, and as a writer. Who is David Jones? To this day the author isn’t sure. All she knows is that thunder and lightening made the archetypes, the ancient wisdom, come alive. A famous rock star inspired her, synchronising the events of her life. This book is an integration and an allegory of a very unique experience.

Book preview

The Great Mother, Alchemy and

David Jones

The Small Folk’s Tale of Earth Medicine

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By

Birgit Dyone Edwall

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© 2004 Birgit Dyone Edwall.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by

any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 10/21/04

ISBN: 1-4184-2393-9 (e)

ISBN: 1-4184-2392-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4184-2393-3 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Cover illustration: Nut (the sky) gives birth to the sun; its rays fall on

Hathor in the horizon (Love and Life). Temple of Hathor, Dendera, Egypt.

(E.A. Wallis Budge, The Gods of the Egyptians, London, Methuen and Co, 1904, Vol.1, p.

101.)

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About The Author

Foreword

As I am about to write a foreword, a wonderful book comes my way. It is a book about the Welsh Chief Bard, a master poet, a shaman and a magician from the sixth century: Taliesin. His name refers to the radiance in his brow, and his poems are the most apt introductions I could ever find to this story:

Great is the mystery of the circular course. Conspicuous is the gaiety of the old. Loud is the horn of the traveller. Loud the cattle towards evening. Conspicuous is truth when it appears, More so when spoken … Conspicuous when came from the cauldron, The three inspirations of Ogyrwen (Ceridwen?). A poem from Taliesin’s: ‘The chair of the Sovereign’.

Taliesin is what I would call a ‘Time Lord’. Maybe he comes from the distant past, but not really, he has mastered the illusion of Time just as his friend Merlin did, and is timeless, is eternal. He even says so himself: ‘My chair is in Caer Sidi, where no one is afflicted with age or illness’. (Taliesin, The defence of the Chair).

I will dedicate this book to the Time Lords, to the long forgotten Great Goddess and to her male consorts, among them the David Joneses. In English folklore there is a goddess figure by the name of Mother Carey, and her consort is Davey Jones from Barton S. David in England. Saint David in turn was Christianised in the 11th century; he was associated with the Welsh sea god Dewi, or Dylan. David Jones was known as ‘the Waterman’ and well known to sailors, keeping the souls of drowned seamen in his ‘locker’. In this story you must be prepared to – just like Taliesin and just like what happened to me – get dripping wet and ‘spumed with Dylan’s wave.’ I will continue with Taliesin’s words; ‘While I was held prisoner, sweet inspiration educated me and laws were imparted me in speech which had no words. Floating like a boat in its waters, I was thrown into a dark bag, and on an endless sea, I was set adrift’.

The mystical journey I undertook sort of happened to me. Meanwhile, I learned some of the old traditions kept in loving care for us by the ancient teachers, ‘the golden ones’, the world’s indigenous people. Many of them have been silenced and often set outside that which we so proudly term ‘civilisation’. Our ‘reality’ does not take easily to the type of instinctual wisdom that exists alongside the modern gods, for instance the god that has become the god of reason, and the god who has become material science, and that god which is Mammon. The concept of a ‘god’ has to many become an absolute law by letter. In some of our world religions ‘god’ is dogma, the doctrinal systems laid down by religious institutions and books.

Our world religions are more or less ignoring the feminine aspect of God, she who is the Goddess and the archetypal woman in God. It seems that somehow she has been forgotten or censured. This book attempts to explore what happens when we ignore the triune Godhead who maintains in equilibrium the feminine and the masculine sacred principles. Will the consequences not be that we also ignore the very Soul and Heart of God? And by analogy, the long lost symbols that show us the culturing of our own hearts and souls!

The word ‘symbol’ means to ‘integrate’. In my life, the archetypal forces have made themselves, like the lightening of the Native American thunderbirds, intensely known. With time I understood this process where I had to integrate the symbols from within myself, to be a form of alchemy. Yes, why not allow the symbols to speak for themselves, inside the uniqueness of every living soul!

So what is alchemy? Alchemy has been called a sacred, secret and ancient science. Most of us, vaguely, are familiar with the concept of transmutation of a base material into gold. It has been said that the process starts with a stone: ‘The Stone of the Wise’ and that it will end with a transmutation into its end product: ‘The Philosopher’s Stone’. What is less known is that there are two pathways within this science. The outer pathway works the base matter of ‘prima materia’ in a laboratory, but there is also that inner pathway of soul. ‘The Operation of the Sun’, is another description of this craft, an allegorical journey that cloaks the ‘Ancient Wisdom’, or ‘The Mysteries’, which are traditions that have been with us since the beginnings of Time. In the process of alchemy, a starry heaven will always emerge. At the end of this book there is an illustration of Glastonbury Zodiac so the reader may familiarise him or herself with the symbols used for this tale. More symbols are found in other constellations in the sky, as if heaven itself reads as one comprehensive story.

Time has become a valuable and sought after asset. The demands of our modern lives appear to rob us from contemplation, from that time we need to explore Nature within and Nature outside ourselves. The principle of the Goddess, of the Great Mother, of Mother Nature, is an ancient principle of ‘prima materia’ journeying the concept of time and space. She has, however, escaped our attention for millennia, as has the sacredness of her Vulva and her Womb, as has the World Egg, and her Chair, the very furnace and foundation seat of her regenerative and life giving powers. The symbols are not intellectual concepts, or static pictures, they have emerged as living and communicating beings in a fairytale. They are the primordial ingredients in the alchemical cauldron of life itself – the fire, the air, the water and the earth elementals – that will unfold an Otherworldy journey eastwards, rising the very Sun in the process. This fairytale, although for grownups, will ask the readers to call on the childlike aspect of their own hearts, just so they won’t miss out on the great plunge into the Mother’s depths! The nature spirits, the ‘Little people’, have always been under the protection of the Great Mother. When we ignore and befoul Her, as we befoul Mother Nature, what will the exact consequences be, not only for the health of our environment, but also, by extension, for the health of body, spirit and soul?

My friends, ‘the wee folks’, will now show us Masonry, their working of aenergy and stones. While reading, we must hold in mind that aenergy, by their definition, is free by nature, a concept not to be confused with the ways humans use and term their energy. The tale may even give alternatives to patriarchal societies such as Freemasonry, as – in their preoccupation with, and manipulation of, the physical gold – it appears they have lost sight of Masonry’s initial purpose and goal.

Alchemy, Opus Magnum, by definition, is the greatest ever of works. When so many will loose their sense of security within infrastructures that simply do not serve the interests of the Created Whole, there just could be another way to work the silver and the gold! This is a book about those sacred and inner principles working the gems in every sunlit and earnest homemade soul.

Lastly, I wish to commemorate the Cauldron of Inspiration, which unifies many of our artists, poets, medicine people, shamans and the wise men and the wise women in our world. A special heartfelt thanks to one David Jones, alias David Bowie, who particularly, in his music and in the way he has attracted the symbols of the Great Mother, has to this author been a source of immense fascination and joy. How many heroes have the courage to plunge the great depths as the man who fell, as Icarus, as Thomas Jerome Newton, and as Taliesin did? The following tale is allegorical, and should be understood as such. No actual description of any physical person is involved. The story was initially written in Swedish. The ways of the ‘Little people’ have a distinct character; at times a translation into English may fail their first choice of words. I will ask the readers to use their own wits and instincts so to grasp the primordial Word.

Birgit Dyone Edwall

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THE ORIGIN

Crystalline brother of the belt of heaven, Aquarius! to whom King Jove has given, Two liquid pulse streams ’stead of feather’d wings, Two fan-like fountains – thine illuminings For Dian play. John Keats; Endymion

What she did say was: A real stew. We may also consider a cornerstone, triangular in shape, or oval in shape and black in colour. The stone can also be green, mossy green. On the other hand we may consider an egg, a luminous and golden egg.

I was lying on the bottom of a lake and as far as understanding anything, I understood nothing! I was holding a shell to my ear and leaning my head against a pillar made of sunlight. The pillar was draped with red lilies, and for ornament at the top, the lilies were holding up the bottom of the lake with flowery petals.

The elixir of love, she said. It all depends on which way you choose to investigate. Or per chance, if you wish to know everything, as I do, you must melt together the two and go for an alliance."

The woman uttering these words was also draped in lilies, yellow in colour, but woe-me, she was a handful! Beautiful of course, but she didn’t come from this world, and to complicate this story even further, to make it even more like a stew, she didn’t speak directly to me. No, I was hearing her words through a posthorn shell!

Everyone wants to share the first mystery, was what she said next, that which existed before She breathed out the first creation. You know, the universe with its essence, its source!

I didn’t! In fact I didn’t know at all what she was talking about.

Well, you can fill the first mystery with a soup, or with nothing at all! It all depends if you want to become so utterly blasé you calcificate before the wind catches you and carries you away like a speck of dust. You may also wish to make it joyful, like in a lietaplaet. Do you understand now?

I thought it was uncomfortable at the bottom of the lake. In my taste all too wet! She was talking strangely this woman, that much I knew.

Dear earthling, you must sharpen your wits. It is important that you make a choice. If you choose the outer way, you can always blast it asunder until it becomes like a clodhopper totally lost in the woods. You can continue to be utterly stingy all years until you realise you must bring together that which you so carelessly blew apart! Or you may choose to seek wisdom in that source from where your question originally arose. An earthling can always understand by going to a tree and there by its roots seeking the source from where life so generously gave of its water, that which is called our Lady’s Way. Or do you think you are wiser than a wee chump? That you can exist in my universe without supporting columns and a starry roof? That you can bounce around in my lake unknowingly forever? Ignorance in the book of a goddess is not good enough, the woman had said, and with a humphed expression in her face. I gulped some water and coughed. Pieces of gravel came down my throat and I had to spit, which made the water murky. Despite the wet environment my throat turned so dry that tears were gushing from my eyes. Never did I understand how utterly drenched a nature spirit could become at the bottom of a lake!

My dear earthling, she then said in a voice so tender that those embarrassing gravel-in-the-throat-tears were splashing down even more.

Little earth putt, you shouldn’t cry for so little. A tiny earthling like you, surely you have found your resonance?

I thought I would die. For sure I was born from earth, out of the earth Mother herself delivered, a real small one with a green coat and everything. From mull and sticky clumps I came forward, out of a mixture of stones, plants and animals. Specialised in clay and moss, in marshes you could say. A gnome of a respected calibre I was, the kind that reads nature and with a very good reputation around the woods as well, I would say.

Even so, why did she sound so bloated? I thought I would go to pieces. Then everything turned even stranger, a fish tail slapped my behind. It was a mermaid passing by. I got thrown head over heels into the mud and got stuck! The woman, who had spoken so wisely, pulled me up again. Then I just sat there at the bottom of the lake, although what I really wanted was to be up again. Up on the dry bits of land. But the thing was, without her help I couldn’t get back up there!

Then everything turned into a mighty muddle, a river got hold of me and like a rolling stone I rolled all the way down to the sea, and got thrown in so deeply I never thought possible. This sounding-the-depths-of-things, wasn’t really my way of doing things! Now, when I think about it, was it a mischievous or westerly wind that blew that day it all began?

I think it best to hand over the story. I must recompose and start all over again. It so happens I remember nothing! All I know is you cannot swivel around and be grumpy all days forever! Additionally, I’m not overly keen on reptilian soups. The storyteller will now take over.

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AN UNTENABLE SITUATION

Who is the butlere of a goddess, he who yevyth a water-potte? (Old English, inspired by John of Trevisa, 1398)

The fairy Magician and the fairy High Priestess were a couple that had since long ago, for many years, gathered a lot of wisdom about nature. You know, pure nature with its endless variety of beauty and other assortments of wares. They had worked diligently and knew precisely which qualities were needed, how they fitted and gave sustenance to plants, animals, trees, humans, stones, fairies, and other such things.

The couple, although not purely fairylike in substance (they had some human blood in them), seemed to know everything. Hopefully, they would know the answer to a disgraceful situation that just recently popped up in the forest. The awkward thing was that the little people had, for many years, lived with what is called ‘frost damaged bunions’! Or more exactly, with what had become a drawn out and historical conflict with the neighbouring kingdom: the humans. The little folks had tried to reach a peaceful agreement, but most unfortunately we must say, the humans didn’t care. They stared right through and ignored them completely.

This peculiarity caused bewilderment. Occasionally it did happen that a friendly soul looked in, but most of the time, the humans just fuddled by. Moreover, just like the most arrogant of creatures, they seemed to look at the fairies as if they were invisible. Invisible my foot! After so many thousands of oak wood years, the little people just got used to the situation, which really meant that over time, for them, the relationship turned into a lietaplaet. ‘Lietaplaet’ was a word the fairies had invented to allow non-definability. Each being was therefore free to use the word and fill it with his or her own meaning. Well, if you must have neighbours, it is better to live with a lietaplaet, then life can be made into an art and it becomes so much easier.

So what else was going on? What could be so disgraceful?

Well, in the midst of the most beautiful of glades, there suddenly appeared a most hideous creature. Some kind of a gobble it was, devouring colours! Greedily it munched as if the indispensable work of the fairies was nothing more than junk food! Which meant something must be done. Which in turn meant that the fastest of them, the sylphs, were given the task of informing the fairy Magician and the fairy High Priestess.

It now happens that sylphs are fast. They are gifted with wings, which glide on airstreams, and as diligent as they are, they will reach their goals almost before the thought that has been thought, is finished. However, you must create with such intent that they wouldn’t fragment into wispy doo-wolley-like clouds. Moreover, a thought had to be shaped like an arrow, pinpointed at the head with gold, and aimed absolutely correctly. Because if you did not hit your mark, you had to start all over again, and that was terribly embarrassing for a sylph. In other words, it was with the power of thought that a message was delivered to the Magician and the High Priestess.

It so happens it was in Mojstena, in that part of the big forest where fairies are known to be extraordinarily skilled at colour bubbling, there in the midst of day the creature appeared. Certainly, a westerly wind was felt at the time. The work seemed cloggy and because of this, the fairies suspected an omen.

The monstrous creature had staggered through the beautiful greenery. Anxiously, the little people fled deeper into the forest, but soon felt they had to go back and look more carefully. Was it a he or a she? The sexual organs were covered with long bits of mossy hair, so you couldn’t see. A slimy substance was dripping from its body, which seemed to be made out of dung. Moreover, it squelched when it walked with its giant feet. The whole thing was nauseating. Now, what could a monster like this desire so much?

Well, in the valley it was the abundance of cowslips, as well as the golden primroses so important for love potions. In sweet yellows you had the coneflowers and the everlasting sungolds. In bright reds, the pansies, the red horned poppies, and the snapdragons, so useful for spells and to expel dragons. In the beautiful blues you had the magnificent love-in-a-mist and the alkanets. And would you believe, in the midst of a forest, a sea holly! Not to forget the violets, nor the meadow saffron (at times called the ‘nude virgin’), mauve and gorgeous in her pink vibrancy!

The hideous creature salivated over shrubs like rhododendrons and magnolias. The creature just stood there swallowing it all in with its eyes. Eyes as big as the black holes that can be seen in outer space, devouring everything around, which is exactly how the monster literally ate all of nature.

The fairies were horrified, what else could they do but stand there and watch their invaluable work just vanish in an endless pit for a gap! They wanted to put an end to this wretchedness, so, quivering, they flew in between, but felt the power of his eyes was too strong. This was a serious situation, very serious indeed and they wished Alvord had been there, the legendary king, and a fixer of most things possible. But he had shifted a long time ago. The only thing now was to inform the leaders of the fairy kingdom.

The eyes of the High Priestess sparkled in green and gold. Most of the time she talked with her eyes, which saw right through and far away. The little people always had the feeling they must be sharp and think deeply when they met her glance.

I knew one day it would come, she said simply. The creature is the awkward thoughts of our kingdom, that is how it was made. The sylphs thought about this, somehow they could not quite grasp what she had said. Awkward thoughts were part of their jobs, for sure, but it was a burden they rather pushed away.

I can see it is the result of things undone, of jobs not properly done. But the responsibility is not ours, only. This creature comes from the human kingdom, she said. The Priestess was now looking at the Magician, half of him was visible behind a tree sorting out mushrooms. He responded to his woman with a gleam. Oh yes, more than likely this was so.

The humans almost go to pieces with their jobs, he said cynically, but the work isn’t done anyway. They don’t have the knowledge, don’t seem to want it either. They don’t value their own aenergy. That is why they cannot soar and work the nectars of gods.

In golden stardust, the Magician added and with a glow in his eyes.

This the elves knew. They had already understood the neighbours worked with something dense. That humans possessed great powers, but hardly ever processed them properly through the Source. Their aenergy was scattered like broken twigs, or dissolved like wispy clouds. Moreover, it got foul when they stashed it away in muddy pools or squeezed it under the ground. No fairy with a sense of honour worked in this way, the end product was essential for a working joy. Not to mention the wonderful freedom and the holidays out there, the great pranks with the others. They suspected that humans had missed the whole point of being travellers. Didn’t they know they were travellers in time and space?

That is why they nearly always have lousy weather during their holidays, the Magician said. On their days off they are so overloaded with stress, so tense, that dark fluids dribble all over. They cannot relax, and if they do relax, they cannot help but sweat unsavoury clouds. That is how they create tense climates. But for some reason, they do not want to know how they do this, so they blame something else. They tell themselves that the weather is due to energies in the atmosphere, rising high in the heavens, or being suppressed lower to the ground, the Magician said and with a rather gloomy look in his face.

The Magician was actually that type of fairy who specialised in gloom. Of course there is always that odd one who must be skilled at difficulties, how else are problems ever expected to be resolved? He could make himself invisible and become at one with all things he happened to be involved with. At the moment he was only half a magician. One foot he placed in a pool of mud, and made it invisible as if to blend with