Category: Fragments
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It is a tenet as ancient as the Delphic threshold: the Mystery rarely announces itself in the forms most revered by the priesthood of culture. Though centuries have been spent weaving a veil of sacredness around the artefacts of high art and the treatises of the philosophers, the voice that tears this veil often chooses…
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The history of empires is the history of longing, projection, and the restless search for permanence in a world shaped by dissolution. Through the centuries, the idea of the Fifth Empire has haunted the Portuguese imagination and, by strange resonance, the hopes of mystics and visionaries far beyond its borders. But few concepts have been…
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Across centuries, astrologers have sought to unearth the rhythms that bind human life to the stars, yearning for a system that may narrate not merely what happens, but when meaning descends. Among the most enigmatic gifts of the ancient tradition is the technique known as Zodiacal Releasing, a system not of daily weather, but of…
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If interested in a personal liturgy and reading, please consult this portal. At the threshold of the solstice, as the Sun crosses into the zero degree of Cancer and the Moon, having just entered Taurus, wanes into her final quarter, the celestial architecture becomes a living parable for all that seeks shelter, renewal, and truth.…
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In a culture paralysed by its own irony, where the sacred is either aestheticised or annihilated, the mere suggestion that a nightclub could function as a church is met with a sneer. Cultural critics and self-declared rationalists mock the notion as delusion, as metaphor stretched beyond its capacity. But what is being ridiculed is not…
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In the reckoning of cycles, no moment is more charged than the solstice,when the Sun halts at its zenith, and the visible world, for one day, teeters between triumph and return. Beneath the cult of solar glory, another current moves: the silent sovereignty of the Moon. It is She who governs the threshold, She who…
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There is a night every year when the Sun trembles on the very cusp of the heavens. It neither truly in Gemini, nor yet arrived in Cancer. This is the solstice threshold: a razor’s edge where the cycle of light itself hangs in the balance. To the ancients, the 29th degree of any sign, but…
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Every sacred feast is also a map of absence, a liturgy of what remains at the threshold: longing, hunger, and exile. In the drama of Corpus Christi, as in the entire Western tradition, the body has so often been the absent guest: spoken of, disciplined, abstracted, and yet never fully welcomed to the centre of…
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Beneath the shimmering surface of Corpus Christi, a feast that proclaims presence and unity, there lingers a drama of estrangement whose chief victim is the body itself. For centuries, the body has been the shadow-guest at the table of the Sacred, acknowledged in symbol but disciplined in practice, spoken of in ritual but denied in…
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There is a strange dignity, even a peculiar radiance, in those who keep faith with the lost cause. In every spiritual tradition worth its salt, there is a space reserved for the moment when every rational hope is exhausted, when prayer turns silent, and even the Gods seem to have abandoned the seeker. To persist…