מֵלָהֵ ( Mem Lamed Hey ) MeLaHe

יְהוָה, יִשְׁמָר-צֵאתְךָ וּבוֹאֶךָ– מֵעַתָּה, וְעַד-עוֹלָם. תהילים פרק קכא, פסוק ח.

Psalms 121:8

Latin Vulgate 121:8 Dominus custodiat exitum tuum et introitum tuum amodo et usque in aeternum

King James Version 121:8 The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.

מֵלָהֵאֵל  MeLaHe EL  Melahel – Against weapons and for safety in travel. Governs water, produce of the earth, and especially plants necessary for the cure of disease. Courageous, accomplishes honorable actions.

Influence time and dates  07:21 – 07:40 11th July until the 15th July inclusively

  MELAHEL.  His attribute is  God who delivers the evil .  He corresponds to the name Dieb in the Hibernian language.  His ray begins at the 111th degree of the circle up to the 115th inclusively, corresponding to the twelfth decade and to the angel called Chumis, under the influence of the Moon.  He rules over the following days: 11th April, 22nd June, 2nd September, 13th November, 24th January.  The invocation is made from 7:20am to 7:40am, He serves against arms and to travel in safety.  This angel rules water, all products of the earth and principally those plants necessary to the cure of illnesses.  The person born under this influence is naturally hardy and capable of undertaking the most perilous expeditions; he distinguishes himself through honorable actions.

The negative side of this angel influences all that is harmful to vegetation; he causes illnesses and plague.

Green growing on the walls. Flowers open around me; the scent of chamomile on a warm road between hedgerows.

“Angel, show thyself to me.” A buzzing arises all around. A melodious voice: I am not for the eye of the mind to see nor for the soul to fix upon but am felt in the heart and in the peace thereof. Many are my faces–a vision of many small florets–do not try to hold me, for I hold you.

“Angel, what is your office concerning me?” I am a comforter to you, for you have been sore troubled among the raveners, and the humans who have forgotten my ways. Therefore take heart: I wait for you in the garden wherein is all medicine, yea, in the gardens of your mother, which are wild and holy. An image of great beasts like tigers, green and peaceful. Trust, little one: you road is before you, and flanked on every side with the fruits of your labor. Know that among these are those not for your consumption, and that the way has also been seeded before your coming, for the earth knows all things that are for her good and that of her children, and has prepared your medicine.

“What is the medicine I need at this time?” An image of thyme and rosemary; cannabis and tobacco appear, but do not approach. A sensation of being embedded in fragrant, pungent herbs, as one who rolls in a meadow. Be like the wild beasts, who know not what they do, but take pleasure where it finds them. You are being changed: do not hold to your image of what must be, but feel its unfolding. A ferny fiddlehead uncurls. A wordless time. Let the world pass, day and night like flickering of eyes.

A sound of water. I am in the woods; a great waterfall. Behind it a tiny flower, like forget-me-not, carries a star among its petals, which fill my vision. I grow very large, with pendulous breasts and a long penis that hangs to the earth, and a horn like a unicorn, with no arms: it continues to change. I am like a giant tree, but not woody; the moon is large. I am insubstantial, barely a feeling. Suddenly I am aware of almost violent convulsions, as my head opens and pours forth many-colored seeds. My body withers and falls away, until I am my own self once more. The sensation is alien but not unpleasant. A feeling in my belly, just below the solar plexus: I reach in, and pull out a mass that is like a water plant, a baby, a flower, a strange beast made of many parts. I offer it up to the earth, and it runs ahead of me, scattering seedlings to sprout behind it. Your way, and the keeper of your way, is gone before you: therefore fear not your arrival, for all is prepared.

“What message for those who talk to angels?” Understand not with your mind but with those parts of you that are fresh and unformed. The apical meristem of an herb, growing furiously, the plant following behind. Your progress must be organic, unplanned, for your full flowering to unfold. The harvest is nigh: let yourself cease in growing and ripen, that you may be pleasing to the spirits of the earth and sure of your succession. Let the seeds fall where they will, for your way is in the hands of the mother, who holds all things. Images arise from previous visions recollected: unicorns, giants, etc. Nonintellectual—phantasmagorical

Second invocation, 7/17/23

[Note: Re: the previous invocation’s “I grow very large, with pendulous breasts and a long penis that hangs to the earth, and a horn like a unicorn, with no arms”, two days ago I wore a unicorn-head and a gender-bending outfit, walking with horses in a pride parade, with my arms busy pulling a wagon. Cool synch!]

Contact begins with the image of two parallel horizontal planes, just bare abstractions. A thick shaft descends from the top plane, as it pours itself downward, becoming golden and viscous.. As it passes through the lower plane, little yellow and white flowers begin to spread across the surface, unfolding a landscape: a field with hills and grasses and summer herbs, a few trees, and many bees. At a distance humans, or early hominids, move naked in small bands. Where the nectar descends, a pile of golden seeds has formed. The angel is present around me, more tangible than visible—a sense of being—and a subtle voice like the hum of bees.

“Angel, what message do you have for me at this time?” My attention is focused on the golden seed-mound, which is pulsing bright and urgent and vital; the angel directs me to pick up a handful. It is full of life, like an ant-hill: tiny human-like beings are hatching from eggs, and what I thought was soil is countless bodies holding each other together. Every part of it is alive. The golden seeds are growing: they are mycelial nodules, like the “Philosopher’s stone” truffles, and their filaments are spreading through my hands and up my arms, weaving golden threads through my tissues. Fractal visions begin to unfold: limitless network tapestries and matrices forming spiral cities of living nodes. I am told this is the mode of life within cells, or within atoms. Everything is ALIVE. Once again I see the shaft of heavenly light and feel its honey current pumping life into countless forms.

_Where I am there is no dead thing, and the good arises continually. I am come to confirm for you the fulness of life, which is the fulness of god, and the work of spirit which makes matter radiant and heaven to find its manifestation in flesh. Let yourself breathe deeply this living light, that what is fixed and feels dead may dissolve into fluid life, and what is alive take comfort in its becoming._

The field is also an ocean: the hills are giant waves moving slowly, the flowers are sunlight dancing one the waves, and the bees are sea-foam shining as it rises and falls back into darkness, making it fertile.

_There is no message but this: I am with you, and where I am is neither death nor evil, but the continual pouring of life into life, for the earth’s delight._