הֵרֵחֵ ( Hey Resh Chet ) – HeReChe ( Ch like in Spanish)

מִמִּזְרַח-שֶׁמֶשׁ עַד-מְבוֹאוֹ– מְהֻלָּל, שֵׁם יְהוָה. – תהילים פרק קיג, פסוק ג

Psalms 113:3

the 3rd verse of Psalm 113:  From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same the Lord’s name is to be praised

(A solis ortu usque ad occasum, laudabile nomen Domini)

הֵרֵחֵאֵל HeReChe-EL Harahel – Against the sterility of women and to make children obedient to their parents. Governs treasure and banks. Printing, books. Love of learning, successful in business (especially money market).

Influence time and dates 19:21 – 19:40 9^th January until the 14^th January inclusively

HARAHEL.  His attribute is  God Who Knows All Things .  He corresponds to the holy name of  God Ella  in the language of the Mesopotamians.  His ray commences

from the 291st degree up to the 295th degree inclusive, corresponding to the thirtieth decade and to the angel called Isro, under the influence of the Sun.  He rules over the following days: 17th May, 28th July, 8th October, 19th December, 1st March.  The favorable time begins at 7:20pm till 7:40pm;. He serves against the sterility of women and to make children subservient and respectful towards their parents. 

This angel rules over treasures, agents of change, public funds, archives, libraries and all rare and precious closets; he influences printing, the book trade and all those involved in this business.  The person born under this influence will love to be instructed in all sciences in general; he will be busy in business, will follow the activities of the Stock Exchange, will speculate successfully and be distinguished by his probity, talents and fortune.

Meditation on this name made for establish an umbilical cord to the Divine Energy, ensuring a constant glimmer of Light to your life, especially when you are in a place of darkness.

The negative side of this angel rules over the enemies of illumination; he causes ruin and destruction through fire; he influences embezzlement and fraudulent bankruptcy.

Harahel report: (Harahel is my birth angel, and so this is not my first contact with them–I checked in with them before the 72 walk began, during the initial Angel course. It was interesting to see that though I didn’t recall the details of my previous experience, on going back over my notes after this call, it turns out the angel appeared in a similar way each time. Yay for flappy replicability!)

Contact began with a very clear mental image of a room full of books unfolding in a fractal manner, books within books opening out into an infinite and hyperdimensional library that I was aware of as the body of a living organism, with echoes of the Library of Babel (https://libraryofbabel.info/).

“Angel, show thyself that I may know thee.” [The library image becomes a reflection in the eyes of an owl-headed human figure, whose body is also the library, and is wrapped in robes of red and purple. At their breast blossoms a flower, like a rose and a lotus in one, endlessly opening; from their hands come streams of coins, which make a throne on which they sit.]

“Angel, guardian of my birth, what is thy office concerning me at this time?” [The vision is covered over with countless strings of text in various language, and I hear a voice like many overlapping whispers:] _Look around you, and know well the world in which you dwell, that it is a thought in the mind of god, and one of many stories which are told. I come to give you understanding, for you are a pen in the hand of the gods, and through you comes the Word that is spoken as your name, which is to signify the work of the gods in you: and this is not for you to read, but to write, that others may know the Word in this way, which you alone can bring. Open yourself and become hollow, that the holy Name may flow through like blood, and your dance be a living language, and the tome of your life a book of prayer unto the Most High._

“Angel, so let it be. Open me, I pray.” [A burning sensation in my chest. The angel places a feather quill to their breast, which is my breast, and blood flows out. Then begins a beautiful and strange music, that is like language and also movement, and I see a new line of text being written in red letters, in a script that is part words, part musical notation, part choreography. It moves me, shaking my body with something like ecstacy, and I hear my voice moaning and making strange sounds, then beginning to speak in tongues–not a usual habit of mine! The meaning is in the tones and the movement, all connotation, no denotation. The speech is a conversation, a lesson, and a prayer, and lasts for perhaps two or three minutes. Finally, I hear myself saying Amen, then silence falls. I am in a formless and secret space, surrounded by holiness, without symbol or idol, radiant. World upon world unfold in my inner vision, like planes layered over each other, most wondrous. I stay silent and watch for some time, in awe, not wanting the experience to end.]

[Eventually, I see the angel once more, now stripped naked, with very beautiful human legs; they lay their robes upon me, and I am wrapped in a warm feeling like a womb, and the awe and the vision subside somewhat into a comforting and wordless space, where I also stay for some long time.]

“Angel, what shall I tell the others, and what word shall I bear to the world?” _This is the word of understanding: to live, to do. The storehouses of the gods are living within, the gifts of the angels are in the pouring forth; there is no space to stand outside the world, nor any moment in which you do not partake in the creation of your story and the greater truth. All places are sacred. Do not hesitate to speak or to be silent, for what comes to you bears already the sanctity of the holy name which is in you, and must be shared in speech or silence. Holiness to the Lord, who lives in all creation. Holiness to the Lady and all that within Her lives. Amen._

Second invocation, 1/15/24

A soft, pervading light arises, and the versicle echoes in my mind, as if sung by many voices besides my own, overlapping, harmonizing. Eventually I find myself in a scriptorium, with monks reading and copying texts. Above, a great stained-glass window, red and gold, bearing the seal of the angel. Wisps of light rise like incense smoke from the pages and pens and mouths of the monks, and in the light of the window they form the hovering image of the angel—I can see only two great wings; the space between them is an indistinct field or sphere of light in which hints of form move suggestively.

“O angel who rules my birth, what is your message at this time?” I feel my posture suddenly straightened and the crown of my head open. _Peace unto you, and all blessing. Yet is your labor ongoing, and your love an open concern. You must tend it even as a mother; yea, even as the good father watches his children, as the farmer tends their flocks and fields with care—for they are the servant of the flocks and fields, and their life is in their flourishing. Thus shall you be as a servant to those who look to you, and shall tend them with words and substance, so that the care and careful prayer of your heart and the works of your hands may be for their benefit. For in their flourishing comes your blessing and reward. And the Lord and Lady who watch over all watch over you in this work, and will add all that is needful unto you, that it may be accomplished._

“Angel, help me to be a good parent, as my children grow beyond me.” The room grows dark, and I see nothing but the light of two small lamps, which I shelter with my hands, and they glow brighter. A feeling of quiet tenderness. _Not yet are they ready to pass from your care, and their hearts draw close to you even as they prepare; and you will not restrain them, but put your hands over them, that they may understand through you the love of their heavenly parents. In this they grow strong to tend their own lights, and those which come after them. Nor fear the cold and darkness when they have gone from you, for has not the Lord lit the lamps of heaven for his children, and does the Lady not tend the heart’s hearth within your breast?_

_Therefore take to your work patiently, and the story of grace unfolds before your eyes, and is borne on the breath of your lips, and takes form from your pen: not from you but through you, who make yourself an instrument for blessing and a window for the gods unto those who long for that light._

The soft glow returns, brighter than before, and the image of the angel descends around me. Held in its wings, I feel tenderness and gentleness, and an absence of words or image for some time, during which I am ministered to by beings whose forms I can’t describe, whose touch is soft but strong, steady and light, sweet as a lover and strong as the guiding hand of one who leads through love. When the vision fades, I feel golden light pervading every part.