עָנֻוָ ( Ain Nun Vav ) – ANuVa        

עִבְדוּ אֶת-יְהוָה בְּשִׂמְחָה; בֹּאוּ לְפָנָיו, בִּרְנָנָה. תהילים פרק ק, פסוק ב

Psalms 100:2  ( In Hebrew Ver.)

the 2thverse of Psalm 100:  Serve the LORD with gladness: come before his presence with singing.

(Servite Domino in laetitia, introite in conspectu eius in exultatione).

עָנֻוָאֵל ANuVaEL Anianuel – For the conversion of nations to Christianity. Protects against accidents, heals the sick. Governs commerce, banking. Subtle and ingenious, industrious and active.

Influence time and dates 20:41 – 21:00 30^th January until the 3^th Febuary inclusively

ANAUEL.  His attribute is  Infinitely Good God .  He corresponds to the holy name of  God Miri  in the language of the Camboans.  His ray commences from the

311th degree up to the 315th degree inclusive, corresponding to the thirty second decade and to the angel called Asau, under the influence of Mercury.  He rules over the following days: 21st May, 1st August, 12th October, 23rd December, 5th March.  The invocation is done from 8:40pm till 9:00pm,

He serves to convert nations to Christianity and to confound those who are its enemies. 

This angel protects against accidents, he preserves health and cures illnesses; he rules over commerce, bankers, businessmen and clerks.  The person born under this influence will have a subtle and ingenious spirit; he will distinguish himself through his industry and his actions. 

Meditations upon this name brings Appreciation. Thankfulness. Gratitude. These noble attributes of Moses are aroused within by this Name. Infused with these attributes, retain and enjoy all the blessings and treasures in life.

The negative side of this angel rules over folly and prodigality; he influences all those who ruin themselves through their bad conduct.

Anauel report: I came to this call late, after the 5-day window–and given this angel’s connection to accountants, Christians, and other by-the-book types, I took extra care with the invocations, even repeating the Shemhamphorash verses twice, because I stumbled over some words the first time, and wishing I could hear a fluent Hebrew speaker read those verses so I could check my (undoubtedly awful) pronunciation. My apprehension dissipated as I sang the versicle–which I found delightful–but the sense of the importance of details remained.

[Contact began with the immediate, clear image of a hire-wire dancer, in a white leotard, high above a city square. It looks like the London of _Mary Poppins_. There are pigeons on the cobblestones. The high-wire dancer standing on their left hand, their body spread out like a star, motionless. A tiny something–maybe a pebble, or a coin?–falls from their right hand. When it hits the ground, the pigeons startle, exploding and scattering upward in slow motion, feathers like rays, circling the still-unmoving dancer.]

“Angel, what is thy office concerning me?”

The image suddenly starts moving at a normal speed. The figure relaxes into a complicated yet nonchalant dismount, landing easily, and walking toward where I sit, like a visible presence beyond the altar. I can see them clearly. Their face is streaked with sweat and soot, their eyes are clear and blue, and their manner is easy and casual. Their voice  has a bad-movie Cockney accent; they call me “Guv” andask for something–but I struggle to understand just what. They watch me, unmoving, till my pen stops writing. When I look back up, I see their hand move faster than my eyes can follow, as if to slap my left cheek, backhand–but the image freezes with their hand an inch from my skin; however, my cheek feels suddenly warm as if anticipating the blow. Once again, they wait for me to write the experience.

Looking up again, I meet their supremely peaceful, mesmerizing eyes, in which I can see the sky behind me reflected, and the doves settling back in slow motion to the ground in a soft spiralling rain. The threatened slap becomes a stroke on my cheek with a gentle finger, which catches a tear (my physical eyes were dry, though the touch was delicious, and made me melt a little inside). The dancer holds it up, and the tiny diamond drop on their finger shows the whole scene at once. They ask again, speaking directly in my mind without words: they are thirsty, and are asking for the tear to drink. Once more, they wait for me to write, and respond.

“Angel, you have drawn this tear from my spirit, which has nothing of earthly water; therefore I give it to you, in just exchange for what you have given me: a moment of beauty.”

[A long silence of absolute stillness; the droplet fills my whole vision, suspended in midair, the scene within crystal clear. In the refracted image there is no angel, no tightrope, no reflection of myself, just the square, and the doves, and the water reflecting itself, then falling suddenly to earth, scattering the birds. A tension is broken. It begins to rain, and people come out into the streets singing, as if in a musical.]

“Angel, what message for the others who talk to angels?” _Just this._

After lighting the incense, I pick up the seal to fumigate it. The bottom quarter inch of the card is soaking wet, and there is a small puddle of water underneath it. The water clearly came from the teacup of holy water I use to asperge the seals, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t spill it…

Second invocation, 2/3/2024

A stabilizing presence and a strange sensation: I feel my edges expand inward toward my center, my body becoming somehow more full. “Angel, show thyself that I may know thee.”

A blur of blended images: memories of moments of beauty, specific sunsets and sunrises, views from the tops of mountains, deep spaces between trees, beloved faces and voices. Eventually the stream settles on an image from my first contact with this angel: an empty plaza with a flock of doves rising as drops of rain begin to fall. One of the doves begins to circle around me, cooing.

_Do you not remember? Would you like a reminder? I give you grief as a gift, to soften you, to open the way for beauty to enter. I give you beauty as a gift, in drops, as you are able to bear it, for the water of the spirit burns when you hold it closely. Treasure up these things—grief and beauty. Let them sit together in your heart and make it fertile._

I do as the angel directs, pondering these things in my heart, and I begin to feel my body more deeply now: aches and sore places, peace with sorrow, acceptance of things I’ve been trying to avoid or deny; a tenderness, a hush. I feel and see, physically, a drop of water on my hand. I’m not crying; where did it come from? The voice returns:

_Store up beauty in your heart, the gold of spirit treasure up: and the Gods receive your earnest prayer, and grant increase; yea, with great patience they tend and water you against the day of reward. And on that day when the vaults of the earth are opened up, you shall see the poverty of those who wasted what was given them; and in the reckoning of heaven shall the good steward receive their reward. For the Gods give each moment their support to every being, even the least: but who will make use of what is given, and increase their gifts, and be generous in their good fortune, that they increase the substance of their birthright?_

_For in giving your treasure into the keeping of the Lord, more shall be added: but if as a miser you lock away your beauty and hide your grief, then how shall they reward you, who receiveth as a child, prodigal and without thanks? I have shown you beauty as a seed, and grief as a field; sow and reap. Give beauty into sorrow, and your harvests will be rejoicing with those who partake through you of abundance. Thus shall you treasure up all things, and squander not your inheritance. For the storehouse of the Lady is in the hearts of their people, and they enrich the joy of those that serve them._