RAISING THE CHRISM
ThIS teaching is not a story about a man nailed to wood somewhere outside you. It is a map of the living crucifixion already happening in the temple of the body.
The claustrum, named here as the hidden Santa Claus, is the silent giver at the center of the brain. From that one source the pineal, Joseph, releases the milk, and the pituitary, Mary, releases the honey.
Two sacred oils descend the pneumogastric path into the solar plexus, the manger, where the psycho-physical germ, the fruit of the Tree of Life, is conceived in the dark.
Ida and Pingala, the red and blue nerve fluids, meet at the medulla oblongata. That crossing is the crucifixion, a stillness of roughly two and a half days in which the candidate does not spill the oil downward into appetite, fear, or speech, but holds it until it is refined a thousandfold.
Only then does the chrism rise again into the cerebellum, Golgotha, the place of the skull, and Christ is not believed in but born as clarified fluid and awakened awareness.
The whole gospel is an anatomy of regeneration: preserve the secretion, let the opposites die into each other at the cross of the brainstem, and what was milk and honey becomes the oil of anointing by which the kingdom, long mistaken for a place, is recognized as the illuminated nervous system itself.