Monday, September 04, 2006

Open email letter to go with article to Bjorn Erik tomorrow (Red Lunar Moon)

>While in France most of the locals brought up the dragon over and over (expecially when discussing St. Michel)and made sure I knew that the dragon was paganism. Many of the stone coffins had Dragons at their feet.

You could also interpret these dragons as some sort of guardian spirits, surely? Even Michael has something fierce and dragon-like about him; if you see the William Blake engraving of Michael slaying the dragon, Michael looks particularly mean and dragon-like, not to mention sadistic, while the dragon just looks anguished and distraught! ;-P

>Gone, but never forgotten: so the endless theorizing about what the Grail is and where it can be found has been going on since the the Christianizing of the British Isles. For every pagan tale fitted with a holy hat (like the grave-stones tea_pi mentioned with dragons at their feet and Christian symbols on their crowns), the imagination is haunted by what lies buried there.

And nowhere did this pagan/Christian syncretism happen more seamlessly and non-violently than in Ireland, Brendan, so sometimes we do not know whether we look at a Christian artefact with Druid ornamentation, or vice versa! I know they boast of Patrick that he drove "all the snakes" out of Ireland, but I think we can take that as some sort of metaphor, perhaps for defeating the Druids in some sort of display of wordcraft? ;-))

>Next morning, a fisherman saw her corpse floating near the shore and recognized her by her lily-white skin and golden hair. She was buried under a rock on the shore with the dirge of the waves as her requiem. Every year, on Beltane eve, it is said that the Kelpie gallops across the green on his sea-horse swift as the wind, with the mournful ghost of a maiden held fast on the saddle before him.

Does it not strike you as funny, Brendan, how we love to anthropomorphize Death, a tendency which Terry Pratchett for one vigorously and humorously resists, with his Death, who ALWAYS TALKS IN CAPS, LIKE THIS, lol! If we must have an image of Death at all, the whirling vortex of a whirlpool itself would seem to me far more appropriate, and certainly corresponding well to the amorphously murky, watery depths of Scorpio, as it does in the Tarot! ;-))

> Winnie! It was YOUR Birthday.:) HAPPY HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What a joy knowing you

Many happy solar returns, whomever! lol

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Al-Hallaj

...Spooky; on reading this article, I now see why my beloved chose to call himself after him! ;-))
In fact, it seems to me very appropriate that I print this out (when I have access to a printer, tomorrow) for my beloved, after a long letter-writing lapse, cos I had no idea what to reply by way of encouragement to his last, very despairing letter (which you can see for yourselves at
www.bjornerik.blogspot.com), i.e he remains Al-Hallaj, and I remain, as ever, Javad Nurbaksh, "In the Tavern of Ruin" ;-))

http://www.gnosis.org/ecclesia/lect153.htm

>just got to read these words... wonderful.......perhaps you have a manner of rememberance we all here can choose or refuse:) to participate in on the Sept 8

Use the readings in any way, manner or ritual format you see fit on that day? I will ;-))

>and perhaps others would like to contribute to or add to or just participate in. would you be willing to form a little ritual for us here?

I would have no idea how, t, sorry! ;-P

>For the circle was the simple affirmation of that spaciousness which is consciousness itself.
Nice; reminds me of the Hermetic-Gnostic line: "God is the circle whose centre is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere" ;-))

vbeg @ It was a divine schizoid madness that overcame him as he began to identify with such powers more than his own mortality. He loved some of them far more than his own limitation. The only thing that kept his madness from being was that at the core they all somehow merged into one Being-ness. Whether Goddess of Love or Angel of Death, the Crucified One or the laughing Buddha, each identity arose finally as a fluid manifestation from a formless Presence. And in this light too he saw eating, drinking, defecating, urinating humanness. He accepted all that appeared without judgment or loss of common sense.

Beautiful!!! Or in the words of Mike Scott:
*i saw the crescent
you saw the whole of the moon* ;-))

>what he evokes in the triangle is the reflection on the surface of the mirror of consciousness itself. And humbled, knew the mirror still gathered rust.

"Awareness is a mirror reflecting the four elements.
Beauty is a mind that is open,
and a heart that generates love."
(Thich Nhat Hanh, mindfulness gatha on looking in mirror) ;-))

>I have also come to appreciate Hendrix.

...as I have come to appreciate Elvis, hardly surprising since his Heartbreak Hotel became the #1 hit the year of my physical birth (1956)? You gotta love it when they spotted him as a "white man with a black man's voice" - possibly due to Native American blood? ;-))

Speaking of the Beatles, in the context of my Musical Tarot, I think also Paperback Writer got included (as King of Swords)... the court cards proved particularly difficult to pin with songs! lol

And of course, Norwegian Wood, among others, which my own beloved nearly ruined for me in Norway, as it amounted to the only thing he could play on guitar, along with a small composition of his own; except now it gives me nostalgic goose, or gnosis, bumps, whenever I hear it? (the something-or-other of Cups, I think) ;-))

> "O! I hello the moon!"

See today's subject- and signature-lines ;-))

And then the springtime brought on its usual (literal) fever, as does the transition into autumn, from which I slowly recover today; taking it easy with these inspirational words helps, as does the gentle and healing day of the Blue Cosmic Hand/Deer (Mayan calendar) itself!...

I still find said spring fever difficult to shake, as we speak; I find it difficult to identify which season I like the most, except in Norway that would definitely equate to winter, when we had SNOW!!! Norwegians thought me mad for enjoying it so much, but believe me, REAL snow amounts to a definite novelty for an Aussie (I got born in the wrong country; even my Chinese horoscope said a Monkey/Pisces could do well in the job of "ski instructor"... as if, born far from any snowfields here! But funnily enough, that seems the first thing I decided I wanted to become when I grew up, at age 5... though where I got the idea from, god/dess only knows) ;-))

I can sure tell you which season I like least, and that would equate to spring, with autumn following a close second; even though we all look forward to spring, and welcome its first signs in the returning light, flowers and morning songs of birds (a hallelujah of magpies, hehe!), its equinoctial instability does very strange things to my system indeed, i.e. first I want to shave my head, to resemble the sheep who also get shorn of their winter coats about this time ("oh, the springtime it brings on the shearing; click go the shears, click, click, click!" Aussie traditional bush song), I find that the days alternate between mild and balmy, and sullen and overcast (like today), and at night I just cannot get warm, no matter how I try to snuggle under the doona, that seemed more than enough all winter, with the result that I have spent the last long weekend wracked with coughing at night, and presumably keeping all the other tenants awake... Hopefully, I will find myself acclimatized enough to the new season to return to work tomorrow... And they say that, statistically, more people commit suicide in, yes, you guessed it! spring... Presumably because you can survive a whole winter (and even the holiday season, in the northern hemisphere) chronically depressed, but when spring comes, and your life has still not got any better, while everyone else looks more cheerful, you just give up... ;-P

*April is the cruellest month*(T.S.Eliot) ;-P

Actually, come to think of it, even in Norway, spring seemed just the season when all the snow turned to slush, and sludge! Let's NOT hear it for spring! o O... do I hear the sounds of distant poets champing at the bit already, with their spring rhapsodies? Call this an anti-rhapsody, if you like! lol

> I just want to understand the shadows on the wall

So sad, thisisthedove, and so reminding me of what happened to my beloved and me; but perhaps, as Al Hallaj, he flies on, anyway (I KNOW he does!). Translating from the Norwegian Krakeviks Songbook CD his parents gave me one (gotta revisit this CD in the evening!):

"In the Evening

"In the evening when it gets dark and all go to rest
then I shut up the stable and the barn.
And the sparrows bed down, each one in its little nest,
then you too presumably go to your rest.
But since I no longer know how to pass the time,
for in the long nights I feel so full of longing.
I just don't feel like sleeping.

"Now you stand before the mirror and comb your hair,
so black and serious your eye.
Then your heart may well beat, but why it beats,
you don't exactly know just yet,
for you haven't let anyone come close enough to you yet.
But your poor clothes hang on the back of the chair,
your shirt and your socks and your trousers.

"It's getting dark across the way and autumn is approaching,
and the mist thickens over the hedge.
On the paths in the woods, many have lost their way,
and the stars rise so fiercely.
But if you cannot come tonight, little friend,
then send a message and tell me when you will come again.
I have not seen you in such a long time."

(To Petra, by Krakevik; translated by Claire, with Bjorn Erik very much in mind!), i.e. attempting to translate poetry also seems an art-form in itself? lol

I leave this one also in today's digest, because I also intend to print it out tomorrow, with the article on Al Hallaj, to send to him! ;-))

I incorporated the idea of the Holy Grail into my own Tarot, as the Ace of Cups (what else, Ness?), using a Michael Leunig cup I brought him from Australia, that became his special cup, and a Renaissance angel cup (angel playing the lute) he gave me, which I blended together in the shape of my spider goblet... When my angel cup fell and broke a week before our fatal denouement in 2002, I knew it represented a very bad omen indeed... But it seems better to have known your personal Grail, and lost it, than never to have known it at all? And as we like to say, we still have an afterlife, or a next life? ;-))

Maybe we cannot contain the REAL Grail in any literal, material object, because we just cannot contain, or hang on to it? i.e. it might visit us, and bless us, if it likes, but we can never, by its nature, retain such a visit and blessing long on the material plane, by its nature? OK, call me a hopeless, tragic Romantic, if you will, but I feel the necessary physical loss propels it over the edge into the realm of the larger-than-life, archetypal or mythical dimensions, the realm of "courtly love", necessarily from afar? ;-))

The Sturm und Drang surrounding this reminds me also of this month's Mayan oracle card, the Hero Twins, Xbalanque and Hunahpu, who had to go down and defeat the lords of death in a mystical ball game: just another Sunday game of football, about which I wrote a little Lovecraftian short story on the wyrd_crossings list, hehe! lol

And one of the few good things about spring down under seems that, if your footy team has survived into the finals, footy season continues, and we live on to fight another day! lol

(We meet the Western Bulldogs next Sunday: another showdown in the Western corral... hehe)

Love, Dragonwizard/Claire xxx
"I tell you, in order to give birth to a dancing star, you must have chaos in you. And I tell you, you - you have chaos within you!" - Nietzsche.

"I polarise in order to purify,
Stabilising flow.
I seal the process of universal water
with the lunar tone of challenge."

A poem someone posted on the Slouching Buddha list yesterday (with apologies and thanks to whomever posted it!):

> When did you stop being my lover?

Why do you close that door...

why does your fire burn so high when your playing;

yet, you put it out when you really Know What you hold?

You say that my Touches are like Chocolate...

but i'm afraid to REALLY touch you

you'd shy away

we had only begun to Rise....

and in that instant you shut your eyes

do you keep us from flying?

what scares you so??

and Why am I So Willing.....

I don't question your love

I just want to understand the shadows on the wall

****"Expectations are resentments under construction."

Anne Lamott

1 Comments:

Blogger asgif666 said...

I think thisisthedove posted the last and very poignant poem, but in the welter of snippery, cut-and-pastes and send-errors, I forget exactly who wrote it; hence my apologies for failing to adequately acknowledge it! ;-P

11:34 am  

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