Gwyllm.com

Oh my gosh, more than one Substack a month! Who would ever guess? I am trying to play a bit of catch up as of late. This entry was actually started 2 months ago. The past couple of days has been a blessing in that I am able to do work on my art and writing. Even the weather is sweet, clouds in the morning, cool enough for me to have cognizant thoughts instead of the scattered ADHD mindscape that I dip into way too frequently.

On The Menu: The Links/ New Art – The Golden Centre/ On Dying/ Counterpoint/ Poesy – Rabia al Basri/ Japan – Ghost (2003 Mix)

The Links: How The Troubadours Shaped Medieval Romance / How Art Invented Humanity / Is this the world’s oldest image of a mind‑altering plant?/ Can Plants Feel Pain?/ Rewilded land remains green amid drought-stricken English countryside

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New Art – The Golden Centre/Vimana Series

A piece that will soon be available as a print, and perhaps in the 13th Edition of the “Invisible College” review. I really enjoyed working with this one! It has been a while since I put together an assemblage/collage, having devoted my art time to my pointillist/mandala work over the last couple of years.

This piece is constructed in part with pen and ink work I did nearly 30 years ago, to finally see the light of day in this piece as fading sunlight. I am very excited to share this piece! I hope you like it!

G

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Growing up, I had a realization that many of my dreams were precognitive in nature. So, being my own version of Kassandra/Cassandra… along the way I stopped sharing dreams about others. Too unsettling for folks, as I see it. Still, the dreams come. Sometimes I don’t share them even with family.

Recently I had a dream in which I saw the timeline of my remaining life here in this place. It struck me that I had a bunch of stuff to do before I clocked out.

The Dream. This dream came with a remembrance of an old Sufi saying. “Die before you die”. (some credit Rumi, but I am sure he picked it up along the way) I was given a timeline in which to complete what I came here to do this lifetime. I have been remiss on a few items, I swear. Death came to me and invited me to let it go when the time was right. As I understood the message, that we “Die before you die” was that preparation was everything.

I have had a few close encounters in my life, accidents, illness, the police… This was not an encounter on this side but on the other. Oddly comforting and assuring.

I guess it is in the task at hand. The doing. Being present for those that need you, and for yourself as well.

This life has gone so fast.

Much Love,

G

Counterpoint

For your consideration a counterpoint to the current societal madness:

“We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. But then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings.” – Ursula le Guinn

We live in a shared reality. The present state of things is only very recent in the human timeline… From what I recall from the Neolithic on Is less than 1% of our time on Mother Earth. We now live in an aberration; A state that runs counter to all that went before and if we are so lucky to all that comes after.

The experiment is coming to an end. I believe we are here to help rectify the imbalance of this age.

We are watching systems of government & economies collapsing and mutating. This is not a time to wax nostalgic over what is now fading away. The Event Horizon is beckoning.

As it has been pointed out by David Graeber & David Wengrow, we did not just jump from hunter gatherers to farming in one cataclysmic leap but moved back and forth for several thousand years.

I started dictating this sitting in a fabulous Garden alongside the Willamette where I was painting exterior walls for a friend. For all the insanity in the world it is but a blip compared to what is really going on. As I worked there, a hummingbird would come almost daily to flit about me as I worked. Sweetness.

We have solutions available, but we must seize on them, and soon.

For the Future, and those that come after.

Poesy – Rabia al Basri:
I have loved Thee with two loves –
a selfish love and a love that is worthy of Thee.
As for the love which is selfish,
Therein I occupy myself with Thee,
to the exclusion of all others.
But in the love which is worthy of Thee,
Thou dost raise the veil that I may see Thee.
Yet is the praise not mine in this or that,
But the praise is to Thee in both that and this.
—
If I adore You out of fear of Hell, burn me in Hell!
If I adore you out of desire for Paradise,
Lock me out of Paradise.
But if I adore you for Yourself alone,
Do not deny to me Your eternal beauty.
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Your hope in my heart is the rarest treasure
Your Name on my tongue is the sweetest word
My choicest hours
Are the hours I spend with You —
O Allah, I can’t live in this world
Without remembering You–
How can I endure the next world
Without seeing Your face?
I am a stranger in Your country
And lonely among Your worshippers:
This is the substance of my complaint.
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With my Beloved I alone have been,
When secrets tenderer than evening airs
Passed, and the Vision blest
Was granted to my prayers,
That crowned me, else obscure, with endless fame;
The while amazed between
His Beauty and His Majesty
I stood in silent ecstasy
Revealing that which o’er my spirit went and came.
Lo, in His face commingled
Is every charm and grace;
The whole of Beauty singled
Into a perfect face
Beholding Him would cry,
‘There is no God but He, and He is the most High.’

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Japan – Ghost (2003 Mix)

And a note as I depart this posting. A blessing on you and yours, I hope the days and nights are sweet.

Until Later!

G

The Muse – Gwyllm

I have been away for a while, taking care the best I can of a family member who has been in pain. This has been a juggling act, as with the economy and all I have pretty much returned to work on a full/part-time basis, which leaves not a lot of time. This is not a complaint, but just a nod to the given situation.

I want to thank all of you who have continued to support my writing and my art. Hopefully there will be a turn around, and I can publish more frequently.

As Far as Art Goes…I have a new piece coming out shortly, I have been working on it since early May this year. As soon as I get it scanned, I will share

G

On The Menu:

Sky Daddy/s and other Mythologies / Sappho – Glittering-Minded deathless Aphrodite/ Orphic Hymn to the Muses

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Sky Daddy’s

I grew up in a military family. Both of my parents were from Methodist backgrounds. In the military there is only one option for Methodist, or other Sects of the Protestant mindset: “Military Protestant”. Whether they be Methodist, Lutherans, Southern Baptist, Snake Handlers… All went into the one pot/chapel.

Our Sundays went like this: Kids off to Sunday School. Parents join us later for Chapel. By the time all of this was done, 2.5 hours or more, I would be starved. Then a big meal and on with the day after I explained at my father’s behest what I had learned that day in chapel. Usually, it ended with me in detention for not grasping the intricacies of Christian/Protestant thought. Not surprising, as my mind was usually elsewhere. (The grand poobaa Sky Daddy along with his son was a fascination to me. Why would you tell a people they were special and then punish them all of the time? If your son was a part of you, why did you have to impregnate a woman with yourself and then sacrifice yourself to yourself? So many contradictions and conflictions…) more of this perhaps later…

What I see in these recalling’s is the inculturation that goes on across cultures. Perhaps a little more aggressive here as I read recently in a comment about folks running around trying to convert others to their version of the Sky God: “Australian here. Grateful that we got the convicts and you got the puritans.”

As a child I was alright with this, didn’t know any better until one Sunday, the minister said something along these lines: “You were born in sin, and you are condemned because of the actions of Eve in the Garden of Paradise.” Well… that didn’t seem right to me. What had I done? I was 7 years old. That one instance set me on a path… that was followed up the next year by a gift from my mother when we were about to drive across the US:

Within this book I discovered that there was more than one version of “God” It was an eye opener. The Iliad introduced me to Athena, the first version of the Goddess that I knew of. The story of her interactions with humans, and her whisperings to their consciousness and conscience was enthralling to a young lad. Of course there were Sky Daddy’s as well, Zeus of course, but Apollo as well. Hey! They had more than one! Bonus! I spent that summer enraptured by the book. Then I went on to find other myths, discovering the Roman take on it with the Aeneas gloss on the tale… I found a version of the Aeneid in Latin when I was 12 and tried to teach myself Latin so that I could read it in the original. (I gave up after a couple of months) Then of course there is the British version of Brutus of Troy coming up the River Dart and landing in what is now Totnes… (This is in Devon) according to medieval legend, marking his arrival in Britain where he famously proclaimed, “Here I stand and here I rest, and this town shall be called Totnes.” (Which is a lovely town, and they even have the stone he first stepped on btw)

The short of it all is that I was ruined for Christianity, although I thought/and think that Jesus was an okay guy and really tried his best. It seems a pattern in Middle Eastern Myth Structure that the messenger gets sacrificed. Bad deal that. Still, I struggled along and tried to fit in for a while, becoming fascinated with the Apocalyptic Books. Then things took a turn…

I took LSD, and what I discovered further upset the Apple Cart of Mythology I had been raised with. On my second excursion I had what is classically called “The White Light” experience. Within that timeless moment of the eternal that which some would call God (too small! too focused culturally!) presented itself as the Divine Feminine, The Great Mother Goddess. Within the experience my life that I had known was shattered. The overarching Oneness I discovered had shown me something no book, no word, experience had ever shown me.

It will soon be 60 years since I first ventured into the maelstrom of consciousness that psychedelics hints at. My initial encounter with altered consciousness on one hand was a marvelous moment but also a horrible one in that i couldn’t articulate what had occurred with adequate nuance. Words failed me repeatedly when I tried to describe the loss of individual self, the ecstasy of merging with the Atman of the Universe…

Well, back to Sky Daddy’s:

There are some remarkable similarities in sky deities, most seem to have evolved from humble beginnings and become conflated later on in their careers. For the longest time I thought Jehovah had begun as a mouse demon who raided granaries. Last week I found out that actually was Apollo. YHWH was a conglomerate deity made up from the Canaanite deity, and El and desert peoples war and thunder god. Among the Hittites, El was known as Elkunirša (Hittite: 𒂖𒆪𒉌𒅕𒊭 Elkunīrša). Although El gained different appearances and meanings in different languages over time, it continues to exist as El-, -il or -el in compound proper noun phrases such as Elizabeth, Israel, Michael, and Bethel, most of which are theophoric given names. (thanks Wikipedia!)

On the whole they’re not very pleasant deities more than likely they are like Archons of the Gnostic belief system.

This is great: Apollo Mouse Cult More

Then there is this guy. Demanding folks to sacrifice their children to him to prove their worthiness or cutting off their foreskins if male. It only got worse over time it seems.

Walking away from the absolutism of Sky Daddy was a process. The society drowns in it to this day. – I may flesh this out a bit more later on.

Share

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Sappho – Glittering-Minded deathless Aphrodite

The Greek Poet Sappho and the Girl from Mytilene

‘Glittering-Minded deathless Aphrodite’

Glittering-Minded deathless Aphrodite,
I beg you, Zeus’s daughter, weaver of snares,
Don’t shatter my heart with fierce
Pain, goddess,

But come now, if ever before
You heard my voice, far off, and listened,
And left your father’s golden house,
And came,

Yoking your chariot. Lovely the swift
Sparrows that brought you over black earth
A whirring of wings through mid-air
Down the sky.

They came. And you, sacred one,
Smiling with deathless face, asking
What now, while I suffer: why now
I cry out to you, again:

What now I desire above all in my
Mad heart. ’Whom now, shall I persuade
To admit you again to her love,
Sappho, who wrongs you now?

If she runs now she’ll follow later,
If she refuses gifts she’ll give them.
If she loves not, now, she’ll soon
Love against her will.’

Come to me now, then, free me
From aching care, and win me
All my heart longs to win. You,
Be my friend.–

Orphic Hymn to the Muses

Daughters of Mnemosyne, daughters of thundering Zeus,
Pierian Muses, renowned and illustrious,
Beloved of the mortals you visit, many-shaped,
you give birth to unblemished virtue in every discipline,
You nourish the soul, you set thought aright,
as you become mistresses of the mind’s power.
Sacred and mystic rites you taught to mortals,
Cleio, Euterpe, Thaleia, Melpomene, Terpsichore, Erato, Polhymnia, Ourania,
mother Calliope, mighty sublime goddess.
Do come to the initiates, O goddesses, in your manifold holiness,
do bring glory and emulation that is lovely and sung by many.

Over The Temple – Gwyllm Llwydd

Thank you for visiting! More Soon.

G

Dear Friends,

I have found myself less on the computer (by design) working more with physical art (see below) It is very liberating to step back into that zone. Moving one’s hands, positioning the paper, the drafting template around to capture the exact forms… Everything as I work is in correspondence, and interrelated. I tend to fret and reassess on the constant. I am not spontaneous in the way Jackson Pollock was, even though my partner has told me I should try it more often. I have a couple of pieces that I have started, which need a bit more work.

The next few months will see a couple of publications coming forth as well. Please stay tuned! Much more Art, Cultural Artifacts and Musings on the way.

Gwyllm

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On The Menu:

Links / New Art! “Dharma” / Sale! Universal Convergence – Creation Sitting With Master Hsu Yun (Poetry) / Our Day Will Come / The Dreamings / Excerpt: The Gods of Pegana, by Lord Dunsany / Summoning The Muse

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Links: Evidence of Ancient Humans Living Where No One Thought They Could / Year Without a Summer / Secrets of the Afterlife / Hilma af Klint / DMT Entities, Real?

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New Art! “Dharma”

The newest piece in the collection. Acrylics & Pencil 18×24 inches. 5 weeks of work.
Found that using a new pallete is border-line liberating!
I have been captivated with the Mandala since I was introduced to it by John Chick of Bardo Matrix many years ago in Boulder Colorado.
Working with pen, paper & pencil is entirely different than do work on the computer. It is slower, but it is much more meditative in nature.
I hope you would consider “Dharma” for your art collection!

“Dharma” may be purchased on Gwyllm-Arts.Com

It comes in 3 sizes: 18×24 inches (Printed by Gango in Portland)

17×22 inches & 13×19 inches.

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Sale! Universal Convergence – Creation

While I am posting art, I would like to put this piece forward as it is on Sale as well!

Universal Convergence/Creation

Limited Print! Less than 20 left!

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Sitting With Master Hsu Yun

In Response to Layman Ma Guanyuan for a Special Verse

I don’t carry a gentleman’s lute
Or own a longevity crane.
I’m as undistinguished as smoke
And casual as sunset clouds.
Scattered and low.
Scattered and low.
Sometimes I roam along Bilu Peak
Or lounge around Maitreya’s Court.
Who needs seven hundred lifetimes?
Who needs to be the houseguest of an Immortal?
You can measure what’s empty or catch hold of the wind;
But the hardships of an ascetic monk are beyond reckoning.
You can move an entire mountain or shrink a great distance;
But nobody can plumb the depths of spiritual emptiness.
In the space of just a single thought
A thousand years can be speeded up or stopped.
But the distance light travels in those thousand years
Wouldn’t reach the limits of a monk’s travails.
I could have been a deckhand
And traveled all the seas;
Or else a simple laborer,
A porter with a pole.
What if I had been born noble and wealthy?
Shakya was; but he rejected that
And so would I. Ah. Ah.
So I don’t carry a gentleman’s lute
Or walk around with longevity cranes.
I just go, scattered and low, scattered and low.
As obscure as smoke and casual as those sunset clouds

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Years Months Days Hours

One year and then another.
Appearances gradually change.
Bone marrow shrivels.
Eyebrows thin away.
This time-limited body is like a mound of slurry.
In the Triple World, earth, air, fire and water mingle and change.
This is all our emotions allow us to notice
And their sight obstructs our view of Heaven.
One month and then another.
The light and dark pass like melting snow.
No part can be kept for long.
Only the Dharma does not come or go.
The lacquer bowl suddenly breaks.
You are like the Dragon of Heaven – born to be lively and free.
A roc can’t live in a crane’s nest.
A little jiao liao bird needs to stay near mosquito ponds.
One day and then another.
They never wear themselves out.
Give up your judgments about everything.
It’s all insubstantial in the end.
All things under the sun come to an end and dissolve.
Spend what time you have in honest simplicity.
Just one breath of the Eternal
Admits you to the Great Chamber.
One hour and then another.
Inexorably march, step by step.
Whenever I meet you, we each smile.
But who is it who drags your corpse around?
Steadfast and unchangeable
Always mindful of this or that.
You’re young and strong. Exert yourself!
Don’t wait… oh please don’t wait
Until you’re much too old and weak.

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Dead Can Dance: Our Day Will Come

The Dreamings…

‘Understood in its metaphysical sense,
Beauty is one of the manifestations of the Absolute Being.
Emanating from the harmonious rays of the Divine plan,
it crosses the intellectual plane to shine once again across
the natural plane, where it darkens into matter. ‘
-Jean Delville 1899

(Jean Delville – The School of Silence)

Excerpt: The Gods of Pegana, by Lord Dunsany

illustration by Sidney Sime

OF THE MAKING OF THE WORLDS

When MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI had made the gods there were only the gods, and They sat in the middle of Time, for there was as much Time before them as behind them, which having no end had neither a beginning.

And Pegana was without heat or light or sound, save for the drumming of Skarl; moreover Pegana was The Middle of All, for there was below Pegana what there was above it, and there lay before it that which lay beyond.

Then said the gods, making the signs of the gods and speaking with Their hands lest the silence of Pegana should blush; then said the gods to one another, speaking with Their hands; “Let Us make worlds to amuse Ourselves while MANA rests. Let Us make worlds and Life and Death, and colours in the sky; only let Us not break the silence upon Pegana.”

Then raising Their hands, each god according to his sign, They made the worlds and the suns, and put a light in the houses of the sky.

Then said the gods: “Let Us make one to seek, to seek and never to find out concerning the wherefore of the making of the gods.”

And They made by the lifting of Their hands, each god according to his sign, the Bright One with the flaring tail to seek from the end of the Worlds to the end of them again, to return again after a hundred years.

Man, when thou seest the comet, know that another seeketh besides thee nor ever findeth out.

Then said the gods, still speaking with Their hands: “Let there be now a Watcher to regard.”

And They made the Moon, with his face wrinkled with many mountains and worn with a thousand valleys, to regard with pale eyes the games of the small gods, and to watch throughout the resting time of MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI; to watch, to regard all things, and be silent.

Then said the gods: “Let Us make one to rest. One not to move among the moving. One not to seek like the comet, nor to go round like the worlds; to rest while MANA rests.”

And They made the Star of the Abiding and set it in the North.

Man, when thou seest the Star of the Abiding to the North, know that one resteth as doth MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI, and know that somewhere among the Worlds is rest.

Lastly the gods said: “We have made worlds and suns, and one to seek and another to regard, let Us now make one to wonder.”

And They made Earth to wonder, each god by the uplifting of his hand according to his sign.

And Earth was.

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Summoning The Muse

Thank You For Visiting!

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm

Hey there, hope all is well with you and yours. Excited about this post and my new print “Universal Convergence/Creation”. Through the generosity of a friend, Terry We were able to print these up on incredible paper at an art house printer. Hopefully printing more along this line. A lot of work went into this piece! Check out the details below!

Been on a bit of a bouncy path… Health is a bit wonky, but we are getting there thankfully. Working on new art finding joy in simple pencil work. It concentrates one’s thoughts.

In the process of getting ready to move to smaller digs due to health and other issues. If you can help, that would be great! GoFundMe Looking to move this next month when our health picks up.

On The Menu: Links – Universal Convergence/Creation – My Friend, Richard – Time – Lenore Kandel Poetry

Links: World Wide Political / Design Problem / The Man Who Taught MLK / Words Are Magic

To give pleasure to a single heart by a single act is better than a thousand heads bowing in prayer. – Mahatma Gandhi

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Universal Convergence/Creation

I worked on this for so many evenings. I drove my family crazy with pulling it out when we were sitting around talking, and there I was off in another world concentrated with my pens, pencils, and art paper.

My thoughts around art comes in shapes/patterns/forms/ with concepts often coming to me in dreams. At times I see the finished piece in my head, but I don’t know how to reach it. Sometimes it evolves past what I was working on or doesn’t come up to the conceptualization… At times it is a blind leap into the project, and it unfolds as I work.

I have a passion for this form of art and have had so for 56 some years. I have been stepping away from my collage work to pursue one of my earlier passions. I can trace my work back to early 1968 (I found a piece from then in my files!)

Thank you for visiting!

I want to thank my dear friend Terry for making this possible!

Print(s) can be signed 2 ways. Please indicate which you prefer. The Default is the Vertical.

3 ways to support my art:

Universal Convergence/Creation Print 1st Option 100.00usd & 20.00 Shipping/Handling

Universal Convergence/Creation Print 2nd Option with Blotter Print 125.00 & 20.00Shipping/Handling

Universal Convergence/Creation Print 3rd Option, Blotter Print & Personalized Card from Gwyllm 145.00usd & 20.00 Shipping/Handling

Printed on Cold Press Fine Art Textured Paper, extremely limited edition. Basis Weight: 300 gsm
Thickness: 19.5 mil Paper Size: 18.5x24inches Print 17×22 inches
20 prints, 6 artist proof prints.
Price Includes Shipping/Handling USA. All others, please inquire.

My Friend, Richard:

So many folks departing lately to the Western Lands…

I have been meaning to finish up a posting about the Flying Anglia, when I received news that the main character in that tale, Richard Knowles had passed. His daughter Tara contacted me, along with my dear friend Lizbeth who facilitated us meeting Richard back in 1984/5.

Richard was old school bohemian in so many ways. Loved Jazz, particularly New Orleans old style. He had a lovely story about his first time in New Orleans back in either 1961 or 1962… He met a young man who was headed to the cemetery to sweep and clean a blues singer’s grave (sorry, I can’t remember the name of the singer now). They went and did the deed, and a few years later, Richard realized it had been Bob Dylan. He loved telling that story.

His roommate in Art College was a young man named Eric Clap. Eric left art college to play with a band called The Yardbirds. You may have heard of them. I asked about Eric, “What was he like?” Richard answered “Oh, he was a great roommate. Left in a hurry though, leaving his art notebooks behind”. “Do you still have them???” I asked. “Oh no I tossed them. I had no idea he would go on to do what he has done!” Richard replied.

Richard’s best friend at art college was a young guitarist, Keith Richards. When I found this out my mind was blown. “Oh, he was a great chap, but after the Richmond gigs dropped all of his friends at the college. I attended those first shows. Electrifying!”

I met Richard through his nephew John Fuller. In turn, I met John through Lizbeth (she is such a nexus point!) a dear friend that I have known for over 50 years who by the way introduced Mary and I in Clapham Common back in 1977.

Lizbeth and John were an item. John has been in the band “The Pack”, One of the seminal punk bands in the UK. John washed up on our shores and became a bouncer at Blackie’s in West L.A. in his up and down relationship with Lizabeth John dossed out in our living room in West LA off and on.

This all leads up to us meeting Richard. Mary and I moved back to the UK in 1984. On August 24th, 1985, along with John Fuller we met Richard at the Crystal Palace Park performance of Spear of Destiny. Kirk Brandon, ex bandmate of John’s put on the hell of a show. This is where we met Richard who was there with John. Richard was a huge fan of Kirk. We ended up going back to our flat in Upper Norwood and hanging out. It was glorious evening.

Richard invited us to come visit his family farm out on Dartmoor. It was located close to North Bovey. Beautiful part of the world. We got to know his then wife Susan (raised pygmy goats!) their wonderful daughter Tara, and flocks of sheep & a small herd of cattle. Visiting Bowden farm was always a joy.

(Bowden Farm as it is today. Gentrified, no longer a working farm, but a B&B. The farm was listed in the Doomsday Book, of William the Conquer & William Rufus his son. The barn was built with standing stones from the surrounding hills. It was much more hurley burley back then!)

We visited frequently. I spent time with Richard tending the sheep and cattle. It was a relief for me, in that I was submerged in Corporate Computing at that point, being an IT tech. The days and nights up on the moor were magical. Our times at the pub and around the table at the house, were very special.

Later on, when we moved back to the States, Richard came and stayed with us a few times before we left L.A. He loved it there. His enthusiasm for the arts and for L.A. was boundless.

We lost touch after we moved, only reconnecting sporadically over the years. He did publish a book in 1996 about his great love musically:

He and Susan split during the time of his visits, and he and his lovely Brigit, became a couple, even visiting us in L.A. together. They were married for some 40 years. I will fill out the tale more on a later date. Good stories, good times. Richard, you are missed.

Richard & Hattie, his granddaughter Many years ago…

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Lenore Kandel:

Phoenix Song

then I shall never grow up
not if child means a sense of wonder
and my head in the wind rain rain
I will not wither in the blaze of time
but prove myself a phoenix
(ashes like powdered stars)
born again and again and again

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Open Channel –

the dream is as true as the dreamer
all fragments of the self are true
and dreams are one more form of sight
are real and not-real
as they move the flesh
and shape the currents of the mind
fears unexorcised and fantasies unsearched
become lame ghosts
visions unreached for
distill a toxin
aging the spirit
dimming the flesh
the dream is as true as the dreamer
that which exists within the mind is you
that which contains the mind is you
open your dreams
release your visions and your fantasies and fears
that which is real and not-real
is up to you

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Invocation for Maitreya –

to invoke the divinity in man with the mutual gift of love
with love as animate and bright as death
the alchemical transfiguration of two separate entities
into one efflorescent deity made manifest in radiant human flesh
our bodies whirling through cosmos, the kiss of heartbeats
the subtle cognizance of hand for hand, and tongue for tongue
the warm moist fabric of the body opening into start-shot rose
flowers
the dewy cock effulgent as it burst the star
sweet cunt-mouth of world serpent Ouroboros girding the
universe
as it takes its own eternal cock, and cock and cunt united
join the circle
moving through realms of flesh made fantasy and fantasy made
flesh
love as a force that melts the skin so that our bodies join
one cell at a time
until there is nothing left but the radiant universe
the meteors of light flaming through wordless skies
until there is nothing left but the smell of love
but the taste of love, but the fact of love
until love lies dreaming in the crotch of god. . .

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Thank you for visiting, more coming!

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm

I have been a busy bee the last few weeks. (See Below). I am beyond excited to share this post with you. I hope you enjoy this Substack!

On The Menu: The Links / Forest Fish / Eye Mandalas / Invocation for Mitreya / Shaman /

The Links: What Sleep Is / The Rise & Mysterious Fall of Cahokia / Trees, Stars, Clouds / Monsters

A new project. I spent 3 weeks on this and enjoyed the creative process immensely. I gave myself a challenge of 7 illustrations and came up with 8. Eight has never been in my sights as a numerological signpost, but I will take it for this series.

My Beloved asked me, “Why the eye in all of these?” Eyes, at least in my lexicon of image, symbolize, denotes consciousness. The eye has long been a symbol of consciousness of course, and has repeatedly shown up in my art. Habit? Who is to say, but here is to the eyes!

I have striven to create as a diverse group of art pieces within chosen parameters. I have found that when I set a challenge up it makes me work harder to bring something different to the genre, to make each piece “sing”. The challenge though this time was within a short period of time, unlike the Vimana & Saliva series which evolved over years.

Water Marks Are All Removed From Prints!

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm

Eye Mandala 15×15 65.00 inclusive of shipping

Eye Mandala 7.5×7.5 30.00 Inclusive of shipping

Seraphim Eye Mandala 15×15 65.00 inclusive of shipping

Seraphim – Eye Mandala 7.5×7.5 30.00 inclusive of shipping

Solar Eye Mandala 15×15 65.00 inclusive of shipping

Solar Eye Mandala 7.5×7.5 30.00 inclusive of shipping

Spatial Eye Mandala 15×15 65.00 inclusive of shipping

Spatial Eye Mandala 7.5×7.5 30.00 inclusive of shipping

Organic Eye Mandala 15×15 65.00 inclusive of shipping

Organic Eye Mandala 7.5×7.5 30.00 inclusive of shipping

Iridescent Eye Mandala 15×15 65.00 Inclusive of Shipping

Iridescent Eye Mandala 7.5×7.5 30.00 Inclusive of Shipping

Bronze Eye Mandala 15×15 65.00 Inclusive of Shipping

Bronze Eye Mandala 7.5×7.5 30.00 Inclusive of Shipping

Space Eye Mandala 15×15 65.00 Inclusive of Shipping

Space Eye Mandala 7.5×7.5 30.00 Inclusive of Shipping

_____________________________

Collect All 8 15×15 Eye Mandala Prints!

Collect All 8 7.5×7.5 Eye Mandala Prints!

 

Invocation for Mitreya – Lenore Kandel

to invoke the divinity in man with the mutual gift of love
with love as animate and bright as death
the alchemical transfiguration of two separate entities
into one efflorescent deity made manifest in radiant human flesh
our bodies whirling through cosmos, the kiss of heartbeats
the subtle cognizance of hand for hand, and tongue for tongue
the warm moist fabric of the body opening into start-shot rose
flowers
the dewy cock effulgent as it burst the star
sweet cunt-mouth of world serpent Ouroboros girding the
universe
as it takes its own eternal cock, and cock and cunt united
join the circle
moving through realms of flesh made fantasy and fantasy made
flesh
love as a force that melts the skin so that our bodies join
one cell at a time
until there is nothing left but the radiant universe
the meteors of light flaming through wordless skies
until there is nothing left but the smell of love
but the taste of love, but the fact of love
until love lies dreaming in the crotch of god. . . .

 

 

Here’s Looking At You:

On The Menu:

The Links

New Blotter Art

Poesy – Rabia al Basri

Gwyllm – Once Upon A Time In The West

Lusine – Just A Cloud (feat. Vilja Larjosto)

Whit Griffin Poesy

Gwyllm – Dreams

Terence McKenna – The Alchemical Dream

Gwyllm – Work in Progress: Seraphim/Eye Mandala

Martin Nonstatic – Granite Remixes

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The Links: A Kichwa Activist on Aya / Hubris In Action / Not in Egypt… / Not to be Fooled Again / Octopuses prefer…

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Nothing says happiness like: New Blotter Art!

So, I have been busy of late. New art, publishing of older pieces, and now a new blotter piece. I am extremely fond of this image. 2013 was a good year for my art, and the world surviving the end of time (2012, remember?). I think this piece shows some of my newfound enthusiasm for entering another age, unscathed.

This piece is reflective of my involvement (at one time with Peyote/Mescaline) I credit my interaction with this wondrous plant with my first realizations as a young person of the interconnectedness of life and spirit here on Gaia. I perceived roads, paths of energy and life emanating across the world. It was an awakening that helped me grow in my life.

Much thanks to Marty for printing this for me, and for our partnership on all things Blotter. So, appreciated.

G

Peyote Visions

45.00USD Inclusive of US mailing Cost.

Peyote Visions (Overseas)

65.00USD Inclusive of Overseas mailing cost.

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Poesy – Rabia al Basri:
I have loved Thee with two loves –
a selfish love and a love that is worthy of Thee.
As for the love which is selfish,
Therein I occupy myself with Thee,
to the exclusion of all others.
But in the love which is worthy of Thee,
Thou dost raise the veil that I may see Thee.
Yet is the praise not mine in this or that,
But the praise is to Thee in both that and this.
—
If I adore You out of fear of Hell, burn me in Hell!
If I adore you out of desire for Paradise,
Lock me out of Paradise.
But if I adore you for Yourself alone,
Do not deny to me Your eternal beauty.
—
Your hope in my heart is the rarest treasure
Your Name on my tongue is the sweetest word
My choicest hours
Are the hours I spend with You —
O Allah, I can’t live in this world
Without remembering You–
How can I endure the next world
Without seeing Your face?
I am a stranger in Your country
And lonely among Your worshippers:
This is the substance of my complaint.
—
With my Beloved I alone have been,
When secrets tenderer than evening airs
Passed, and the Vision blest
Was granted to my prayers,
That crowned me, else obscure, with endless fame;
The while amazed between
His Beauty and His Majesty
I stood in silent ecstasy
Revealing that which o’er my spirit went and came.
Lo, in His face commingled
Is every charm and grace;
The whole of Beauty singled
Into a perfect face
Beholding Him would cry,
‘There is no God but He, and He is the most High.’

____

A piece of writing from about 8 years ago. Just found it, thought it might work in this entry…

Once Upon A Time In The West:

Hey, it was Semi Legal!

So, in 1967, I went from someone exploring psychedelics to someone who sought to help others find what they wanted. I met some characters up from Austin Texas in Denver who arrived in a beater 1950 Chevrolet, with a boot/trunk full of gelatine capsules containing Peyote extract/Mescaline. 2 of these double 00 capsules and one would enter into the realm. I traveled around with them in Colorado, whilst they distributed their wares.

As our relationship deepened I started to fly from Colorado with suitcases of mescaline to San Francisco, to exchange for Owsley Acid to bring back so they could distribute in Texas. If we had only known, Stanley was living no more than a mile and a half away, producing LSD in Denver, whilst financing The Family Dog locally…

I never got paid money, as I wasn’t looking for cash, but I handed out hundreds of free mescaline doses across the west. I was on a roll…

At that time, when I was in Colorado, I would host people travelling from the east coast going west, and vice versa. Along the way in midsummer, I hosted a group coming from Millbrook New York, where Tim Leary, Ralph Metzner & Richard Alpert (later Baba Ram Dass) had set up the Castalia Foundation a few years earlier… Now it was Tim & Rosemary there, with people coming through. Anyway, 6 travelers showed up at my door one night, and I put them up for a couple of days. Sweet people, all of them. We spend a couple of days tripping together, and on the way out back to their car, one of them stops, and presses 4 capsules of a red crystalline substance into my hands. “This is something special” he said, “it is Yage. Take it out in the countryside”. I of course didn’t know what Yage was at that point. I thanked them, and off they went to San Francisco.

A couple of days later, I flew out to the west coast again to deliver mescaline. After I was done I flew down to L.A. on my way home. I stopped off at friends commune. Of course I had my bottle of mescaline caps, and at the top of the bottle wrapped in tin foil, the crystallized yage. I tossed the bottle over to my friend Richard when I came in, saying, “Hey! Mescaline, share it around the group!” Then thinking, I said, “Except for those capsules in the tin foil! I am saving those for something special!”…. We talked for a bit, and I headed over to Fairfax to Canter’s to meet other friends.

I was up all night of course. After Canters it was on to Sunset Strip and hanging out until daytime. It was normal for that time it seems.

When I came back to the commune the next day, Richard grabbed me and took me aside…. “I have to apologize, I took the capsules in the tin foil before you told us not to…. what was in it?” I asked, “Why?” He just stood there for a minute, composing himself and then speaking quietly, quickly, it just spilled out… “I took the red ones, and topped it off with 2 of the mescaline caps. in about a half hour it kicked in, and then I was in a place I had never been before with Acid, or anything!” “I was tripping, and then all of a sudden, I was in a jungle. I realized I was a jaguar following a caiman or a crocodile…. and then I transformed into an anaconda following the jaguar… and then I looked up into the sky, and I became a great eagle flying over the jungle and the mountains!” “I passed into a great light after that, and woke up this morning!”

“Damn” I thought… “Sorry to have missed that”… I assured him it was okay. It was not until reading Michael Harner’s (Bless his soul) works later on did I know what happened to my friend.

Modern Note: As I see it, someone in Millbrook or elsewhere had gotten ahold of some Caapi Vine, and reduced it down to crystalline levels, and capped it. When Richard mixed the mescaline with it, there was a great synergy produced, not unlike the traditional mix of Caapi & P. Viridis…. If I recall, some tribes on the western slopes of the Andes combine Caapi with San Pedro (there might be the precedent!) I don’t know how safe it is though…

Back To The Past: Well, we hung out the rest of the day before I caught the next flight out to Denver. (Richard and I had further adventures, but those are for another time.)

Flying back into Denver, I decided it was time to head up into the mountains to a cabin the Mescaline Crew had, but that is an adventure for another time.

Pax,
G

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Lusine – Just A Cloud (feat. Vilja Larjosto)

___

Whit Griffin Poesy:

A Far-Shining Crystal
(Extract: )“The River of Milk, the Snake Canoe”

The stone age didn’t end because we ran
out of stone. The force that formed the
stone can also dissolve it. Bacchus turned
the amethyst red. No god, but the translator,
turned Andromeda into a dromedary.
Tamberlane’s tent turned from white to red.
Red stones do not appeal to idealists. Roman
widows wore white. Rosicrucians believe iron
is the product of dark powers. The sly fox in
sympathy with the wily god. The lame god
is the provider of all good things.
___
A Welter of Cormorants

If you’re not too busy, my
house is on fire. No close-ups
please, I’m too old. Everything
can be mitigated with the proper
use of scented candles. The
Supreme Court turned the tomato
into a vegetable. Let’s not tussle
on this sandy shore; share the shell.
Around here we say carapace.
You’ve a penchant for the superfluous.
Outfitting a bass boat with an
astrolabe. A moped with no petrol
is just a bike. Help yourself to as
many samosas as you think you
deserve, then go back for seconds.
If animals could talk there’d be
more vegetarians. The moon
shines enough light for the muskrats
to find their ramble. We found
a didgeridoo in Saskatchewan.
The most heavily-scored eleven
minutes of my life.

___

Extract: “We Who Saw Everything”

All these worlds are transformed
by thy hand bearing fire. Worshippers of the solar fire.
Savitri revealed herself in the sacrificial fire. A tiger
was created in the sacrificial fire. The business of
the torch. Nine days she wandered over the earth,
with flaming torches in her hands. The glittering glassy
plains. The waste-places flowed with honey. Tapio,
Lord of the Forest. In the forest of Taragam dwelt
multitudes of heretical rishis. Those who blow on knots.
The master, the provost and the scholar. The
assembly of the wonderful head. And his severed
head they strung on the skull-rack. Ye shall leave
with him all your heads. As it is said Thor had a
piece of whetstone in his forehead.

[Balder Waits
For The Old
Order To Be
Destroyed]

From the left eye of Izanagi is born the sun goddess, and
from his right eye the moon god. Yellow like the amber body of
the goddess with the sapphire eyes. When the child
had ceased speaking, the king’s right eye was no
longer blind. The child is protected against the malice
of his brother. The bush is hidden. He lived the life
of a saint until his evil brother led him into sin.
Then he fled his city, Tula. He followed the word
of the scorpion-man. A scorpion will not go near
a filbert. I shall be so valuable that there will be
whole towns without one of me. Coral tree, tree of
the red puma. As Adonis to the myrrh tree. Born
from a hollow mulberry tree. The rim of the
shaman’s drum is cut from a living larch. On
March 22 a pine tree was brought into the
sanctuary of Cybele. Graybeard with the pineleaf hat.
He bled the calf of his right leg to
stain thorns with blood. He who has come to
us, his body is the flesh of gods! Born rather
than flourished. Let me take birth in the
Dhanakosha Lake. The code of Handsome Lake.
Hymns on the divine origin of water. Osiris
of the mysteries, who sprang from the returning
waters. Waiting beyond the breakers. Why
are the stone images of the ship destroyed?
Reuben is said to be as unstable as water. A
tea of ephedra and fennel. An ephedra beverage
in the home of Zoroaster. Olaf the Quiet
introduced cups to replace animal horns. Grim
the Good, a drinking horn that could foretell
the future. Grim, one of Odin’s many names.
No mention of drinking horns in Beowulf. As
it was once thought Solomon wrote the Iliad.
Philites composed a glossary of obscure archaic
words. Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote on the Trojan
origin of Britain. Paper was introduced to the west
by Chinese POWs from the Battle of Talas.
Pancrates convinced Hadrian to name a lotus
after Antinous. Pan hid his pipe from the Satyrs,
but they stole it nevertheless. The pipe is the
universe. We are microscopic instances of a
macrocosmic event. Ghost constellations. Leo
was the domicile of Osiris. Long after Taurus
had ceased to be the first of the signs. A
calendar is a pile of stones. Zeus’ semen fell
upon the Agdos rock. A new way down the
mountain. The Mountain Mother protects the
hunt. The protection of Horus is the great dwarf
who goes about the Netherworld at twilight.

___

Gwyllm/ Dreams:

A couple of weeks ago I had another one of those really odd dreams. In the dream I was watching and experiencing the collapse of society and civilization in the US as we know it. It was like watching an illuminated map with lights winkling out here there, everywhere, until the map was almost completely dark.

At first, I can feel an overwhelming panic with what was occurring. Society was in turmoil. As I was watching I realized that there was an underlying net of lights hardly visible that was still illuminated. There was hope and there was new awakenings…

___

Thanks to P.D. Newman

___

Work in Progress: Seraphim/Eye Mandala

A new direction I am working on. I hope you enjoy.

___

Martin Nonstatic – Granite Remixes

Thank you for visiting!

Gwyllm

Another week, another birthday. Time flies when you are having fun. Got to spend time with our son and his son for a quiet gathering. It was sweetness. Finished up an art piece “Rubedo” (It is Shining, It is Shining) as well on my birthday. (See below). Thanks for visiting, please leave feedback if you so choose!

G

On The Menu:

Links:

New Piece of Art

Poetry: Three By Gary

Worakls – Elea

Up In the Hills/Close Encounters of the Weird Kind…

Parra for Cuva – Swept Away (feat. Anna Naklab & Mr. Gramo)

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Links: Hearing Voices? / The Ol’ Three Card Monte / Life Thrums with Music / She Can’t Forget / AI Slop: – John Oliver 

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New Piece of Art: Rubedo (It is Shining, It is Shining. Acrylic Pens, 3 weeks of work. I am hoping to be working again with my airbrushes soon, to take on some new challenges.

For Reference: Rubedo

Poetry: Three by Gary

Riprap

Lay down these words

Before your mind like rocks.

placed solid, by hands

In choice of place, set

Before the body of the mind

in space and time:

Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall

riprap of things:

Cobble of milky way,

straying planets,

These poems, people,

lost ponies with

Dragging saddles—

and rocky sure-foot trails.

The worlds like an endless

four-dimensional

Game of Go.

ants and pebbles

In the thin loam, each rock a word

a creek-washed stone

Granite: ingrained

with torment of fire and weight

Crystal and sediment linked hot

all change, in thoughts,

As well as things.

—

Above Pate Valley

We finished clearing the last

Section of trail by noon,

High on the ridge-side

Two thousand feet above the creek

Reached the pass, went on

Beyond the white pine groves,

Granite shoulders, to a small

Green meadow watered by the snow,

Edged with Aspen—sun

Straight high and blazing

But the air was cool.

Ate a cold fried trout in the

Trembling shadows. I spied

A glitter, and found a flake

Black volcanic glass—obsidian—

By a flower. Hands and knees

Pushing the Bear grass, thousands

Of arrowhead leavings over a

Hundred yards. Not one good

Head, just razor flakes

On a hill snowed all but summer,

A land of fat summer deer,

They came to camp. On their

Own trails. I followed my own

Trail here. Picked up the cold-drill,

Pick, singlejack, and sack

Of dynamite.

Ten thousand years.

—

John Muir on Mt. Ritter

After scanning its face again and again,
I began to scale it, picking my holds
With intense caution. About half-way
To the top, I was suddenly brought to
A dead stop, with arms outspread
Clinging close to the face of the rock
Unable to move hand or foot
Either up or down. My doom
Appeared fixed. I MUST fall.
There would be a moment of
Bewilderment, and then,
A lifeless rumble down the cliff
To the glacier below.
My mind seemed to fill with a
Stifling smoke. This terrible eclipse
Lasted only a moment, when life blazed
Forth again with preternatural clearness.
I seemed suddenly to become possessed
Of a new sense. My trembling muscles
Became firm again, every rift and flaw in
The rock was seen as through a microscope,
My limbs moved with a positiveness and precision
With which I seemed to have
Nothing at all to do.

Gary & Yers Truly at Dale Pendell’s Wake/Birthday 2018.

Dale Pendell, the renowned poet, writer lived with Gary back when, late 60’s and into the 70’s. They remained friends for years up to Dales passing. It was a deep honor talking with Gary and being friends with Dale Pendell.

__

Worakls – Elea

___

Up In the Hills/Close Encounters of the Weird Kind…

In the summer of 1969, I took to traveling and visiting various communes and communities in Northern California and Southern Oregon. One of these that I went to was on a headwater of a river up in the Siskiyou Mountains. The first thing that I noticed was that the camp/commune was incredibly orderly and respective of the land. (Many weren’t sad to say)

The man who started the camp, was an ex-marine, who went on the Boho, Beat path after leaving the military. He, to my young eyes was ancient; 36-37 years old. I liked him, he was straight forward and kind. We remained friends for years.

On my second visit to the camp, there were a new couple who were there. They struck me as odd, and I had a vague memory (possibly) of the woman. Their vibe was not as chilled out as the rest of the camp. The man was especially jittery. Folks seemed uneasy around them as well. They honestly gave me the creeps. After a day or so there, I packed up and moved on off to see other friends, folks, groups relieved to be moving on.

I didn’t make it back to the camp for a few weeks. When I showed back up, several folks had transitioned on. Among those gone, were the strange couple.

I asked my friend what happened. “They got incredibly weird, always suggesting group sex, or odd ceremonies. I finally asked them to move on, and they did.”

I forgot about this incident for years until September 5th, 1975 (as I recall) I was just getting myself together for the day, watching TV with my friend Mike in his Westwood Blvd flat in L.A. All of a sudden, this incident came on the screen in a news flash:

I yelled out “Squeaky”! as I saw the events unfold on the TV. It was 1/2 of the two up in the camp from 6 years earlier. (I held back the name for this reveal). There she was, trying to shoot Gerald Ford in Sacramento.

It was indeed Squeaky. I believe she was one of the women that I met in this episode of my earlier life: Darkness

Her companion, as I remember “Rabbit” (aptly named, jittery fellow that he was) had supposedly/mysteriously disappeared after angering Charlie up at Spahn Ranch above Claremont California. It was said that he was killed and buried on Manson’s orders. I have no way to verify this. It was the name that he was called by the folks up at the camp in the Siskiyous.

Funny how paths cross in life. Twice with Squeaky in the flesh, and then to see her on national TV.

Over the years I have had strange occurrences up in the hills. Some four legged, mostly two legged. I took to moving off trail when I heard folks coming my way. Although there are good people everywhere, there are some strange folks up in the hills. My ex-brother-in-law had a mining claim up on the Klamath, he told me that he always packed a pistol due to the encounters he had over the years.

I confess, this chance meeting was one of the strangest. I became much more wary as the years wore on. I still exercise caution in the woods.

Thanks for reading!

G

—

Parra for Cuva – Swept Away (feat. Anna Naklab & Mr. Gramo)

A short entry. Not a bunch of verbiage, but straight to the point.

Enjoy.

___

On The Menu: The Links/ Radio EarthRites 21st year/ A Bit of Art Bohdisattva #109/ A Beautiful Tragedy / W.B. Yeats – The Second Coming

The Links: Clear Spot/A Span of Autonomy / DMT Entities possibly Real? / Why Love Matters Most / Pure Awareness: 5meO-DMT / The Importance of Counter-Clockwise Dance Rituals

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Radio EarthRites 21st year:

Listen To Radio EarthRites Here / Want to Link Radio EarthRites?

Time flies when you’re having fun. 21 years ago, an online friend suggested that I put together a radio station. At that time my website was called Earth Rites, it was a mixture of neo pagan and psychedelic writings… it included a forum which still exist to this day.

Although the station is hobbled with my lack of promotional savvy it still continues and is on 24/7 365 days a year.

It is mainly music nowadays, but it has featured poet’s philosophers and lectures on the various subjects as well over the years. We recently had a week of poetry and if I can organize it will be having more of those in the future.

We have bounced around with various providers over the years. The biggest problem has been financial in supporting the cost. Our current provider is pretty good cost wise, but we do see the station going up and down on and offline a bit too frequently. I would love to be able to run a dedicated computer with enough bandwidth out of my studio. Hopefully we can work towards that in the near future.

I do want to shout out to our supporters who have helped keep us going over the years. You know who you are, and I so appreciate your support and care and deep interest in the music that is provided along with the occasional poetry and lectures.

At this point people usually ask for donations which is all good and well… I also understand that money is tight, and the cost of living is prohibitive. I would appreciate folks sharing out the links or even posting on the site what is the good, the bad, the ugly, the moving bits about the station. Feedback is greatly appreciated so if you want to comment, please do.

In celebration the 21st year we also have a new mix that you might appreciate. Please give it a listen share it out as I’ve said and remember station is here for all of you.

Deep Thanks To All!

Gwyllm

Catch the new show here, now streaming:

Listen To Radio EarthRites

___

A Bit of Art:

Bodhisattva #109

This is one of those pieces that I put together several years ago in the mid to late ’90s. India Ink, Pen & Airbrush. I used multiple friskets on this for all the different layers that you can see. The piece took several months as I had to cut friskets for each round of spraying.

Working with multiple mediums on a piece has its challenges. One of those challenges is fixing and or ignoring mistakes. They do happen. The key perhaps is to incorporate the accident into the body of the work. Bob Ross “Happy Accidents” and all of that.

This piece follows along the line of work that I have pursued since I first discovered Mandalas back in the 1960’s. I found the mid-late 90’s particularly fruitful for art. The momentum drifted away from physical art to computer in the early 2000’s but is now cycling back. (Thankfully).

Bohdisattva #109 is available as Blotter Art currently; it will soon be released in other formats.

If you have any questions about it, techniques etc., please ask.

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A Beautiful Tragedy:

W.B. Yeats – The Second Coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

___

Thank you for visiting!

Gwyllm

Radio EarthRites Presents: “The Awakening” Dream Themes, Awakenings and much more. Music to stimulate your frontal cortex! Show Currently Playing!

Come out of the circle of time And into the circle of love. – Rumi

In Memory of John McFadden, John Vail & Jonathan Ott

Radio EarthRites: The Awakening Mix