Invisible College 5th Edition Print Release!

The Invisible College 5th Edition Print Edition!

Look at the Free Edition Here: The Invisible College PDF Editions

Pick up your Print Edition, or download a Printable Edition Here:Print Edition and Printable Download Edition
The Official Blurb: A journal exploring the Emerging World Culture, Poetry, Visionary Arts, Interviews, Fiction, Non-Fiction, Entheogenic Investigations, Spiritual Adventures laying the ground for the society of tomorrow.
In This The 5th Edition you will find:

Photo Essay – “A Visit With Albert Hoffmann – Jon Hanna Photos from the last month of Albert’s life

Featured Artist:

Leo Plaw..

Amanda Sage..

Gwyllm Llwydd..

Featured Poets:

Clark Heinrich..

Dr. Con/Juris Ahn..

Novalis..

Featured Writers:

Mike Crowley..

Padraic Colum ..

LyterPhotos..

Will Penna..

& An interview with Rak Razam Editor of “The Journeybook” and more!
There is some amazing talent on display in this edition. So what are ya waiting for? Check it out, and if you are pleased by what you see, consider buying a print copy or downloading the printable one. Lots of love and sweat went into the 5th edition of The Invisible College Magazine.
Eye Candy!
Blessings,

Gwyllm

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On The Menu:

implosion – bangen (ambient industrial coil pv)

Taoist Tales… 2 stories

Laura Riding: Poems…

Laura Riding Bio

VJ Bolverk – Inade “Titan In ” DARK AMBIENT INDUSTRIAL

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implosion – bangen (ambient industrial coil pv)

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Taoist Tales…

“The River”
Then a hunter said “speak to us of hunters.”

And Mingtian told them the story of a hunter.
Xie brought his son into the woods for his first hunt. Both carried a long, wooden pole sharpened to a deadly point into the forest, walking along the well-worn path until they reached a river, frothy and cold from the snow melts. They decided to eat lunch there, and both quickly fell asleep.

Xie woke up to find his son walking on a log that spanned the banks of the river. Before he could stop him, Little Xie fell into the muddy, bubbling river. Panicking, Little Xie’s head bobbed in and out of the water, coughing and frantically waving his arms, trying to swim upstream.
“Stay calm and follow the current. Let yourself drift to the bank.”
Little Xie did as his father said and soon reached the shore. They rested again before trekking deeper into the forest, where the large animals roamed, making their own trail as they went.
At the first sight of some deer running around in an opening, Little Xie scurried behind a tree, panting heavily and burying his face into the vines that crawled up the rough, lumpy bark.
Xie smiled and walked over to his son.
“We’ve practiced this hundreds of times before.”
“But these targets move.”
“Don’t think of their movement. The pattern of their strides will come to you if you clear your mind. Let your spear do the thinking. Act without knowledge of your actions.”
Little Xie poked his head between two bushes, observing the animal’s movements. Before he could act, one of the deer ran to the bush he was hiding behind, sniffed the air, and began eating some of the berries the bush grew. When the deer moved on, Xie looked over at his son’s terrified face.
“Act as you did in the river .”
“I don’t understand.”
“Clarity is learned by being patient in the presence of chaos. Tolerating disarray, remaining at rest, gradually one learns to allow muddy water to settle and proper responses to reveal themselves.”
At that, Little Xie stood up and moved behind a tree, watching the deer, observing their every movement. At just the right moment, he stood up, cocked his arm, and let his spear fly. It landed on target, right into the side of a deer in midstride. That night, Xie’s family had a large feast.

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A Classic Taoist Tale of Swordplay


Duke Wen of Zhao was so fond of dueling that he kept three thousand swordplayers at his residence. Day and night, they competed against another to entertain the duke. Though more than a hundred were killed every year, the duke’s fondness for swordplay never faded. Three years went by and as the state of Zhao declined, other states plotted to attack it.
Li, the crown prince, was greatly worried. He consulted his officials, promising, “Whoever can persuade the duke to give up swordplay will be rewarded with one thousand pieces of gold.” The officials all agreed, “Only Zhuangzi can accomplish the mission.”
The crown prince immediately ordered an official to send one thousand pieces of gold to Zhuangzi. Zhuangzi, however, refused to accept it and went to see the prince instead. He asked the prince, “What do you want me to do for you? Why do you grant me such a generous gift?”
Prince Li, “I’ve heard that you are an able and wise master. The gift is for your disciples. Now that you have refused to accept it, I have nothing to say!”
Zhuangzi said, “I heard that you wished me to persuade the duke to abandon his indulgence in swordplay. If my attempt should displease the duke and disappoint you at the same time, then I would be punished and killed. What would be the use for me to accept such a generous gift? On the contrary, if I could persuade the duke and please you, too, nothing I ask for from the state of Zhao should be unattainable!”
The prince agreed, and expressed his reservations. “The fact is that the duke sees nobody but these swordsmen.”
Zhuangzi replied, “That is not a problem, for I’m also skilled in swordplay.”
The prince continued, “But the players that the duke favors to see have disheveled hair, hats hanging low, and hat ribbons thick and course. They all wear fighting attire and have a glaring look. They are inarticulate blowhards. If you visit the duke in your scholar’s robes, things will end badly.”
Unperturbed, Zhuangzi said, “Please prepare the outfit of a swordsman.”
The Three Swords

For seven days the duke had his men compete with one another, during which time over sixty were killed or wounded. Finally, five were chosen and told to wait with their swords in front of the palace before Zhuangzi was called. The duke told him, “Today I’ll let you compete with these players. What kind of sword will you use, long or short?”
Zhuangzi answered, “I have three swords from which you may choose. Please allow me to explain before starting the contest.” The duke agreed.
Zhuangzi said, “The three swords are the sword of the king, the sword of the duke and the sword of the common man.”
The duke asked, “What’s the sword of the king like?”
Zhuangzi answered, “The sword of the king is made with Yanzi Gorge and Shicheng Hill as its point, Mount Tai as its blade, the states of Jin and Wei as its spine, the territory around the capital of Zhou and the state of Song as its ring, and the state of Han as its handle. It is wrapped with the uncivilized tribes and encircled with the four seasons, surrounded by the waters in the Bohai Sea, and ribboned with Mount Heng. It governs the world with the five elements and judges the right and the wrong with punishment and virtue. It initiates its power with energy of yin and yang, maintains its power with the warmth of spring and summer, and exercises its power with the force of autumn and winter. Nothing remains where the sword thrusts, whether straight forward, upward, downward, or sideward. When it pierces forward, it severs the clouds in heaven; when it swings downward, it cuts off the four corners of the earth. Once in use, it can rectify the dukes and subdue all. That is the sword of the king.”
Bewildered, Wen asked, “What is the sword of the duke?”
Zhuangzi replied, “The sword of the duke is made with men of courage and intellect at its point, men of honesty as its blade, men of capability and virtue as its spine, men of loyalty and wisdom as its ring, and men of valour as its handle. Similar to the power of the sword of the king, nothing remains wherever it goes, whether forward, upward, downward or sideward. Above, it obeys the order of the round heaven and follows the sun, the moon, and the stars. Below, it obeys the laws of the square earth and follows the four seasons. Between heaven and earth, it accords with the will of the public and achieves stability everywhere. When in use, it is as if the entire land within the borders was shaken by great thunder. No one refuses to obey its orders. That is the sword of the duke.”
The duke asked, “What about the sword of the common man?”
The reply was, “The sword of the common man is made for those with disheveled hair, hats hanging low, and hat ribbons thick and course. Its owners compete with one another and destroy themselves for show. As a result, they are either beheaded or disemboweled. In short, he who wields the sword of the common man is no different from the gamecock. Once he dies, he is no avail to the state. I say to myself that you, as the noble duke, should despise the sword of the common man you now favor.”
Duke Wen escorted Zhuangzi inside his palace, where the cook brought food. Feeling ashamed, the duke paced around the table three times. Zhuangzi said, “Your majesty, please sit down and calm yourself, for I have finished presenting my way of swordplay.”
From the Taoist classic book Zhuangzi

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Laura Riding: Poems…

With The Face
With the face goes a mirror

As with the mind a world.

Likeness tells the doubting eye

That strangeness is not strange.

At an early hour and knowledge

Identity not yet familiar

Looks back upon itself from later,

And seems itself.
To-day seems now.

With reality-to-be goes time.

With the mind goes a world.

Wit the heart goes a weather.

With the face goes a mirror

As with the body a fear.

Young self goes staring to the wall

Where dumb futurity speaks calm,

And between then and then

Forebeing grows of age.
The mirror mixes with the eye.

Soon will it be the very eye.

Soon will the eye that was

The very mirror be.

Death, the final image, will shine

Transparently not otherwise

Than as the dark sun described

With such faint brightnesses.


In Due Form
I do not doubt you.

I know you love me.

It is a fact of your indoor face,

A true fancy of your muscularity.

Your step is confident.

Your look is thorough.

Your stay-beside-me is a pillow

To roll over on

And sleep as on my own upon.
But make me a statement

In due form on endless foolscap

Witnessed before a notary

And sent by post, registered,

To be signed for on receipt

And opened under oath to believe;

An antique paper missing from my strong-box,

A bond to clutch when hail tortures the chimney

And lightning circles redder round the city,

And your brisk step and thorough look

Are gallant but uncircumstantial,

And not mentionable in a doom-book.

Yes And No
Across a continent imaginary

Because it cannot be discovered now

Upon this fully apprehended planet—

No more applicants considered,

Alas, alas—
Ran an animal unzoological,

Without a fate, without a fact,

Its private history intact

Against the travesty

Of an anatomy.
Not visible not invisible,

Removed by dayless night,

Did it ever fly its ground

Out of fancy into light,

Into space to replace

Its unwritable decease?
Ah, the minutes twinkle in and out

And in and out come and go

One by one, none by none,

What we know, what we don’t know.


The World And I
This is not exactly what I mean

Any more than the sun is the sun.

But how to mean more closely

If the sun shines but approximately?

What a world of awkwardness!

What hostile implements of sense!

Perhaps this is as close a meaning

As perhaps becomes such knowing.

Else I think the world and I

Must live together as strangers and die—

A sour love, each doubtful whether

Was ever a thing to love the other.

No, better for both to be nearly sure

Each of each—exactly where

Exactly I and exactly the world

Fail to meet by a moment, and a word.

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Laura Riding Biography:

She was born Laura Reichenthal in New York to a family of Austrian Jewish immigrants, and educated at Cornell University, where she began to write poetry, publishing first (1923-26) under the name Laura Riding Gottschalk. She became associated with the Fugitives and shared much of their poetic credo. Her first marriage, to the historian Louis Gottschalk, ended in divorce in 1925, at the end of which year she went to England at the invitation of Robert Graves and his wife Nancy Nicholson. She would remain in Europe for nearly 14 years.
Her first collection of poetry, The Close Chaplet, was published in 1926, and during the following year she assumed the surname Riding. By this time her poetry had become much more original: generally abandoning traditional metres for a highly unconventional form of free verse. She, Robert Graves, and Nancy Nicholson were based in London until Riding’s failed suicide-attempt in 1929. It is generally agreed that this episode was a major cause of the break up of Graves’s first marriage: the whole affair caused a famous literary scandal. Thereafter, until the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War in 1936, Riding and Graves lived in Deya, Mallorca, where they were visited by writers and artists including James Reeves, Norman Cameron, John Aldridge, Len Lye, Jacob Bronowski, and Honor Wyatt. Progress of Stories (1935) would later be highly esteemed by John Ashbery and Harry Mathews among others. Between 1936 and 1939 Riding and Graves lived in England, France, and Switzerland; Graves accompanied Riding on her return to the USA in 1939. In that year they parted, and she married Schuyler B. Jackson in 1941.
Riding and Graves were highly productive from the start of their association, though after they moved to Majorca they became even more so. While still in London they had set up (1927) a private press (the Seizin Press), collaborated on A Survey of Modernist Poetry (1927) (which some believe inaugurated the New Criticism), A Pamphlet Against Anthologies (1928), and other works. In Majorca the Seizin Press was enlarged to become a publishing imprint, producing inter alia the substantial hardbound critical magazine Epilogue (1935-1938), edited by Riding with Graves as associate editor. Throughout their association both of them steadily produced volumes of major poetry, culminating for each with a Collected Poems in 1938.
In about 1941 Riding renounced poetry, though it would be fifteen to twenty years before she would feel able to explain her reasons. She withdrew from public literary life, working with Schuyler Jackson on a dictionary that would lead them into an exploration of the foundations of meaning and language. In April 1962 she read ‘Introduction for a Broadcast’ for the BBC Third Programme, her first formal statement of her reasons for renouncing poetry (there had been a brief reference-book entry in 1955). An expanded version of the piece was published that year in the New York magazine Chelsea, which also published ‘Further on Poetry’ in 1964, writings on the theme of women-and-men in 1965 and 1974, and in 1967 ‘The Telling’. The 62 numbered passages of this ‘personal evangel’ formed the ‘core-part’ of a book of the same title (Athlone 1972, Harper & Row 1973, Carcanet 2005), itself arguably the core-part of her life’s work. Writings and publications continued to flow throughout the sixties, seventies, and eighties, as Laura (Riding) Jackson (her authorial name from 1963-64 onwards) explored what she regarded as the truth-potential of language free from the artificial restrictions of poetic art. ‘My faith in poetry was at heart a faith in language as the elementary wisdom’, she had written in 1976. Her later writings affirm what she regarded as the truth-potential contained in language and in the human mind.

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VJ Bolverk – Inade “Titan In ” DARK AMBIENT INDUSTRIAL

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