From Lao Tse:
In this world, there is nothing softer or thinner than water. But to compel the hard and unyielding, it has no equal. That the weak overcomes the strong, that the hard gives way to the gentle — this everyone knows. Yet no one acts accordingly.
Prepare for the difficult while it is still easy. Deal with the big while it is still small. Difficult undertakings have always started with what’s easy. Great undertakings always started with what is small. Therefore the sage never strives for the great, And thereby the great is achieved.
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Life Bubbles:
When the lack of inspiration strikes, and believe me it does… I end up looking at the entries I have lined up, sigh and walk away. Well, I have walked back, and I am letting this one go at this point.
I would like to point out that the two illustrations for this post are from the new Invisible College… where there is a new Shameless Promotional Product Posting where you can get yourself a very stylish T-Shirt(s)… we have 2 new designs!
Mary and I have been working away on the old print shop, and now have a work bench for new projects, etc.
Life slips towards the Solstice!
Bright Blessings!
Gwyllm
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On The Menu:
Bill Hicks – Manifesto
The Bothy Band – Old Hag You Have Killed Me
Joachim Du Bellay Poems
The Bothy Band – Tiocfaidh an Samhradh
Art: Gwyllm Llwydd
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Bill Hicks – Manifesto
THE COUNTS OF THE NETHERWORLD
MANIFESTO
The time has come to air the Voice of Reason,
In a world gone mad, adrift on banal seas,
For all who feel that lies have had their season,
And whose Hearts Cry Out, instead, for Honesty,
For all the weary souls grown bored with dreaming,
Whose thirst for Knowledge and for Beauty goes unslaked,
For all who long to wake from what is seeming,
And know what’s Real, and what is Real, to embrace,
For all who’ve sat and watched with mounting horror,
Evil’s reign upon this world grow ever-clear,
For all who’ve sought in vain, Emancipators,
Wielding Swords of Truth, and laughing without fear.
For all who’ve ever asked themselves in reference to the world, “Is it just me, or does this suck?” Take Heart!
It does suck, but you are not alone in thinking so. Behold the Counts!
Beacons encouraging the spark in every mind to join them in illuminating the Netherworld of our Collective Unconscious. Sleeper Awaken to the cry of players as they call for the Voice of Reason in every mind to come forth in choir and sing hymns to Beauty and Truth.
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The Bothy Band – Old Hag You Have Killed Me
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Joachim Du Bellay Poems
L’Olive augmentée: 1)
For that famous crown I feel no longing,
That sacred wreath, gold-haired Apollo wore;
Nor that of the god in India, they adore:
A simple hat round my head goes circling.
Still less do I wish for the palm they bring,
That soft branch adorning Cyprian shore:
One alone, that Athens honours more,
I wish for, which Heaven has in its granting.
O happy bough, that the wise Goddess
Chose to keep, to grace her sacred altar,
And honour her, the bough that she held dear!
Then, let mind grant me the skilfulness
To sing of you, for now I hope to render
You the equal of immortal laurel, here!
Note: The olive is taken to be an emblem, as Petrarch adopted the laurel as an emblem of Laura, and may refer to his lady’s name.
—
‘D’amour, de grace, et de haulte valeur’
(L’Olive augmentée: 2)
With love, with grace and with noble value
The divine fires were bound, and the sky
Clothed with a precious mantle, on high,
Of ardent rays of every tint and hue.
All was filled with beauty, goodness too,
The tranquil sea, the gracious winds that vie,
When she was born here, where we sigh,
She to whom all Earth’s honour does accrue.
She took her colour from the lily white,
Her hair from gold, her lips from the rose,
And from the sun her eyes glowing bright.
The heavens employed their liberality
And in her spirit their seed did enclose,
From the gods her name won immortality.
—
‘Loyre fameux, qui ta petite source’
(L’Olive augmentée: 3)
Famed Loire, who swell your little source
With a host of streams and mighty rivers,
And who, from afar, send your clear waters
Down to the Ocean, in your lively course,
Your royal head lifts itself with force
Among the finest of all the others,
Like a bull among his lesser brothers,
Though envious Po in his anger roars.
Command then the gentlest of Naiads
To leave their deep and humid quarters,
With you, whom their paternal flood I name,
To celebrate with joyous aubades,
She, who you, and your flowing daughters,
Has deified with her eternal fame.
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The Bothy Band – Tiocfaidh an Samhradh
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