PREHISTORIC ORIGINS OF DNA
Its rising is not bright
nor its setting dark
Branching out in roots innumerable
Forever sending forth the serpent coil
of living things
Mysterious as the formless existence
to which it returns
We say only that it is form from the formless
Life from spiral void
-Tim Leary — from Psychedelic Prayers
Return to the source
honing in on the signal
a bee to nectar.
Here is to source, and finding ones way. Here is to helping the traveler on their way. Here is to bravery of every chosen path…
I have become enamored of a past I am just discovering, understanding how others lit my way when even I was not aware of it. This is praise, for voices unknown, whose generosity of spirit, and adventuring of soul laid the way open for all that has come forth.
There is nothing like the present, I will grant you that. Without those who blazed the trails, where would we be now I ask?
Our last entry for July. This one came together, like the early morning it was conceived upon. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed bringing its diverse elements together.
On The Menu:
Marianne Faithfull – Si Demain
The Were-Wolf In The Middle-Ages
Sky Taste Alive Inside
Marianne Faithfull – Lullaby
The voice! Ah!
Marianne Faithfull – Si Demain
A further exploration of the shape-shifter, from an earlier time. – G
The Book of Were-Wolves, by Sabine Baring-Gould, 
The Were-Wolf In The Middle-Ages
Stories from Olaus Magnus of Livonian Were-wolves–Story from Bishop Majolus–Story of Albertus Pericofcius–Similar occurrence at Prague–Saint Patrick–Strange incident related by John of Nüremberg–Bisclaveret–Courland Were-wolves–Pierre Vidal–Pavian Lycanthropist–Bodin’s Stories–Forestus’ Account of a Lycanthropist–Neapolitan Were-wolf
OLAUS MAGNUS relates that–”In Prussia, Livonia, and Lithuania, although the inhabitants suffer considerably from the rapacity of wolves throughout the year, in that these animals rend their cattle, which are scattered in great numbers through the woods, whenever they stray in the very least, yet this is not regarded by them as such a serious matter as what they endure from men turned into wolves.
“On the feast of the Nativity of Christ, at night, such a multitude of wolves transformed from men gather together in a certain spot, arranged among themselves, and then spread to rage with wondrous ferocity against human beings, and those animals which are not wild, that the natives of these regions suffer more detriment from these, than they do from true and natural wolves; for when a human habitation has been detected by them isolated in the woods, they besiege it with atrocity, striving to break in the doors, and in the event of their doing so, they devour all the human beings, and every animal which is found within. They burst into the beer-cellars, and there they empty the tuns of beer or mead, and pile up the empty casks one above another in the middle of the cellar, thus showing their difference from natural and genuine wolves. . . . Between Lithuania, Livonia, and Courland are the walls of a certain old ruined castle. At this spot congregate thousands, on a fixed occasion, and try their agility in jumping. Those who are unable to bound over the wall, as; is often the case with the fattest, are fallen upon with scourges by the captains and slain.” Olaus relates also in c. xlvii. the story of a certain nobleman who was travelling through a large forest with some peasants in his retinue who dabbled in the black art. They found no house [1. OLAUS MAGNUS: Historia de Vent. Septent. Basil. 15, lib. xviii. cap. 45.] where they could lodge for the night, and were well-nigh famished. Then one of the peasants offered, if all the rest would hold their tongues as to what he should do, that he would bring them a lamb from a distant flock.
He thereupon retired into the depths of the forest and changed his form into that of a wolf, fell upon the flock, and brought a lamb to his companions in his mouth. They received it with gratitude. Then he retired once more into the thicket, and transformed himself back again into his human shape.
The wife of a nobleman in Livonia expressed her doubts to one of her slaves whether it were possible for man or woman thus to change shape. The servant at once volunteered to give her evidence of the possibility. He left the room, and in another moment a wolf was observed running over the country. The dogs followed him, and notwithstanding his resistance, tore out one of his eyes. Next day the slave appeared before his mistress blind of an eye.
Bp. Majolus and Caspar Peucer relate the following circumstances of the Livonians:–
[1. MAJOLI Episc. Vulturoniensis Dier. Canicul. Helenopolis, 1612, tom. ii. colloq. 3.
2. CASPAR PEUCER: Comment. de Præcipuis Divin. Generibus, 1591, p. 169.]
At Christmas a boy lame of a leg goes round the country summoning the devil’s followers, who are countless, to a general conclave. Whoever remains behind, or goes reluctantly, is scourged by another with an iron whip till the blood flows, and his traces are left in blood. The human form vanishes, and the whole multitude become wolves. Many thousands assemble. Foremost goes the leader armed with an iron whip, and the troop follow, “firmly convinced in their imaginations that they are transformed into wolves.” They fall upon herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, but they have no power to slay men. When they come to a river, the leader smites the water with his scourge, and it divides, leaving a dry path through the midst, by which the pack may go. The transformation lasts during twelve days, at the expiration of which period the wolf-skin vanishes, and the human form reappears. This superstition was expressly forbidden by the church. “Credidisti, quod quidam credere solent, ut illæ quæ a vulgo Parcæ vocantur, ipsæ, vel sint vel possint hoc facere quod creduntur, id est, dum aliquis homo nascitur, et tunc valeant illum designare ad hoc quod velint, ut quandocunque homo ille voluerit, in lupum transformari possit, quod vulgaris stultitia, werwolf vocat, aut in aliam aliquam figuram?”–Ap. Burchard. (d. 1024). In like manner did S. Boniface preach against those who believed superstitiously in it strigas et fictos lupos.” (Serm. apud Mart. et Durand. ix. 217.)
In a dissertation by Müller we learn, on the authority of Cluverius and Dannhaverus (Acad. Homilet. p. ii.), that a certain Albertus Pericofcius in Muscovy was wont to tyrannize over and harass his subjects in the most unscrupulous manner. One night when he was absent from home, his whole herd of cattle, acquired by extortion, perished. On his return he was informed of his loss, and the wicked man broke out into the most horrible blasphemies, exclaiming, “Let him who has slain, eat; if God chooses, let him devour me as well.”
As he spoke, drops of blood fell to earth, and the nobleman, transformed into a wild dog, rushed upon his dead cattle, tore and mangled the carcasses and began to devour them; possibly he may be devouring them still (ac forsan hodie que pascitur). His wife, then near her confinement, died of fear. Of these circumstances there were not only ear but also eye witnesses. (Non ab auritis tantum, sed et ocidatis accepi, quod [1. De Λυκανθρωπία. Lipsiæ, 1736.] narro). Similarly it is related of a nobleman in the neighbourhood of Prague, that he robbed his subjects of their goods and reduced them to penury through his exactions. He took the last cow from a poor widow with five children, but as a judgment, all his own cattle died. He then broke into fearful oaths, and God transformed him into a dog: his human head, however, remained.
S. Patrick is said to have changed Vereticus, king of Wales, into a wolf, and S. Natalis, the abbot, to have pronounced anathema upon an illustrious family in Ireland; in consequence of which, every male and female take the form of wolves for seven years and live in the forests and career over the bogs, howling mournfully, and appeasing their hunger upon the sheep of the peasants. A duke of Prussia, according to Majolus, had a countryman brought for sentence before him, because he had devoured his neighbour’s cattle. The fellow was an ill-favoured, deformed man, with great wounds in his face, which he had received from dogs’ bites whilst he had been in his wolf’s form. It was believed that he changed shape twice in the year, at Christmas and at Midsummer. He was said to exhibit much uneasiness [1. PHIL. HARTUNG: Conciones Tergeminæ, pars ii. p. 367.] and discomfort when the wolf-hair began to break out and his bodily shape to change.
He was kept long in prison and closely watched, lest he should become a were-wolf during his confinement and attempt to escape, but nothing remarkable took place. If this is the same individual as that mentioned by Olaus Magnus, as there seems to be a probability, the poor fellow was burned alive.
John of Nüremberg relates the following curious story. A priest was once travelling in a strange country, and lost his way in a forest. Seeing a fire, he made towards it, and beheld a wolf seated over it. The wolf addressed him in human-voice, and bade him not fear, as “he was of the Ossyrian race, of which a man and a woman were doomed to spend a certain number of years in wolf’s form. Only after seven years might they return home and resume their former shapes, if they were still alive.” He begged the priest to visit and console his sick wife, and to give her the last sacraments. This the priest consented to do, after some hesitation, and only when convinced of the beasts being human beings, by observing that the wolf used his front paws as hands, and when he saw the [1. JOHN EUS. NIERENBERG de Miracul. in Europa, lib. ii. cap. 42.] she-wolf peel off her wolf-skin from her head to her navel, exhibiting the features of an aged woman.
Marie de France says in the Lais du Bisclaveret:–
Bisclaveret ad nun en Bretan
Garwall Papelent li Norman.
* * * *
Jadis le poet-hum oir
Et souvent suleit avenir,
Humes pluseirs Garwall deviendrent
E es boscages meisun tindrent
There is an interesting paper by Rhanæus, on the Courland were-wolves, in the Breslauer Sammlung. The author says,–”There are too many examples derived not merely from hearsay, but received on indisputable evidence, for us to dispute the fact, that Satan–if we do not deny that such a being exists, and that he has his work in the children of darkness–holds the Lycanthropists in his net in three ways:–
“1. They execute as wolves certain acts, such as seizing a sheep, or destroying cattle, &c., not changed into wolves, which no scientific man in Courland believes, but in their human frames, and with their
[1. An epitome of this curious were-wolf tale will be found in Ellis’s Early English Metrical Romances.
2. Supplement III. Curieuser und nutzbarer Anmerkungen von Natur und Kunstgeschichten, gesammelt von Kanold. 1728.] human limbs, yet in such a state of phantasy and hallucination, that they believe themselves transformed into wolves, and are regarded as such by others suffering under similar hallucination, and in this manner run these people in packs as wolves, though not true wolves.
“2. They imagine, in deep sleep or dream, that they injure the cattle, and this without leaving their conch; but it is their master who does, in their stead, what their fancy points out, or suggests to him.
“3. The evil one drives natural wolves to do some act, and then pictures it so well to the sleeper, immovable in his place, both in dreams and at awaking, that he believes the act to have been committed by himself.”
Rhanæus, under these heads, relates three stories, which he believes be has on good authority. The first is of a gentleman starting on a journey, who came upon a wolf engaged in the act of seizing a sheep in his own flock; he fired at it, and wounded it, so that it fled howling to the thicket. When the gentleman returned from his expedition he found the whole neighbourhood impressed with the belief that he had, on a given day and hour, shot at one of his tenants, a publican, Mickel. p. 62 On inquiry, the man’s Wife, called Lebba, related the following circumstances, which were fully corroborated by numerous witnesses:–When her husband had sown his rye he had consulted with his wife how he was to get some meat, so as to have a good feast. The woman urged him on no account to steal from his landlord’s flock, because it was guarded by fierce dogs. He, however, rejected her advice, and Mickel fell upon his landlord’s sheep, but he had suffered and had come limping home, and in his rage at the ill success of his attempt, had fallen upon his own horse and had bitten its throat completely through. This took place in the year 1684.
In 1684, a man was about to fire upon a pack of wolves, when he heard from among the troop a voice exclaiming–”Gossip! Gossip! don’t fire. No good will come of it.”
The third story is as follows:–A lycanthropist was brought before a judge and accused of witchcraft, but as nothing could be proved against him, the judge ordered one of his peasants to visit the man in his prison, and to worm the truth out of him, and to persuade the prisoner to assist him in revenging himself upon another peasant who had injured him; and this was to be effected by destroying one of the man’s cows; but the peasant was to urge the prisoner to do it secretly, and, if possible, in the disguise of a wolf. The fellow undertook the task, but he had great difficulty in persuading the prisoner to fall in with his wishes: eventually, however, he succeeded. Next morning the cow was found in its stall frightfully mangled, but the prisoner had not left his cell: for the watch, who had been placed to observe him, declared that he had spent the night in profound sleep, and that he had only at one time made a slight motion with his head and hands and feet.
Wierius and Forestus quote Gulielmus Brabantinus as an authority for the fact, that a man of high position had been so possessed by the evil one, that often during the year he fell into a condition in which he believed himself to be turned into a wolf, and at that time he roved in the woods and tried to seize and devour little children, but that at last, by God’s mercy, he recovered his senses.
Certainly the famous Pierre Vidal, the Don Quixote of Provençal troubadours, must have had a touch of this madness, when, after having fallen in love with a lady of Carcassone, named Loba, or the Wolfess, the excess of his passion drove him over the country, howling like a wolf, and demeaning himself more like an irrational beast than a rational man.
He commemorates his lupine madness in the poem A tal Donna:–
Crowned with immortal joys I mount
The proudest emperors above,
For I am honoured with the love
Of the fair daughter of a count.
A lace from Na Raymbauda’s hand
I value more than all the land
Of Richard, with his Poïctou,
His rich Touraine and famed Anjou.
When loup-garou the rabble call me,
When vagrant shepherds hoot,
Pursue, and buffet me to boot,
It doth not for a moment gall me;
I seek not palaces or halls,
Or refuge when the winter falls;
Exposed to winds and frosts at night,
My soul is ravished with delight.
Me claims my she-wolf (Loba) so divine:
And justly she that claim prefers,
For, by my troth, my life is hers
More than another’s, more than mine.
Job Fincelius relates the sad story of a farmer of Pavia, who, as a wolf, fell upon many men in the open country and tore them to pieces. After much trouble [1. BRUCE WHYTE: Histoire des Langues Romaines, tom. ii. p. 248. 2. FINCELIUS de Mirabilibus, lib. xi.]the maniac was caught, and he then assured his captors that the only difference which existed between himself and a natural wolf, was that in a true wolf the hair grew outward, whilst in him it struck inward. In order to put this assertion to the proof, the magistrates, themselves most certainly cruel and bloodthirsty wolves, cut off his arms and legs; the poor wretch died of the mutilation. This took place in 1541. The idea of the skin being reversed is a very ancient one: versipellis occurs as a name of reproach in Petronius, Lucilius, and Plautus, and resembles the Norse hamrammr.
Fincelius relates also that, in 1542, there was such a multitude of were-wolves about Constantinople that the Emperor, accompanied by his guard, left the city to give them a severe correction, and slew one hundred and fifty of them.
Spranger speaks of three young ladies who attacked a labourer, under the form of cats, and were wounded by him. They were found bleeding in their beds next morning.
Majolus relates that a man afflicted with lycanthropy was brought to Pomponatius. The poor fellow had been found buried in hay, and when people approached, he called to them to flee, as he was a werewolf, and would rend them. The country-folk wanted to flay him, to discover whether the hair grew inwards, but Pomponatius rescued the man and cured him.
Bodin tells some were-wolf stories on good authority; it is a pity that the good authorities of Bodin were such liars, but that, by the way. He says that the Royal Procurator-General Bourdin had assured him that he had shot a wolf, and that the arrow had stuck in the beast’s thigh. A few hours after, the arrow was found in the thigh of a man in bed. In Vernon, about the year 1566, the witches and warlocks gathered in great multitudes, under the shape of cats. Four or five men were attacked in a lone place by a number of these beasts. The men stood their ground with the utmost heroism, succeeded in slaying one puss, and in wounding many others. Next day a number of wounded women were found in the town, and they gave the judge an accurate account of all the circumstances connected with their wounding.
Bodin quotes Pierre Marner, the author of a treatise on sorcerers, as having witnessed in Savoy the transformation of men into wolves. Nynauld relates that in a village of Switzerland, near Lucerne, a peasant was [1. NYNAULD, De la Lycanthropie. Paris, 1615, p. 52.] attacked by a wolf, whilst he was hewing timber; he defended himself, and smote off a fore-leg of the beast. The moment that the blood began to flow the wolf’s form changed, and he recognized a woman without her arm. She was burnt alive.
An evidence that beasts are transformed witches is to be found in their having no tails. When the devil takes human form, however, he keeps his club-foot of the Satyr, as a token by which he may be recognized. So animals deficient in caudal appendages are to be avoided, as they are witches in disguise. The Thingwald should consider the case of the Manx cats in its next session.
Forestus, in his chapter on maladies of the brain, relates a circumstance which came under his own observation, in the middle of the sixteenth century, at Alcmaar in the Netherlands. A peasant there was attacked every spring with a fit of insanity; under the influence of this he rushed about the churchyard, ran into the church, jumped over the benches, danced, was filled with fury, climbed up, descended, and never remained quiet. He carried a long staff in his hand, with which he drove away the dogs, which flew at him and wounded him, so that his thighs were covered with scars. His face was pale, his eyes deep sunk in their sockets. Forestus pronounces the man to be a lycanthropist, but he does not say that the poor fellow believed himself to be transformed into a wolf. In reference to this case, however, he mentions that of a Spanish nobleman who believed himself to be changed into a bear, and who wandered filled with fury among the woods.
Donatus of Altomare affirms that he saw a man in the streets of Naples, surrounded by a ring of people, who in his were-wolf frenzy had dug up a corpse and was carrying off the leg upon his shoulders. This was in the middle of the sixteenth century.
[1. De Medend. Human. Corp. lib. i. cap. 9.]
This is the second themed poem that I have published of George Andrews. Both poems were retrieved from “The Psychedelic Review”
(Gwyllm – MacGreggor Mathers)
Sky Taste Alive Inside
I feel like a rocket that has just been launched
brain waves travel at the speed of light
shot through by all the stars
tense liquid movements turn me inside out
I am in all the worlds at once
after I have made a flute from the bones of my own skeleton
then I can begin to dance
my own ghost is holy and it is all I have
mother earth alive within me
calling all her children home
lost ones playing in the sky
I am in all your eyes
we are all inside each other’s bones
all wearing jewels from the same ocean
radioactive salt sounding in each ear
it is working just like magic sure as shit
writing with my own intestines
writing in my own intestines
signatures of maker sealer in order of the chromosomes
supreme secret foundation of the empire
protector of what is fine in all the worlds
of what in all the worlds holds true
coming up from beneath out of the abyss
tortoise shell oracle from the depths of time
seed of the space tribe planted before history began
rainbows oscillate through the flesh
innumerable worlds revolving in the galaxy of each individual sack of skin
each sensitive hungry island universe of an ego
has been alive in all the centuries
all the centuries are alive in me now
all is here now
all that ever was since time began
sea of primal radiance foam from which beauty springs
rare mountain fragance snowdrop breath
organic rainbow constellation
from inside the tissues paradise rays transform the flesh
revolution of the beautiful in the protoplasm
micro-explosion in the nucleus
morning glory story older than the earth we walk on
electromagnetic apple in the ecstatic garden
the scimitar of lightning severs my head from my shoulders
celestial earth within my flesh awakens the subtle part of my solid self
as caterpillar becomes butterfly so man becomes
a luminous giant thundering anthems
crown jewel on the forehead of our star the earth
recognize the other world in this one
the light takes me apart then puts me together again
bird in the mouth of the jaguar saved by a virgin’s hand
the markings on the tiger skin are in the language of the diamond back rattlers
zero in on one of those acts bathed in the fragance of the night
scars of passion like the markings on an animal’s coat
tell-tale traces of past experience
mother’s broth of many generations of lamentations
sort all the ingredients out
put each one in its proper place
now let’s begin again
the family of the forces in harmony
all back home again in one stew
traces of yesterday stirring in today’s home cooking
the dead in conscious contact with the living
ancestral traits alive and speaking
true nobility is this memory engraved in the bones
transformation thrice sanctified of the fossil into a living being
all the joy of what never was at last has a chance to be
scintillating at the peak each atom has danced its glory
when really pinned down up here
there is a lot of fast action for enormous stakes
scurrying of insect feet wars of species
whole lifetimes of energy being oozled up in a few instants
the marrow of the soul extracted
look into the fiery opal listen to the djinn
empty place between the eyes
space animal hidden in the human form
royal tiger science king game
armor of chain lightening links each star to its nerve
incredible night-hawks on the frontier of the open sky
extreme weathering of time along the seams of matter
cut that queen bee nectar with a knife of pollen
rainbow amoebas in my organism I am an organism of
crystallized light chords
each cell is an instrument in the orchestra of the body
floating cushion of joyous resonance
sound box swinging through the structure of the being
each cell in the body can communicate with any cell of any body
cosmic joke being played in the navel of the radiance
in the cauldron of exploding ether
you may think you are pissing it out of you
but it is in the salt of the bones forever
Short Interview, then an amazing piece of music. Enjoy.
Marianne Faithfull – Lullaby
The Tao that can be trodden is not the enduring and
unchanging Tao. The name that can be named is not the enduring and
(Conceived of as) having no name, it is the Originator of heaven
and earth; (conceived of as) having a name, it is the Mother of all
Always without desire we must be found,
If its deep mystery we would sound;
But if desire always within us be,
Its outer fringe is all that we shall see.
Under these two aspects, it is really the same; but as development
takes place, it receives the different names. Together we call them
the Mystery. Where the Mystery is the deepest is the gate of all that
is subtle and wonderful.