“There is not a dream which may not come true, if we have the energy which makes, or chooses, our own fate…. It is only the dreams of those light sleepers who dream faintly that do not come true.”– Arthur Symons
Well, it seems Gwyllm.Com is starting to wake up again. We have had some nice activity with The Elder Interviews, and with Radio EarthRites. Happy that people are tuning in a bit. With all that has gone on over the last couple of years (health concerns for family, business weirdness, etc) returning to this format makes me quite happy. I tend to fall back into habits if they are good.
Life is sweet here at the moment. Mary and I are busy all day long, and I have also been producing a ton of art work. Not enough time even in this time of no mechanical time. The days flow into each other, and that is good. Happy for that. I hope your days are full as well, and that you are finding yourself again amidst all of the clamor. I am staying away from news as much as possible, and that has served me well. Samsara by the bucket load!
Sending Love to You all!
Gwyllm
On The Menu:
Site UpDates
The Links
Fund Raiser For Food Banks!
Death Is The Road To Awe
In The Time Of Dreams
Poesy: Arthur Symons
L’estimat del corb – L’ham de Foc
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Site UpDates:
New Content On The Way…
Well, Gwyllm.com is starting to go through some changes/upgrades. New projects etc. With the posting of The Elder Interviews with Jim Fadiman & Myron Stolaroff a page is being put together to permanently house all the interviews that we will be featuring, besides the blog post of them. Quicker access and all of that. I want to thank Diane Darling,
Jim Fadiman & Neal Goldsmith for their help on the first two entries. Stay Tuned!
Radio EarthRites…
Poets and Philosopher shows will be starting up again shortly. Also considering doing podcast if there is an interest in them. Weekly updates still going on with new music shows.
There has been discussions about collapsing all of our other sites into this one. Thoughts?
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Fund Raiser For Food Banks!
So I have taken my designs/art works and put them on to mask via RedBubble.com These are not medical grade mask, and we use them over other mask to cheer things up a bit. Profits will go to Food Banks. Lots of people in need at this time, so if you like any of these designs, please consider purchasing a couple or more.
Blessings,
G
Click on any of the pictures to go to the Gallery!
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The Links:
Becoming Commodity, The Sacred
In the Ground of Our Unknowing
Female Husbands
The Great Healing
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Death Is The Road To Awe:
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In The Time Of Dreams:
So this has been a time of dreams… Have you felt it, have you experienced it?
As some of you may know I spent many years as a silk screen artist/printer. I primarily printed T-shirts… (with air brushing thrown in) but my one great desire that I never really got to was printing posters and books. I got caught up in the idea of wearable art… Perhaps now that’s going to change with the way the world is going.
So here is how this all ties into dreams. A few weeks ago at the beginning of the social distancing isolation period… I was having very restless nights as I am sure many of you were as well.
Dreams were becoming more and more vivid and as that was happening it seemed like I was diving deeper into that realm. (I have times when I think the dreamtime is where I really exist.) Some of my best art, at least in my opinion comes from dreams that I have had.
This is about one of the dreams I had…
In The Dream: I was in a bright sunny studio with my silk screen/serigraph setup and I was engaged in printing a book of art, dreams, thoughts, and philosophy. The sheets of vellum I was printing upon were of exquisite quality. I was printing with silver or platinum ink that reflected light. It was a moment in dreamtime that was… Perfection. The sensations were all emotional. Producing something of great beauty to which I had been striving for all of my life.
Dream state with me now like other important dreams have. Is this a moment of precognition?
Is it just the inner workings of a fevered mind during this time of pandemic?
Is it desire?
Maybe it is all of these. I do admit I have the desire to do silk screen work again and I love the idea a huge project it will take me weeks, maybe months to complete.
Of course the lack of funds is an obstruction but it has never stopped me before, nor would it stop me now if I choose to go down this path….
But let us enlarge a bit…
Dreamtime is where we often start a new life, the new ways of existing. I sincerely believe that we are at a juncture in time, if time even exist anymore… that is at a crossroads for humanity and the planet.
I do not want what was considered normal back again. I want a gentler world where people plant gardens for the present and fruit trees for the future and all the various iterations that these symbolically mean.
Everything we do in the creative that is not tied to survival has been said to be art. A garden, a painting, a beautiful dwelling, a story whispered to a child falling asleep, a song sung alone or in chorus with others are all the most human of expressions. Perhaps a world more filled with art. Perhaps a world born anew, where the barriers of our sleeping awareness at last intermingles with the Dreamtime, with the Imaginal, with Original Mind.
If there is a dream to wake up from, it is the dream of the State. Not so much a dream, as a nightmare. (1)
But, Back To Dreams:
Let us, perhaps follow those messages that come unbidden. Let us, heed the voice that comes from the Sibyl within. Now is the time, now is our time to bring the dreaming into reality. Change the world for the better. Dreaming a new one into existence.
Pax,
Gwyllm
(1) History in general is a catalog of bad decisions, poorly thought out planning disagreements. It has little to do with the actual workings of the world. In the true world, As I see it (and of course this is just an opinion) 99.99 percent of humans get along fine with each other with the occasional disagreements.
Wars and violence are an anomaly and I have come to think truly symptomatic of hierarchy and outmoded neolithic behavioral patterns. (of course humans are capable of violence and there is plenty of evidence of pre-neolithic behaviours along these lines) I shan’t go into all details here but it does indeed start within the complex of religion married to state and those earlier civilizations….
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Poesy Arthur Symons:
The Loom Of Dreams
I broider the world upon a loom,
I broider with dreams my tapestry;
Here in a little lonely room
I am master of earth and sea,
And the planets come to me.
I broider my life into the frame,
I broider my love, thread upon thread;
The world goes by with its glory and shame,
Crowns are bartered and blood is shed;
I sit and broider my dreams instead.
And the only world is the world of my dreams,
And my weaving the only happiness;
For what is the world but what it seems?
And who knows but that God, beyond our guess,
Sits weaving worlds out of loneliness?
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Amends To Nature
I have loved colours, and not flowers;
Their motion, not the swallows wings;
And wasted more than half my hours
Without the comradeship of things.
How is it, now, that I can see,
With love and wonder and delight,
The children of the hedge and tree,
The little lords of day and night?
How is it that I see the roads,
No longer with usurping eyes,
A twilight meeting-place for toads,
A mid-day mart for butterflies?
I feel, in every midge that hums,
Life, fugitive and infinite,
And suddenly the world becomes
A part of me and I of it.
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Love & Sleep
I have laid sorrow to sleep;
Love sleeps.
She who oft made me weep
Now weeps.
I loved, and have forgot,
And yet
Love tells me she will not
Forget.
She it was bid me go;
Love goes
By what strange ways, ah! no
One knows.
Because I cease to weep,
She weeps.
Here by the sea in sleep,
Love sleeps.
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De Profundis Clemadi
I did not know; child, child, I did not know,
Who now in lonely wayfare go,
Who wander lonely of you, O my child,
And by myself exiled.
I did not know, but, O white soul of youth,
So passionate of truth,
So amorous of duty, and so strong
To suffer, not to suffer wrong,
Is there for me no pity, who am weak?
Spare me this silence, speak!
I did not know: I wronged you; I repent:
But will you not relent?
Must I still wander, outlawed, and go on
The old weary ways alone,
As in the old intolerable days
Before I saw you face to face,
The doubly darkened ways since you withdraw
Your light, that was my law?
I charge you by your soul, pause, ere you hurl
Sheer to destruction, girl,
A poor soul that had midway struggled out,
Still midway clogged about,
And for the love of you had turned his back
Upon the miry track,
That had been as a grassy wood-way, dim
With violet-beds, to him.
I wronged you, but I loved you; and to me
Your love was purity;
I rose, because you called me, and I drew
Nearer to God, in you.
I fall, and if you leave me, I must fall
To that last depth of all,
Where not the miracle of even your eyes
Can bid the dead arise.
I charge you that you save not your own sense
Of lilied innocence,
By setting, at the roots of that fair stem,
A murdered thing, to nourish them.
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L’estimat del corb – L’ham de Foc:
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“A bodhisattva doesn’t have to be perfect. Anyone who is aware of what is happening and who tries to wake up other people is a bodhisattva. We are all bodhisattvas, doing our best.” – Nhat Hanh
