Room At The Feast

O infinite Consciousness,
brimming with elixir,
You live within my body,
and I worship only You.
I do not care
if I die, take birth,
or pass into some other state.
These things are so ordinary now
. – Lalla Ded

Sappho on the Leucadian Cliff – Pierre Narcisse Guerin

Room At The Feast…
I have laid a banquet out for all of you; and you can partake of it as you like. A large serving of Coleman Barks reciting Rumi, The Diamond Sutra, as well as the Poetic works of Lalla Ded, the poetess of Kashmir. I am also introducing you to Roberto Labansat, one of the most influential persons in my life, and to the quotes of his last teacher, Yogananda. For desert, there are the links, and a bit of a message about Poetry Post… and the art of Pierre Narcisse Guerin.

I have been assembling this one for awhile, and it just kept growing. I better get it out there!

We all got out today, washed the Land Cruiser and Rowan’s car. We spent a long time at it, but it was a lot of fun. I think the vehicles appreciated it! We vacuumed, scrubbed the dirt off, put tools and ladder away, and used old tooth brushes for a bit of detailing the shiny bits.

I have been doing a re-design of Earth Rites as well, stay tuned on that side of things. Teaching myself Word Press……. another trick for an old dog.

Hope that spring (or fall) is treating you nicely. It is lovely in South East Portland, I swear.

Bright Blessings,
Gwyllm
___________

On The Menu:
The Links…
Poetry Post!
Paramahansa Yogananda Quotes
Roberto Labansat
Coleman Barks “Love Dogs” by Rumi
The Diamond Scripture( (Vajracchedika Sutra)
Coleman Barks “What Was Said To The Rose” by Rumi
The Poetic Gems of Lalla Ded
Lalla Ded: A Short Biography
RUMI: 800th Birthday, Coleman Barks, Sukhawat Ali Khan, Stephen Kent
________________
The Links:
Who’s Daddy?
Air Traffic in a 24 Hour Period
The Day The Earth Froze?
The Cop Who Saw Reptilians..
________________

Poetry Post: PoetryPost.org
I have launched a new site in conjunction with two friends of mine, Paul and Terry. We have decided to provide Poetry Post to those who want them. Our first installations are going in this next week, I will be alerting people to where you can find them.

I became obsessed by the idea about a year ago, and Paul made one up for me (see the illustration to the left) and it was pretty amazing to see peoples reactions to it. I have had just about every neighbor on the block come by and comment on it (favorably), and have been thanked again and again by passers by. I am introduced in the greater neighborhood as the guy who put up the Poetry Post… Well, it has had a positive effect here, and I am sure it will in other locations.

The Poetry Post can be used for poetry, art work, community announcements and more. We will be providing a poetry service as well, please check out the new site!

Cheers,
Gwyllm
________________

In memory of my teacher, Roberto Labansat…
Paramahansa Yogananda Quotes:

“There is a magnet in your heart that will attract true friends. That magnet is unselfishness, thinking of others first… when you learn to live for others, they will live for you.”

“Let my soul smile through my heart and my heart smile through my eyes, that I may scatter rich smiles in sad hearts.”

“Truth is exact correspondence with reality.”

“The happiness of one’s own heart alone cannot satisfy the soul; one must try to include, as necessary to one’s own happiness, the happiness of others.”

“Remain calm, serene, always in command of yourself. You will then find out how easy it is to get along.”

Roberto Labansat:

This is a picture of Roberto Labansat; dear friend and teacher for many of my early years. He may of introduced me to Yogananda, it has been so many years ago now, I can’t quite really recall.

Roberto worked for many years in the film industry. I first met him in the summer of 1967 on Westwood Blvd. in Los Angeles. It was late at night, and I was visiting the metaphysical school that my mother had become involved with. Roberto took one look at me, started to laugh and gave me a big hug. He knew crazy when he saw it! 80) He also knew how to make a young person feel comfortable, and accepted. He had such a talent of truly being human. In the 25 years that I knew him, I never heard an unkind word, or raised voice from Roberto. He was an early psychedelic pioneer (hence knowing “crazy”), and at the end of his life a devoted member of the Yogananda community.

He came from an amazing background; his grandfather had come to Mexico from France with the army of Napoleon III, and deserted shortly after, marrying into an indigenous family in Northern Mexico. His son, Roberto’s father was a scout for Pancho Villa. Roberto on his off time from the film industry would travel the back ways of Central and South America. He was known to disappear for 6 months at a time into the depths of the Yucatan with a canoe going up the back waters, or into the Peruvian Amazon. He taught me much through his kindness and his keen observations of indigenous life. He never would be brusque when I made a glaring error, but would guide me back to track very readily and gently. He taught me that dreams were important, and that they were visionary and not to be forgotten. We had long conversations about Brujos and Brujas back before the term “Shamanism” had crept into our collective vocabulary. He had no illusions about the concepts of spiritual warfare that shamanism holds for those that actually practice it. He cautioned me deeply about this path; as he was quite familiar with its traditions from his past.

Roberto died in 1992, 3 years after Mary and I last saw him in Los Angeles. I remember his visits to our place on Orange Grove near the L.A. Museum. Late afternoons, sunset off into the west, and Roberto weaving stories and allegories for the pair of us. I thought we had years more together, but it wasn’t to be. Like all good story tellers, Roberto left me wanting more.

His presence is dearly missed until this day. Roberto… here is to thinking about you, and to the legacy you past on.
________________

Coleman Barks “Love Dogs” by Rumi

_______________

For The Buddha’s Birthday, this past week!

The Diamond Sutra (Vajracchedika Scripture)

Thus have I heard. Upon a memorable occasion, the Lord Buddha sojourned in the kingdom of Shravasti, lodging in the grove of Jeta, a park within the royal domain which Jeta, the heir-apparent, had bestowed upon Sutana, a minister of state renouned for his charities and benefactions. With the Lord Buddha there were assembled twelve hundred and fifty mendicant disciples, besides many who had attained to eminent degrees of spiritual wisdom.

As the hour for the morning meal approached, Lord Buddha attired in a mendicant’s robe and carrying an alms bowl, walked towards the great cry of Shravasti which he entered to beg for food. Within the city he went from door to door and received such gifts as the good people severally bestowed. Concluding this religious exercise, the Lord Buddha returned to the grove of Jeta and after bathing his sacred feet partook of the frugal meal which he had received as alms. Thereafter he divested himself of the mendicant’s robe, laid aside the alms bowl and accepted the seat of honor which his disciples had reserved for him.

The venerable Subhuti, who occupied a place in the midst of the assembly, rose from his seat, arranged his robe so that his right shoulder was exposed, pressing the palms of his hands together, and kneeling upon his right knee, respectfully bowed to the Lord Buddha, saying: “Thou art of transcendent wisdom, Honored of the Worlds! With wonderful solicitude thou dost instruct in the Dharma and preserve in the faith this illustrious assembly of enlightened disciples. Blessed One, may I beseech of you to discourse upon the theme: How should a disciple who has entered upon the path behave? How should he advance? How should he restrain his thoughts? How may he realise Buddahood? What immutable Truth is there that shall sustain the mind of a good disciple, who is seeking to attain supreme spiritual wisdom, and bring into subjection every inordinate desire?”

The Lord Buddha replied to Sabuti, saying: “Truly a most excellent theme. Attend diligently unto me and I will enunciate a Truth whereby the mind of a good disciple, whether man or woman, seeking to attain supreme spiritual wisdom shall be adequately sustained and enabled to bring into subjection every inordinate desire.

“Subhuti, it is by the Truth of emptiness and egolessness that enlightened disciples are to advance along the Path, to restrain their thoughts, to attain Buddahood. If they diligently observe the Paramitas, and fully enter into a realisation of the profound Prajna Paramita, they will attain the supreme spiritual wisdom they seek.”

DANA PARAMITA–IDEAL CHARITY

“Subhuti, good disciples, whether man or woman, should thus arrange their thoughts. Every species of life whether hatched in an egg, formed in a womb, evolved from spawn, produced by metamorphosis, with or without form, possessing or devoid of natural instinct or intelligence,–from these changeful conditions of being, I urge you to seek deliverance in the transcendental concept of Nirvana. Thus shall disciples be delivered from the immeasurable, innumerable, and illimitable world of sentient life, but, in reality, there is no world of sentient life from which to seek deliverance. And why? Because, in the minds of enlightened disciples there have ceased to exist such arbitrary concepts of phenomena as an entity, a being, a living being, a personality.”

(Subhuti, regarding the Dana Paramita–Ideal Charity, the Awakening of Faith Scripture teaches how disciples should practise charity. It says: “If persons should come to them and ask for something, they should as far as their means allow, supply it ungrudgingly and thus make them happy. If they see people threatened with danger, they should try every means for rescuing them and restore them to a feeling of safety. If people come to them desiring instruction in the Dharma, they should, as far as they are acquainted with it and according to their discretion, deliver discourses upon religious themes. And when they are performing these acts of charity, let them not cherish any desire for fame or advantage, nor covet any earthly reward. Thinking only of the benefits and blessings that are to be mutually shared, let them aspire for the most excellent, the most perfect wisdom.”)

The Lord Buddha resumed: “Moreover, Subhuti, an enlightened disciple in his acts of charity, ought to act spontaneously, uninfluenced by such things as form, sound, taste, odour, touch, discrimination, and favoritism. It is imperative that an enlightened disciple, in the exercise of charity, should act independent of phenomena. And why? Because, acting without regard to illusive forms of phenomena, he will realise in the exercise of charity a merit inestimable and immeasurable.

“Subhuti, what think you? Is it possible to estimate the distances that comprise the illimitable universe of space?”

Subhuti replied: “Blessed One! It is impossible to estimate the distances comprising the illimitable universe of space.”

The Lord Buddha continued: “It is equally impossible to estimate the merit of an enlightened disciple who practises charity unperturbed by the disturbing influences of Phenomena. Subhuti, the minds of all disciples ought thus to be taught.”

SILA PARAMITA–IDEAL BEHAVIOR

The Lord Buddha addressing Subhuti, said: “What think you? If a benevolent person bestowed as alms an abundance of the seven treasures sufficient to fill the universe, would there accrue to that person a considerable merit?”

Subhuti replied, saying: “A very considerable merit; Honored of the Worlds! Because what is referred to does not partake of the nature of ordinary merit; in that sense the Lord Buddha rightly speaks of ‘a considerable merit.’”

The Lord Buddha continued: “If a disciple studies and adheres with implicit faith to even a stanza of this Scripture, the intrinsic merit of such a disciple would be relatively greater. And why? Because, the Tathagatas who have attained supreme spiritual wisdom, all owe their beginning to the Truth of this sacred Scripture–the Truth of Emptiness and Egolessness.”

(Regarding the Sila Paramita–Ideal Behavior–the Sutra says: “Lay members should abstain from all unkindness, stealing, unchastity, lying, duplicity, slander, frivolous talk, covetousness, malice, currying favor, and false teachings. Disciples, in order to disarm prejudice, should retire from the excitement of the worldly life and, abiding in solitude, should practise those deeds which lead to restraint and contentment. In the case of advanced bhikshus, they have other rules to follow and should feel all the more shame, fear and remorse for any failure to observe the minor precepts. Strictly observing all the precepts given by the Tathagatas, they should endeavor, by their example, to induce all beings to abandon evil and practise the good.”)

“What do you think, Subhuti? If a disciple, whether man or woman, were to collect a store of precious gems as great as this universe and was to bestow them on the holy Tathagatas, would that disciple on the strength of his gift lay up a large stock of merit?”

Subhuti replied: “Yes, Blessed One, he would lay up a very great merit.”

The Lord Buddha replied: “Subhuti, if another disciple after reading even one verse of this Scripture and observing it by living a good life, he will lay up a greater merit than the one who merely makes gifts in charity and continues his egoistic life. And why? Because, making gifts may or may not involve an advance along the Path that leads to Nirvana, but this Scripture points the way to the stages of Bodhisattvahood and the supreme spiritual enlightenment of the Buddhas. The disciple who sincerely reads this Scripture and lives a virtuous life is laying up merit immeasurable. But, Subhuti, a virtuous life, even the life of a Buddha, what is it? There is no such thing, it is only a name.

“Subhuti, suppose a man had a body as large as Mount Sumeru, would he be counted a great man?”

Subhuti replied: “Exceedingly great, Honored of the Worlds!”

The Lord Buddha enquired: “Would his mind and heart be correspondingly great, Subhuti? What is it that makes a man great? Is it the size of his body? Is it his unusual personality? Is it the work he accomplishes? Or is it the wisdom and compassion and selflessness of this behavior? Subhuti, what is behavior? There is no such thing; it is something the mind imagines, just like body and personality; it is only a name.

Then the Lord Buddha continued: “Nevertheless, if a good disciple, man or woman, studies this Scripture and thoughtfully observes even a verse of it, his merit will be very great. What words can express the merit of a disciple who, living with restraint and kindness, diligently studies and observes it! Such a disciple is attaining powers commensurate with the supreme and most wonderful Dharma. Wherever there is the hermitage of such a good disciple, it is the treasure-house of this sacred Scripture; it is a shrine of the Lord Buddha; and over it will hover uncounted Bodhisattvas of highest reverence and honor.”

KSHANTI PARAMITA–IDEAL PATIENCE

At that time the Lord Buddha addressed Subhuti, saying: “If a good disciple, whether man or woman, devoted to the observance and study of this Scripture, is thereby lightly esteemed or despised, it is because, in a previous life there had been committed some grievous transgression, now followed by its inexorable retribution. But, although in this life lightly esteemed or despised, he bears it patiently, the compensating merit thus acquired will cause the transgression of a former life to be fully expiated, and the patient disciple will be adequately recompensed by his final attainment of supreme spiritual enlightenment.”

(Regarding this Kshanti Paramita–Ideal Patience–it is said in the Sutra: “If disciples meet with the ills of life they should not shun them. If they suffer painful experiences, they should not feel afflicted or treated unjustly, but should always rejoice in remembering and contemplating the deep significance of the Dharma.’)

The Lord Buddha continued: “Numberless ages ago, Subhuti, before the advent of Dipankara Buddha, there were many other Buddhas and I recall my difficult experiences while serving them and receiving their religious instruction and discipline, but I endured it patiently and, because my conduct was entirely blameless and without reproach, I was reborn in the days of Dipankara Buddha. But in the ages to come, if a disciple faithfully study and put into practice the teaching of this Scripture, the merit that he will thus acquire will far exceed the merit of my service in the days of those many Buddhas. “In a previous life, Subhuti, when the Prince of Kalinga severed the flesh from my limbs and body, because of the discipline I had undergone in the past I remained patient, I was oblivious to such ideas as phenomena as an entity, a person, a living person, a personality. If I had not been oblivious to such ideas, when my limbs and body were torn apart, there would have originated in my mind feelings of anger and resentment. I recollect, five hundred incarnations ago, that I was practising this Kshanti Paramita and, because of it, I got rid of such arbitrary ideas. Therefore, Subhuti, an enlightened disciple ought to discard, as being unreal and illusive, every conceivable form of hindering phenomena.

Subhuti, in aspiring to supreme spiritual wisdom, the mind ought to be insensible to every sensuous influence, and be independent of everything pertaining to form, sound, odour, taste, touch, or discrimination. There ought to be cultivated a condition of complete independence of mind; because, if the mind is depending upon any external thing, it is cherishing a delusion; in reality, there is nothing external to the mind. Even the whole realm of sentient life is ephemeral and illusory. Therefore, in the exercise of this Paramita, the mind of an enlightened disciple ought to be unperturbed by any form of phenomena.”

The Lord Buddha addressed Subhuti, saying: “If an enlightened disciple in the exercise of this Paramita was patient in the face of external difficulties and steadily studied and observed this Scripture; and another disciple, realising that within the meaning and purport of it, there could be no abstract individual existence–no suffering, no one to suffer, no one to attain supreme spiritual enlightenment–and yet patiently accepts it and continues to perfect himself in its virtue, this disciple will have a cumulative merit greater than the former. And why? Because, he is unaffected by any consideration of merit or reward.”

Subhuti enquired of the Lord Buddha: “In what respect are enlightened disciples unaffected by merit or reward?”

The Lord Buddha replied: “Enlightened disciples, having patiently accepted the truth of egolessness, do not aspire for supreme enlightenment in any spirit of covetousness or acquisitiveness; they never think of merit and its commensurate reward. But the Tathagata, because of his perfect wisdom, knows of their patience and knows that for them there is reserved a cumulative merit that is immeasurable and illimitable.”

VIRYA PARAMITA–IDEAL ZEAL

The Lord Buddha said to Subhuti: “If within this universe a good disciple heaped together the seven treasures forming many elevations as Mount Sumeru, and entirely bestowed these treasures on the Tathagata as a gift in his exercise of charity; and another disciple sacrificed his life as many times as there are grains of sand in the river Ganges, would such disciples accumulate great merit, Subhuti?”

Subhuti replied: “They would accumulate great merit, indeed, Blessed One.”

The Lord Buddha continued: “If a good disciple were to select a single verse of this Scripture, faithfully observe and study it, and then zealously explain it to others, he would relatively accumulate a greater merit.”

(Regarding this Virya Paramita–Ideal Zeal-the Sutra says: “In the practice of all good deeds, disciples should never indulge in indolence. They should recall all their great mental and physical sufferings that they have undergone in the past on account of having coveted worldly objects and comforts during former existences and which did not give the least nourishment to their physical lives. They should, therefore, in order to be emancipated in the future from these sufferings, be indefatigably zealous and never let even the thought of indolence arise in their minds; but steadily and persistently out of deep compassion endeavor to benefit all beings. They should dauntlessly, energetically, unintermittently, six watches, day and night, pay homage to all the Buddhas, make offerings to them, praise them, repent and confess to them, aspire to the most excellent knowledge, and make sincere vows of unselfish service. It is only, thereby, that they can root, out the hindrances and foster their root of merit.”)

“Subhuti, if a disciple takes pleasure in a narrow and exclusive form of doctrine, or is attached to false ideas as to an entity, a being, a living being, a personality, he cannot receive with profit the instruction of this Scripture nor can he find delight in its study. This Scripture is intended for those who are entering upon the path, as well as for those who are attaining the highest planes of spiritual wisdom. If a disciple zealously observes, studies and widely disseminates the knowledge of this Scripture, for such an one there will be cumulative merit, immeasurable, incomparable, illimitable, inconceivable. All such disciples will be endowed with transcendent spiritual wisdom and enlightenment.”

The Lord Buddha continued: “What think you? May an enlightened disciple ponder within himself, saying, ‘I will create numerous Buddhist Kingdoms?’”

Subhuti replied: “No, Honored of the Worlds! And why? Because, such thoughts would be incompatible with the Virya Paramita, and kingdoms thus imagined would not, in reality, be Buddhist Kingdoms. Such a phrase as ‘the creation of Buddhist Kingdoms,’ is merely a figure of speech.”

The Lord Buddha continued: “What think you, Subhuti? Do you imagine that the Tathagata reflects within himself, ‘I will bring salvation to all beings’? Entertain no such delusive thought. And why? Because, in reality, there is no such dharma as ‘salvation’ for any one; and there is no such thing as a living being to whom ‘salvation’ can be brought. What is referred to as an entity, a being, a living being, a personality, is not so in reality–it is only so understood by ignorant and uneducated people.”

The Lord Buddha enquired of Subhuti, saying: “May a disciple who has ‘entered the stream’ which bears on to Nirvana, thus moralise within himself: I have attained the fruits commensurate with the merits of one who has ‘entered the stream’?”

Subhuti replied: “No, Honored of the Worlds! And why? Because, ‘entered the stream’ is simply a descriptive term. A disciple who avoids the seductions of form, sound, odour, taste, touch, and their discriminations, is merely called, ‘one who has entered the stream.’”

The Lord Buddha again enquired of Subhuti, saying: “What think you? Is a bhikshu who is subject to only one more reincarnation, to muse within himself, ‘I have obtained the fruits in agreement with the merits of “a once returner”?’ “Subhuti replied, saying: “No, Honored of the Worlds! And why? Because, ‘a once returner’ is merely a descriptive title denoting only one more reincarnation; but, in reality, there is no such condition as ‘only one more reincarnation.’ ‘A once returner’ is merely a descriptive title.”

The Lord Buddha once again enquired of Subhuti, saying: “What think you? May a bhikshu who has attained so high a degree of spiritual merit that he is never again to be reincarnated, may he thus reflect within himself, I have obtained the fruits which accord with the merits of one who is never to return to this world of life-and-death?” Subhuti replied, saying: “No, Honored of the Worlds! And why? Because, ‘a never returner’ is merely a designation, meaning, ‘immunity from reincarnation’; but, in reality, there is no such condition, hence ‘a never returner’ is merely a convenient name.”

The Lord Buddha yet again enquired of Subhuti, saying: “What think you? May a Bodhisattva who has attained to absolute tranquillity of mind thus meditate within himself: I have obtained the position of an Arhat?” Subhuti replied, saying: “No, Honored of the Worlds! And why? Because, in reality, there is no such condition synonymous with the term Arhat. If an Arhat thus meditates within himself, ‘I have obtained the condition of an Arhat,’ there would be the obvious occurrence to his mind of such arbitrary concepts as an entity, a being, a living being, a personality. When the Blessed One declared of me that in tranquillity of mind, observance of the Dharma and spiritual perception, I was preeminent among the disciples, I did not think within myself: ‘I am free from desire, I am an Arhat.’ Had I thought thus, the Blessed One would not have declared concerning me: ‘Subhuti delights in the austerities of an Arhat.’ It was because I was perfectly tranquil and oblivious to all conditions, that the Lord Buddha declared: ‘Subhuti delights in the austerities practised by the Arhats.’”

The Lord Buddha added: “True, Subhuti! Enlightened disciples in the exercise of the Viya Paramita ought to maintain within themselves a pure and single mind; they should be unconscious of sensuous conditions and cultivate a mind that is independent of material circumstances. And why? Because, all sensuous conditions and material circumstances are only manifestations of mind and are alike dream-like and imaginary.

“Subhuti, A Bodhisattva should have a heart filled with compassion for all sentient life, but if he should think within his mind: ‘I will deliver all beings,’ he ought not to be called a Bodhisattva. And why? Because, in the first place, if there is no living being, no personality, then there is no one to be called a Bodhisattva. And in the second place, the Tathagata has declared: ‘All beings are without self, without life, without personality.’ Who then is to be delivered? If a Bodhisattva were to say: ‘I will create many Buddha-lands,’ he would say what is untrue. And why, Because, the idea of a Buddha-land is wholly imaginary, it is only a name.

“But O Subhuti, the Bodhisattva who believes that all things are without selfhood, and still has compassion and faith, he is, indeed, a noble minded Bodhisattva, and is so considered by the all-wise Tathagatas.”

DHYANA PARAMITA–IDEAL TRANQUILLITY

Subhuti enquired of the Lord Buddha, saying: “Honored of the Worlds! In future ages, when this scripture is proclaimed amongst those beings destined to hear it, shall any conceive within their minds a sincere, unmingled faith?”

The Lord Buddha replied, saying: “Have no such apprehensive thought. Even at the remote period of five centuries subsequent to the Nirvana of the Tathagata, there will be many disciples observing the monastic vows and assiduously devoted to good works. These, hearing this Scripture proclaimed, will believe in its immutability and will conceive within their minds a pure, unmingled faith. Besides, it is important to realise that faith thus conceived, is not exclusively in virtue of the individual thought of any particular Buddha, but because of its affiliation with the universal thought of all the myriad Buddhas throughout the infinite ages. Therefore, among the beings destined to hear this Scripture proclaimed, many, by the Dhyana Paramita, will intuitively conceive a pure and holy faith.

“Subhuti, the Tathagata by his prescience is perfectly cognisant of all such potential disciples, and for these also there is reserved an immeasurable merit. And why? Because, the minds of these will not revert to such arbitrary concepts of phenomena as an entity, a being, a living being, a personality, having qualities or ideas coincident with the Dharma, or existing apart from the principle of the Dharma. And why? Because, assuming the permanency and reality of phenomena, the minds of these disciples would be involved in such distinctive ideas as an entity, a being, a living being, a personality. Affirming the permanency and reality of qualities or ideas coincident with the Dharma, their minds would inevitably be involved in resolving these same definitions. Postulating the inviolate nature of qualities or ideas which have an existence apart from the Dharma, there yet remains to be explained these abstruse distinctions–an entity, a being, a living being, a personality. Therefore, enlightened disciples ought not to affirm the permanency or reality of qualities or ideas coincident with the Dharma, nor postulate as being of an inviolate nature, qualities and ideas having an existence apart from the concept of the Dharma.

“Thus enlightened disciples are enabled to appreciate the significance of the words which the Tathagatas invariably repeat to their follows: ‘Disciples must realise that the Dharma is presented to your minds in the simile of a raft.’ If the Dharma–having fulfilled its function in bearing you to the other shore–must be abandoned together with all its coincident qualities and ideas, how much more inevitable must be the abandonment of qualities and ideas which have an existence apart from the Dharma?”
The Lord Buddha continued: “If a disciple had an amount of treasure sufficient to fill the illimitable universe and bestowed it upon the Tathagata in the exercise of charity, and if another disciple, having aspired to supreme spiritual wisdom, selected from this Scripture even a stanza of four lines only, observed it, diligently studied it and with zeal explained it to others, the cumulative merit of such a disciple would be relatively greater than the merit of the former. But, Subhuti, the attitude of his mind in which he explained it is important. It should be explained with a mind filled with compassion but free from any assumption as to the reality of an entity, a being, a living being, a personality, or as to the permanency or reality of earthly phenomena, or as to the validity of any ideas concerning them. And why? Because the phenomena of life are like a dream, a phantasm, a bubble, a shadow, the glistening dew, a lightning flash; thus should they be contemplated by an enlightened disciple. His mind should, at all times, be resting in the blessedness of tranquillity which invariably accompanies the practice of the Dhyana Paramita.”

(Regarding the Dhyana Paramita–Ideal Tranquillity–the Sutra says: “The beginner should consider and practise Dhyana in two aspects: as cessation of the mind’s intellectual activities, and as realisation of insight. To bring all mental states that produce vagrant thinking to a stand is called cessation. To adequately understand the transitory and emptiness and egolessness of all things is insight. At first each of them should be practised separately by the beginner, but when, by degrees, he attains facility, and finally attains perfection, the two aspects will naturally blend into one perfect state of mental tranquillity. Those who practise Dhyana should dwell in solitude and, sitting erect, should remain motionless, seeking to quiet the mind. Do not fix the thoughts on any definite thing that you have sensed or discriminated, or memorised; all particularisations, all imaginations, all recollections, are to be excluded, because all things are uncreate, devoid of all attributes, ever changing. In all thinking, something precedes that has been awakened by an external stimuli, so in Dhyana one should seek to abandon all notions connected with an external world. Then in thinking, something follows that has been elaborated in his own mind; so he should seek to abandon thinking. Because his attention is distracted by the external world, he is warned to turn to his inner, intuitive consciousness. If the process of mentation begins again, he is warned not to let his mind become attached to anything, because, independent of mind they have no existence. Dhyana is not at all to be confined to sitting erect in meditation; one’s mind should be concentrated at all times, whether sitting, standing, moving, working; one should constantly discipline himself to that end. Gradually entering into the state of Samadhi, he will transcend all hindrances and become strengthened in faith, a faith that will be immovable.”)

The Lord Buddha resumed his words to Subhuti, saying: “What think you, Subhuti, are the atoms of dust in the myriad worlds which comprise the universe, are they very numerous?”

Subhuti replied: “Very numerous, indeed, Blessed One.”

The Lord Buddha continued: “Subhuti, these atoms of dust, many as they are, are not in reality ‘atoms of dust,’ they are merely termed so. Moreover, these ‘myriad worlds’ are not really worlds, they are merely termed so because of ignorance.

“Subhuti, if a good disciple were to take these infinite worlds and reduce them to exceedingly minute particles of dust and blow them away into space, would the so-called ‘infinite worlds’ cease to exist?”

Subhuti replied: “The Blessed One has already taught us that ‘myriad worlds’ is only a name; how can that which is only a name, cease to exist?”

Then the Lord Buddha continued: “True, Subhuti, but if it were otherwise, and the infinite worlds were a reality, then it would be asserting the unity and eternality of matter, which every one knows is dream-like, changing and transitory. Unity and eternality of matter, indeed! There is neither matter, nor unity, nor eternality–they are merely names. Belief in the unity and eternality of matter is incomprehensible; only common and worldly minded people, for purely materialistic reasons, cling to that hypothesis. Subhuti, enlightened disciples must thoroughly understand that emptiness and egolessness are characteristic of’ all Truth. The Dhyana Paramita can be successfully practised only from that viewpoint.”

Then the Lord Buddha continued: “If a disciple should affirm that the Tathagata had enunciated a doctrine that the mind could comprehend the idea of an entity, a being, a living being, a personality, or ally other discrimination, would that disciple be interpreting aright the meaning of this Scripture?”

Subhuti replied: “Blessed One, that disciple would not be interpreting aright the meaning of the Lord Buddha’s discourse. And why? Because, Blessed One, when you discoursed on belief in the reality of an entity, a being, a living being, a personality, it was plainly declared that there were no such things; that they were entirely unreal and illusive; that they were merely words.”

The Lord Buddha continued: “Subhuti, the disciples who aspire to supreme spiritual wisdom ought thus to know, to believe in, and to interpret all phenomena. They ought to eliminate from their minds every seeming evidence of concrete objects; they ought to eliminate from their minds even the notions of such things; and become oblivious to every idea connected with them. And why? Because, so long as he cherishes ideas of and concerning an entity, a being, a living being, a personality, his mind is kept in confusion. He must even become oblivious to the idea that there is any one to whom the idea of sentient life can become oblivious. If he were to think within his mind, ‘I must become oblivious to every idea of sentient life,’ he could not be described as being wholly enlightened. And why? Because, within the bounds of reality there is no such thing, no entity, no being, no living being, no personality, nothing whatever that can be discriminated, and therefore, there can be no reality to ideas concerning them, for all these things are merely manifestations of the mind itself.”

Subhuti enquired, saying: “Blessed One, in the ages to come, will sentient beings destined to hear this Dharma, awaken within their minds these essential elements of faith?”

The Lord Buddha replied, smiling: “Subhuti, it cannot be asserted that there are or will be any such things as sentient beings, nor can it be asserted that there will not be. At present there are none, they are merely termed ‘sentient beings.’ And as to any one being saved: how can there be one to find it by seeking, or to know it if it is ever found? One cannot gain self-realisation of Prajna Paramita without transcending the conscious faculty. To fully realise emptiness, egolessness, imagelessness by the use of the discriminating mind is futile. It is only by practising the Dhyana Paramita, by identifying oneself with emptiness and egolessness, that emptiness and egolessness is to be realised. In the exercise of the Dhyana Paramita, unless the mind of the enlightened disciple is independent of all phenomena, he is like a person lost in impenetrable darkness, to whom every object is invisible and himself helpless. But an enlightened disciple practising the Paramita with a mind independent of every phenomena, is like unto a person to whom suddenly the power of vision is restored, and he sees every thing as in the meridian glory of the sunlight.”

The Lord Buddha said:

“Not by means of visible form,
Not by audible sound,
Is Buddha to be perceived;
Only in the solitude and purity of Dhyana
Is one to realise the blessedness of Buddha.”

PRAJNA PARAMITA–IDEAL WISDOM

The Lord Buddha addressing Subhuti, said: “What think you? When in a previous life I was a disciple of Dipankara Buddha, did I eventually become a Buddha because of some prescribed teaching or system of doctrine?”

Subhuti replied: “No, Blessed One. When the Lord Buddha was a disciple of Dipankara Buddha neither prescribed teaching nor system of doctrine was communicated to him, whereby he eventually became a Buddha.”

The Lord Buddha continued, saying: “In my discourses have I presented a system of doctrine that can be specifically formulated?”

Subhuti replied: “As I understand the meaning of the Blessed One’s discourses, he has no system of doctrine that can be specifically formulated. And why? Because, what the Blessed One adumbrates in the terms of the Dharma is, in reality, inscrutable and inexpressible. Being a purely spiritual concept, it is neither consonant with the Dharma, nor synonymous with anything apart from the Dharma; but it is exemplified in the manner in which Bodhisattvas and holy Buddhas have regarded intuitive self-realisation as the highest law of their minds and by it have severally attained to different planes of spiritual wisdom.”

The Lord Buddha endorsed these words, saying: “True it is; Subhuti! True it is. There is no dharma by means of which Buddhas attain supreme spiritual wisdom. Wisdom is attained only by self-realisation through the practice of the Dhyana Paramita. If there had been such a Dharma, Dipankara would not have prophesied when I was a disciple of his: ‘In future ages, my boy, you will become Shakyamuni Buddha.’ And why? Because in the concept Buddha every dharma is wholly and intelligibly comprehended. How could there be a Dharma by which that all-inclusive state could be attained? The supreme spiritual wisdom to which Buddhas attain, cannot, in its essence, be defined as either real or unreal. That which is commonly spoken of as the Buddha Dharma is synonymous with every moral and spiritual dharma. Subhuti, what are spoken of as ‘systems of dharma,’ including even the so-called Buddha Dharma, are not in reality systems of dharma, they are merely termed ‘systems of dharma.’”

(Regarding the Prajna Paramita–Ideal Wisdom–really, there is no such thing. Prajna Paramita transcends all ideation, all knowledge, all wisdom; It is Noble Wisdom in its “suchness” and its self-nature is manifested in the transformation-bodies of the Tathagatas.)

Subhuti enquired of the Lord Buddha: “In attaining supreme spiritual wisdom did the Lord Buddha, then, attain nothing definite and tangible?”

The Lord Buddha replied: “In attaining supreme spiritual wisdom, not a vestiage of dharma nor doctrine was obtained, that is why it is called ‘supreme spiritual wisdom.’ Prajna Paramita is universal, coherent, indivisible; it is neither above nor below; it excludes all such arbitrary ideas as an entity, a being, a living being, a personality, discrimination, ideation; but it includes every dharma pertaining to the cultivation of wisdom and compassion. And even these, when defined and thought about, are not in reality ‘dharmas of wisdom and compassion’; they are only termed ‘dharmas of wisdom and compassion.’

“Do not think that the Tathagatas consider within themselves: ‘I ought to promulgate a system of Dharma.’ Have no such irrelevant thought, Subhuti. and why? because by so thinking the disciple would expose his ignorance and defame the Tathagatas. In reality there is no ‘system of Dharma’ to promulgate; it is only termed ‘a system of Dharma.’

“What think you? Can the Tathagatas be perceived by their perfect material bodies, or by any physical phenomena?”

Subhuti replied: “It is improbable that a Lord Buddha can be perceived by his perfect material body, or by any physical phenomena; because, in reality, there is no such thing as a material body, nor physical phenomena; they are only terms that are in common use.”

Then the Lord Buddha said: “Why is the Tathagata so named? It is because he manifests the essential nature of reality. ‘He who thus comes,’ comes from nowhere. He symbolises the emptiness of qualities, the egolessness, the imagelessness, of ultimate reality. He symbolises the un-born, the un-originate, the truly eternal because the ultimate. And yet, Subhuti, if any one should affirm that by the Tathagata ultimate Wisdom is manifested, he would speak an untruth, he would slander me by his limited knowledge. That which is manifested by the Tathagatas is neither truth nor falsehood: it is no-thing-ness; and yet it is inconceivable Oneness, because it is Prajna Paramita, because it is the essence nature of Buddahood.

“Subhuti, the plane of thought to which the Buddhas attain and which the Tathagatas manifest, cannot be expressed in terms of reality or in terms of non-reality. Their utterances are neither extravagant nor chimerical; they are true, credible, immutable, but can never be expressed in the limits of words and doctrines.

Then the Lord Buddha enquired of Subhuti, saying: “Are Tathagatas to be recognised by the works they do and the effects they produce?”

Subhuti replied: “No, Blessed One; a Buddha is not to be known by his works, else would a great world-conquering King be a Buddha.”

The Lord Buddha said: “Just so, Subhuti. It is not by a great show of erudition, nor by the building of anything, nor by the destruction of anything, that the Tathagatas are to be known. It is only within the deepest consciousness of Bodhisattvas through the self-realisation of the Prajna Paramita, that the Tathagatas are to be realised.

The Lord Buddha continued: “What think you, Subhuti? Does the Tathagata possess a physical eye?” Subhuti assented, saying: “The Blessed One truly possesses a physical eye.”

“What think you, Subhuti? Does the Tathagata possess the eye of enlightenment?” Subhuti assented, saying: “The Blessed One truly possesses the eye of enlightenment.”

“What think you, Subhuti? Does the Tathagata possess the eye of Wisdom?” Subhuti assented, saying: “The Blessed One truly possesses the eye of Wisdom.”

“What think you, Subhuti? Does the Tathagata possess the eye of Compassion?” Subhuti assented, saying: “The Blessed One truly possesses the Buddha eye of Compassion.”

The Lord Buddha continued: “If there were as many river Ganges as there are grains of sand in the river Ganges, and if there were as many Buddha-lands as there are grains of sand in all the innumerable rivers, would these Buddha-lands be numerous?”

Subhuti replied: “Buddha-lands are innumerable.”

The Lord Buddha continued: “Subhuti, within these innumerable worlds are every form of sentient life with all their various mental capacities, dispositions, and temperaments, all alike are fully known to the Tathagatas, and the Tathagatas are filled with compassion for them. Nevertheless, what are referred to as mental capacities, dispositions, and temperaments, are not in reality mental capacities, dispositions and temperaments; they are merely termed such. Dispositions of mind, modes of thought, whether relating to the past, present or future, are all alike unreal and illusory.

“Thus should the Noble Prajna Paramita be explained. Thus should a young disciple, whether man or woman, thus should the highest Bodhisattva, understand and explain the Prajna Paramita. Everything should be seen as solitude, as egoless, as imageless; everything should be seen as the sky, as sunlight, as darkness, as a phantom, as a dream, as a flash of lightning, as a bubble. Thus is Prajna Paramita to be conceived and to be explained.”

Then the venerable Subhuti, hearing the text of this sacred Scripture expounded by the Lord Buddha, and realising its profound meaning, was moved to tears and, addressing the Lord Buddha, said: “Thou art of transcendent wisdom, Blessed One! In thus expounding this supreme Scripture, thou hast surpassed every exposition previously given. True it is that all things and all phenomena and all definitive ideas are transitory, empty, egoless, imageless and dream-like! Only Prajna Paramita abides.”

The Lord Buddha assenting, said: “Subhuti, in future ages, disciples destined to hear this Scripture, discarding every arbitrary idea, neither becoming perturbed by its extreme mode of thought, nor carried away by its lofty sentiment, nor fearful as to realising its noble sentiment, who faithfully and zealously study it, observe its precepts, and patiently explain it to others, their intrinsic merits will excite superlative wonder and praise. Moreover, as they gain in realisation of this profound Prajna Paramita through the practice of Dhyana, they will eventually become wholly enlightened, wholly compassionate–themselves revealed as Buddha.”

Subhuti enquired of the Lord Buddha: “Blessed One, by what name shall this Scripture be known, that we may regard it with reverence?”

The Lord Buddha replied: “Subhuti, this Scripture shall be known as THE DIAMOND SCRIPTURE, because, by its Transcendent Wisdom all sentient life shall reach the other shore. By this name you shall reverently regard it, always remembering that what is referred to as Transcendental Wisdom is only a name,–Prajna Paramita transcends all wisdom.”
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Coleman Barks “What Was Said To The Rose” by Rumi

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The Poetic Gems of Lalla Ded

A Stream Flowing

Now I saw a stream flowing;
Now neither bank nor bridge was seen.
Now I saw a bush in bloom;
Now neither rose nor thorn was seen.

I was passionate

I was passionate,
filled with longing,
I searched
far and wide.
But the day
that the Truthful One
found me,
I was at home.

For ever we came

For ever we come, forever we go;
Forever, day and night, we are on the move.
Whence we come, thither we go,
Forever in the round of birth and death,
From nothingness to nothingness.
But sure, a mystery here abides,
A Something is there for us to know.
(It cannot all be meaningless).
I cannot convince a fool
I might disperse the southern clouds,
I might drain out the sea,
I might cure the incurable sick,
But I cannot convince a fool.

” I saw and found I am in everything
I saw God effulgent in everything.
After hearing and pausing see Siva
The House is His alone; Who am I, Lalla. ”

The way is difficult and very intricate.
Lalla discarded her books that told
about it, and through meditation
saw the truth that never comes
to anyone from reading words.

If you’ve melted your desires
in the river of time, choose
to be a recluse, or choose
a family, the village job.

If you know the pure Lord within you,
you’ll be That, wherever.

I, Lalla, willingly entered through the garden-gate,
There, O Joy! I found Siva united with Sakti;
There and then I got absorbed drinking at the Lake of Nectar.
Immune to harm am I, dead as I am to the world, though still alive

Meditate within eternity.
Don’t stay in the mind.

Your thoughts are like a child fretting
near its mother’s breast, restless
and afraid, who with a little guidance,
can find the path to courage.

Day will be erased in night.
The ground’s surface will extend outward.

The new moon will be swallowed
in eclipse, and the mind in meditation

will be completely absorbed
by the Void inside it.

What is worship? Who are this man
and this woman bringing flowers?

What kinds of flowers should be brought,
and what streamwater poured over the images?

Real worship is done by the mind
(Let that be a man) and by the desire
(Let that be a woman). And let those two
choose what to sacrifice.

There is a liquid that can be released
from under the mask of the face,
a nectar which when it rushes down
gives discipline and strength.

Let that be your sacred pouring,
Let your worship song be silence.
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Lalla Ded: A Short Biography

Lal Ded, also affectionately called Lalla, Lalli, Lal Diddi (“Granny Lal”), or Lalleshwari, was born near Srinagar in Kashmir in northern India.

Little is known with certainty about her life, other than hints that come to us through her poetry and songs.

She was a young bride, married, tradition says, at the age of twelve. After moving into her husband’s family home, she was abused by her mother-in-law and ignored by her husband.

A story is told about “Lalla’s Lake” — one day when returning from the well with a clay water jug on her head, her husband lost his temper over her delay and struck the jug in his anger. The clay vessel broke but, miraculously, the water held its shape above her head. This becomes an important symbol of the heavenly nectar that rains down from the crown.

Finally, Lalla could endure no more mistreatment and, in her early 20s, she left. She became a disciple of a respected saint in the Kashmir Shaivism tradition of yoga and she took up the life of a holy woman dedicated God in the form of Shiva. Lalla began wandering about, village to village, going naked or nearly naked, and singing songs of enlightenment.

Lalla’s songs are short, using the simple, direct language of the common people, yet she touches on complex yogic techniques and the most elevated states of awareness.

The name Lalla can be translated as either “seeker” or “darling.”

Lalla is deeply loved by both Hindus and Muslims in Kashmir today, even amidst the terrible fighting ravaging the land. There is a saying that in Kashmir only two words have any meaning: Allah and Lalla.
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RUMI: 800th Birthday, Coleman Barks, Sukhawat Ali Khan, Stephen Kent

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Dido and Aeneas – Pierre Narcisse Guerin

Introducing Music Meditations

I. 83. candâ jhalkai yahi ghat mâhîn

“But who will lead the Mystery Theatre, where dreams are revealed and the ancient rites are held”?

The moon shines in my body, but my blind eyes cannot see it:
The moon is within me, and so is the sun.
The unstruck drum of Eternity is sounded within me; but my deaf ears cannot hear it.

So long as man clamours for the I and the Mine, his works are as naught:
When all love of the I and the Mine is dead, then the work of the Lord is done.
For work has no other aim than the getting of knowledge:
When that comes, then work is put away.

The flower blooms for the fruit: when the fruit comes, the flower withers.
The musk is in the deer, but it seeks it not within itself: it wanders in quest of grass.
– Kabir

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Eostre Sunday in the NW… Rowan, sitting and watching “Farscape” (actually, he’s snoring now on the couch), Mary has been baking bread. I’m dinking away on art for some web applications. I have been working on a new site, which I hope to unveil this next week.

Todays entry is an amalgam of several unreleased entries from the last month. One of the funny things about Turfing is the number of them that I don’t publish. Entries have to meet a certain criteria in my view, though it may not be discernible to anyone else. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, I like all the components to it, though the flow is a bit different and all of that. I actually started the original entry on the 28th of January, and there has been some 70 revisions. Weird I know, but what can I do?

I hope your day is a pleasant one!

Bright Blessings,
Gwyllm

On The Menu:
Nuit Blanche
The Unmistaken Child
Music Meditations: A new possibility…
The Songs Of Kabir
Proteus…
Poetry of Jack Kerouac
Main Artist: Hosman Bey
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Nuit Blanche

Nuit Blanche from Spy Films on Vimeo.

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The Unmistaken Child

Watched this twice. What a great little film. Mary and I watched it, and were taken with the beauty of it. I recommend “The Unmistaken Child” to anyone. Having heard tales of this form of selection, it was deeply interesting to watch the drama unfold in the telling of this simple tale.

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Music Meditations: A new possibility…

So… I thought of adding a new feature for Turfing, Music Meditations. Rather than videos, I will every once in awhile, upload music that I find that is conducive to meditation, or just sitting back and thinking. I have included 4 tracks today from Jocelyn Pook’s wonderful soundtrack from “Flood”. You may want to open another browser window if you want to continue reading Turfing. If not, just sit back and listen to the tracks. I hope you enjoy this new feature!

Jocelyn Pook

I first became acquainted with Jocelyn Pook’s music in the late 90′s. It took me a while to track it down, and it has only offered me delights ever since. Her film sound tracks, make me want to see the film that they sonically illustrate. Her pieces stand so well on their own. She is a modern classicist, with a wonderful sensibility.
Jocelyn Pook: Station
Jocelyn Pook: Driving Back To Childhood
Jocelyn Pook: Child’s Play
Jocelyn Pook: Quivering Tree
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The Songs Of Kabir



I. 85. Sâdho, Brahm alakh lakhâyâ

When He Himself reveals Himself, Brahma brings into manifestation That which can never be seen.
As the seed is in the plant, as the shade is in the tree, as the void is in the sky, as infinite forms are in the void–
So from beyond the Infinite, the Infinite comes; and from the Infinite the finite extends.

The creature is in Brahma, and Brahma is in the creature: they are ever distinct, yet ever united.
He Himself is the tree, the seed, and the germ.
He Himself is the flower, the fruit, and the shade.
He Himself is the sun, the light, and the lighted.
He Himself is Brahma, creature, and Maya.
He Himself is the manifold form, the infinite space;
He is the breath, the word, and the meaning.
He Himself is the limit and the limitless: and beyond both the limited and the limitless is He, the Pure Being.
He is the Immanent Mind in Brahma and in the creature.

The Supreme Soul is seen within the soul,
The Point is seen within the Supreme Soul,
And within the Point, the reflection is seen again.
Kabîr is blest because he has this supreme vision!

II. 61. grah candra tapan jot varat hai

THE light of the sun, the moon, and the stars shines bright:
The melody of love swells forth, and the rhythm of love’s detachment beats the time.
Day and night, the chorus of music fills the heavens; and Kabîr says
“My Beloved One gleams like the lightning flash in the sky.”

Do you know how the moments perform their adoration?
Waving its row of lamps, the universe sings in worship day and night,
There are the hidden banner and the secret canopy:
There the sound of the unseen bells is heard.
Kabîr says: “There adoration never ceases; there the Lord of the Universe sitteth on His throne.” p. 61
The whole world does its works and commits its errors: but few are the lovers who know the Beloved.
The devout seeker is he who mingles in his heart the double currents of love and detachment, like the mingling of the streams of Ganges and Jumna;
In his heart the sacred water flows day and night; and thus the round of births and deaths is brought to an end.

Behold what wonderful rest is in the Supreme Spirit! and he enjoys it, who makes himself meet for it.
Held by the cords of love, the swing of the Ocean of Joy sways to and fro; and a mighty sound breaks forth in song.
See what a lotus blooms there without water! and Kabîr says
“My heart’s bee drinks its nectar.” p. 62
What a wonderful lotus it is, that blooms at the heart of the spinning wheel of the universe! Only a few pure souls know of its true delight.
Music is all around it, and there the heart partakes of the joy of the Infinite Sea.
Kabîr says: “Dive thou into that Ocean of sweetness: thus let all errors of life and of death flee away.”

Behold how the thirst of the five senses is quenched there! and the three forms of misery are no more!
Kabîr says: “It is the sport of the Unattainable One: look within, and behold how the moon-beams of that Hidden One shine in you.”
There falls the rhythmic beat of life and death: p. 63
Rapture wells forth, and all space is radiant with light.
There the Unstruck Music is sounded; it is the music of the love of the three worlds.
There millions of lamps of sun and of moon are burning;
There the drum beats, and the lover swings in play.
There love-songs resound, and light rains in showers; and the worshipper is entranced in the taste of the heavenly nectar.
Look upon life and death; there is no separation between them,
The right hand and the left hand are one and the same.
Kabîr says: “There the wise man is speechless; for this truth may never be found in Vadas or in books.”

I have had my Seat on the Self-poised One, p. 64
I have drunk of the Cup of the Ineffable,
I have found the Key of the Mystery,
I have reached the Root of Union.
Travelling by no track, I have come to the Sorrowless Land: very easily has the mercy of the great Lord come upon me.
They have sung of Him as infinite and unattainable: but I in my meditations have seen Him without sight.
That is indeed the sorrowless land, and none know the path that leads there:
Only he who is on that path has surely transcended all sorrow.
Wonderful is that land of rest, to which no merit can win;
It is the wise who has seen it, it is the wise who has sung of it.
This is the Ultimate Word: but can any express its marvellous savour? p. 65
He who has savoured it once, he knows what joy it can give.
Kabîr says: “Knowing it, the ignorant man becomes wise, and the wise man becomes speechless and silent,
The worshipper is utterly inebriated,
His wisdom and his detachment are made perfect;
He drinks from the cup of the inbreathings and the outbreathings of love.”

There the whole sky is filled with sound, and there that music is made without fingers and without strings;
There the game of pleasure and pain does not cease.
Kabîr says: “If you merge your life in the Ocean of Life, you will find your life in the Supreme Land of Bliss.”

What a frenzy of ecstasy there is in p. 66 every hour! and the worshipper is pressing out and drinking the essence of the hours: he lives in the life of Brahma.
I speak truth, for I have accepted truth in life; I am now attached to truth, I have swept all tinsel away.
Kabîr says: “Thus is the worshipper set free from fear; thus have all errors of life and of death left him.”

There the sky is filled with music:
There it rains nectar:
There the harp-strings jingle, and there the drums beat.
What a secret splendour is there, in the mansion of the sky!
There no mention is made of the rising and the setting of the sun;
In the ocean of manifestation, which is the light of love, day and night are felt to be one. p. 67
Joy for ever, no sorrow,–no struggle!
There have I seen joy filled to the brim, perfection of joy;
No place for error is there.
Kabîr says: “There have I witnessed the sport of One Bliss!”

I have known in my body the sport of the universe: I have escaped from the error of this world..
The inward and the outward are become as one sky, the Infinite and the finite are united: I am drunken with the sight of this All!
This Light of Thine fulfils the universe: the lamp of love that burns on the salver of knowledge.
Kabîr says: “There error cannot enter, and the conflict of life and death is felt no more.”

II. 56. dariyâ kî lahar dariyâo hai jî

THE river and its waves are one
surf: where is the difference between the river and its waves?
When the wave rises, it is the water; and when it falls, it is the same water again. Tell me, Sir, where is the distinction?
Because it has been named as wave, shall it no longer be considered as water?

Within the Supreme Brahma, the worlds are being told like beads:
Look upon that rosary with the eyes of wisdom.

I. 101. is ghat antar bâg bagîce

Within this earthen vessel are bowers and groves, and within it is the Creator:
Within this vessel are the seven oceans and the unnumbered stars.
The touchstone and the jewel-appraiser are within;
And within this vessel the Eternal soundeth, and the spring wells up.
Kabîr says: “Listen to me, my Friend! My beloved Lord is within.”

I. 104. aisâ lo nahîn taisâ lo

O how may I ever express that secret word?
O how can I say He is not like this, and He is like that?
If I say that He is within me, the universe is ashamed:
If I say that He is without me, it is falsehood.
He makes the inner and the outer worlds to be indivisibly one;
The conscious and the unconscious, both are His footstools.
He is neither manifest nor hidden, He is neither revealed nor unrevealed:
There are no words to tell that which He is.
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Proteus…

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Poetry From Jack Kerouac

In Vain

The stars in the sky
In vain
The tragedy of Hamlet
In vain
The key in the lock
In vain
The sleeping mother
In vain
The lamp in the corner
In vain
The lamp in the corner unlit
In vain
Abraham Lincoln
In vain
The Aztec empire
In vain
The writing hand: in vain
(The shoetrees in the shoes
In vain
The windowshade string upon
the hand bible
In vain—
The glitter of the greenglass
ashtray
In vain
The bear in the woods
In vain
The Life of Buddha
In vain)

Three Haiku

Birds singing
in the dark
—Rainy dawn.

The low yellow
moon above the
Quiet lamplit house

The taste
of rain
—Why kneel?

ORLANDO BLUE: 31st Chorus

O Gary Snyder
we work in many ways
In Montreal I suffered tile
and rain

In Additional Christmas
waylayed babes

In old crow Hotels
full of blue babes
in pink dressinggowns
down

But O Gary Snyder
where’d you go,
What I meant was
there you go

In Montreal I worked a manied-way

And better than Old Post
I learned to appreciate
in many ways
Montreal, Soulsville,
and Drain

Bowery Blues

The story of man
Makes me sick
Inside, outside,
I don’t know why
Something so conditional
And all talk
Should hurt me so.

I am hurt
I am scared
I want to live
I want to die
I don’t know
Where to turn
In the Void
And when
To cut
Out

For no Church told me
No Guru holds me
No advice
Just stone
Of New York
And on the cafeteria
We hear
The saxophone
O dead Ruby
Died of Shot
In Thirty Two,
Sounding like old times
And de bombed
Empty decapitated
Murder by the clock.

And I see Shadows
Dancing into Doom
In love, holding
TIght the lovely asses
Of the little girls
In love with sex
Showing themselves
In white undergarments
At elevated windows
Hoping for the Worst.

I can’t take it
Anymore
If I can’t hold
My little behind
To me in my room

Then it’s goodbye
Sangsara
For me
Besides
Girls aren’t as good
As they look
And Samadhi
Is better
Than you think
When it starts in
Hitting your head
In with Buzz
Of glittergold
Heaven’s Angels
Wailing

Saying

We’ve been waiting for you
Since Morning, Jack
Why were you so long
Dallying in the sooty room?
This transcendental Brilliance
Is the better part
(of Nothingness
I sing)

Okay.
Quit.
Mad.
Stop.
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All The Hemispheres

Dividing God

The moon starts singing
When everyone is asleep
And the planets throw a bright robe
Around their shouldersand whirl up
Close to her side.

Once I asked the moon,
Why do you and your sweet friends
Not perform so romantically like that
To a larger crowd?

And the whole sky chorus resounded,

“The admission price to hear
The lofty minstrels
Speak of love

Is affordable only to those
Who have not exhausted themselves
Dividing God all day
And thus need rest.

The thrilled Tavern fiddlers
Who are perched on the roof

Do not want their notes to intrude
Upon the ears
Where an accountant lives
With a sharp pencil
Keeping score of words
Another
In their great sorrow or sad anger
May have once said
To you.”

Hafiz knows:
The sun will stand as your best man
And whistle
When you have found the courage
To marry forgiveness

When you have found the courage
to marry
Love. – Hafiz


A short one…
Wanted to get this out, as it is timely and all that. Hope to see you at the Practical Magic Art Showing…

Bright Blessings,
Gwyllm
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On The Menu:
Massive Attack – Paradise Circus
Practical Magic Art Show
The Cobbler Who Became An Astrologer (A Sufi Tale)
All The Hemispheres – The Poetry Of Hafiz
Massive Attack – Atlas Air (Heligoland)
Art: Lord Fredric Leighton
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Massive Attack – Paradise Circus

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Practical Magic
My Friends Nemo, and Chris Haberman are in a gallery show starting Thursday, April 1st… Be there or be square!


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The Cobbler Who Became an Astrologer – A Sufi Tale

There was in the city of Isfahan a poor cobbler called Ahmed, who was possesses of a singularly greedy and envious wife. Every day the woman went to the public baths, the Hammam, and each time saw someone there of whom she became jealous. One day she espied a lady dressed in a magnificent robe, jewels on every finger, pearls in her ears, and attended by many persons. Asking whom this might be, she was told, “The wife of the king’s astrologer”.

“Of course, that is what my wretched Ahmed must become, an astrologer,” thought the cobbler’s wife, and rushed home as fast as her feet would carry her. The cobbler, seeing her face asked: “What in the world is the matter, my dear one?”

“Don’t you speak to me or come near me until you become a court astrologer!” she snapped. “Give up your vile trade of mending shoes! I shall never be happy until we are rich!”

“Astrologer! Astrologer! Cried Ahmed, “What qualifications have I to read the stars? You must be mad!”

“I neither know nor care how you do it, just become an astrologer by tomorrow or I will go back to my father’s house and seek a divorce,” she said.

The cobbler was out of his mind with worry. How was he to become an astrologer – that was the question? He could not bear the thought of losing his wife, so he went out and bought a table of the zodiac signs, an astrolabe and an astronomical almanac. To do this he had to sell his cobblers’ tools, and so felt he must succeed as an astrologer. He went out into the market-place, crying: “O, people, come to me for all answers to everything! I can read the stars, I know the sun, the moon and the twelve signs of the zodiac! I can foretell that which is to happen!”

Now it so happened that the king’s jeweller was passing by, in great distress at losing one of the crown jewels, which had been entrusted to him for polishing. This was a great ruby, and he had searched for it high and low without success. The court jeweller knew that if he did not find it his head would be forfeit. He came to the crowd surrounding Ahmed and asked what was happening.

“Oh, the very latest astrologer, Ahmed the cobbler, now promises to tell everything there is to know!” laughed one of the bystanders. The court jeweller pressed forward and whispered into Ahmed’s ear: “If you understand your art, discover for me the king’s ruby and I will give you two hundred pieces of gold. If you do not succeed, I will be instrumental in bringing out your death!”

Ahmed was thunderstruck. He put a hand to his brow and shaking his head, thinking of his wife, said: “O, woman, woman, you are more baneful to the happiness of man than the vilest serpent!”. Now the jewel had been secreted by the jeweller’s wife, who, guilty about the theft, had sent a female slave to follow her husband everywhere. This slave, on hearing the new astrologer cry out about a woman who was as poisonous as a serpent, thought that all must be discovered, and ran back to the house to tell her mistress.

“You are discovered by a hateful astrologer! Go to him, lady, and plead with the wretch to be merciful, for if he tells your husband you are lost”. The woman then threw on her veil, and went to Ahmed and flung herself at his feet, crying: “Spare my honour and my life and I will tell all!”

“Tell what?” inquired Ahmed.
“Oh nothing that you do not know already!” she wept, “You know well I stole the ruby. I did so to punish my husband, he uses me so cruelly! But you, o most wonderful man from whom nothing is hidden, command me and I will do whatever you ask that this secret never sees the light”.

Ahmed thought quickly, then said: “I know all you have done and to save you I ask you to do this: Place the ruby at once under your husband’s pillow and forget all about it”. The jeweller’s wife returned home and did as she was bidden. In an hour Ahmed followed her and told the jeweller that he had made his calculations and by the sun, moon and stars the ruby was at that moment lying under his pillow. The jeweller ran from the room like a hunted stag and returned a few moments later the happiest of men. He embraced Ahmed like a brother and placed a bag containing two hundred pieces of gold at his feet.

The praises of the jeweller ringing in his ears, Ahmed returned home grateful that he could now satisfy his wife’s lust for money. He thought he would have to work no more, but he was disenchanted to hear her say: “This is only your first adventure in this new way of life! Once your name gets known, you will soon be summoned to court!”

Unhappily Ahmed remonstrated with her. He had no wish to go further in his career of fortune-telling, it simply was not safe. How could he expect to have further strokes of luck like the last, he asked? But his wife burst into tears and again threatened him with divorce.

Ahmed agreed to sally forth next day t the market-place, to advertise himself once more. He exclaimed as loudly as before “I am an astrologer! I can see everything which will happen by the power given to me by the sun, the moon and the stars!”

The crowd gathered again and a veiled lady was passing while Ahmed was holding forth. She paused with her maid and heard of the success he had had the day before with the finding of the king’s ruby, together with a dozen other stories, which had never happened. The lady, very tall and dressed in fine silks, pushed her way forward and said: “I ask you this conundrum. Where are my necklace and earrings, which I mislaid yesterday? I dare not tell my husband about the loss, as he is a very jealous man and may think I have given them to a lover. Do you, astrologer, tell me at once where they are or I am dishonoured! If you give me the right answer, which should not be difficult for you, I will at once give you fifty pieces of gold”.

The unfortunate cobbler was speechless for a moment, on seeing such an important-looking lady before him, plucking at his arm and he put a hand over his eyes. He looked at her again, wondering what he should say. Then he noticed that part of her face was showing, which was quite unsuitable for one of her social level, and the veil was torn, apparently in her pressing through the crowd. He leaned down and said in a quiet voice: “Madam, look down to the rent, look to the rent!”

He meant the rent in her veil, but it immediately touched off a recollection in her mind. “Stay here, o greatest of astrologers,” she said and returned to her house, which was not far away. There, in the rent in her bathroom wall, she discovered her necklace and earrings, which she herself had hidden them from prying eyes. Soon she was back, wearing another veil and carrying a bag containing fifty pieces of gold for Ahmed. The crowd pressed around him in wonder at this new example of the brilliance of the cobbler astrologer.

Ahmed’s wife, however, could not yet rival the wife of the chief court astrologer, so she still urged her husband to continue seeking fame and fortune.

Now, at this time, the king’s treasury was robbed of forty chests of gold and jewels. Officers of state and the chief of police all tried to find the thieves but to no avail. At last, two servants were dispatched to Ahmed to ask if he would solve the case of the missing chests.

The king’s astrologer, however, was spreading lies about Ahmed behind his back and was heard to say that he gave Ahmed forty days to find the thieves, then he prophesied, Ahmed would be hanged for not being able to do so.

Ahmed was being summoned to the presence of the king and bowed low before the sovereign. “Who is the thief, then, according to the stars?” asked the king.

“It is very difficult to say, my calculations will take some time,” stammered Ahmed, “but I will say this so far, your majesty, there was not one thief, but forty who did this dreadful robbery of your majesty’s treasure”.

“Very well,” said the king, “where are they and what can they have done with my gold and jewels?”
“I cannot say before forty days,” answered Ahmed, “if your majesty will grant me that time to consult the stars. Each night, you see, there are different conjunctions to study…”.

“I grant you forty days, then,” said the king, “but when they are past, if you do not have the answer, your life will be forfeit”.

The court astrologer looked very pleased and smirked behind his beard and that look made poor Ahmed very uncomfortable. Suppose the court astrologer was right after all? He returned to his home and told his wife: “My dear, I fear that your great greed has meant that I have now only forty more days to live. Let us cheerfully spend all we have made, for in that time I shall have to be executed”.

“But husband,” she said “you must find out the thieves in that time by the same method you found the king’s ruby and the woman’s necklace and the earrings!”

“Foolish creature!” said he, “do you not recall that I found the answers to those two cases simply by the will of Allah! I can never pull off such a trick again, not if I live to be a hundred. No, I think the best thing will be for me each night to put a date in a bowl, and by the time that there are forty in it, I shall know that it is the night of the fortieth day and the end of my life. You know I have no skill in reckoning and shall never know if I do not do it in this way”.

“Take courage,” she said, “mean, spiritless wretch that you are and think of something even while we are putting dates in the bowl, so that I may ever yet be attired like the wife of the court astrologer and placed in that rank of life to which my beauty has entitled me!” Not a word of kindness did she give him, not a thought of herself and her personal victory over the wife of the court astrologer.

Meanwhile, the forty thieves, a few miles away from the city, had received accurate information regarding the measures taken to detect them. They were told by spies that the king had sent for Ahmed, and hearing that the cobbler had told of their exact number, feared for their lives. But the captain of the gang said: “Let us go tonight, after dark, and listen outside his house, for in fact he might have made an inspired guess and we might be worrying over nothing”.

Everybody approved of this scheme, so after nightfall one of the thieves listening on the terrace just after the cobbler had offered his evening prayer, heard Ahmed say: “Ah, there is the first of the forty!” He had just been handed the first date by his wife. The thief, hearing these words, hurried back in consternation to the gang and told them that somehow, through wall and window, Ahmed had sensed his unseen presence and said: “Ah, there is the first of the forty!”

The tale of the spy was not believed and the next day two members of the band were sent to listen, completely hidden by darkness, outside the house. To their dismay they both heard Ahmed say quite distinctly: “My dear wife, tonight there are two of them!” Ahmed, of course, having finished his evening prayer, had been given the second date by his wife. The astonished thieves fled into the night, and told their companions what they had heard.

The next night three men were sent and the fourth night four, and so for many nights they came just as Ahmed was putting the date into the bowl. On the last night they all went and Ahmed cried loudly: “Ah, the number is complete! Tonight the whole forty are here!”

All doubts were now removed. It was impossible that they could have been seen, under cover of darkness they had come, mingling with passers-by and people of the town. Ahmed had never looked out of the window; had he done so, he would not even been able to see them, so deeply were they hidden in the shadows.

“Let us bribe the cobbler-astrologer!” said the chief of the thieves. “We will offer him as much of the booty as he wants and then we will prevent him telling the chief of police about us tomorrow,” he whispered to the others.
They knocked at Ahmed’s door, it was almost dawn. Supposing it to be the soldiers coming to take him away to be executed, Ahmed came to the door in good spirits. He and his wife had spent half of the money on good living and he was feeling quite ready to go. He did not even feel sorry that he was to leave his wife behind. She, in fact, was secretly pleased at having quite a lot of money left over to spend solely on herself.

“I know what you have come for!” he shouted out, as the cock crowed and the sun began to rise. “Have patience, I am coming out to you now. But what a wicked deed are you about to do!’ and he stepped forward bravely.

“Most wonderful man!” cried the head of the thieves. “We are fully convinced that you know why we have come, but can we not tempt you with two thousand pieces of gold and beg you to say nothing about the matter!”

“Say nothing about it?” said Ahmed. “Do you honestly think it is possible that I should suffer such gross wrong and injustice without making it known to all the world?”

“Have mercy upon us,” exclaimed the thieves and most of them threw themselves at his feet. “Only spare our lives and we shall return the treasure we stole!”

The cobbler was not sure if he was indeed awake or perhaps still sleeping, but realising that these were the forty thieves he assumed a solemn tone and said: “Wretched men! You cannot escape from my penetration, which reaches to the sun and the moon and knows every star in the sky. If you restore every chest of the forty I will do my very best to intercede with the king on your behalf. But go now, get the treasure and place it in a ditch a foot deep, which you must dig under the wall of the old hammam, the public baths. If you do this before the people of Isfahan are up and about, your lives will be spared. If not, you shall all hang! Go or destruction will fall upon you and your families!”

Stumbling and falling and picking themselves up, the band of thieves rushed away. Would it work? Ahmed knew he had only a short time to wait and find out. It was a very long shot, but he knew that he had only one life to lose and that he was in great danger anyway.

But Allah is just. Rewards suitable to their merits awaited Ahmed and his wife. At midday Ahmed stood cheerfully before the king, who said: “Your looks are promising, have you good news?”

“Your majesty!” said Ahmed, “the stars will only grant one or the other – the forty thieves or the forty chests of treasure. Will your majesty choose?”

“I should be sorry not to punish the thieves” said the king, “but if it must be so, I choose the treasure”.

“And you give the thieves a full and free pardon, O king?”

“I do,” said the monarch “provided I find my treasure untouched”.

“Then follow me,” said Ahmed and set off to the old hammam.

The king and all his courtiers followed Ahmed, who most of the times was casting his eyes to heaven and murmuring things under his breath, describing circles in the air the while. When his prayer was finished, he pointed to the southern wall and requested that his majesty ask the slaves to dig, saying that the treasure would be found intact. In his heart of hearts he hoped it were true.

Within a short while all the forty chests were discovered, with all the royal seals intact. The king’s joy knew no bounds. He embraced Ahmed like a father and immediately appointed him chief court astrologer. “I declare that you shall marry my only daughter,” he cried delightedly, “as you have restored the fortunes of my kingdom and to thus promote you is nothing less than my duty!”

The beautiful princess, who was as lovely as the moon on her fourteenth night, was not dissatisfied with her father’s choice, for she had seen Ahmed from afar and secretly loved him from the first glance.

The wheel of fortune had taken a complete turn. At dawn Ahmed was conversing with the band of thieves, bargaining with them; at disk he was lord of a rich palace and the possessor of a fair, young, highborn wife who adored him. But his did not change his character and he was as contented as a prince as he had been as a poor cobbler. His former wife, for whom he had now ceased to care, moved out of his life, and got the punishment to which her unreasonableness and unfeeling vanity had condemned her. Thus is the tapestry, which is our life, completed by the Great Designer.
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All The Hemispheres – The Poetry Of Hafiz

I Have Learned So Much
I
Have
Learned
So much from God
That I can no longer
Call
Myself

A Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim,
a Buddhist, a Jew.

The Truth has shared so much of Itself
With me

That I can no longer call myself
A man, a woman, an angel,
Or even a pure
Soul.

Love has
Befriended Hafiz so completely
It has turned to ash
And freed
Me

Of every concept and image
my mind has ever known.
—–
Laughing At the Word Two

Only
That Illumined
One

Who keeps
Seducing the formless into form

Had the charm to win my
Heart.

Only a Perfect One
Who is always
Laughing at the word
Two

Can make you know
Of
Love
—–
School of Truth

O fool, do something, so you won’t just stand there looking dumb.
If you are not traveling and on the road, how can you call yourself a guide?

In the School of Truth, one sits at the feet of the Master of Love.
So listen, son, so that one day you may be an old father, too!

All this eating and sleeping has made you ignorant and fat;
By denying yourself food and sleep, you may still have a chance.

Know this: If God should shine His lovelight on your heart,
I promise you’ll shine brighter than a dozen suns.

And I say: wash the tarnished copper of your life from your hands;
To be Love’s alchemist, you should be working with gold.

Don’t sit there thinking; go out and immerse yourself in God’s sea.
Having only one hair wet with water will not put knowledge in that head.

For those who see only God, their vision
Is pure, and not a doubt remains.

Even if our world is turned upside down and blown over by the wind,
If you are doubtless, you won’t lose a thing.

O Hafiz, if it is union with the Beloved that you seek,
Be the dust at the Wise One’s door, and speak!
—–
All the Hemispheres

Leave the familiar for a while.
Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season
Onto the meadows and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof.
Make a new water-mark on your excitement
And love.

Like a blooming night flower,
Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness
And giving
Upon our intimate assembly.

Change rooms in your mind for a day.

All the hemispheres in existence
Lie beside an equator
In your heart.

Greet Yourself
In your thousand other forms
As you mount the hidden tide and travel
Back home.

All the hemispheres in heaven
Are sitting around a fire
Chatting

While stitching themselves together
Into the Great Circle inside of
You.

– Hafiz
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One of the books that is often by my side. “The Gift” Poems by Hafiz The Great Sufi Master – I discovered Hafiz whilst in pursuit of Rumi. Hafiz is a different flavour, but the depths are much the same. I recommend!

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Massive Attack – Atlas Air (Heligoland)

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The Matrix Of Ideas…

“Love sometimes wants to do us a great favor: hold us upside down and shake all the nonsense out.” – Hafiz
Hamsa – The Hand Of Fatima – A new design from Gwyllm-Art.com for clothing and bags

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Delicious Laughter…
Up until last week I had spent my last minutes at night for a couple of weeks reading “Delicious Laughter” (Rambunctious Teaching Stories from the Mathnawi) from Rumi, versions by Coleman Barks. This is a most delightful book, I recommend it highly. For those who find parables and stories easier to read than poetry, this is an excellent transition read. I really appreciate Coleman’s translation efforts. Of any of the modern translators, he is almost always spot on as far as I can tell. As I said, a delightful read, and a wonderful introduction to Rumi’s teachings and ideas.

I was quite sad to lay it down, but here I find it in my book pile next to my desk. You will find it a delightful companion book, and one that you’ll return to time and again. It really gave me clarity on some of the processes I have been in as of late…

Anyway, it has been a very busy week for us here in Portland. The weather went from the sublime to the foul, and it is like being in winter again. It is absolutely bucketing rain at this point, and will continue to do so for days. We had glorious sunshine though, and we were walking through drifting flower petals from all of the trees. I can’t believe how beautiful it gets here at times, truly amazing. As I write, it is dropping 2 feet of snow up in the Cascades. Winter still has it grips in the heights, and will continue so for awhile.

The burst of creativity that I experienced before the last art exhibit is continuing, which is a good thing. (read below in “The Matrix Of Ideas”) Hopefully after all the prep work on other projects I can get back to writing. So much on the plate.

Rowan is working on his film, out with his friend Gen looking for costumes for “Amour Sincère”… He achieved his funding goals with the help of many a good person! Thanks so much for that! Rowan and I visited with his mentor, Tom Beckett and his family yesterday. Tom just finished playing as “Kent” in King Lear. He is sporting a rather fashionable shaved head as of late because of it as well.

This edition is as eclectic as any as of late, from Progressive Electronica from Germany (Ulf Lohmann), an article by Antonin Artaud, to a very old translation from the Mathnawi (not Coleman’s), to quotes from Hafiz… with info on new projects and a request from yours truly. I hope you enjoy it all.

Well, that is it for now. More coming this week, I have a back log of 2-3 other post just waiting to come out.

May this find you and yours in good health.

Blessings,
Gwyllm
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On The Menu:
The Matrix Of Ideas (Gwyllm-Art.com)
Prayer & Meditation Request
Ulf Lohmann – My Pazifik
Hafiz Quotes
The Theater and Culture – by Antonin Artaud
The Poetry Of Rumi: The Mathnawai (an excerpt)
Ulf Lohmann – Because
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The Matrix Of Ideas:

So I have been coding, designing and upgrading images for Gwyllm-Art.com, my art site. I have a bunch new T-shirt designs for women and men (including “The Hand of Fatima” above!), as well as a new line of Tote Bag designs!. I’ve brought back designs that were very popular a while back, and will continue bringing out new items as we go along.. We will be expanding our clothing line as the seasons change with hoodies, long sleeved shirts as well as other items, and expanding on the varieties of bags also.

So keep tuned, and please pay a visit to Gwyllm-Art.com, lots of stuff to look at! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Cheers,
G
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Prayer & Meditation Request

For my long time friend Rik, The Wizard Of Upper Cascadia.
The Wizard has been diagnosed with Leukemia, and is going in tomorrow to find out the results of test to determine what type.
We have known The Wiz for many a year, and have often enjoyed his company both here, and in his aerie up against the western slopes to the north.
Our thoughts and prayers are with him at this time. I hope you join us in meditation and prayer for his recovery, and for a positive change in his health.
He is an original, one of a kind being, that we hold dear to our hearts. I salute you with a glass of that beautiful green essence that you brought back into my life!
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Ulf Lohmann – My Pazifik

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Hafiz Quotes:
“Stay close to any sounds that make you glad you are alive.”
“Time is a factory where everyone slaves away earning enough love to break their own chains.”
“There is no pleasure without a tincture of bitterness.”
“Never refuse any advance of friendship, for if nine out of ten bring you nothing, one alone may repay you.”
“Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I would like to see you living In better conditions.”
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Preface to The Theater and its Double: The Theater and Culture – by Antonin Artaud (1938)

Never before, when it is life that is in question, has there been so much talk of civilization and culture. And there is a curious parallel between this generalized collapse of life at the root of our present demoralization and our concern for a culture which has never been coincident with life, which in fact has been devised to tyrannize life.

Before speaking further about culture, I must remark that the world is hungry and not concerned with culture, and that the attempt to orient toward culture thoughts turned only toward hunger is a purely artificial expedient.

What is more important, it seems to me, is not so much to defend a culture whose existence has never kept a man from going hungry, as to extract, from what is called culture, ideas whose compelling force is identical with that of hunger.

We need to live first of all: to believe in what makes us live and that something makes us live – to believe that whatever is produced from the mysterious depths of ourselves need not forever haunt us as an exclusively digestive concern.

I mean that if it is important for us to eat first of all, it is even more important for us for us not to waste in the sole concern for eating our simple power of being hungry.

If confusion is the sign of the times, I see at the root of this confusion a rupture between things and words, between things and ideas and signs that are their representation.

Not, of course, for lack of philosophical systems: their number and contradictions characterize our old French and European culture: but where can it be shown that life, our life, has ever been affected by these systems? I will not say that philosophical systems must be applied directly and immediately: but of the following alternatives, one must be true:

Either these systems are within us and permeate our being to the point of supporting life itself (and this is the case, what use are books?), or they do not permeate us and therefore do not have the capacity to support life (and in this case what does their disappearance matter?).

We must insist upon the idea of culture-in-action, of culture growing within us like a new organ, a sort of second breath: and on civilization as an applied culture controlling even our subtlest actions, a presence of mind; the distinction between culture and civilization is an artificial one, providing two words to signify an identical function.

A civilized man judges and is judged according to his behavior, but even the term “civilized” leads to confusion: a cultivated “civilized” man is regarded as a person instructed in systems, a person who thinks in forms, signs, representations – a monster whose faculty of deriving thoughts from acts, instead of identifying acts with thoughts, is developed to an absurdity.

If our life lacks brimstone, i.e., a constant magic, it is because we choose to observe our acts and lose ourselves in consideration of their imagined form instead of being impelled by their force.

And this faculty is an exclusively human one. I would even say that is this infection of the human which contaminates ideas that should have remained divine” for far from believing that man invented the supernatural and the divine, I think it is man’s age old intervention which has ultimately corrupted the divine within him.

All our ideas about life must be revised in a period when nothing any longer adheres to life; it is this painful cleavage which is responsible for the revenge of things; the poetry which is no longer within us and which we no longer succeed in finding in things suddenly appears on their wrong side: consider the unprecedented number of crimes whose perverse gratuitousness is explained only by our powerlessness to take complete possession of life.

If the theater has been created as an outlet for our repressions, the agonized poetry expressed in its bizarre corruptions of the facts of life demonstrates that life’s intensity is still intact and asks only to be better directed.

But not matter how loudly we clamor for magic in our lives, we are really afraid of pursuing an existence entirely under its influence and sign.

Hence our confirmed lack of culture is astonished by certain grandiose anomalies: for example, on an island without any contact with modern civilization, the mere passage of a ship carrying only healthy passengers may provoke the sudden outbreak of diseases unknown on that island but a specialty of nations like our own: shingles, influenza, grippe, rheumatism, sinusitis, polyneuritis, etc…

Similarly, if we think Negroes smell bad, we are ignorant of the fact that anywhere but in Europe it is we whites who “smell bad”. And I would even say that we give off an odor as white as the gathering of pus in an infected wound.

As iron can be heated until it turns white, so it can be said that everything that is excessive is white; for Asiatics white has become the mark of extreme decomposition.

This said, we can begin to form an idea of culture, an idea which is first of all a protest.

A pretext against the senseless constraint imposed upon the idea of culture by reducing it to a sort of inconceivable Pantheon, producing an idolatry no different from the image-worship of those religions which relegate their gods to Pantheons.

A protest against the idea of culture as distinct from life – as if there were culture on one side and life on the other, as if true culture where not a refined means of understanding and exercising life.

The library at Alexandria can be burnt down. There are forces above and beyond papyrus: we may temporarily be deprived of our ability to discover these forces, but their energy will not be suppressed. It is good that our excessive facilities are no longer available, that forms fall into oblivion: a culture without space or time, restrained only by the capacity of our own nerves, will reappear with all the more energy. It is right that from time to time cataclysms occur which compel us to return to nature, i.e. to rediscover life. The old totemism of animals, stone, objects capable of discharging thunderbolts, costumes impregnated with bestial essences – everything, in short, that might determine, disclose, and direct the secret forces of the universe – is for us a dead thing, from which we derive nothing but static and aesthetic profit, the profit of an audience, not of an actor.

Yet totemism is an actor, for it moves, and has been crated in behalf of actors; all true culture relies upon the barbarism and primitive means of totemism whose savage, i.e., entirely spontaneous, life I wish to worship.

What has lost us culture is our Occidental idea of art and the profits we see to derive from it. Art and culture cannot be considered together, contrary to the treatment universally accorded them!

True culture operates by exaltation and force, while the European ideal of art attempts to cast the mind into an attitude distinct from force but addicted to exaltation. It is a lazy, unserviceable notion which engenders an imminent death. If the Serpent Quetzalcoatl’s multiple twists and turns are harmonious, it is because they express the equilibrium and fluctuations of a sleeping force; the intensity of the forms is there only to seduce and direct a force which, in music, would produce an unsupportable range of sound.

The gods that sleep in museums: the god of fire with his incense burner that resembles an Inquisition tripod; Tlaloc, one of the manifold Gods of the Waters, on his wall of green granite; the Mother Goddess of Waters, the Mother Goddess of Flowers; the immutable expression, echoing from beneath many layers of water, of the Goddess robed in green jade; the enraptured blissful expression, features crackling with incense, where atoms of sunlight circle – the countenance of the Mother Goddess of Flowers; this world of obligatory servitude in which a stone comes alive when it has been properly carved, the world of organically civilized men whose vital organs too awaken from their slumber, this human world enters into us, participating in the dance of the gods, without turning round or looking back, on pain of becoming, like ourselves, crumbled pillars of salt.

In Mexico, since we are speaking of Mexico, there is no art: things are made for use. And the world is in perpertual exaltation.

To our disinterested and inert idea of art an authentic culture opposes a violently egoistic and magical, i.e. interested idea. The Mexicans seek contact with the Manas, forces latent in every form, unreleased by contemplation of the forms for themselves, but springing to life by magic identification with these forms. And the old Totems are there to hasten the communication.

How hard it is, when everything encourages us to sleep, though we may look about us with conscious, clinging eyes, to wake and yet look about us as in a dream, with eyes that no longer know their function and whose gaze is turned inward.

This is how our strange idea of disinterested action originated, though it is action nonetheless, and all the more violent for skirting the temptation of repose.

Every real effigy has a shadow which is its double; and art must falter and fail from the moment the sculptor believes he has liberated the kind of shadow whose very existence will destroy his repose.

Like all magic cultures expressed by appropriate hieroglyphs, the true theater has its shadows too, and of all languages and all arts, the theater is the only one left whose shadows have shattered their limitations. From the beginning, on might say its shadows did not tolerate limitations.

Our petrified idea of the theater is connected with our petrified idea of a culture without shadows, where, no matter which way it turns, our mind (esprit) encounters only emptiness, though space is full.

But the true theater, because is moves and makes use of living instruments, continues to stir up shadows where life has never ceased to grope its way. The actor does not make the same gesture twice, but he makes gestures, he moves; and although he brutalizes forms, nevertheless behind them and through their destruction he rejoins that which outlives forms and produces their continuation.

The theater, which is in no thing, but makes use of everything – gestures, sounds, words, screams, light, darkness – rediscovers itself at precisely the point where the mind requires a language to express its manifestations.

And the fixation of the theater in one language – written words, music, lights, noises – betokens its imminent ruin, the choice of any one language betraying a taste for the special effects of that language; and the desiccation of the language accompanies its limitation.

For the theater as for culture, it remains a question of naming and directing shadows: and the theater, not confined to a fixed language and form, not only destroys false shadows but prepares the way for a new generation of shadows, around which assembles the true spectacle of life.

To break through language in order to touch life is to create or recreate the theater; the essential thing is not to believe that this act must remain sacred, i.e., set apart the essential thing is to believe that not just anyone can create it, and that there must be a preparation.

This leads to the rejection of the usual limitations of man and man’s powers, and infinitely extends the frontiers of what is called reality.

We must believe in a sense of life renewed by the theater, a sense of life in which man makes himself master of what does not yet exist, and brings it into being. And everything that has not been born can still be brought to life if we are not satisfied to remain mere recording organisms.

Furthermore, when we speak the word “life”, it must be understood we are not referring to life as we know it from the surface of fact, but to that fragile, fluctuating center which forms never reach. And if there is one hellish, truly accursed thing in our time, it is our artistic dallying with forms, instead of being like victims burnt at the stake, signaling through the flames.
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Ulf Lohmann – Burning Bright

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The Poetry Of Rumi: The Mathnawai:

STORY XII. The Visions seen by the Saint Daquqi

To illustrate the exalted state of identification of the will with the Divine will just described, the poet tells the story of the visions and mighty works of the holy Daquqi. Daquqi was journeying in pious fervor, and in hope to see the splendour of “The Friend” in human shape, the Ocean in a drop of water, and the Sun in an atom, when late one evening he arrived at the seashore. Turning his eyes to heaven, he saw seven great lights never before seen of men, for “God directs whom He will.” 1 Overwhelmed with awe, he watched these lights, and while he still watched them they united into one light. Still more amazed, he watched on, and the single light shortly assumed the likeness of seven men. Afterwards these seven men changed into seven trees; but, strange to say, although crowds of people were passing by, none of them could see these trees, so that Daquqi shared the feelings of the apostles “who lost all hope” (of convincing the world), “and deemed that, they were reckoned as liars.” 2 Possessing his soul in patience, Daquqi still watched on, and saw the seven trees bowing down in prayer, and was reminded of the text, “Plants and trees bend in adoration.” 3 Presently the seven trees again changed into seven men, and Daquqi was appointed to conduct their devotions. While he was yet acting as Imam in front of them, and they were following the prayers he recited, a ship was seen in great distress and all but lost. At Daquqi’s earnest prayer the crew were saved, but straightway vanished from sight; and this led his followers to doubt the reality of the miracle which had just been performed before their eyes.
Description of a saint whose will was identified with God’s will.

That Daquqi possessed a sweet aspect,
As a lover of God and a worker of miracles.
He resembled the moon of heaven come down on earth,
He was as a light to them that walked in darkness.
He rarely tarried in one place,
And seldom stayed two days in one village.
He said, “If I tarry in one house two days,
Attachment to that house becomes a passion with me.
I guard myself from being deceived into loving a home;
Up! Soul, and travel in search of eternal wealth.
My heart’s inclination is not satisfied by houses,
So that they should be places of temptation for me.”
Thus by day he traveled, and by night prayed,
His eyes were always gazing on the King as a falcon’s;
Cut off from mankind, though not for any fault,
Severed from men and women, though not for baseness;
Having compassion on mankind, and wholesome as water,
A kind intercessor, and one whose prayers were heard.
Benevolent to the good and the bad, and a firm ally,
Better than a mother, and kinder than a father.
The Prophet said, “To you, O blessed ones,
I am as a father, affectionate and indulgent;
For this cause, that you are all portions of me.”
Wherefore should you tear away the parts from the whole?
If the part be severed from its whole it is useless;
If a limb be rent from the body it dies.
Till it is again joined to its whole,
‘Tis a dead thing, and a stranger to life.
Thus Daquqi, in devotions and praises and prayers,
Was ever seeking the particular favorites of God.
Throughout his long journeys his object was this,
To interchange a word with the favorites of God.
He cried continually as he went his way,
“O Lord, let me draw near to Thy chosen ones!”
So Daquqi (the mercy of God be upon him!)
Said, “I journeyed long time to East and to West,
I journeyed years and months for love of that Moon,
Heedless of the way, absorbed in God.
With bare feet I trod upon thorns and flints,
Seeing I was bewildered, and beside myself, and senseless.
Think not my feet touched the earth,
For the lover verily travels with the heart.
What knows the heart of road and stages?
What of distant and near, while it is drunk with love?
Distance and nearness are attributes of bodies,
The journeys of spirits are after another sort.
You journeyed from the embryo state to rationality
Without footsteps or stages or change of place,
The journey of the soul involves not time and place.
And my body learnt from the soul its mode of journeying,
Now my body has renounced the bodily mode of journeying;
It journeys secretly and without form, though under a form.”
He added, “One day I was thus filled with longing
To behold in human form the splendours of ‘The Friend,’
To witness the Ocean gathered up into a drop,
The Sun compressed into a single atom;
And when I drew near to the shore of the sea
The day was drawing to a close.”
All religions are in substance one and the same.
In the adorations and benedictions of righteous men
The praises of all the prophets are kneaded together.
All their praises are mingled into one stream,
All the vessels are emptied into one ewer.
Because He that is praised is, in fact, only One,
In this respect all religions are only one religion.
Because all praises are directed towards God’s light,
Their various forms and figures are borrowed from it.
Men never address praises but to One deemed worthy,
They err only through mistaken opinions of Him.
So, when a light falls upon a wall,
That wall is a connecting-link between all its beams;
Yet when it casts that reflection back to its source,
It wrongly shows great as small, and halts in its praises.
Or if the moon be reflected in a well,
And one looks down the well, and mistakenly praises it,
In reality he is intending to praise the moon,
Although, through ignorance, he is looking down the well.
The object of his praises is the moon, not its reflection;
His infidelity arises from mistake of the circumstances.
That well-meaning man goes wrong through his mistake;
The moon is in heaven, and he fancies it in the well.
By these false idols mankind are perplexed,
And driven by vain lusts to their sorrow.
The Man in the time of the Prophet David who prayed
to be fed without having to work for his food.

After the petitioner had slain and eaten the cow, the owner of the cow came up and accused him of theft, and seizing him by the collar, dragged him before the judgment-seat of the prophet David. When he had stated his case, David ordered the accused to make restitution, telling him that he must not break the law. At this order the accused redoubled his cries, telling David that he was siding with an oppressor. David was staggered at the man’s assurance, and finally resolved to take further time for consideration before deciding the case. After private meditation he re-versed his former sentence, and directed the plaintiff to relinquish his claim. On the plaintiff refusing to do this, and stoutly protesting against David’s injustice. David further ordered that all the plaintiff’s goods should be given to the accused. The reason for this decision was, that David discovered the plaintiff had formerly slain the grandfather of the accused, and stolen all his goods. David then led all the Mosalmans to a tree in the desert where the murder had been perpetrated, and there put the murderer to death.

The hands and feet of criminals betray
their crimes even in this world.
He of himself lifted the veil that hid his crime;
Had he not done so, God would have kept it hidden.
Criminals and sinners, even in the course of sinning,
Themselves rend the coverings of their crimes.
Their sins are veiled among the heart’s secrets,
Yet the criminal himself exposes them to view,
Saying, “Behold me wearing a pair of horns,
A cow of hell in sight of all men.”
Thus, even here, in the midst of thy sin, thy hand and foot
Bear witness of the secrets of thy heart.
Thy secret thought is as a governor who says to thee,
“Tell forth thy convictions, withhold them not;”
Especially in seasons of passion and angry talk
It betrays thy secrets one by one.
Thy secret sins and crimes govern hand and foot,
Saying, “Disclose us to men, O hand and foot!”
And since these witnesses take the bit in their mouths,
Especially in times of passion and wrath and revenge,
Therefore the same God who appointed this governor
To blazen forth thy secret sins to the world
Is also able to create many more governors
To divulge thy secret sins on the day of judgment. 4
O man whose only handiwork is crime and sin;
Thy secret sins are manifest; no divulging is needed.
There is no need to proclaim thy sins,
All men are cognizant of thy sin-burnt heart.
Thy soul every moment casts up sparks of fire,
Which say, “See me a man destined to the fire;
I am a part of the fire, and go to join my whole;
Not a light, so that I should join the Source of light.”
Comparison of lust to the murderer in the story.
Kill thine own lust and give life to the world;
It has killed its lord, reduce it to servitude.
That claimant of the cow is thy lust; Beware!
It has made itself lord and master.
That slayer of the cow is thy reason; Go!
Be not obdurate to the prayers of him that kills the cow.
Reason is a poor captive, and ever cries to God
For meat on its dish without laboring and toiling.
On what depends its getting meat without toiling?
On its killing the cow of the body, the source of evil.
Lust says, “Why hast thou killed my cow?”
It says, “Because lust’s cow is the form of the body.” 5
Reason, the Lord’s child, has become a pauper,
Lust, the murderer, has become a lord and chief.
Know’st thou what is meat untoiled for?
‘Tis the food of spirits and the aliment of the Prophet.
But it is attainable only by slaying the cow;
Treasure is gained by digging, O digger of treasure!
:
1. Koran lv. 5.
2. Koran xii. 110.
3. Koran ii. 136.
4. “On that day shall their hands speak unto us, and their feet shall bear witness of that which they have done” (Koran xxxvi. 65).
5. Bahau-’d-Din Amili, in his Nan wa Halwa, chap. iv., compares lust to a cow, referring to Koran ii. 63.
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Ulf Lohmann – Because

Reboot The Universe

“Gone were but the Winter,
Come were but the Spring,
I would go to a covert
Where the birds sing;

Where in the whitethorn
Singeth a thrush,
And a robin sings
In the holly-bush.

Full of fresh scents
Are the budding boughs
Arching high over
A cool green house:

Full of sweet scents,
And whispering air
Which sayeth softly:
“We spread no snare;

“Here dwell in safety,
Here dwell alone,
With a clear stream
And a mossy stone.

“Here the sun shineth
Most shadily;
Here is heard an echo
Of the far sea,
Though far off it be.”
– Christina Rossetti, Spring Quiet

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Rebooting The Universe…
Greetings Friends,

It has been awhile since the last posting, and as I type we are now stepping into another Universe. The South East Art Walk went pretty well, Paul sold a bunch, and I did moderately well. It seems that people were looking for more functional than decorative, you should of seen the cups and bowls fly out of here! What the Art Walk did do was make me rethink things, and to set a new course with a greater emphasis on my art.

One of the results of the Art Walk was this commission below: “Richard M. Nixon”. I really enjoyed painting this, odd to say. It seems a bit perverse but hey, the customer loved it, and that is what is important. Actually the client is younger, and fascinated with the said villainous R.M. Nixon, and is in no way a supporter of such demagogues in the least.
Art Commission:

Spring Equinox has arrived, and as I walked through the clouds of pollen and flowers I felt like I was absolutely floating through beauty. (I am sure the allergy meds added something to this ;o] ) Spring in the North West is most amazing; the amount of flowers bursting forth, the trees heavy with buds and flowers as well. The squirrels are chasing each other, and the robins have returned, dividing up the neighborhood as they every year.

I will be publishing (soonish) some of the new projects I am involved with. It seems that the pressure from the universe is pushing me/us to new ways of thinking and doing.

I would posit that we are being rebooted as opposed to the universe, but at this point I can’t really tell, to close to it, in the middle of it, dazzled by the energy of it all.

Updates:

Rowan got his funding for his film! I want to thank all who have been involved with helping him with this! He got in last night at 2:30 from working on another film, he is off editing another film he is doing for classes today, and then onto another shoot tonight. I see him it seems like every other day for a little bit. I helped out being chauffeur yesterday, moving people, equipment etc from morning to 9:30 last night off and on.

We are saying good bye to our land lines, old phone numbers, ISP/emails etc. this coming week. Upgrading(?) to a new way of doing things here.

I have been painting and doing other art as well like crazy. I have to say that my work is changing now, faster than at anytime in the last 20 years. As I work, I am seeing a new event horizon. This is all a bit scary, but very exciting. I hope to be able to start sharing all this in the next week or so. I have gone from someone who dwelt upon the minutiae of details, to a new form of minimalism on my part. (see the Nixon painting for an idea of this) I feel like I did when I moved from pointillism to airbrush. I am relearning again, and I think I may survive.

Enough about me… I hope life finds you happy, and enjoying the seasonal change, be it Spring or Autumn depending on where you are on the globe.

A big thanks to Gordon Kelley for turning me on to the musical content, and a big thank you to all who visit Turfing. More on the way, with joy I have to say.

Bright Blessings, Gwyllm
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On The Menu:
Quotes For The Spring Equinox
Pelican – Strung up from the sky
Celtic Tales: The Golden Fly
Poetry Of Michael Hartnett
Maserati – Inventions
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Quotes For The Spring Equinox:

– We need spring. We need it desperately and, usually, we need it before God is willing to give it to us. – Peter Gzowski, Spring Tonic

– If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome. – Anne Bradstreet, Meditations Divine and Moral, 1655

– Winter is long in this climate
and spring–a matter of a few days
only,–a flower or two picked
from mud or from among wet leaves
or at best against treacherous
bitterness of wind, and sky shining
teasingly, then closing in black
and sudden, with fierce jaws. – William Carlos Williams, March

-”Come, gentle Spring! Ethereal Mildness! Come.” – James Thomson

-Each leaf,
each blade of grass
vies for attention.
Even weeds
carry tiny blossoms
to astonish us. – Marianne Poloskey, Sunday in Spring

-The sun is brilliant in the sky but its warmth does not reach my face.
The breeze stirs the trees but leaves my hair unmoved.
The cooling rain will feed the grass but will not slake my thirst.
It is all inches away but further from me than my dreams. – M. Romeo LaFlamme, The First of March

-Botanists say that trees need the powerful March winds to flex
their trunks and main branches, so the sap is drawn up to
nourish the budding leaves. Perhaps we need the gales of life
in the same way, though we dislike enduring them. – Jane Truax
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Tip of the hat to Gordon Kelley for turning me onto these guys…..

Pelican – Strung up from the sky

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The Golden Fly

Ethuan, Angus, Fuamach, and Midyir lived in the World of the Gods. Ethaun said to Angus:

“I am weary of everything that I see; let me go into the other worlds with you.”

Angus said:

“When I go into the other worlds I wander from place to place and people do not know that I am a god. In the earth they think I am a juggler or a wandering minstrel or a beggar-man. If you come with me you will seem a poor singing woman or a strolling player.”

Then Ethaun said:

“I will ask Midyir to make a world for myself–all the worlds are full of weariness.”

She went to find Midyir, and as she went she saw below her the World of the Bright Shadow that is called Ildathach, and the World of the Dark Shadow that is called Earth. Midyir was looking down at the Earth, and a brightness grew on it as he looked. Ethaun was angry because Midyir cared to make a brightness on the Earth, and she turned away from him, and said:

“I wish the worlds would clash together and disappear! I am weary of everything I can see.”

Then Fuamach said:

“You have the heart of a fly, that is never contented; take the body of a fly, and wander till your heart is changed and you get back your own shape again.”

Ethaun became a little golden fly, and she was afraid to leave the World of the Gods and wished she could get back her shape again. She flew to Midyir and buzzed round him, but he was making a brightness on the Earth and did not hear her; when she lit on his hand he brushed her away.

She went to Angus, and he was making music on the strings of his tiompan; when she buzzed about him he said: “You have a sweet song, little fly,” and he made the tiompan buzz like a fly. She lit on his hand, and he said: “You are very beautiful, little golden fly, and because you are beautiful I will give you a gift. Now speak and ask for the gift that will please you best.” Then Ethaun was able to speak, and she said:

“O Angus, give me back my shape again. I am Ethaun, and Fuamach has changed me into a fly and bidden me wander till I get back my shape.”

Angus looked sadly at the little golden fly, and said:

“It is only in Ildathach that I am a Shape-Changer. Come with me to that land and I will

make a palace for you and while you are in it you will have the shape of Ethaun.”

“I will go with you,” said Ethaun, “and live in your palace.”

She went with him, and he brought her into a beautiful palace that had all the colours of the rainbow. It had four windows to it, and when she looked out of the window to the West she saw a great wood of pine trees and oak trees and trees that had golden apples; when she looked out of the window to the North she saw a great mountain shaped like a spear, and white like flame; and when she looked to the South she saw a far-stretching plain with many little gleaming lakes; but the window to the East was fast closed, and Angus said she must never unbar it.

Ethaun was happy for a long time in the rainbow-palace and Angus came and played to her and told her tales of all the worlds; but at last the old longing came to her and she grew weary of everything she could see.

“I wish the walls of the palace would fall and the trees wither,” she said, “for they are always the same!”

She went to the window in the East and unbarred it. She saw the sea outside it, wind-driven and white with foam, and a great wind blew the window open and caught Ethaun and whirled her out of the palace, and she became again a little golden fly. She wandered and wandered through the World of the Bright Shadow that is called Ildathach till she came to the World of the Dark Shadow that is Earth, and she wandered there for a long time, scorched by the sun and beaten by the rain, till she came to a beautiful house where a king and queen were standing together. The king had a golden cup full of mead and he was giving it to the queen. Ethaun lit on the edge of the cup, but the queen never saw the little golden fly, and she did not know that it slipped into the mead, and she drank it with the mead.

Afterwards there was a child born to the queen–a strange beautiful child, and the queen called her Ethaun. Every one in the palace loved the child and tried to please her but nothing pleased her for long and as she grew older and more beautiful they tried harder to please her but she was never contented. The queen was sad at heart because of this, and the sadness grew on her day by day and she began to think her child was of the Deathless Ones that bring with them too much joy or too much sorrow for mortals.

One day Ethaun said the Queen’s singer had no songs worth listening to and she began to sing one of her own songs; as she sang, the queen looked into her eyes and knew that Ethaun was no child of hers, and when she knew it she bowed herself in her seat and died. The king said Ethaun brought ill-luck and he sent her away to live in a little hut of woven branches in a forest where only shepherds and simple people came to her and brought her food.

She grew every day more beautiful and walked under the great trees in the forest and sang her own songs. One day the king of all Ireland came riding by. His name was Eochy, and he was young and beautiful and strong. When he saw Ethaun he said:

“No woman in the world is beautiful after this one!” and he got down from his horse and came to Ethaun. She was sitting outside the little hut and combing her hair in the sunshine, and her hair was like fine gold and very long.

“What is your name? ” said the king, “and what man is your father? ”

“Ethaun is my name,” said she, “and a king is my father.”

“It is wrong,” said Eochy, “that your beauty should be shut in this forest, come with me and you shall be the High Queen of Ireland.”

Then Ethaun looked at Eochy, and it seemed to her that she had known him always. She said:

“I have waited here for you and no other. Take me into your house, High King.”

Eochy took her with him and made her his queen, and all the country that he ruled was glad because the High Queen was so beautiful. Eochy made a wonderful house for her. It had nine doors of carved red yew, and precious stones were in the walls of it. Ethaun and the king lived in it, and the harpers sang to them, and the noblest warriors in Erin stood about their doors. The king was happy, but there was always in the mind of Ethaun a beauty that made the rich hangings seem poor and the jewels dull and she had a song in her heart that took the music out of all other songs. The harpers of the Five Provinces of Ireland came into the feast hall of Eochy at Samhain, but there was weariness on the face of Ethaun while they played, and though the High King gave them gold rings and jewels and high seats of honour they had no joy in coming to his house.

The warriors clashed their swords when the High Queen passed but any one who looked into her eyes dreamed of strange countries and had in him the longing to go over seas, and Eochy was grieved because the noblest of his chiefs became like the lonely bird of the waves that never builds a nest.

One day Ethaun leaned against the carved yew door of her sunny-palace and watched the sea-gulls wheeling in the blueness of the sky. Inside, the Fool was strewing green rushes and scented leaves and buds before her chair. The Fool was always in the palace because his wits had gone from him, and people say that fools have the dark wisdom of the, gods. Ethaun could hear him singing:

“I had a black hound and a white.
The Day is long, and long the Night.

A great wave swallowed up the sea,
And still the hounds were following me.

The white hound had a crown of gold,
But no one saw it, young or old.

The black hound’s feet were swift as fire–
‘Tis he that was my heart’s desire.

The Sun and Moon leaned from the sky
When I and my two hounds went by.”

Ethaun turned from the door and went into the room where the Fool was. Her dress swept the young green leaves but she had no thought of them or of the little flowers the Fool had put with the rushes.

“Go on singing!” she said. “I wish my heart were as lightsome as yours.”

“How could your heart be lightsome, Queen,” said the Fool, “when you will not give the flower a chance to blossom, or the hound a chance to catch his prey, or the bird a clear sky to sing in? If you were of the Deathless Ones you would burn the world to warm your hands!”

The redness of shame spread itself in Ethaun’s face. She stooped and lifted a little bud from the. floor.

“I think the Deathless Ones could make this bud blossom,” she said, “but all the buds that I break off wither in my hands. I will break no more buds, Fool.”

While she spoke there was a noise outside, and Ethaun asked her women what it was.

“Only a beggar-man they are driving away. He says he is a juggler and can do tricks.”

“Let him stay,” said Ethaun, “and I will see his tricks.”

“O Queen,” said the women, “he is a starveling and ignorant; how could he please you when Incar, the King’s juggler, did not please you?”

“Let the man stay,” said Ethaun; “if he has the will to please me he will please–and tonight Incar will please me too.”

She stepped out through the carved yew door and bade the beggar-man do his tricks. He was clumsy and his tricks were not worth looking at, but the Queen gave him a ring from her finger and the little bud she had in her hand, and said:

“Stay here to-night and the King’s juggler will teach you good feats.”

The beggar-man put the ring in his bosom but he kept the bud in his hands and suddenly it blossomed into a rose and he plucked the petals apart and flung them into the air and they became beautiful white birds and they sang till every one forgot the sky above them and the earth beneath them with gladness, but Ethaun put her hands before her eyes and the tears came through her fingers.

The birds circled away into the air, singing, and when the people looked for the beggar-man he was gone. Ethaun called after him: “Angus Angus! Come back!” but no one answered, and there was only the far-off singing of the birds.

That night the King’s juggler did feats with golden balls and with whirling swords and Ethaun praised him so that for gladness he thought of new feats, and while the people were shouting with delight a tall dark man in the robes of a foreigner came into the hall. Now the king loved to speak with men from far countries and he called the stranger to him, and said:

“What knowledge have you, and what skill is in your fingers?”

“I know,” said the stranger, “‘where the sun goes when the earth does not see it, and I have skill in the playing of chess.”

Gladness was on the king when he heard of the chess-playing, for he himself had such skill that no one could beat him.

I will play a game with you,” he said. “Let the chess-board be brought.”

“O King,” said the attendants, “there is only the Queen’s chess-board, and it is locked away because she said it was not beautiful.”

“I will go myself for the board,” said the king, and he rose up to get it.

The stranger brought out a chess-board that had the squares made of precious stones brighter than any stones of the earth and he set the men on it. They were of gold and ivory, but the ivory was whiter than the whiteness of a cloud and the gold brighter than the sunset.

“I will give you this board in exchange for yours,” he said to the queen.

“No,” said Ethaun, “the board that Eochy made for me I will keep.”

“I will make something for you, too,” said the stranger. “I will make worlds for you.”

Ethaun looked into his eyes, and she remembered the World of the Gods, and Midyir, and Angus, and Fuamach, and how she had been a little golden fly.

“O Midyir,” she said, “in all the worlds I would be nothing but a little fly. I have wandered far, but I have learned wisdom at last from a Fool. I am going to make a world for myself.”

As she was speaking Eochy came back with the board.

“The first games on my board,” said Midyir, “the last on yours.”

“Be it so,” said Eochy. Midyir began to set out the men. “What are we playing for?” said Fochy.

“Let the winner decide,” said Midyir.

Eochy won the first game, and he asked for fifty horses out of fairyland.

“I will get them,” said Midyir, and they played again. Eochy won, and he said:

“I will ask for four hard things. Make a road over Mom Lamraide; clear Mide of stones; cover the district of Tethra with rushes; and the district of Darbrech with trees.”

“When you rise in the morning stand on the little hill near your house and you will see all these things done,” said Midyir. They played again, and Midyir won.

“What do you ask?” said Eochy.

“I ask Ethaun,” said Midyir.

“I will never give her!” said Eochy.

“The horses of fairyland are trampling outside your door, O King,” said Midyir, “give me my asking.” And he said to Ethaun: “Will you come into your own world again?”

Ethaun said:

“There is no world of all the worlds my own, for I have never made a place for myself, but Eochy has made a place for me and all the people have brought me gifts, and for the space of a year I will stay with them and bring them gladness.”

I will come at the year’s end,” said Midyir, and he left the hall, but no man saw him go.

After that there was never such a year in Ireland. The three crowns were on the land–a crown of plenty, a crown of victory, and a crown of song. Ethaun gave gifts to all the High King’s people, and to Eochy she gave a gladness beyond the dream of a man’s heart when it is fullest; and at Samhain time Eochy made a great feast and the kings of Ireland and the poets and the druids were there, and gladness was in the heart of every one.

Suddenly there was a light in the hall that made the torches and the great candles that are lit only for kings’ feasts burn dim, and Midyir the Red-Maned, stood in the hall. Then the ollavs and the poets and the druids and chiefs bowed themselves, and the king bowed himself, because Midyir had come. Midyir turned his eyes to where Ethaun sat in a seat of carved silver by the king. He had a small cruit such as musicians carry and he made a sweet music on it and sang:

Come with me! Come with me! Ethaun,
Leave the weary portals of life, leave the doon, leave the bawn.
Come! Come! Com e! Ethaun.
Lo! the white-maned untamable horses, out-racing the wind,
Scatter the embers of day as they pass, and the riders who bind
The suns to their chariot wheels and exult are calling your name,
Are calling your name through the night, Ethaun, and the night is a-flame,
Ethaun! Ethaun! Ethaun!
Come with us, Ethaun, to Moy-Mell where the star-flocks are straying
Like troops of immortal birds for ever delaying, delaying
The moment of flight that would take them away from the honey-sweet plain.
Surely you long for waves that break into starry rain
And are fain of flowers that need not die to blossom again.
Why have you turned away from me your only lover?
What lure have you seen in the eyes of a mortal that clay must cover?
Come back to me! come back, Ethaun! The high-built heavenly places
Mourn for you, and the lights are quenched, and for you immortal faces
Grow wan as faces that die. O Flame-Fair Swan of Delight,
Come with me, leave the weary portals of sleep-heavy Night;
The hosts are waiting, their horses trample the ashes of day;
Come, Light of a World that is Deathless, come away! Come away!

Midyir stretched his hands to Ethaun, and she turned to Eochy and kissed him.

“I have put into a year the gladness of a long life,” she said, ” and to-night you have heard the music of Faery, and echoes of it will be in the harp-strings of the men of Ireland for ever, and you will be remembered as long as wind blows and water runs, because Ethaun–whom Midyir loved–loved you.”

She put her hand in Midyir’s and they rose together as flame rises or as the white light rises in the sky when it is morning; and in the World of the Gods Angus waited for them, and Fuamach; and they walked together again as they had walked from the beginning of time.

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Roberto, Mary, Leslie & Yours Truly at Caer Llwydd in February

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Poetry Of Michael Hartnett

I SAW MAGIC…

I saw magic on a green country road –
That old woman, a bag of sticks her load,

Blackly down to her thin feet a fringed shawl,
A rosary of bone on her horned hand,
A flight of curlews scribing by her head,
And ashtrees combing with their frills her hair.

Her eyes, wet sunken holes pierced by an awl,
Must have deciphered her adoring land:
And curlews, no longer lean birds, instead
Become ten scarlet comets in the air.

Some incantation from her canyoned mouth,
Irish, English, blew frost along the ground,
And even though the wind was from the South
The ashleaves froze without an ashleaf sound.

Excerpt from ‘A Farewell to English’

This road is not new.
I am not a maker of new things.
I cannot hew
out of the vacuum-cleaner minds
the sense of serving dead kings.

I am nothing new.
I am not a lonely mouth
trying to chew
a niche for culture
in the clergy-cluttered south.

But I will not see
great men go down
who walked in rags
from town to town
finding English a necessary sin,
the perfect language to sell pigs in.

I have made my choice
and leave with little weeping.
I have come with meagre voice
to court the language of my people.
———
That Actor Kiss

I kissed my father as he lay in bed
in the ward. Nurses walked on soles of sleep
and old men argued with themselves all day.
The seven decades locked inside his head
congealed into a timeless leaking heap,
the painter lost his sense of all but grey.
That actor kiss fell down a shaft too deep
to send back echoes that I would have prized—
‘29 was’ 41 was ‘84,
all one in his kaleidoscopic eyes
(he willed to me his bitterness and thirst,
his cold ability to close a door).
Later, over a drink, I realised
that was our last kiss and, alas, our first.
—–
The Poet as Black Sheep for Paul Durcan

I have seen him dine
in middle-class surroundings,
his manners refined,
as his family around him
talk about nothing,
one of their favourite theses.

I have seen him lying
between the street and the pavement,
atoning, dying
for their sins, the fittest payment
he can make for them,
to get drunk and go to pieces.

On his father’s face
in sparse lines etched out by ice,
the puritan race
has come to its zenith of grey spite,
its climax of hate,
its essence of frigidity.

Let the bourgeoisie beware,
who could not control his head
and kept it in their care
until the brain bled:
this head is a poet’s head,
this head holds a galaxy.

Death of an Irish Woman
Ignorant, in the sense she ate monotonous food and thought the world was flat, and pagan, in the sense she knew the things that moved all night were neither dogs or cats but pucas and darkfaced men she nevertheless had fierce pride.
But sentenced in the end to eat thin diminishing porridge in a stone-cold kitchen she clenched her brittle hands around a world she could not understand. I loved her from the day she died.
She was a summer dance at the crossroads. She was a cardgame where a nose was broken. She was a song that nobody sings. She was a house ransacked by soldiers. She was a language seldom spoken. She was a child’s purse, full of useless things.

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Another one from Gordon…

Maserati – Inventions

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South East Art Walk

Going to See the Taoist Elder Zhenying at Mount Emei

Freed by his virtue, this old friend of mine
Trusts in the Way and delights in woods and streams.

While sitting in meditation
He journeys to the land of no more doubts.
While living in the discipline of poverty
He attains everything valuable under heaven.

He breathes and dissolves the barriers between distance and time.
He writes and his brush penetrates clouds and smoke.

With an impulsive laugh he dismisses doctrinal conundrums.
With habitual failure to distinguish shallow from deep

He achieves Chan. – Master Hsu Yun
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Work in progress: Contemplating Buddha

From a series I am doing on the Buddha. This was the first one; there are others I am working on. I find it kinda funny that the meditative state is much like the fugue that I enter into when I am painting.
—–
Painting like a mad man for the last week or so. I have been working with some new concepts (at least for me) and I find it all a bit liberating. When you check out the section on the South East Art Walk, you’ll see a couple of more pictures… Anyway, I have been having fun with it, and I really enjoy breaking out of my boundaries. It has inspired me to explore print making again, on fabric and paper as well. We will see.

I believe there is a masterpiece of sorts dwelling within everyone, whether it be poetry, art, a building of the future for the commons, or a singular blazing act of love. I have often thought the we are all parts of something greater, a spirit the entwines over generations, striving for the great act, the union fulfilled. I look back across the waves of time, and what survives? At first I see the stories, tales, and the remnants of our ancestors endeavors. Yet, there is something deeper. Each person that is alive today, was given a gift of life, through acts of love and kindness from untold waves of generation. Each child is a masterwork; crafted by DNA, circumstance, environment, and dreams.

The world we are birthing will be our part of the masterpiece; what we do here and now for others in our lives, for the community, and generations yet to be born.

Can we add clarity to this work of art for our passing through time?

Bright Blessings,
Gwyllm
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On The Menu:
South East Art Walk!
Music Composed With Windows 98 & XP Sounds
The Tiger, The Brahman & The Jackal
The Poetry of Master Hsu Yun
Music Composed With XP & Vista System Sounds
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South East Art Walk

Info on the whole event here: South East Art Walk

So, we are doing it again this year. Paul Hoagland our friend is joining us with his pottery this Saturday & Sunday the 5th & 6th between 10am-5pm at Caer Llwydd (email me for the address if you don’t know it contact me at: llwydd at symbol earthrites.org)

I have some 20 new paintings, affordably priced, as well as art encrusted furniture, prints and more! Paul’s pottery is very cool, and well done. He will have a very nice selection of his work.. and we will be introducing our new line of Poetry Post for installation at your house, business or communal space.
Come by just to say hello!

Some Examples of Paul’s Work:

I love his gourd work; his glazes are truly wonderful…

Paul does lots of work that is Japanese influenced….

Some of my new Work:

Dharma-2010 Playing on a long going theme that I come back to again and again…

Mister Gandhi I Presume… I have been reading his works again.
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Music Composed With Windows 98 & XP Sounds

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The Tiger, The Brahman & The Jackal

Once upon a time, a tiger was caught in a trap. He tried in vain to get out through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when he failed.

By chance a poor Brahman came by.

“Let me out of this cage, oh pious one!” cried the tiger.

“Nay, my friend,” replied the Brahman mildly, “you would probably eat me if I did.”

“Not at all!” swore the tiger with many oaths; “on the contrary, I should be for ever grateful, and serve you as a slave!”

Now when the tiger sobbed and sighed and wept and swore, the pious Brahman’s heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door of the cage. Out popped the tiger, and, seizing the poor man, cried, “What a fool you are! What is to prevent my eating you now, for after being cooped up so long I am just terribly hungry!”

In vain the Brahman pleaded for his life; the most he could gain was a promise to abide by the decision of the first three things he chose to question as to the justice of the tiger’s action.

So the Brahman first asked a papal- tree what it thought of the matter, but the papal-tree replied coldly, “What have you to complain about? Don’t I give shade and shelter to every one who passes by, and don’t they in return tear down my branches to feed their cattle? Don’t whimper–be a man!”

Then the Brahman, sad at heart, went further afield till he saw a buffalo turning a well-wheel; but he fared no better from it, for it answered, “You are a fool to expect gratitude! Look at me! Whilst I gave milk they fed me on cotton-seed and oil-cake, but now I am dry they yoke me here, and give me refuse as fodder!”

The Brahman, still more sad, asked the road to give him its opinion.

“My dear sir,” said the road, “how foolish you are to expect anything else! Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great and small, trample on me as they go past, giving me nothing but the ashes of their pipes and the husks of their grain!”

On this the Brahman turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met a jackal, who called out, “Why, what’s the matter, Mr. Brahman? You look as miserable as a fish out of water!”

The Brahman told him all that had occurred. “How very confusing!” said the jackal, when the recital was ended; “would you mind telling me over again, for everything has got so mixed up?”

The Brahman told it all over again, but the jackal shook his head in a distracted sort of way, and still could not understand.

“It’s very odd,” said he, sadly, “but it all seems to go in at one ear and out at the other! I will go to the place where it all happened, and then perhaps I shall be able to give a judgment.”

So they returned to the cage, by which the tiger was waiting for the Brahman, and sharpening his teeth and claws;

“You’ve been away a long time!” growled the savage beast, “but now let us begin our dinner.”

“Our dinner!” thought the wretched Brahman, as his knees knocked together with fright; “what a remarkably delicate way of putting it!”

“Give me five minutes, my lord!” he pleaded, “in order that I may explain matters to the jackal here, who is somewhat slow in his wits.”

The tiger consented, and the Brahman began the whole story over again, not missing a single detail, and spinning as long a yarn as possible.

“Oh, my poor brain! oh, my poor brain!” cried the jackal, wringing its paws. “Let me see! how did it all begin? You were in the cage, and the tiger came walking by–”

“Pooh!” interrupted the tiger, “what a fool you are! I was in the cage.”

“Of course! ” cried the jackal, pretending to tremble with fright; “yes! I was in the cage–no I wasn’t–dear! dear! where are my wits? Let me see–the tiger was in the Brahman, and the cage came walking by–no, that’s not it, either! Well, don’t mind me, but begin your dinner, for I shall never understand!”

“Yes, you shall!” returned the tiger, in a rage at the jackal’s stupidity; “I’ll make you understand! Look here–I am the tiger–”

“Yes, my lord! ”

“And that is the Brahman–”

“Yes, my lord!”

“And that is the cage–”

“Yes, my lord!”

“And I was in the cage–do you understand?”

“Yes–no – Please, my lord–”

“Well? ” cried the tiger impatiently.

“Please, my lord!–how did you get in?”

“How!–why in the usual way, of course!”

“Oh, dear me!–my head is beginning to whirl again! Please don’t be angry, my lord, but what is the usual way?”

At this the tiger lost patience, and, jumping into the cage, cried, “This way! Now do you understand how it was?”

“Perfectly! ” grinned the jackal, as he dexterously shut the door, “and if you will permit me to say so, I think matters will remain as they were!”

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The Poetry of Master Hsu Yun

Going Beyond Desire
Striving to leave the wilderness
You become part of what’s wild.
Striving to cease grasping
Is, itself, grasping.
So how do you gain control and get beyond desire?
Open those eyes… the ones that were born in your own skull.
___________

An Exquisite Truth
This is an exquisite truth:
Saints and ordinary folks are the same from the start.
Inquiring about a difference
Is like asking to borrow string when you’ve got a good strong rope.
Every Dharma is known in the heart.
After a rain, the mountain colors intensify.
Once you become familiar with the design of fate’s illusions
Your ink-well will contain all of life and death.
__________

Searching For The Dharma
You’ve traveled up ten thousand steps in search of the Dharma.
So many long days in the archives, copying, copying.
The gravity of the Tang and the profundity of the Sung make heavy baggage.
Here! I’ve picked you a bunch of wildflowers.
Their meaning is the same
but they’re much easier to carry.
_________

The Barking Dog
We went up across the ridge for the fun of it.
Didn’t need to pack any more wine.
On the precipice, flowers opened, smiling.
By the river, willows grew bright.
In the drizzling rain the village smoke congealed, concealed.
The wind was slight and the grass was cool.
There in the woods’ underbrush, startled,
We suddenly heard a dog bark.
It wanted us to know the Master was aware.
__________

Feelings on Remembering the Day I first Produced the Mind

Drawn some sixty years ago by karma
I turned life upside down
And climbed straight on to lofty summits.
Between my eyes a hanging sword,
The Triple World is pure.
Empty-handed, I hold a hoe, clearing a galaxy.

As the ‘Ocean of the Knowing-mind’ dries up,
Pearls shine forth by themselves;
Space smashed to dust, a moon hangs independent.
I threw my net through Heaven,
Caught the dragon and the phoenix;
Alone I walk through the cosmos,
Connecting the past and its people.
__________

Ten Thousand Buddha Mountain – Red Flower Grotto

This place used to be called Red Flower Grotto.
Now it’s called Ten Thousand Buddha Mountain.
Visitors come here to play chess
And listen to the pouring rain safe inside their plaited huts.

The beauty of a thousand peaks still fills this grotto.
Streams flow into it and pools turn nine times as they form.
In the countryside nearby, tigers prowl.
Above, the pines jut into the sky just as they did in the days of Han.

The Spirit Dragon flies around through the dark rain.
But only white ghostly visions dance through the Chan gate of Awakening.
The Sangha gather beyond the boundary of the blue sky.
The Sangha spend their leisure with the white clouds.
____________

Writing a Chant Poem on Fu Guo Dreaming of the Ocean

Poems express a person’s feelings
And this can cause both profit or loss.
A teacher uses allegory to convey meaning.
And metaphor makes it easier to speak his truth.
So this moldy old man uses pen and ink for his explanations.

All my life I’ve been foolish and dull.
Sometimes I look at something and I think it’s so wonderful.
And then I realize I was pointing out a fact
That was as obvious as the moon.
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Music Composed With XP & Vista System Sounds

The Heart Sutra

Through the round of many births I roamed
without reward,
without rest,
seeking the house-builder.
Painful is birth
again & again.

House-builder, you’re seen!
You will not build a house again.
All your rafters broken,
the ridge pole destroyed,
gone to the Unformed, the mind
has come to the end of craving
– Gautama

You Do Not Need Many Things

My house is buried in the deepest recess of the forest
Every year, ivy vines grow longer than the year before.
Undisturbed by the affairs of the world I live at ease,
Woodmen’s singing rarely reaching me through the trees.
While the sun stays in the sky, I mend my torn clothes
And facing the moon, I read holy texts aloud to myself.
Let me drop a word of advice for believers of my faith.
To enjoy life’s immensity, you do not need many things.

– Ryokan
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Tuesday Morning: I have been crafting this edition of Turfing for a couple of weeks,(along with 3 other editions) and am happy to put it bed so to speak. I hope you enjoy it!

Sunday… Brilliant sun, wind. Portland is blooming, in that beauty that we call the North West. Our friend Will Penna has been up from Sonoma, visiting with us and his many other friends over the past week. It has been very delightful! We dropped Will off at the Train Station in Portland, as he makes his way home again. Will brings a load of laughter and sweetness with him. He draws wonderful people to him, Mr. Magnetism! We had dinner with him and many of his friends this week. It was pretty darn nice I have to say.

Will and I sat and talked late into the evening, catching up. It has been 3 years since we have had a face to face, and that was only a short visit last time, with his friend Ed on their road trip up to Canada and back.

Will retired several years back, and his adventures have ranged as far as Nepal, and all points in between. He moved to Sonoma about 5-6 years ago from Santa Cruz, where he had taught English at the High School for some 25 out of his 35 years of teaching. Will is always popping up with some excellent story, going back to Beatnik days in the Bay Area.

Will will be coming back in April, and hopefully we will get to spend some more time together.
—-
It seems like February gives a bit of respite from the rain, mist and clouds of the North West winter. Everything is coming up; Snow Drops, Crocus’s, and Daffodils. It is all a bit of magick for weary eyes.

I have been working on art, and the yard along with Mary. Spring has sprung, and the whole landscape has taken a beating from the cold and wet. We were out working yesterday and today. The place is looking much better, and we are getting ready for Art Walk (Come by our place on March 6th & 7th!) along with our friend Paul Hoagland who is going to bring over his pottery.

Check out Info on the South East Art Walk here: ART WALK MARCH 6th & 7th!
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This edition of Turfing is dedicated to my friend Terry, who I have known for 13 or so years. Our sons attended primary school together, and he lives just up the hill and over a bit to the south east in our neighborhood.

He has been a good and dear friend since the first days of getting to know him and his family; Terry and his clan have been hanging out, and partying with us ever since. We spend a lot of time together, often a Sunday afternoon will have him popping in for a drink and a nice talk as the sun wanes into the west.. .

He and his family have gone to bat for many people, taking on responsibilities and projects, helping people out in their own way. Terry and his wife Ginnie have often done that extra mile so others don’t have to struggle needlessly.

There are many projects he has helped me out on, that I could not have done without his help, everything from the talks I hosted a few years back, to various aspects of The Invisible College with his knowledge of computers etc. It may seem strange, but Terry actually introduced me to the ideas of speakers on computers… no seriously, and was an early backer of Radio Free EarthRites.

Over the past few years we have had some pretty hilarious discussions from my Mr. Animistic viewpoint to his Mr. Pragmatic Agnostic viewpoint. We have had many a good evening of “Agreeing to Disagree” in various… degrees. 80) Recently, during the last year or so he has been re-engaging with Buddhism which I think was an early interest for him. Buddhism has often been a common point of discussion for us. He has lately dove into it and I am seeing a renewal of self in his sitting of Zazen, and working with the precepts. I can see the changes, and I like what I see. I have always been a “Diamond Sutra” kinda guy, and Terry has affection for “The Heart Sutra”. His practice seems to be grounded in sitting, whereas my earliest engagement with Buddhism was through the Koans. These differences in approach are the kernel of a long debate at least in Japan if I am correct. Anyway, he has these little nuggets that he brings up in the ongoing conversation that we’ve been engaged in. I am learning his viewpoint, and enjoying the times that we are having in this exploration of the Dharma.

So, as I said, this edition of Turfing is dedicated to Terry. I am honored to have him in my life.

Bright Blessings,
Gwyllm
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On The Menu:
Tony Scott – The Murmuring Sound Of A Mountain Spring
For Terry: The Heart Sutra
Three Buddhist Parables
The Poetry of Kenji Miyazawa
Tony Scott – “Za-Zen (Meditation)”
Preamble & Coda: Ryokan
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Tony Scott, Zen Flesh, Zen Bones & Alan Watts honed my early sensibilities regarding Buddhism. I was 14 when I first heard Tony Scott’s “Music For Zen Meditation”. Except for a break of a few years, I have listened to this album nearly monthly, sometimes more, sometimes less for some 44 years. I am still discovering wonders within it.

Tony Scott – The Murmuring Sound Of A Mountain Spring

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For Terry: The Heart Sutra

Om Homage to the Perfection of Wisdom the Lovely, the Holy !

Avalokita, the Holy Lord and Bodhisattva, was moving in the deep course of the Wisdom which has gone beyond.

He looked down from on high, He beheld but five heaps, and He saw that in their own-being they were empty.

Here, O Sariputra,

form is emptiness and the very emptiness is form ;

emptiness does not differ from form, form does not differ from emptiness, whatever is emptiness, that is form,

the same is true of feelings, perceptions, impulses, and consciousness.

Here, O Sariputra,

all dharmas are marked with emptiness ;

they are not produced or stopped, not defiled or immaculate, not deficient or complete.

Therefore, O Sariputra,

in emptiness there is no form nor feeling, nor perception, nor impulse, nor consciousness ;

No eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind ; No forms, sounds, smells, tastes, touchables or objects of mind ; No sight-organ element, and so forth, until we come to :

No mind-consciousness element ; There is no ignorance, no extinction of ignorance, and so forth, until we come to : There is no decay and death, no extinction of decay and death. There is no suffering, no origination, no stopping, no path.

There is no cognition, no attainment and no non-attainment.

Therefore, O Sariputra,

it is because of his non-attainmentness that a Bodhisattva, through having relied on the Perfection of Wisdom, dwells without thought-coverings. In the absence of thought-coverings he has not been made to tremble,

he has overcome what can upset, and in the end he attains to Nirvana.

All those who appear as Buddhas in the three periods of time fully awake to the utmost, right and perfect Enlightenment because they have relied on the Perfection of Wisdom.

Therefore one should know the prajnaparamita as the great spell, the spell of great knowledge, the utmost spell, the unequalled spell, allayer of all suffering, in truth — for what could go wrong ? By the prajnaparamita has this spell been delivered. It runs like this :

gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha.

( Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone altogether beyond, O what an awakening, all-hail ! — )

This completes the Heart of perfect Wisdom.
(Translated by E. Conze)
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Three Buddhist Parables:

A Lesson from Ryokan

There was a Japanese Zen Master called Ryokan. One day, Ryokan heard his family complain that his nephew was wasting money on prostitutes. Ryokan went to visit his nephew, whom he had not seen for many years.

His nephew invited him to stay one night. All night long ryokan sat in meditation. As he was preparing to leave the next morning, he asked his nephew, “I must be getting old, my hand shakes so. Will you help me tie the string of my straw sandal?”

The nephew helped him.

Ryokan replied, “Thank you. a man gets older and feebler day by day. Take good care of yourself.”

Then Ryokan left, without mentioning a word about prostitutes or the complaints of the family. But from that day on, his nephew truly reformed, and stopped spending money on prostitutes and stopped dissipating his life.

The Old Man and the Scorpion

One morning, after he had finished his meditation, the old man opened his eyes and saw a scorpion floating helplessly in
the water. As the scorpion was washed closer to the tree, the old man quickly stretched himself out on one of the long
roots that branched out into the river and reached out to rescue the drowning creature. As soon as he touched it, the
scorpion stung him. Instinctively the man withdrew his hand. A minute later, after he had regained his balance, he
stretched himself out again on the roots to save the scorpion. This time the scorpion stung him so badly with its
poisonous tail that his hand became swollen and bloody and his face contorted with pain.

At that moment, a passerby saw the old man stretched out on the roots struggling with the scorpion and shouted: “Hey,
stupid old man, what’s wrong with you? Only a fool would risk his life for the sake of an ugly, evil creature. Don’t you
know you could kill yourself trying to save that ungrateful scorpion?”

The old man turned his head. Looking into the stranger’s eyes he said calmly, “My friend, just because it is the scorpion’s
nature to sting, that does not change my nature to save.”

Mahasstava

In the remote past there lived a devout and powerful king named Maharattha. He had three sons by name, Maha Prashada, Maha Deva, and Mahasattva, all good and obedient.

One bright day the king, accompanied by the princes and attendants, went on an excursion to a forest park. The young princes, admiring the enchanting beauty of the flowers and trees, gradually penetrated far into the thick forest.

The attendants noticed their absence and reported the matter to the king. He ordered his ministers to go in search of them and returned to his palace.

The tree princes, wandering through the forest, reached a mountain top. From there the eldest saw a starving tigress with five cubs almost on the verge of death. For seven days since her delivery she had been without food. The cubs approached the mother to suck milk, but she had nothing to satisfy their hunger, and the tigress, driven by starvation, was clearly at the point of unnaturally devouring her own cubs.

The eldest brother was the first to see this pathetic spectacle. He showed the tigress to his brothers and said, “Behold that pitiful sight, O brothers! That starving tigress is about to devour her own cubs. How wretched is their condition!”

“What is their staple food, brother?” inquired Mahasattva.

“Flesh and blood is the staple food of tigers and lions.” replied Maha Prashada.

“The tigress seems to be very weak. Evidently she is without food for some days. How noble if one could sacrifice one’s own body for their sake!”

“But who is willing to make such great sacrifice!” remarked Maha Deva.

“Surely, no one would be able to do so,” stated Maha Prashada.

“I lack intelligence. Ignorant people like us would not be able to sacrifice their bodies for the sake of another. But there may be selfless men of boundless compassion who would be willingly do so,” said Mahasattva in a merciful tone.

Thus they discussed amongst themselves and casting a last glance at the helpless tigress, they departed.

Mahasattva thought to himself, “Sacrifice I must this fleeting body for the sake of this starving tigress. Foul is this body, and is subject to decay and death. One may adorn and perfume it, but soon it will stink and perish.”

Reflecting thus, he requested his brothers to proceed as he would retiring to the forest for some reason or other.

He retraced his steps to the place where the tigress was resting. Hanging his garments and ornaments on a tree, again he thought, “Work I must for the weal of others. Compassionate we must be towards all beings. To serve those who need our succour is our paramount duty. This foul body of mine will I sacrifice and thus save the tigress and her five cubs. By this meritorious act may I gain Samma Sambuddhahood and save all beings from the ocean of Samsara! May all beings be well and happy!”

Moved by compassion and inspired by the spirit of selfless service, dauntlessly he jumped off the precipice towards the tigress.

The fall did not result in an instantaneous death. The tigress, though ruthless by nature, pitied the Bodhisattva and would not even touch his body.

The Bodhisattva thought otherwise, “Obviously the poor animal is too weak to devour me!”

So he went in search of a weapon. He came across a bamboo splinter, and drawing near the tigress, he cut off his neck and fell dead on the ground in a pool of blood.

The hungry tigress greedily drank the blood and devoured the flesh leaving mere bones.

At the moment the Bodhisattva sacrificed his body, the earth quaked, the water of the ocean were disturbed, the sun’s ray dimmed, eye-sight was temporarily blurred, Devas gave cries of Sadhu, and Parijata flowers came down as rain from heaven.

Affected by the earthquake, the two elder brothers rightly guessed that their younger brother must have become a prey to the tigress.

“Surely, Mahasattva must have sacrificed his life, for he spoke in a very merciful tone,” said Maha Deva.

Both of them turned back and went to the spot. They were horrified and awe-struck at the unexpected spectacle. What they saw was not their belovedbrother but a mass of bone besmeared with blood. On a tree close by they saw the hanging garments.

They wept and fainted and on regaining consciousness, they returned home with a heavy heart.

On the very day the Bodhisattva sacrificed his life the mother-queen dreamt that she was dead, that her teeth had fallen out, and that she experienced a pain as if her body were cut by a sharp weapon. Furthermore, she dreamt that a hawk came drooping down and carried one of the three beautiful pigeons that were perched on the roof.

The queen was frightened, and on waking she remembered that her princes had gone for an airing in the forest. She hastened to the king and related the inauspicious dreams.

On being informed that the princes were missing, she entreated the king to send messengers in search of them.

Some ministers who had gone earlier to search for them returned to the palace with the sad news of the lamentable deadth of the youngest prince. Hearing it nobody was able to refrain from weeping. The king, however, comforted the queen and, mounting an elephant, speedily proceeded to the forest with his attendants and brought back the other two grieving sons.

So great was their grief that at first the were speechless. Later summoning up courage, they explained to their bereaved mother the heroic deed of their noble brother.

Soon order was given by the king to make necessary arrangements for them all to visit the memorable scene of the incident.

All reached the spot in due course. At the mere sight of the blood-smeared bones of the dearest son scattered here and there, both the king and queen fainted. The Purohita Bhahmin instantly poured sandal wood water over them, and they regained consciousness.

Thereupon, the king ordered his ministers to gather all the hair, bones, and garments and, heaping them together, worshipped them. Advising them to erect a golden Cetiya enshrining the relics, with a grieving heart, he departed to his palace.

The Cetiya was afterwards named “Om Namo Buddha.”

____________________________

The Poetry of Kenji Miyazawa

INTRODUCTION TO “SPRING AND ASHURA”

The phenomenon called I

Is a single green illumination
Of a presupposed organic alternating current lamp
(a composite body of each and every transparent spectre)
The single illumination
Of karma’s alternating current lamp
Remains alight without fail
Flickering unceasingly, restlessly
Together with the sights of the land and all else
(the light is preserved…the lamp itself is lost)

These poems are a mental sketch as formed
Passage by passage of light and shade
Maintained and preserved to this point
Brought together in paper and mineral ink
From the directions sensed as past
For these twenty-two months
(the totality flickers in time with me
all sensing all that I sense coincidentally)

As a result people and galaxies and Ashura and sea urchins
Will think up new ontological proofs as they see them
Consuming their cosmic dust…and breathing in salt water and air
In the end all of these make up a landscape of the heart
I assure you, however, that the scenes recorded here
Are scenes recorded solely in their natural state
And if it is nihil then it is nothing but nihil
And that the totality is common in degree to all of us
(just as everything forms what is the sum in me
so do all parts become the sum of everything)

These words were meant to be transcribed faithfully
Within a monstrous accumulation in the brightness of time
In the confines of the present geological era
Yet they have gone ahead and altered their construct and quality
In what amounts to a spark of sharply contrasted light
(or alternatively a billion years of Ashura)
Now it is possible that both the printer and I
Have been sharing a certain turn of mind
Causing us to sense these as unaltered
In all probability just as we are aware of our own sense organs
And of scenery and of people’s individuality through feeling
And just as what is is but what we sense in common
So it is that documents and history…or the earth’s past
As well as these various data
Are nothing but what we have become conscious of
(at the root of the karmic covenant of space-time)
For all I know in two thousand years from now
A much different geology will be diverted
With fitting proofs revealed one after another from the past
And everyone will surmise that some two thousand years before
The blue sky was awash with colourless peacocks
And rising scholars will excavate superb fossils
From regions glittering of iced nitrogen
In the very upper reaches of the atmosphere
Or they might just stumble
Upon the giant footsteps of translucent man
In a stratification plane of Cretaceous sandstone

The propositions that you have before you are without exception
Asserted within the confines of a four dimension continuum
As the nature of the mental state and time in themselves

20 January 1924
__________________

GRANDDAUGHTER OF A CELEBRATED BUDDHIST MONK

A young woman made her way home
In her black work pants and straw sandal vamps
Slim, with shoulders drooping
Along an embankment of blossoming chestnut flowers
She knew what there was to know
Of the in and outs and the seasons of work
Of fertilizers and plant breeding
In her discussions with those concerned
Of the causes of the year’s rice blight
She showed translucent tact
Worthy of making into a talkie
While perched on the levee between tar-black seedling beds
Ostentatiously flinging aside bundle after bundle
Of chestnut tree and other branches
Who could have imagined that the big bloated monk
Who sent out his postcard to me today
Proceeding to get roaring drunk in his padded kimono
Could have given life to such a young woman
I asked the way to the house of this celebrated Buddhist monk
At the root of the mountain and a farmer who knew him said
“He’s renown for his gambling and his unrefined home brew”
The bad relations among villagers came as a surprise to me
He was a gambler all right
His complexion and the extra-long wrinkles on his cheeks
Told you that he spent his nights in his little storehouse
Possessed by an uncommon excitement
The house was propped
On a grassy slope as pretty as a park
At the base of a huge pine mountain
Girded by pitch black cedars
Boasting what looked like a two-storey temple gate
And a whitewashed storehouse
Its persimmon and pear trees were radiant
But all that was stripped bone-white from the inside out
The monk wrote, “Yearly planting took place with all due care
Yet several years of sick crop resulted annually”
His penmanship was, I admit, exemplary
Yet why did he take up gambling
Could it be that he merely went astray
Due to being slightly more clever than the other villagers
Or could it be in his genes
Whichever, dark genes will remain dormant
Even inside a young woman as lovely
And grand as this, reliable
Who might have taken her farming village into a new era
They will be passed on to her descendants before awakening
At such time appearing as neither gambling nor unrefined sake
Where will those genes
Spark
Between 1950
And 2000
Dim ice clouds and a bone-white sky in the west
Behind you the pine forest
Takes on the appearance of a sea cucumber for the sun
And the marsh water shines back with the faintest light
_______________
DEPARTURE ON A DIFFERENT ROAD

The earth grates at my feet
When I land alone and without destination
Between the moon’s bewitchment
And a monstrous plate of snow
The void blackened by cold
Fronts hollow against my brow
…the musicians die with faces of sheet
infants come into a watercoloured world of mist…
A blue pointed phosphorescence
Rapidly gathers the wind
Busily floating up and sinking in
Stitching up the blanket of snow
…ah a black parade of acacia…
I have been under no illusion thus far
This road that I have taken tonight
Failing all in my duties at every turn
Is not the proper path
It will benefit no one
Yet I am helpless to find another way
…the trace of a plate-thin white fissure
in a crystal sky of milky lustre…
The snow makes what I see more solitary than an ocean
With its ceaseless flickering
_____________________

Tony Scott – “Za-Zen (Meditation)”

______________________

Slopes of Mount Kugami

Slopes
of Mount Kugami—
in the mountain’s shade
a hut beneath the trees—
how many years
it’s been my home?
The time comes
to take leave of it—
my thoughts wilt
like summer grasses,
I wander back and forth
like the evening star—
till that hut of mine
is hidden from sight,
till that grove of trees
can no longer be seen,
at each bend
of the long road,
at every turning,
I turn to look back
in the direction of that mountain
-Ryokan

The Language Of Birds

A Delphic Oracle?

My body is Apollo’s lyre
and if you pluck the strings
perhaps you’ll sound an unknown chord…

perhaps you will unleash the shaft
that in this game till now has always
managed to escape its mark.
– Bogomil Gjuzel

______________________

On The Menu:
The Music Box: John Hassell – “The Surgeon Of The Night Sky”
The Links
Norman O. Brown Quotes
Dale Pendell’s Amulet Bracelets
God Is An Astronaut: “Radau Live”
Book Review: The Language Of Birds…
From Walk 1, Fall Creek, June 1993 – Walking With Nobby: Conversations with Norman O. Brown
The Poems of Daigu Ryokan
God Is An Astronaut: “Fragile”
Intro – Coda: Delphic Poetry…
Art: “The Delphic Oracle” – John William Godward & “Priestess of Delphi” – John Collier
______________________
Photo: Ally Yancey
Early evening, Absinthe in hand, at the computer ….

Dear Friends,
I am happy to announce that Turfing is pretty much back to normal with most images and videos restored. I will be working to clean up the stray coding bits as and if I find them. A large thank you to Ibn Foobar, for his kind work! Thanks Ibn, it means so much to me, such a load off the mind!

This has been one of my favourite projects of late, the construction of this entry. I sweated quite a bit over it, and especially over the review of “The Language Of Birds”. Then, I came to a point of surrender; I knew it would get done, all I had to do was get out of the way and allow it to happen. Of course, this is sort of a possession, being a blogs meat puppet and all. Still, the hunt for image, music and poem does take effort, even with the uses of Googlemany. You would think that every poet in the world, especially those well known if even just for other literary achievements should have an entry somewhere on the net, but nooooo. Even some of the greatest poets works are not all there. This of course is magnified if the writer is not a native English speaker/poet. Heaven help ya if you are looking for translations from Urdu, or any, and I mean any aboriginal people’s poetry. It is in short supply, and that short supply makes a small demand due to the magnifying ignorance quotient. There are riches to be uncovered, and sadly it is only at this point for the few. The time is short, and there is poetry to be shared.

January closes, and February springs open. Brigid’s day and evening has past, and Spring, the ancient Spring is finally here. Today, I saw rain misting in that beautiful way it does when the weather turns. There needs to be a language for rain like the Inuit have for snow and ice, in our sleep, rain is just… rain. It is so much more, with so much nuance. So driving today, with the light pouring in and the mist and rain about, I could feel the world turning in a delicious, “I am awakening” way. The ancient sap is running, new life is appearing and beauty, she is everywhere.

We have a rather large entry to kick off February, with poetry from Ryokan, A book review of “The Language Of Birds”, an excerpt from “Conversations With Nobby” (in its original form from 1993), quotes from Norman O. Brown, some wonderful music from “God Is An Astronaut” a wonderful Irish instrumental band, and sundry links and nice art to go along with the theme: “The Oracle”.

Everyone consults the Oracle in their own way… give it a thought.

More on the way, a couple of surprises lined up, and here is to the arrival of Spring!

Blessings,
Gwyllm
______________________

On The Music Box: John Hassell “The Surgeon Of the Night Sky

Musical Witchiness. Soundscapes rising and falling, neither sun nor moon. Birds giving voice off in the distance. A small touch of dread and sensuality – ceremonies that are forbidden to light. Calling up the dead for conversation. Prayers offered up, offered down. The hauntings of memory, the touch of soft flesh… Aural Glossalia. Recommended
________________________
The Links:
Could These Artifacts Have Come From Troy?
Bringing the Aurochs back?
Did they live longer than we thought?
The Diamonds in the debris
Waving that White Flag after 40 years
Dr. Nutt challenges the Govt’s dominant paradigm
________________________
Norman O. Brown Quotes:

“All currency is neurotic currency.”
“Freedom is poetry, taking liberties with words, breaking the rules of normal speech, violating common sense. Freedom is violence.”
“I am what is mine. Personality is the original personal property.”
“In its famous paradox, the equation of money and excrement, psychoanalysis becomes the first science to state what common sense and the poets have long known – that the essence of money is in its absolute worthlessness.”
“Love without attachment is light.”
“The dynamics of capitalism is postponement of enjoyment to the constantly postponed future.”
“The view only changes for the lead dog.”
________________________

Dale Pendell’s Amulet Bracelets…

I have one of these.  Love it, sitting on the altar at this point…. made with magickal intent…

http://dalependell.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/Amulet-Bracelets-Part-1.pdf

http://dalependell.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/Amulet-Bracelets-Part-2.pdf

http://dalependell.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/Amulet-Bracelets-Part-3.pdf

________________________
God Is An Astronaut: “Radau Live”

Radau Live


_________________________

Book Review: The Language Of Birds…

You can find a copy here…Three Hands Press

The other day, I found a package in the mail, opening it I found “The Language Of Birds”(some notes on chance and divination) by Dale Pendell. Now, I have always had a fondness for the concept and actions of the Oracle; I first consciously consulted the Oracle when I threw the yarrow sticks for the I Ching at 15 years of age so this volume got my attention. There are many forms of Divination, and it seems Dale has decided to catalog the majority of them and to go a bit further, well a lot further.

What struck me as I began reading was that I had in fact used more than a few of the different forms of augury; and that there were so many… of them. Reading along it struck me that as children, we instinctively seek to discern patterns in the chaos, and eventually, we lose sight of the chaos. What often remains is pattern/rule. We move from Dionysus to Apollo (and sometimes the other way) and somewhere along the way, we become locked in. If… if, chance does not enter in to it, and because we are indeed submerged in the patterns of chaos, chance is often the deciding factor, no?

Aeromancy – Chaomancy: What pulls us to exploring the Oracle?  Curiosity of course, desperation at times as well. There seems to be a myriad of reasons as there are supplicants before this threshing floor of creation.   As a child, I would lie with my friends on our backs and I would see creatures – beings emerge from the clouds. Late spring was best, as the winds were high as the clouds scuttled on that north Atlantic coast line. At a certain point, I knew what the various “apparitions” portended for my day. No training, no school but what exactly welled up from the depths. As we lay, we would clutch the new grass so as not to spin off the rolling earth into the sky.   We would laugh and scream, exulting in the moment, and then carry on with the day, assured by the gifts received. (after rolling down the hill as a matter of ceremony)

Dale traces out how Dionysus sneaks back into the temple; as chance of course. It is a quest and a tale of discovery; dangerous and wild. The book flows nicely, and there are these moments of pure revelation that propels ones consciousness in the most startling of directions. You follow his thoughts, and doorways open up to vistas that though they were always there,  the acolyte would stumble past.  Divination is held up and examined, in myriad ways, and view points.  Whilst reading you realize that Dale has been having this conversation for a very long time.  Notably, with Norman O. Brown, but with many others as well.  You can see the foot, paw, and claw prints across the pages.  There are moments crystallized here, in the amber of time and examination.

Cleromancy-Chartomancy: 1968 – Sitting up the hill above Limekiln Creek in southern Big Sur, having just heard that the end of the world as we knew it was coming due to the arrival of Icarus the asteroid future impacting upon the earth: In response I threw the yarrow sticks. The question:  ”Should I go south to the Oaxacan mushroom fields, or north to the remnants of Lemuria, i.e. Mt. Shasta?”  I remember it as yesterday… “Go north, and good fortune will find the young man”.  I did of course, and yes good fortune emerged in my life.  Later on, I searched the I Ching, and I never found that phrase again…

Bibliomancy – So, I open up “The Language Of Birds” randomly as I am thinking about this review and I find: “Latin: divinatio, related to divinare, “to predict”, and to divinus,”divine,” “pertaining to the gods.”

[Greek: manteia “divination”. a prophet or a prophetess is a mantis, related to mainomai, “to be mad”, and mania “madness” all from the Proto-Indo-European root *men.

If the Greeks were right in connecting mantic with mainomai – and most philologist think they were – the association of prophecy and madness belongs to the Indo-European stock of ideas.
– E. R. Dodds
The Greeks And The Irrational

Men “mind” is also the root for “meaning.” Thus there is meaning in madness

According to Homer, the mantis was always welcome at a prince’s table, along with carpenters, doctors, heralds and poets.]

Divining a purpose, in all the madness. The challenge of the modern, no in every age. Coming to a sense of balance.

Botanimancy – Capnomancy – Demonomancy: Of course, the term “Mantis”  has crept into our language of late from another direction, from the same realms, but perhaps more than once removed. Often it is said whilst partaking of Tryptamines one often encounters beings that resemble extremely large “Praying Mantis’s.”  What territories are we wandering into? Wait a minute, our ship of divination has taken us over the horizon into very, very different waters!

There is no safety in divination, it exposes you to too much. Once the doors of the temple is knocked open by the Oracle, everything is up for grabs. Yet safety, could be divined as stasis, and if there is something to be said, “The Language Of Birds” is about a constant state of flow. Chance, and Fortune are expressions of the Dao, if nothing else. Think tidal; no think madness, think poetry.  Bards, Olaves, calling forth, calling upon the Oracle; some are lucky, and some are not.

[ The Prophetic gift is like a writing tablet without writing, both irrational and indeterminate in itself, but capable of images, impressions, and presentiments, and it paradoxically grasp the future when the future seems as remote as possible from the present. This remoteness is brought about by a condition, a disposition, of the body by a change known as “inspiration.”
– Plutarch
On the Cessation of Oracle

There is only poetry]

Oneromancy:  I awoke one day, on the edge of the North Shore of Oahu.  A dream had awoken me, telling that I must prepare , and leave to Europe as soon as I could muster myself.  I sat there quitely, watching the early morning trade winds as the sun rose.  I felt the fingers of prophecy working up and down my neck and arms.  Goosebumps, from the breath of that which summoned.  I went in to the main part of the house, and addressed the teacher who I had been studying under.  I told him my dream, and that I must leave Hawaii.  He looked at me, smiled and gave me his blessings.  I left a couple of days later, swept up into something that I had no way of knowing where it would take me.

I flew into Los Angeles, working there until I had the money that was needed and headed to Europe not knowing why, or what I would find.  I had lots of adventures, and if you know the story,  I won’t belabor it, but I finally met the reason and purpose of the dream in Hawaii when the moment was right.  Coming across space, time, and circumstance we soon divined what would be between us by an act of Philatomancy.  Everything turned and changed on the acceptance of that dream’s prophecy.

The Oracle works in mysterious ways.  Often in beauty, often not.  One would do well in not ignoring what the Oracle has revealed in that moment suspended,  for I among others have found that that way ends with the loss of intuition, and power.   One does not lightly betray the the Oracle (or the Muse but that is another tale).

The volume of “The Language Of Birds” is some 71 pages.   71 pages, and to the point.  It is concise, well thought out, and I was taken by the breadth of knowledge rolled out for our perusal.   What you have before you when you open up “The Language Of Birds” is a dialog that is as deep and ancient as the Cro-Magnon caves, and modern as any philosophical discussion raging today about free will, spiritual intent, and our place in the universe.

I would suggest sitting back, invoking the Gods of Chance, Luck, and Fortune with an act of Oinomancy, and a reading of “The Language Of Birds” from cover to cover in one sitting.  I promise, you won’t regret it.

Blessings,

Gwyllm
_________________________

From Walk 1, Fall Creek, June 1993 – Walking With Nobby: Conversations with Norman O. Brown
– Dale Pendell

NOB: I am looking at chance. I think that life is an accident. 1

1 This was NOT what I was expecting. It was as if in the eight years since I had last seen Nobby we had exchanged our roles. At our last meeting Nobby had been the one chiding me about my scientific attitude, with challenges such as “Poetic truth is metaphysical truth, and physical truth which is not in conformity with it should be considered false” (Vico: The New Science 205). Since then I had been heading for the NOB of divine madness, the 1967 NOB, and here was the 1993 NOB seemingly headed toward what I considered the most non-magical of reductions.

DP: Welcome to the twentieth century.

NOB: The old NOB, of Love’s Body, where I differed from Cage–I now think that NOB was wrong and that John Cage was right. 2

2 I had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe Nobby wasn’t sure himself. Later that year Nobby wrote:
The idea of chance, so much identified with John Cage; my friend since 1960; but I would not listen. I was a determinist; first a Marxist determinist; then Freudian determinist. The world of chance; the world of chance mutations. In Love’s Body, Ch. XII, it says ‘Nothing happens for the first time.’ That is dead wrong: everything happens for the first time. That is the meaning of chance; it contradicts both the Christian idea of eternity and the Nietzschean idea of eternal recurrence.
–“Love Hath Reason, Reason None,” lecture delivered at Boston University, December, 1993. (See Appendix 2.)

Nobby was uneasy with this piece. On the title page of the typescript it says “NOT TO BE CITED. IN PROCESS OF REVISION.” Early in 1995 Nobby discussed the paper by telephone with Jay Cantor. Jay followed up their conversation with a letter:
The chance universe leads you then to a new sense of non-recurring time. Mutations occur often, or often enough, so that recurrence is unlikely, and newness is likely indeed. But I don’t think this requires you to say that everything happens for the first time.
I think this leads to an epistemological problem, in any case. Language—and knowledge—depends on recurrence. . .

In May of 1995 I wrote to Nobby and added a third layer: “I disagree with Jay: think that chance does indeed require everything to be happening for the first time. All the time. (And in each repetition!)”

On the other hand, am I the only one who thinks that “recurrence” is being taken too literally? What about, as I’ve heard people say, “And then with my next girlfriend, the exact same thing happened . . .”? Like that.

Nobby may have been thinking of Heraclitus: fire/newness/Dionysus. Snow also has a way of making “all things new.”

DP: So are you going to recant?

NOB: I must write a palinode. We must embrace science.3

3 Nobby turned to take in the effect of his words on me, his chin elevated with that air of superiority he would assume when he felt he had scored a strong point. He wasn’t disappointed. I had been working hard to temper my scientific skepticism, in order to swim more freely in mythopoesis, and here was Mr. Mythopoesis defending the Philistines. I had started in physics: “science” seemed like the old news. Nobby told Tom Marshall that if he were starting today, he would study biology.

DP: But doesn’t science already have the upper hand? Isn’t the greater danger scientific reductionism? That self-satisfied smugness that Gurdjieff called “nothing-butism”?4

4 The rise of fundamentalism in the ensuing decade and a half has made me reconsider “the greater danger.”

NOB: No, we must go forward, with Science!

DP: Hasn’t science become the new religion, with Chance as the new god? 5

5 That is, even the “chance mutations,” the basis of Brown’s newness, are chance by definition; that is, axiomatically.

The hypothesis of chance is precisely what a hypothesis is devised to save us from. Chance, in fact, = no hypothesis. Yet so hypnotic, at this moment in history, was the influence of the idols and of the special mode of thought which had begotten them, that only a few—and their voices soon died away—were troubled by the fact that the impressive vocabulary of technological investigation was actually being used to denote its breakdown; as though, because it is something we can do with ourselves in the water, drowning should be included as one of the different ways of swimming. (Owen Barfield, Saving the Appearances, p. 64).

When “Chance” is used as an explanatory principle, in effect replacing “Providence,” the word might more properly be capitalized.

NOB: Then we agree that it is theology.

DP: I agree that chance has become the deus ex machina. But it could be that there is no such thing as chance–that there are no accidents.

NOB: That’s teleology.

DP: Why? I’m not saying that there is a plan, or a director, just that everything follows laws.

NOB: That’s why we need chance: it lets in Dionysus, chaos. The Lord’s Prayer is all wrong: “Our Father, who art in heaven” is not Dionysian. 6

6 The conversation was moving quickly and a great deal was being left on the table, unresolved. The equation Dionysus=chaos I accepted as a definition. That chaos doesn’t follow laws is more problematical. Just because we can’t determine what will happen, the system can still be said to be deterministic; there is no need to invoke God or Chance or Free Will as a causative agent. In any complex system of interacting bodies, the cumulative effects of an error in the measurement of the initial conditions, no matter how small, will inevitably result in unpredictable (chaotic) behavior.

Democritus allowed Chance (αυτοματια) in cosmic events (say . . . the origin of the universe) but left earthly and human actions determined by atomistic mechanics. Epicurus added chance deviation (παρέγκλισις), but while the “swerve” may sidestep determinism, it’s orthogonal to the question of free will, which still needs a mind-body coupling.

In physics, such attempts began within a year of the Heisenberg’s publication of the Uncertainty Principle in 1927, none very successful. More recently, Roger Penrose (Shadows of the Mind, 1994) has suggested that the ability of a quantum system to get information from “null measurements” could provide the necessary non-computational basis for consciousness. For our discussion, it is enough to know that the quantum state vector, Ψ, which is the solution to the Schrödinger wave equation, is a complex number that, strictly, has no physical analog—and that it is all the information we have. The square of the state vector, Ψ2, does have physical meaning: it is the probability of the event in question occurring. The mind/body coupling, at this point, is still a pun: parapsychologists use “psi” to refer to the information and energy transfer necessary for telepathy (“psi-gamma”) and psychokinesis (“psi-kappa”).

David Greenham points out that in Hesiod’s Theogony, Chaos (Χάος), which Brown translates as Void, comes first:
This is not the place of creation itself but the place where creation will take place when Earth and Sky come into being. (It is also the place, or gap, that . . . we will come to know as the imagination. (Greenham, The Resurrection of the Body).

DP: (I had many thoughts, but I wanted to follow Nobby to Heaven.) What about “Thy will be done”?7

7 Cf. “John Cage,” a lecture by Norman O. Brown at Weslyan University, Dec. 22-27, 1988, at the symposium held in honor of Cage’s seventy-fifth birthday:
We live in historical time: the process is history
we submit to the yoke of historical necessity
It is by reason of this fact that we are made perfect by what happens to us
rather than by what we do
(Meister Eckhart quoted in Silence)
We suffer history

The full Meister Eckhart quote, as given in Silence (64) is:
But one must achieve this unselfconsciousness by means of transformed knowledge. This ignorance does not come from lack of knowledge but rather it is from knowledge that one may achieve this ignorance. Then we shall be informed by the divine unconsciousness and in that our ignorance will be ennobled and adorned with supernatural knowledge. It is by reason of this fact that we are made perfect by what happens to us rather than by what we do.

Cf. Dōgen:
When the Self advances to confirm the ten thousand things, that is delusion. When the ten thousand things advance and confirm the Self, that is realization. (Dōgen, Genjōkōan)

And lastly:
We slip out from under the reality-principle, into the truth; when the control breaks down. By great good fortune, gratis, by grace; and not by our own work or will. (LB 244)

NOB: That denies chance.

DP: That permits chance! 8

8 I was thinking of surrender, as in Sufism, and in the sense implicit in zazen, or by extension, “accepting what comes.” Nobby meant that if there is a higher power orchestrating everything, as in predestination, there is no chance. Of course, if the higher power has a chancy nature, both statements are true.

NOB: You’re too Christian, it effaces the ego. 9

9 Nobby didn’t mind contradicting himself. Cf. “What orthodox psychoanalysis has in fact done is to reintroduce the soul-body dualism in its own new lingo, by hypostatizing the “ego” into a substantial essence which by means of “defense mechanisms” continues to do battle against the “id.” (LAD 158-159)

DP: In formal systems there is no reveling. The closest they come is the Monte Carlo method: that lets in chance. Formal systems are grammatical, wild systems have what I call that the Coyote Principle.

NOB: What’s that?

DP: That no matter how well things are planned out, Coyote will find a way to fuck it up.

NOB: (Laughing.) How comforting. Well then, the struggle is over, there is nothing that we have to do. 10

10 A corollary of the Coyote Principle is that One World Government, the great hope of Einstein and other utopians, is a bad idea. And imagine nuclear bombs and nuclear power plants with Coyote at the controls—and he always gets there, eventually.

Likewise, drug laws will never keep Coyote off of drugs. Wouldn’t it be better to just accept that Coyote is going to take drugs, let him buy them at the drugstore, and deal with it as best as possible at the neighborhood level? The alternative encourages Coyote to take the control of prisons, police departments, drug cartels, street gangs, and any public office with possibilities of corruption.

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The Poems of Daigu Ryokan (1758-1831)


The First Day Of Spring

First days of spring — the sky
is bright blue, the sun huge and warm.
Everything’s turning green.
Carrying my monk’s bowl, I walk to the village
to beg for my daily meal.
The children spot me at the temple gate
and happily crowd around,
dragging to my arms till I stop.
I put my bowl on a white rock,
hang my bag on a branch.
First we braid grasses and play tug-of-war,
then we take turns singing and keeping a kick-ball in the air:
I kick the ball and they sing, they kick and I sing.
Time is forgotten, the hours fly.
People passing by point at me and laugh:
“Why are you acting like such a fool?”
I nod my head and don’t answer.
I could say something, but why?
Do you want to know what’s in my heart?
From the beginning of time: just this! just this!

Reply To A Friend

In stubborn stupidity, I live on alone
befriended by trees and herbs.
Too lazy to learn right from wrong,
I laugh at myself, ignoring others.
Lifting my bony shanks, I cross the stream,
a sack in my hand, blessed by spring weather.
Living thus, I want for nothing,
at peace with all the world.

Your finger points to the moon,
but the finger is blind until the moon appears.
What connection has moon and finger?
Are they separate objects or bound?
This is a question for beginners
wrapped in seas of ignorance.
Yet one who looks beyond metaphor
knows there is no finger; there is no moon.

A cold night – sitting alone in my empty room
Filled only with incense smoke.
Outside, a bamboo grove of a hundred trees;
On the bed several volumes of poetry.
The moon shines from the top of the window,
And the entire neighbourhood is still except for the cry of insects.
Looking at this scene, limitless emotion,
But not one word.

The rain has stopped, the clouds have drifted away,
and the weather is clear again.
If your heart is pure, then all things in your world are pure.
Abandon this fleeting world, abandon yourself,
Then the moon and flowers will guide you along the way.

At night, deep in the mountains I sit in zazen.
The affairs of men never reach here.
In the stillness I sit on a cushion across from the empty window.
The incense has been swallowed up by the endless night;
My robe has become a garment of white dew.
Unable to sleep, I walk into the garden;
Suddenly, above the highest peak, the round moon appears

_________________________

God Is An Astronaut: “Fragile”

Fragile

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News For The Delphic Oracle
There all the golden codgers lay,
There the silver dew,
And the great water sighed for love,
And the wind sighed too.
Man-picker Niamh leant and sighed
By Oisin on the grass;
There sighed amid his choir of love
Tall pythagoras.
plotinus came and looked about,
The salt-flakes on his breast,
And having stretched and yawned awhile
Lay sighing like the rest.
Straddling each a dolphin’s back
And steadied by a fin,
Those Innocents re-live their death,
Their wounds open again.
The ecstatic waters laugh because
Their cries are sweet and strange,
Through their ancestral patterns dance,
And the brute dolphins plunge
Until, in some cliff-sheltered bay
Where wades the choir of love
Proffering its sacred laurel crowns,
They pitch their burdens off.

– William Butler Yeats

The Collapsing Of Empires

. 13. mo ko kahân dhûnro bande
O Servant, where dost thou seek Me?
Lo! I am beside thee.
I am neither in temple nor in mosque: I am neither in Kaaba nor in Kailash:
Neither am I in rites and ceremonies, nor in Yoga and renunciation.
If thou art a true seeker, thou shalt at once see Me: thou shalt meet Me in a moment of time.
Kabîr says, “O Sadhu! God is the breath of all breath.”

I. 16. Santan jât na pûcho nirguniyân
It is needless to ask of a saint the caste to which he belongs;
For the priest, the warrior. the tradesman, and all the thirty-six castes, alike are seeking for God.
It is but folly to ask what the caste of a saint may be;
The barber has sought God, the washerwoman, and the carpenter–
Even Raidas was a seeker after God.
The Rishi Swapacha was a tanner by caste.
Hindus and Moslems alike have achieved that End, where remains no mark of distinction.
______________________
Dear Friends,

This started out a few days ago with me digging around books, and becoming pretty distracted to the task(s) at hand. I have been reading over 3 books of late: The Language Of Birds “Some Notes On Chance And Divination” (review soon!) by Dale Pendell, Technomad – “Global Raving Countercultures” by Graham St. John (Pretty comprehensive stuff!), and Birth Of A Psychedelic Culture “Conversations about Leary, the Harvard Experiments, Millbrook and the Sixties”Ram Dass and Ralph Metzner with Gary Bravo (Oh the history of it all!)
A literary feast, I have to say. I have been working on the first of the reviews, it will be coming soon, I promise. I am amazed by them all. Over the next few days/weeks there will be a steady stream of reviews etc. With the coming of the Kindle, the Ipad and the like, will books as we know them become extinct? I was sent a book to review the other week in PDF form, and honestly, after a couple of hours, I couldn’t do it any longer. Too much screen time. I may have to convert my serigraph press into a printing press just to keep the art going…
——–
Pitching That Art Angle Again…

Be The First On Your Block! You can have a unique mural in your house, on your house, anywhere, in your store just say when!
——–
Noted: The passing of that great historian, Howard Zinn. What a life! From shipyard worker, to bombardier during WW2, onto becoming a Phd and teaching history from a unique view; not the grand sweep of the historic myth that re-enforces the traditional view, but the story from the street and disparate views. The history of rebellions of African slaves, indentured whites and indigenous people joining together in mutual assistance. Here was a man who changed the view we have held collectively about the struggles of the American people. If you haven’t read his works, please do. It will change your world forever. Howard, we will miss ya.
——–
I hope this finds you well, and surviving the January doldrums. This time of the year always seems to be a bit iffy and all.

Bright Blessings,
Gwyllm
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On The Menu:
The Songs of Kabir: Incidentals & Coda
St. Teresa of Avila Quotes
Collapse Under The Empire “Quiet Dimension”
The Acts Of The Adepts
The Poetry Of Hafiz
Collapse Under The Empire “Captured Moments”
Art: Osman Hamdi Bey

Osman Hamdi exhibited three paintings at the 1867 Paris Exposition Universelle. None seem to have survived today, but their titles were Repose of the Gypsies, Black Sea Soldier Lying in Wait, and Death of the Soldier. An important step in his career was his assignment as the director of the Imperial Museum (Müze-i Hümayun) in 1881. He used his position as museum director to develop the museum and rewrite the antiquities laws and to create nationally sponsored archaeological expeditions. In 1882, he instituted and became director of the Academy of Fine Arts, which provided Ottomans with training in aesthetics and artistic techniques without leaving the empire. In 1884, he oversaw the promulgation of a Regulation prohibiting historical artifacts from being smuggled abroad (Asar-ı Atîka Nizamnamesi), a giant step in constituting a legal framework of preservation of the antiquities. Representatives or middlemen of 19th century European Powers routinely smuggled artifacts with historical value from within the boundaries of the Ottoman Empire (which then comprised the geographies of ancient Greek and Mesopotamian civilizations, among others), often resorting to shadily obtained licenses or bribes, to enrich museums in European capitals.

He conducted the first scientific based archaeological researches done by a Turkish team. His digs included sites as varied as the Commagene tomb-sanctuary in Nemrut Dağı in southeastern Anatolia (a top tourist’s venue in Turkey and a UNESCO World Heritage Site today, within the Adıyaman Province), the Hekate sanctuary in Lagina in southwestern Anatolia (also much visited, and within the Muğla Province today), and Sidon in Lebanon. The sarcophagi he discovered in Sidon (including the one known as the Sarcophagus of Alexander the Great) are considered among the worldwide jewels of archaeological findings. To lodge these, he started building what is today the Istanbul Archaeology Museum in 1881. The museum officially opened in 1891 under his directorship.

Throughout his professional career as museum and academy director, Osman Hamdi continued to paint in the style of his teachers, Gérôme and Boulanger.
________________________

St. Teresa Of Avila Quotes:

“It is love alone that gives worth to all things”
“To have courage for whatever comes in life – everything lies in that.”
“Accustom yourself continually to make many acts of love, for they enkindle and melt the soul.”
“More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones.”
“Pain is never permanent”
________________________
Collapse Under The Empire… I discovered these guys the other day. Blew me away. I am falling in love again with a basic format: Guitar, Drums, Bass, No Vocals. Highly emotive, without the strictures of vocals. The thoughts wander, making up mind-scapes as you go when you surrender to these youngsters from Germany. Enjoy!

Collapse Under The Empire… “Quiet Dimension”

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I. 57. sâdho bhâî, jîval hî karo âs’â

O FRIEND! hope for Him whilst you live, know whilst you live, understand whilst you live: for in life deliverance abides.
If your bonds be not broken whilst living, what hope of deliverance in death?
It is but an empty dream, that the soul shall have union with Him because it has passed from the body:
If He is found now, He is found then,
If not, we do but go to dwell in the City of Death.
If you have union now, you shall have it hereafter.
Bathe in the truth, know the true Guru, have faith in the true Name!
Kabîr says: “It is the Spirit of the quest which helps; I am the slave of this Spirit of the quest.”
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The Acts Of The Adepts
Bahā’u-’d-Dīn, Veled, Sultānu-’l-‘Ulemā (The Beauty of the Religion of Islam, Son, Sultan of the Doctors of the Law).

1.
The king of Khurāsān, 2 ‘Alā’u-’d-Dīn Muhammed, Khurrem-Shāh, uncle of Jelālu-’d-Dīn Muhammed Kh’ārezm-Shāh, and the proudest, as he was the most handsome man of his time, gave his daughter, Melika’i-Jihān (Queen of the World), as to the only man worthy of her, to Jelālu-’d-Dīn Huseyn, el Khatībī, of the race of Abū-Bekr.

An ancestor of his was one of the original Muslim conquerors of Khurāsān. He was himself very virtuous and learned, surrounded with numerous disciples. He had not married until then; which gave him many an anxious and self-accusing thought.

He himself, the king, the king’s daughter, and the king’s Vazīr were all four warned in a dream by the Prince of the Apostles of God (Muhammed) that he should wed the princess; which was done. He was then thirty years old. In due course, nine months afterwards, a son was born to him, and was named Bahā’u-’d-Dīn Muhammed. He is commonly mentioned as Bahā’u-’d-Dīn Veled.

When adolescent, this latter was so extremely learned that the family of his mother wished to raise him to the throne as king; but this he utterly rejected.

By the divine command, as conveyed in the selfsame night, and in an identical dream, to three hundred of the most learned men of the city of Balkh, 1 the capital of the kingdom, where he dwelt, those sage doctors unanimously conferred upon him the honorific title of Sultānu-’l-‘Ulemā, and they all became his disciples.

Such are the names and titles by which he is more commonly mentioned; but he is also styled Mevlānāyi Buzurg (the Greater or Elder Master). Many miracles and prodigies were attributed to him; and some men were found who conceived a jealousy at his growing reputation and influence.

2.
In a.h. 605 (a.d. 1208) he, Bahā’u-’d-Dīn Veled, began to preach against the innovations of the king and sundry of his courtiers, declaiming against the philosophers and rationalists, while he pressed all his hearers to study and practise the precepts of Islām. Those courtiers maligned him with the king, calling him an intriguer who had designs on the throne. The king sent and made him an offer of the sovereignty, promising to retire elsewhere himself. Bahā answered that he had no concern with earthly greatness, being a poor recluse; and that he would willingly leave the country, so as to remove from the king’s mind all misgivings on his score.

He accordingly quitted Balkh, with a suite of about forty souls, after delivering a public address in the great mosque before the king and people. In this address he foretold the advent of the Moguls to overturn the kingdom, possess the country, destroy Balkh, and drive out the king, who would then flee to the Roman land, and there at length be killed.

So he left Balkh, as the prophet (Muhammed) had fled from Mekka to Medīna. His son Jelālu-’d-Dīn was then five, and the elder brother, ‘Alā’u-’d-Dīn, seven years old.

The people everywhere on his road, hearing of his approach or forewarned in dreams of his coming, flocked to meet him and do him honour. Thus he drew near to Bagdād. Here he was met by the great Sheykh Shahābu-’d-Dīn, ‘Umer, Suherverdī, the most eminent man of the place, deputed by the Caliph Musta‘zim to do him honour. He became the guest of the Sheykh.

The Caliph sent him a present of three thousand sequins, but he declined the gift as being money unlawfully acquired. He also refused to visit the Caliph; but consented to preach in the great mosque after the noon service of worship on the following Friday, the Caliph being present. In his discourse he reproached the Caliph to his face with his evil course of life, and warned him of his approaching slaughter by the Moguls with great cruelty and ignominy. The Caliph again sent him rich presents in money, horses, and valuables, but he refused to accept them.

Before Bahā’u-’d-Dīn quitted Bagdād, intelligence was received there of the siege of Balkh, of its capture, and of its entire destruction, with its twelve thousand mosques, by the Mogul army of five hundred thousand men commanded by Jengīz in person (in a.h. 608, a.d. 1211). Fourteen thousand copies of the Qur’ān were destroyed, fifteen thousand students and professors of the law were slain, and two hundred thousand adult male inhabitants led out and shot to death with arrows.

Bahā’u-’d-Dīn went from Bagdād to Mekka, 1 performed the greater pilgrimage there, proceeding thence to Damascus, and next to Malatia (Melitene, on the Upper Euphrates), where, in a.h. 614 (a.d. 1217), he heard of the death of Jengīz. The Seljūqī Sultan, ‘Alā’u-’d-Dīn Keyqubād, was then sovereign of the land of Rome (Rūm, i.e., Asia Minor), and was residing at Sīwās (Sebaste). In a.h. 620 (a.d. 1223) Sultan Jelālu-’d-Dīn, the dispossessed monarch of Kh’ārezm (Chorasmia) was killed in a battle fought by him in Azerbāyjān (Atropatene) against the Sultans of Rome, Syria, and Egypt, when his forces were totally defeated. And thus ended that great dynasty, after ruling about a hundred and forty years.

Bahā’u-’d-Dīn went from Malatia and remained four years near Erzinjān (the ancient Aziris, on the Western Euphrates), in Armenia, at a college built for him by a saintly lady, ‘Ismet Khātūn. She was the wife of the local sovereign, Melik Fakhru-’d-Dīn. She and her husband both died, and then Bahā’u-’d-Dīn passed on to Larenda (in Cataonia), in Asia Minor, and remained there about seven years at the head of a college, the princess Melika’i-Jihān, his mother, being still with him.

Here it was that his younger son, Jelālu-’d-Dīn Muhammed, the future author of the Mesnevī, attained to man’s estate, being then eighteen years old; when, in a.h. 623 (a.d. 1226), he married a young lady named Gevher Khātūn, daughter of the Lala Sherefu-’d-Dīn, of Samarqand. She gave birth in due course to Jelāl’s eldest son, ‘Alā’u-’d-Dīn.

The king had now returned to his capital, Qonya (the ancient Iconium). Hearing of Bahā’u-’d-Dīn’s great learning and sanctity, the king sent and invited him to the capital, where he installed him in a college, and soon professed himself a disciple. Many miracles are related as having been worked at Qonya by Bahā’u-’d-Dīn, who at length died there on Friday, the 18th of Rebī‘u-’l-ākhir, a.h. 628 (February a.d. 1231). The Sultan erected a marble mausoleum over his tomb, on which this date is recorded. Many miracles continued to occur at this sanctuary. The Sultan died also a few years later, in a.h. 634 (a.d. 1236). received the honorific title of Khudāvendgār—Lord—the father was distinguished from the son, among the disciples, by the customary title of Mevlānā Buzurg—the Greater or Elder Master. The traditions collected by Eflākī, relating to this period, vary considerably from one another on minor points of date and order of succession, though the main facts come out sufficiently clear.)

3.
Jelāl’s son, Sultan Veled, related to Eflākī that his father Jelāl used frequently to say, “I and all my disciples will be under the protection of the Great Master, my father, on the day of resurrection; and under His guidance we shall enter the divine presence; God will pardon all of us for His sake.”

4.
It is related that when the Great Master departed this life, his son, Jelālu-’d-Dīn, was fourteen years old. (This is apparently a copyist’s error for “twenty-four.” Jalāl is said to have been born in a.h. 604—a.d. 1207.) He married when seventeen (or eighteen); and often did he say in the presence of the congregation of his friends, “The Great Master will remain with me a few years. I shall be in need of Shemsu-’d-Dīn of Tebrīz (the capital of Azerbāyjān); for every prophet has had an Abū-Bekr, as Jesus had His apostles.”

5.
Shortly after the death of the Great Master Bahā’u-’d-Dīn Veled, news was received by the Sultan ‘Alā’u-’d-Dīn of Qonya of the arrival of Sultan Jelālu-’d-Dīn Kh’ārezm-Shāh on the borders of Asia Minor. The Sultan went and prayed at the tomb of the deceased saint, and then prepared to meet the Kh’ārezmians, who were in the neighbourhood of Erzenu-’r-Rūm (Erzen of the Romans, the ancient Arzes, now Erzerum). Scouts brought in the intelligence that the Kh’ārezmians were very numerous; and great anxiety prevailed among the Sultan’s troops. He resolved to see for himself.

He put on a disguise and set out with a few followers, on fleet horses, for the Kh’ārezmian camp. They gave out that they were nomad Turks of the neighbourhood, their ancestors having come from the Oxus; that latterly the Sultan had withdrawn his favour from them; and that, in consequence, they had for some time past been looking for the Kh’ārezmian advent. This was reported to the king, Jelālu-’d-Dīn, who sent for them and received them kindly, giving them tents and assigning them rations.

During the night King Jelālu-’d-Dīn began to reflect that every one had hitherto spoken well of Sultan ‘Alā’u-’d-Dīn, and a doubt arose in his mind in consequence respecting the story of these newcomers, especially as he learned that the Sultan was on his march to meet him. Consulting with the Prince of Erzenu-’r-Ram, further perquisition was postponed until the morrow.

But at midnight the deceased saint of Qonya, Bahā-Veled, appeared in a dream to Sultan ‘Alā’u-’d-Dīn, and warned him to fly at once. The Sultan awoke, found it was a dream, and went to sleep again. The saint now appeared a second time. The Sultan saw himself seated on his throne, and the saint coming to him, smiting him on the breast with his staff, and angrily saying, “Why sleepest thou? Arise!”

Now the Sultan did arise, quietly called his people, saddled horses, and stole away out of the camp. Towards morning King Jelāl caused guards to be placed round the tents of the strangers to watch them. But afterwards, when orders were given to bring them to the king’s presence to be questioned, their tents were found to be empty. Pursuit was attempted, but in vain. After an interval the two armies came into collision. The Sultan of Qonya was victorious. From that time forward, whenever difficulties threatened, he always betook himself to the shrine of the saint, Bahā Veled, who always answered his prayers.

(As Sultan Jelālu-’d-Dīn Kh’ārezm-Shāh has already been stated to have died in battle in Azerbāyjān in a.d. 1223, whereas the saint of Qonya did not die until a.d. 1231, eight years afterwards, the discrepancy of that date with the present anecdote is irreconcilable.)

6.
The Great Master, Bahā Veled, used to say that while he himself lived no other teacher would be his equal, but that when his son, Jelālu-’d-Dīn, should succeed him at his death, that son of his would equal and even surpass him:

7.
Seyyid Burhānu-’d-Dīn Termīzī 1 is related to have said that one night the door of the mausoleum of Bahā Veled opened of itself, and that a great glory shone forth from it, which gradually filled his house, so that no shadow fell from anything. The glory then gradually filled the city in like manner, spreading thence over the whole face of nature. On beholding this prodigy the Seyyid swooned away.

This vision is a sure indication that the whole human race will one day own themselves the disciples of the descendants of the great saint.

8.
Before he quitted Balkh, Bahā Veled one day saw a man performing his devotions in the great mosque in his shirt sleeves, with his coat upon his back. Bahā reproved him, telling him to put on his coat properly and decently, then to continue his devotions. “And what if I will not?” asked the man in a disdainful tone. “Thy dead-like soul will obey my command, quit thy body, and thou wilt die!” answered Bahā. Instantly the man fell dead; and crowds flocked to become disciples to the saint who spoke with such power and authority.

9.
When Sultan ‘Alā’u-’d-Dīn had fortified Qonya, he invited Bahā Veled to mount to the terraced roof of the palace, thence to survey the walls and towers. After his inspection, Bahā remarked to the Sultan, “Against torrents, and against the horsemen of the enemy, thou hast raised a goodly defence. But what protection hast thou built against those unseen arrows, the sighs and moans of the oppressed, which overleap a thousand walls and sweep whole worlds to destruction? Go to, now! strive to acquire the blessings of thy subjects. These are a stronghold, compared to which the walls and turrets of the strongest castles are as nothing.”

10.
On one occasion Sultan ‘Alā’u-’d-Dīn paid a visit to Bahā Veled. In lieu of his hand the latter offered the tip of his staff to be kissed by the Sultan, who thought within himself: “The proud scholar!” Bahā read the Sultan’s thoughts as a seer, and remarked in reply thereto: “Mendicant students are bound to be humble and lowly. Not so a Sultan of the Faith who has attained to the utmost circumference of the orbit thereof, and revolves therein.”

11.
A certain Sheykh Hajjāj, a disciple of Bahā Veled and one of God’s elect not known to the herd of mankind, quitted the college after the decease of his teacher, and betook himself to his former trade of a weaver, therewith to gain an honest livelihood. He used to buy the coarsest brown bread of unsifted flour, mash this up with water, and break his fast with this sop alone. All the rest of his earnings he saved up until they would reach to two or three hundred piastres. This sum he would then carry to the college, and place it in the shoes of his teacher’s son, Jelālu-’d-Dīn, the new rector. This practice he continued so long as he lived.

At his death a professional washer was appointed to perform the last ablution for Sheykh Hajjāj. In the execution of his office the washer was about to touch the privities of the deceased, when the defunct seized his hand with so strong a grip as to make him scream with pain and fright. The friends came to rescue him, but they were unable to release the imprisoned hand. They therefore sent word to Jelālu-’d-Dīn of what had occurred. He came and saw, knew the reason, and whispered into the ear of the deceased man: “The poor simpleton has been unaware of the high station of thy sanctity. Pardon his unintentional transgression for my sake.” Immediately the poor washer’s hand was released; but three days afterwards he was himself washed and borne lifeless to his grave.

12.
The Sultan had a governor of his childhood still living, the Emīr Bedru-’d-Dīn Guhertāsh, commonly known as the Dizdār (Castellan), whom he held in great esteem. One day, as Bahā Veled was lecturing in the mosque, in presence of the Sultan and his court, he suddenly called upon the Dizdār to recite any ten verses of the Qur’ān, saying he would then expound them to the congregation. The Dizdār had been admiring the eloquence of the preacher’s expositions. Upon this sudden call, without the slightest hesitation and without ever having committed them to memory, he recited the first ten verses of chapter xxiii., “The believers have attained to prosperity,” &c., which Bahā forthwith explained in such a manner as to draw down the plaudits of the assembly. The Dizdār, with the Sultan’s permission, went to the foot of the pulpit and declared himself a disciple to Bahā. “Then,” said the preacher, “as a thank-offering for this happy event, do thou build and endow a college where my descendants shall teach their disciples after me.” The Dizdār did so, and richly endowed it. This is the college where Jelālu-’d-Dīn afterwards lived. When the Dizdār died he left all his possessions to enrich the foundation.

13.
The Sultan had a dream (something like one of Nebuchadnezzar’s). He saw himself with a head of gold, a breast of silver, a belly of brass, thighs of lead, and shanks of tin. Bahā Veled explained the dream as follows:—”All will go well in the kingdom during thy lifetime. It will be as silver in the days of thy son; as brass in the next generation, when the rabble will get the upper hand. Troubles will thicken during the next reign; and after that the kingdom of Rome will go to ruin, the house of Seljūq will come to an end, and unknown upstarts will seize the reins of government.”

Footnotes
3:1 There is an allusion in the word ‘Arifin (Adepts) to the name of Eflākī’s patron, the Chelebī Emīr ‘Ārif (well-knowing).
3:2 Eastern Persia.
4:1 The ancient Bactra, sometimes called Zariaspa, the capital of Bactria.
5:1 Incorrectly written Mecca by Europeans.

9:1 Of Termīz (Tirmez), on the north bank of the Oxus, near to Balkh.
___________________________
I. 58. bâgo nâ jâ re nâ jâ

Do not go to the garden of flowers!
O Friend! go not there;
In your body is the garden of flowers.
Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus, and there gaze on the Infinite Beauty.
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The Poetry Of Hafiz

WITH THAT MOON LANGUAGE

Admit something:

Everyone you see, you say to them, “Love me.”

Of course you do not do this out loud, otherwise
someone would call the authorities.

Still, though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect.

Why not become the one who lives with a
full moon in each eye that is
always saying,

with that sweet moon language,
what every other eye in
this world is
dying to
hear?

Some Fill With Each Good Rain

There are different wells within your heart.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far too deep for that.

In one well
You have just a few precious cups of water,
That “love” is literally something of yourself,
It can grow as slow as a diamond
If it is lost.

Your love
Should never be offered to the mouth of a
Stranger,
Only to someone
Who has the valor and daring
To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife
Then weave them into a blanket
To protect you.

There are different wells within us.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far, far too deep
For that.

The Stairway of Existence

We Are not
In pursuit of formalities
Or fake religious
Laws,

For through the stairway of existence
We have come to God’s Door.

We are People who need to love, because
Love is the soul’s life,

Love is simply creation’s greatest joy.

Through The stairway of existence,
O, through the stairway of existence, Hafiz

Have You now come,
Have we all now come to
The Beloved’s Door.

The Mountain Got Tired of Sitting

The sun
Won a beauty contest and became a jewel
Set upon God’s right hand.

The earth agreed to be a toe ring on the
Beloved’s foot
And has never regretted its decision.

The mountains got tired
Of sitting amongst a sleeping audience

And are now stretching their arms
Toward the Roof.

The clouds gave my soul an idea
So I pawned my gills
And rose like a winged diamond

Ever trying to be near
More love, more love
Like you.

The Mountain got tired of sitting
Amongst a snoring crowd inside of me
And rose like a rip sun
Into my eye.

My soul gave my heart a brilliant idea
So Hafiz is rising like a
Winged diamond.

PERFECT EQUANIMITY

Look how a mirror
will reflect with perfect equanimity
all actions
before
it.

There is no act in this world
that will ever cause the mirror to look away.

There is no act in this world that will
ever make the mirror
say “no.”

The mirror, like perfect love, will just keep giving
of itself to all
before
it.

How did the mirror ever get like that, so polite,
so grand, so compassionate?

It watched God.

Yes, the mirror remembers the Beloved
looking into itself as the Beloved shaped existence’s heart
and the mirror’s
soul.

My eye has the nature of God.
Hafiz looks upon all with perfect equanimity,
as do my words,
dear.

My poems will never tell you no,
because the Mirror is
not like
that,

and if God ever hits you with a don’t –
He has His fingers crossed,

He is just fibbing
for your own
good.
______________________

Collapse Under The Empire “Captured Moments”

_______________________

_______________________

I. 63. avadhû, mâyâ tajî na jây

TELL me, Brother, how can I renounce Maya?
When I gave up the tying of ribbons, still I tied my garment about me:
When I gave up tying my garment, still I covered my body in its folds.
So, when I give up passion, I see that anger remains;
And when I renounce anger, greed is with me still;
And when greed is vanquished, pride and vainglory remain;
When the mind is detached and casts Maya away, still it clings to the letter.
Kabîr says, “Listen to me, dear Sadhu! the true path is rarely found.”

Sailing Into The Mythic…

“God is an astronaut, Oz lies over the rainbow, and Midian is where the monsters live.”

Confessional

There was wine in a cup of gold
and a girl of fifteen from Wu,
her eyebrows painted dark
and with slippers of red brocade.

If her conversation was poor,
how beautifully she could sing!
Together we dined and drank
until she settled in my arms.

Behind her curtains
embroidered with lotuses,
how could I refuse
the temptation of her advances?
– Li Po

Dear Friends,

All the latest with Turfing: Wrestling with new set up, trying to up load all of the old illustrations (ain’t going to happen folks) and trying to restore the old Serendipity files again for the ArchivesBook Reviews. Starting book reviews on Turfing, we have received some brilliant books as of late, that I feel everyone needs to be aware of. Way to many for just the magazine, though some reviews may cross migrate. If you know of/ or want a book to be reviewed, please notify us. Sorry, no PDF editions, they take up too much screen time.

I will be sharing some of the newer art I have been up to in the next few weeks here on the Turf. I have become enamored with moiré patterns again, which at this point seems to have become a lifelong obsession, along the lines of a gosling focusing on the first moving object when hatching. Moiré Patterns, Medieval Illustrations, William Morris, Art Noveau, Arabic Tile & Carpet Works all seem to inhabit the same space for my influences and work. The deeper I dig, the more there is to explore with them. Anyway, all have their places in my new illustrations.

There may be some work on the Corporate State as well coming up. I’d like to pursue the idea of entity, and how the idea of “corporate entity” entered into the world, and the pervasiveness of the tacit agreements that we now find ourselves laboring under in regards to the current state of affairs. I remember when Terence McKenna noted the shift from the nation state to the corporate state. He mentioned that he was not so opposed to it; I wonder what he would make of it now?

This Edition: I am pleased to introduce a new band to the line up here, “Psychic Ills”. A neo-psychedelic band out of New York, who have been kicking around for awhile on the art circuit. A little rough on the edges, but very spontaneous. I hope you will like them. We visit with our friends The Maidu of northern California again, this time in a tale of the Muskrat & Coyote. Our poet is the famed Irish bard, Gabriel Rosenstock with poems from his work “Uttering Her Name”. I feel Rosenstock may be the modern equivalent of Robert Graves when it comes to poetry dedicated to the Muse. I truly love this man’s work. We visit a bit with Eric Davis with his short missive titled: “Avatar” – Drink The Jungle Juice. Nuff’ said. You will find quotes by Albert Schweitzer, additional poetry by Li Po (Bai), and some art by yours truly.

I hope you enjoy this edition of Turfing 2.0!

Blessings,
Gwyllm
_______________________

On the Menu:
Incidental(s) & Coda; The Poetry of Li Po(Li Bai)
In Memory of Gumby’s father
Albert Schweitzer Quotes
Aya Avatar – Drink the Jungle Juice
Psychic Ills – “Mantis”
Maidu Tales: Coyote And Muskrat
The Poetry Of Gabriel Rosenstock – Uttering Her Name
Psychic Ills – “Eyes Closed”
Art – Gwyllm Llwydd
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In memory of Gumby’s father….
Art Clokey’s – Mandala

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Albert Schweitzer Quotes:

“Example is not the main thing in influencing others. It is the only thing.”

“Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory.”

Humanitarianism consists in never sacrificing a human being to a purpose.

“I can do no other than be reverent before everything that is called life. I can do no other than to have compassion for all that is called life. That is the beginning and the foundation of all ethics.”

“I don’t know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.”

“I have always held firmly to the thought that each one of us can do a little to bring some portion of misery to an end.”

“A man can do only what he can do. But if he does that each day he can sleep at night and do it again the next day.”

“A man does not have to be an angel in order to be saint.”

“A man is ethical only when life, as such, is sacred to him, that of plants and animals as that of his fellow men, and when he devotes himself helpfully to all life that is in need of help.”

“A man is truly ethical only when he obeys the compulsion to help all life which he is able to assist, and shrinks from injuring anything that lives.”
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Although I think there are multiple of multiple myth structures running through Cameron’s “Avatar”, Eric Davis’s take is very interesting, and timely…

Aya Avatar – Drink the Jungle Juice
Eric Davis

In paradoxical and altogether predictable terms, James Cameron’s ravishing Avatar sets a blue man group of mystically attuned forest dwellers against the aggressive and heartless exploitation that characterizes the military-industrial-media complex, with its virtual interfaces, biotech chimeras, and cyborg war machines. The paradox, of course, is that a version of this latter complex is responsible for delivering Camaron’s visions to us in the first place. To wit: before a recent screening of the film at the Metreon IMAX theater in San Francisco, we hapless begoggled ones were barraged with military ads, not to mention a triumphant techno-fetishist breakdown on the Imax technology that would soon transport us to the planet Pandora almost as thoroughly (and resonantly) as the handicapped jarhead Jake jacks into his computer-generated avatar body.

But those are behind the scenes ironies. With its floating Roger Deanscapes and hallucinogenic flora, the manifest world of Avatar instead spoke another truth: that the jungle pantheism that now pervades the psychoactive counterculture has gone thoroughly mainstream. Of course, noble savage narratives of ecological balance and shamanic wisdom have been haunting the Rousseau-mapped outback of the western mind for centuries. That said, Avatar represents some important twists in that basic tale. The most important of these is that the Na’vi’s nearly telepathic understanding of their environment is grounded not only in ritual, plant-lore, and that earnest seriousness that now afflicts PC Hollywood Indians, but in an organic communications network: the fibrous, animated, and vaguely repulsive pony-tail tentacles that not only allow the Na’vi to form direct control links with animals but also, through the optical filaments of the “Tree of Souls,” to commune with both ancestors and the Eywa, the biological spirit of the planet whose name resonates with Erda, our own Earth.

Call it ayahuasca lite. For while Avatar features nothing like the South American shaman lore and stupendous aya visuals that litter the otherwise very bad 2004 Western released here as Renegade, the film does suggest that the bitter jungle brew, and ideas of ecological wisdom now attached to it, is having a trickle-down effect. The banisteriopsis caapi vine that gives ayahuasca its name (though not its most hallucinogenic alkaloids) is also known as the “Vine of Souls,” which echoes the Na’vi’s Tree of Souls. And when Sigourney Weaver attempts to establish the efficacy of the Trees through a neurological discourse of electrical connection, the corporate tool Parker asks what she’s been smoking—a backhanded way of acknowledging how much Avatar’s visionary take on ecological consciousness is grounded in psychoactive consciousness.

After all, beyond a thriving and in many ways damaging ayahuasca tourist market in Brazil and Peru, clandestine aya circles manned by South American shamans and all manner of Euro-American facilitators are are now well established throughout the west. Among the professional creative classes who make up a sizable portion of West Coast seekers—for spirit and/or thrills—ayahuasca could almost be said to be mainstream. So it no longer matters whether Cameron or his animators have themselves drunk the tea; its active compounds are already swimming in the cultural water supply. Eco-futuristic dreams are now indistinguishable from the visionary potential of media technology itself. Indeed, whether you are talking form (ground-breaking 3D animation) or content (cyber-hippie wetdream decor), Cameron’s visual and technological rhetoric is impossible to disentangle from hallucinogenic experience.

OK, maybe I am the one smoking something. But if there is an aya-Avatar connection, it would explain one crucial way in which the film differs from conventional “noble savage” mysticism. Rather than ground the Na’vi’s grooviness in their folklore or spiritual purity, the film instead presents the vision of a direct and material communications link with the plant mind. Which means that Eywa (aka Aya) does not have to be believed—she can be experienced. After the temporary fusion with the Tree of Souls that fails to prevent her death, Weaver’s chain-smoking left-brain doctor happily confirms Ewya’s existence. Like the Vine of Souls now wending its way through the developed world, the Tree of Souls becomes a kind of bio-mystical media, a visionary communications matrix that uplinks the souls of the dead and the network mind of the ecosphere itself.
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Psychic Ills – “Mantis”

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Alone and Drinking Under the Moon

Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
the three of us; then I sigh
for the moon cannot drink,

and my shadow goes emptily along
with me never saying a word;
with no other friends here, I can
but use these two for company;
in the time of happiness, I
too must be happy with all
around me; I sit and sing
and it is as if the moon

accompanies me; then if I
dance, it is my shadow that
dances along with me; while
still not drunk, I am glad
to make the moon and my shadow
into friends, but then when
I have drunk too much, we
all part; yet these are

friends I can always count on
these who have no emotion
whatsoever; I hope that one day
we three will meet again,
deep in the Milky Way.
-Li Po

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Maidu Tales: Coyote And Muskrat

There was a (Muskrat)-Man. And at that place, they say, many women lived. Now, the men went off to hunt, and they returned bringing back deer. And at night, eating their supper, they went to sleep.

And in the morning, as they were getting up, “Do your best, killing deer, drying it, bringing it home to use for the winter! It is indeed a hungry world. The world will not always be as it is now(?),” one said. He was these people’s brother, the oldest man, they say. When he spoke, he said, “Yes, doing this way, it is a good world, and we shall always be healthy if we go hunting. Do the best you can,” he said.

Then they went off, one after another. And by and by, towards night, they came back one after another, from hunting. So one man crawled towards the smoke-hole. And meanwhile there was one who remained in the house, always lying close by the wall. Rising from thence, he took the deer.

Again some one carried a deer there, crawled to (the smoke-hole), and again some one brought deer, and he took it. He laid it down on the opposite side of the fire. Then (another) brought deer home, and brought it (to the smoke-hole), and he took it. The man did only that sort of work, it is said, this man who staid at home.

All the people kept coming back, until they had all arrived. When all the deer had been handed in, there were many (?). The deer were piled up (?). Meanwhile the women leached acorns. And those people kept crawling to (the smoke-hole) until all had crawled thither except one, who came behind. And as he stood up at the smoke-hole, just as he was crawling over in, Muskrat-Man seized him. Very quickly indeed he seized and dragged him away. When he had carried him off and thrown him down, (the victim) cried out repeatedly. And then he killed him, and, carrying him on his back, he took him away.

Meanwhile the crowd of people, seeing what had been done to their brother, said nothing. They sat without listening. They were afraid, it is said, of what had made their brother cry aloud. While their eldest, their brother, was being killed, the women cooked, paying no attention, (although) they saw it. And they (said), “He is a magically powerful man.” Thus the women said to one another; and the men said the same.

Carrying him off towards his house, the Muskrat-Man took (his victim) home. And when he had taken off his load, (his) wife took it, carried it inside, and set it down. Then, skinning it and preparing it, she hung it up to dry. “Yes! If we do thus, we shall have much meat,” she said. “Yes! Killing them continually in that way, I shall kill all of that lot of people,” said Muskrat-Man talking with his wife.

Meanwhile one of those present said to the crowd, “What man, I wonder, has done this to us again! It was an evil man who did it, a strong man, one with whom we can do nothing,” he said. “Do ye all do the best ye can, and live through it,” said he. The oldest man it was who spoke, they say.

Next morning, when they had talked it all over, they went off hunting. just as it was getting night, they returned one after another. They brought back deer. What
(a number) came! They kept coming until they had all arrived. Then that man who worked (slave?) took (the deer). When they passed the deer over the edge (of the smoke-hole), he kept taking them, took them all. Meanwhile the people crawled over in, kept crawling in until all had done so.

All were in but one alone, who crawled over in. Pretty soon he crawled over head-first (?); and just as he came over, (the evil person) jumped suddenly from the place (where he was hid) and seized him. Seizing and dragging him away to one side, he carried him thither. He (the victim) made a noise, crying out repeatedly. Then (the evil person) killed him.

Meanwhile the crowd did not look at him, paid no attention to him, all kept silent. Then (the evil person), having put (his victim) on his back, carried him off. And having carried him home, “Doing thus, I am one who shall kill people. I am one who shall have much meat,” he said. (Then) he skinned, prepared, hung up to dry, and dried (the victim), they say.

Again, when it was dawning, “Yes,” (the chief) said. “In this way I am losing all my people. He does it that way. Thither, my people, without feeling badly, go to the grazing hills, grazing as you go (using decoy heads of deer?),” said he. “Yes,” said they. “What is best for us to do, (seeing that) he does so to us?”–”Ye must say nothing to him, and go on,” said (the chief). Then they went off one after another.

And that (other) man staid there, the man who always remained in the house, and dressed the deer. The man who staid there did only that, they say. Meanwhile, saying nothing to him indeed, the women attended to their work. After a while, they spoke to the chief. “It was here that he came just as the sun went down,” they said. “And
then it was here they all stood about, and crawled in. From what place, I wonder, does he seize them!” they said, asking the chief.

The women did not go in (to the house) all day, (but were) doing their work, pounding acorns, cooking all kinds of food, (until) night came, having to cook (all day because) there were so many people. So these women could not know where the (evil) man staid when he was about to jump out and seize (his victim).

When the chief spoke to them again, they understood. “He stands behind (where) the main post stands. Whenever (the people) are coming, he seizes them from thence, and keeps dragging them on over,” he said. Then they said, “Ho!”

They (the hunters) returned at their usual time, when the sun was almost down. They brought home (food), and kept arriving with it, until they had all come. They kept passing it over in (to the house) until they had passed it all in. Meanwhile that man stood close up behind the main post. And again they crawled over in, kept coming, until they had all crawled in but one man, who crawled over in. And then he (the evil person), making a sudden motion, lifted him up on his shoulder, and, having done so, he threw him down and killed him. So he brought him (the victim) home from his hunting, and arrived there. And his wife took (the body); and thereupon she cut it in strips, dried it, fixed it nicely, made a lot of it.

Next day that crowd of people went again to hunt. “Without being afraid of that man, rise (and get ready) for your grazing hills (?),” 1 . . . he said. The chief spoke. Then his people said, “. . . .,” 1 and thereupon they all went off.

As the sun was going down, a man (Coyote) came. He arrived, and, reaching there, he sat down and talked. The women spoke to him. “Yes,” said he, “my other (new?) cousins, ye women must do the best ye can and cook. After having eaten supper, I shall spend the night,” said he.

Then one woman spoke. “We are feeling very sad, and have not begun to eat food properly (as usual) (?),” she said. Then Coyote said to the woman, “What is the trouble?” And the woman said, “(Because) some sort of supernatural being, coming to seize (us), kills all our brothers, and causes us to grieve. So, crying much, we are staying (here), feeling very sad.”

Then Coyote asked, “Whence does he watch? Where does he carry him off and lay him down?” Then that woman spoke. “Here he carries him off and lays him down,” she said, pointing downward. “So he carries him away,” she said, “He stands up close behind that post, watching people. That is what the chief said, in speaking. Meanwhile the people themselves are evil people, for, being afraid of him (the evil person), they cry while he kills (his victim); and, while looking on, they pay no attention,” she said.

“Pooh!” said (Coyote). I am one who does not fear anything. While I am watching, there is no one who can make people cry out. There is no kind of man who can make (people) cry while I am about. I shall see that (evil person),” he said. “I wonder when it happens!” (?) he said. “When the sun shall be at that stopping-place?” Then, “Yes,” said they, “almost at sunset.”

Then he went off up a little ways, and having gone off, after having strained, he defecated a gopher-head. Thereupon, “See here!” he said, “tell me how I may kill him.”–”On the contrary, you are the one who is to be killed,” it said. “Ah! You always talk that way to me,” said Coyote, and, giving it a kick, he kicked it away down the hill.

Then, after having strained, he defecated a mass of bent-grass. And he asked it, “How shall I kill him?”–”You want to know what to do (?)? There is a round stone where he lays (the victim) down,” it said. “Having hidden that elsewhere, crawl in and hide where the rafters come together at the smoke-hole. Meanwhile he will not see you, for he will be watching constantly another man (the victim). As he seizes the other man, drags him off over the edge and sets him down, after carrying him away,–do you jump up, seize him, and pull him away, and, after carrying him down to where you have hid it, do you strike him with his own round stone,” it said. “Then you will carry him off to his home.”

“All right!” said Coyote. “He is always one who speaks well to me.” So he stuck it back in the same place (from whence it came), and plugged it with the gopher-head. Then he went down again. He hid that (stone) in another place, and then, crawling in, he staid where the posts came together.

Meanwhile the crowd of people got home. They brought deer, kept handing it over in, until they had passed it all in. All the while they crawled in (to the house), kept crawling in, until all had crawled in but one; and he, the last of all, crawled in.

Just then the Muskrat, jumping up quickly, carried the man off and set him down. He caused him to make a noise, making him cry out loud. (Coyote), following close behind, ran after him. “Where is my round stone? Where? Where?” he said often, feeling all about. Meanwhile Coyote, seizing the Muskrat-Man and having dragged him away, killed him.

Then putting (the body) on his back, he carried him off, carried him to the Muskrat’s house, and, taking him inside, laid him down. Then the wife rushed in. She was just going to take up (the body) when she recognized her husband. So she dropped it.

Meanwhile Coyote seized her, and, holding her with his mouth, laid her down. He kept trying to insert his penis, and pretty soon he did so. Just then she said, “Ah! You are squeezing me! Raise up a little!” Then he did raise himself up a little. And then she dived into the water which was in the house. Whereupon he, after having dived through after her, by and by came out, and swore at himself. His rabbit-skin blanket (that was) belted about him was wet, and, wringing this out, he swore.

“I was bad. I was a bad Coyote. I am a person who believes anything. Why didn’t I hold her tightly?” he said, cursing himself. Then he said (to the one he had killed), “You shall not be a person who shall trouble mortal men; but mortal men shall say in stories that Coyote killed the Muskrat-Man. You are evil, and shall stay in the river-canyons, living there, not troubling people. That is what mortal men will tell of you,” he said.

Thereupon he went back down, returning to the same place. When he arrived, he said, “Do you people stay there. I am going away.” And they said., “Very well.” And in that same country they remained long ago. Meanwhile Coyote-Man went off. That is all, it is said.
Footnotes

111:1 Obscure. Hesaetem, “how many;” honwēpepem, “living persons;” tui tseno, “to get up, arise.”

113:1 Obscure.
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________________

The Poetry Of Gabriel Rosenstock – Uttering Her Name




I carved a wind-harp

Dar Óma
out of aged cherry-wood
I carved a wind-harp
and placed it far
from the eyes
and ears of men
a hawk watches over it

I was a beggar

Dar Óma
I was a beggar
You threw me a smile

I ran off
delirious
into the distance

later, tired
hungry
I sat down

now people toss me coins

I throw them back at them

all I ever wanted
was Your smile

no fingers touch
its delicate strings
the breeze it is
that plays the tune
breeze of morning
breeze of night
warm breeze from the south

throughout the day
it sings but You

wordlessly
effortlessly

never the same tune

I create silences

Dar Óma
I create silences
wherever I go
in silence You come to me
I close my eyes and ears
to worlds
my lips

if people ask for directions
I point to the gibbous moon
when asked how I am
I smile the cusp of an eclipse

should someone ask the time
they’ll see in my eyes
it is Dar Óma time
to pray
and to praise

all of creation
is getting in the mood
insects flit silently
movement
but no rustle from trees
I cannot hear my heartbeat

in a distant land
You move noiselessly

sunlight briefly strokes the haggard face of a mountain
a hare cocks his ears
You listen

in a Transylvanian mud-bath

Dar Óma
in a Transylvanian mud-bath
I cover myself in black
oily ooze
Ganesh smiles
mud cakes in the sun
an elephant grey

I lift You with my tusks
like a log far into the forest

all my past
spread out
laid bare

I trample on it
what else to do

carefully I let You down
You stand
where no one has stood before

the ivory silence
as You recline

not the slaked thirst of Bayazid

Dar Óma
not the slaked thirst
of Bayazid
but the prayer of the Prophet
eternally on my lips:
more thirst

like a dog
my tongue hangs out

asleep or awake
how could it be different

I lick Your dew
from grass

howling
I create thunder storms

the air fills
with Your rain

long after it has ceased
trees drip
Your sound

I hear it
even when not listening

seeping
deeper than roots

on first hearing its name

Dar Óma
on first hearing its name
I wanted its shock
had I found an electric eel
I would have kept it close to me
jolted into awareness
whenever vagueness or revery set it

at the end of my fiftieth year
You appeared like an eel, a naga
from the depths

I bristle like a furry animal
sure of its doom
never so alive
as in the force of Your current
that moves and twists in me constantly
cell to delighted cell

slowly like Venice I am sinking

Dar Óma
slowly like Venice
I am sinking
into Your beauty

Your grace
lapping at my door

when will I drown
in the spume-bright story of Your smile?

snake unwinding

Dar Óma
snake unwinding
from a lightning-blasted tree
I’ve spotted You
why should I flee?
I am already deep in Your eyes
come
take all of me
mercifully
let me assist You
here’s my head firmly in Your jaws
do not use Your fangs
to stun me
let me live
this death in You now
inch by slow inch

the grace showered on me

Dar Óma
unbelievable
the grace showered on me
in my darkest hour
I didn’t know above from below

were grace to fall
it would beat on closed casements

in crazy crystals it came
Your disembodied love

I no longer whimper
for Your touch

a tree of love is growing
I sit in its shade

the night sings
ghazals to the absent moon

the herring gull repeatedly lifts a crab

Dar Óma
the herring gull
repeatedly lifts a crab
carries it aloft
and drops it
on rocks below
until it is satisfied
the shell is truly shattered

the meat devoured
not a scrap left behind

You take me ever higher
clawing air
I forget my fate
submitting to Your hunger

what speeded them on their way?

Dar Óma
what speeded them on their way?
what distances did they travel?
the sky was full of falling stars …
You draw down too much light –
soon the heavens will all be bare

why was the veil rent

Dar Óma
why was the veil rent
why did I ever see Your face
what madness
does my purpose hold

I bleed in my core

at least a stigmatist
has wounds to show

dark One, quickly,
send vultures
___________________

Psychic Ills – “Eyes Closed”

_____________________
Coda:

Down From The Mountain

As down Mount Emerald at eve I came,
The mountain moon went all the way with me.
Backward I looked, to see the heights aflame
With a pale light that glimmered eerily.

A little lad undid the rustic latch
As hand in hand your cottage we did gain,
Where green limp tendrils at our cloaks did catch,
And dim bamboos o’erhung a shadowy lane.

Gaily I cried, “Here may we rest our fill!”
Then choicest wines we quaffed; and cheerily
“The Wind among the Pines” we sang, until
A few faint stars hung in the Galaxy.

Merry were you, my friend: and drunk was I,
Blissfully letting all the world go by.

Down the Mountain (Reaching the Hermitage)

At evening I make it down the mountain.
Keeping company with the moon.
Looking back I see the paths I’ve taken
Blue now, blue beneath the skyline.
You greet me, show the hidden track,
Where children pull back hawthorn curtains,
Reveal green bamboo, the secret path,
Vines that touch the traveller’s clothes.
I love finding space to rest,
Clear wine to enjoy with you.
Wind in the pines till voices stop,
Songs till the Ocean of Heaven pales.
I get drunk and you are happy,
Both of us pleased to forget the world.
-Li Po