Gwyllm.com

I want to thank Morgan for this! Brilliant…!

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Pangur Ban

I and Pangur Ban my cat,

‘Tis a like task we are at:

Hunting mice is his delight,

Hunting words I sit all night.

Better far than praise of men

‘Tis to sit with book and pen;

Pangur bears me no ill-will,

He too plies his simple skill.

‘Tis a merry task to see

At our tasks how glad are we,

When at home we sit and find

Entertainment to our mind.

Oftentimes a mouse will stray

In the hero Pangur’s way;

Oftentimes my keen thought set

Takes a meaning in its net.

‘Gainst the wall he sets his eye

Full and fierce and sharp and sly;

‘Gainst the wall of knowledge I

All my little wisdom try.

When a mouse darts from its den,

O how glad is Pangur then!

O what gladness do I prove

When I solve the doubts I love!

So in peace our task we ply,

Pangur Ban, my cat, and I;

In our arts we find our bliss,

I have mine and he has his.

Practice every day has made

Pangur perfect in his trade;

I get wisdom day and night

Turning darkness into light.

— Anon., (Irish, 8th century)

Our Cat “Buster” just turned 14 a week or so ago. He was given to Rowan by a neighbor as we were moving out from the N.E. of Portland, to the S.E. to Caer Llwydd. I was, ermmmmm less than happy at the time, but how do you take a kitten away from a 5 year old? Well, we hung in there, and he became Beta Cat for 9 years until Nicky the Alpha Cat died. In 2 months, his behaviour changed, and he assumed the Alpha Role. At 14 he is a Love. He once was the terror of the neighborhood. He pursued squirrels, birds and was a ratter par excellence. He used to bring ratty gifts up onto the porch and leave them for us. I would have to pick them up, make a big show about how good “they” were and he would dance around and purr. He now inhabits laps, something he once disdained. He comes in, wants a rub, a bit of food and a dollop of attention. He never was Mr. Touchy Feely, but that certainly has changed.

We think he has a few more years on him, he has slowed down a bit, squirrels are generally safe, birds to be watched but not chased, and the ratty gifts ceased half a decade ago. He likes his sun rays, and will move across the yard like a fur snake in pursuit of a warm spot. He likes to sit in Mary’s lap, and puts his paw on her computer mouse. I can’t quite figure that out.

We have a nice one today, lots of new stuff. I have entries stacked up like planes in a hold pattern, so I may as well let them through…

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm

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On The Menu:

Links

3 Videos: Alan Moore

Loreena McKennitt – The Old Ways

Göbekli Tepe: The World’s Oldest Temple

Ancient Irish Poetry

Loreena McKennitt – All Souls Night

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Links:

Mesolithic Underwater Structures Near The Isle Of Wight

DNA has “Telepathic” abilities…

America’s Most Banned Book…

Quantum Entanglement Made Visible…

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3 Videos: Alan Moore

Alan Moore: The Self

Thanks to Rak Razam for turning me on to this:

Alan Moore: Art is Magic

Alan Moore: The Role Of The Shaman

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Loreena McKennitt – The Old Ways

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Göbekli Tepe: The World’s Oldest Temple

A 12,000-year-old temple that is being excavated in Turkey is rewriting the historical record and seems to belong to a larger, hitherto unknown civilisation that is slowly being uncovered.

Philip Coppens

Five millennia separate us from the birth of ancient Egypt in c. 3100 BC. Add another five millennia and we are in 8100 BC, coincidentally the start of the Age of Cancer. Add another millennium and a half, and we have the date when Göbekli Tepe, in the highlands of Turkey near the Iraqi and Syrian borders, was constructed.

Archaeologically categorised as a site of the Pre-Pottery Neolithic A period (c. 9600–7300 BC), the world’s oldest temple sits in the early part of that era and so far has been carbon-dated to 9500 BC. It is the time-frame when Plato’s Atlantis civilisation is said to have disappeared. And it was built an incredible 5,000 years before the rise of what many consider to be the “oldest civilisation”, Sumer, not too far south of Göbekli Tepe as one goes down the River Euphrates and leaves the highlands of the Taurus Mountains in Turkey.

Göbekli Tepe is an incredible site. David Lewis-Williams, Professor of Archaeology at Witwatersrand University in Johannesburg, says that “Göbekli Tepe is the most important archaeological site in the world”. It is a small hill on the horizon, 15 kilometres northwest of the town of Sanliurfa, more commonly known as Urfa—which has been linked with the biblical Abraham (some claim that Urfa was the town of Ur mentioned in the Bible) and which once hosted the Holy Mandylion, linked with Christ’s Passion. Once also known as Edessa, Urfa is on the edge of the rainy area of the Taurus Mountains, source of the river that runs through the town and joins the Euphrates. Urfa was (and still is) an oasis, which could explain why Göbekli Tepe was built nearby. A life-sized statue of limestone that was found in Urfa, at the pond known as Balikli Göl, has been carbon-dated to 10,000–9000 BC, making it the earliest-known stone sculpture ever found. Its eyes are made of obsidian.

An old Kurdish shepherd, Savak Yildiz, discovered the true nature of Göbekli Tepe in October 1994 when, spotting something, he brushed away the dust to expose a large oblong-shaped stone. A survey of the site had been carried out by American archaeologist Peter Benedict in 1963, but he identified the area as a Byzantine cemetery. When German archaeologist Harald Hauptmann and Adnan Misir and Eyüp Bucak of the Museum of Urfa began excavations in 1995, they soon learned that the site was so much more.

Göbekli Tepe is a series of mainly circular and oval-shaped structures set in the slopes of a hill, known as Göbekli Tepe Ziyaret. “Ziyaret” means “visit”, but this is often left out of the name. And though some translate “Göbekli Tepe” as “Navel of the World” and “Gobek” does mean “navel” or “belly” and “Tepe” means “hill”, the most correct translation of the site’s name should be “bulged-out hill”.

The more sensationalist media have made attempts to link Göbekli Tepe with the biblical Garden of Eden. Göbekli Tepe is indeed old, but it is not unique; nor was it a garden. However, over the past 50 years the time-frame for the beginning of civilisation has been gently pushed back from the rise of the Sumerian civilisation to the construction of Göbekli Tepe. Alas, it has been a voyage that has not received the attention it should have had.

Pushing back the birth of civilisation

The discovery of the biblical town of Jericho and its stone walls, dated to c. 8000 BC, was the first to push back the date of the birth of “civilisation”. ‘Ain Ghazal is often seen as a sister site of Jericho and, with its 15-hectare area, is the largest Neolithic site in the Middle East and four times as big as Jericho. American Gary O. Rollefson, its principal archaeologist, was able to date the town to 7250 BC, and there is evidence of agriculture in the area dating back to c. 6000 BC—later than the establishment of the town itself. In its heyday, 2,000 people lived at ‘Ain Ghazal. However, by 5000 BC the town was completely deserted. Thirty statues have been found there, measuring between 35 and 90 centimetres; they are human in appearance but may represent deities or the spirits of ancestors. Jericho’s discovery added weight to the argument that the Bible is history, not myth. But when it was next learned that there are even older sites than Jericho, “unfortunately” not located in Palestine but further north in Anatolia, southeast Turkey, media interest in these new discoveries seemed to wane.

The most famous of these sites is Çatal Höyük. It was discovered in 1958 by British archaeologist James Mellaart, who began excavations in 1961 and eventually dated the site to 7500–5700 BC. It is the largest and best-preserved Neolithic site found to date. Mellaart described it as “a Neolithic Rome”, and it is indeed worthy of the name “town”. Its constructions show clear signs that its inhabitants possessed a religion—labelled by some to be a Mother Goddess cult, although this theory has been the subject of much controversy. What is known is that the dead were buried beneath the floors of the buildings, and that several of these structures contain depictions of bulls. Some people have gone so far as to suggest that there is likely a common origin between Çatal Höyük and the Minoan civilisation on Crete, despite the fact that 3,000 years separate the two.

Çatal Höyük was the first of several discoveries to slowly unveil the Turkish region’s ancient history. Göbekli Tepe is but one of several extremely old sites and is the oldest discovered so far. However, the existence of these sites has only been reported within the specialised press, although each site has a wow factor.

The site of Çayönü, located around 96 kilometres from Göbekli Tepe, conforms to a design that is known as a “grill plan”, as it looks like a grill. This reveals that careful planning went into its construction. Americans Linda and Robert Braidwood, together with Turkish archaeologist Halet Çambel, began to excavate Çayönü in 1964 and found that the floors of the buildings were made of terrazzo (burnt crushed lime and clay), although at the time of the discovery it was thought that this had first been used by the Romans. The site also revealed the use of metals and the earliest evidence of the smelting of copper, though some nevertheless argue that the copper was originally cold-hammered rather than smelted. The use of copper should not come as a total surprise, as the site is within range of copper ore deposits (as well as obsidian) at Ergani in nearby Diyarbakir Province. And all of this in a site dated to 7500–6600 BC. Çayönü is often seen as the site that began the epoch that would culminate in Çatal Höyük.

Çayönü presented evidence of the first farmyard pigs, but it also revealed a hoard of human skulls, one found under an altar-like slab and stained with human blood. Some have concluded that this is an indication of human sacrifice, while others have been unwilling to go that far based on a single type of artefact. Other archaeological evidence suggests that some people were killed in huge death pits, while children were buried alive in jars or roasted in large bronze bowls. Çayönü is therefore civilisation, but perhaps not as we like to know it.

Another important site is Nevali Çori, in Hilvan Province between Diyarbakir and Sanliurfa. Here, Harald Hauptmann began excavations in 1979 and was able to uncover large limestone statues. In 1991, the site was submerged with the construction of Lake Atatürk Dam. It shares many parallels with Göbekli Tepe and is dated to 8400–8000 BC. All the artefacts retrieved are now in museums, including a life-sized egg-like head with crude ears and a carved ponytail, found in a niche at the centre of a north-western wall. Interestingly, the ponytail is actually a curling serpent that ends in a mushroom-like cap. Whatever being the figure is meant to represent, German archaeologist Klaus Schmidt believes it was worshipped as a deity.

Nevali Çori set the stage for Göbekli Tepe: shortly after its disappearance under the waters, Göbekli Tepe emerged from the sands. Many people highlight the T-shaped pillars of Göbekli Tepe as the “signature” of the site. However, such T-shaped pillars were also found in Nevali Çori. Site-wise, Nevali Çori is more square than circular in design, although a square precinct has been found at Göbekli Tepe, too. Although there are several parallels between the two sites, Nevali Çori’s pillars are nevertheless smaller and its shrine is located inside a village.

The Göbekli Tepe site revealed

In comparison, the site of Göbekli Tepe is small. British author Andrew Collins has compared its size to that of “three tennis courts”. Its principal excavators are Klaus Schmidt and Harald Hauptmann of the German Archaeological Institute in Istanbul. All of the complexes in Göbekli Tepe that they have unearthed so far are typified by structures containing T-pillars.

These pillars were used as “drawing boards” and many depict animals, with an apparent preference for boars, foxes, reptiles, lions, crocodiles and birds, as well as insects and spiders. Most of these were carved out of the flat surfaces of the pillars. However, some are three-dimensional sculptures, including one find, made during the 2006 excavation season, of a reptilian creature descending on the side of a T-pillar, demonstrating that whoever created this had mastered the art of stone carving—on a par with much of what we would see thousands of years later in Sumer and Egypt.

So far, four circular/ovalshaped complexes have been excavated. The walls are made of unworked dry stone and the floors of terrazzo. The interior of the walls usually have several T-pillars set along them in a radiating pattern, the depth of the pillar normally against or near the wall so that the two main surfaces of the pillar could be carved and seen by whomever was inside the complex. A low bench runs along the entire exterior wall of each complex.

The structures are situated on the southern slope of the hill, orientated roughly north–south with their entrances to the south. All the T-pillars were excavated from a stone quarry on the lower southwestern slope of the hill. One pillar remains in situ in the quarry; it is seven metres long and three metres wide, and if fully excavated would have weighed around 50 tonnes, underlining that building with stones that weigh tonnes did not begin in Egypt or in England with Stonehenge.

Complex A, the first circular structure to be excavated, is nicknamed “the snake column building” because depictions of the snake somewhat dominate the carvings on the T-pillars. One is of a “net” containing snakes. Another pillar, however, depicts a “triad” of bull, fox and crane, positioned one above the other. Some pillars only feature a bull, others only a fox, and so on.

Complex B measures nine metres in diameter when measured from east to west, and 10 to 15 metres north to south (part of it is still to be excavated). It is nevertheless the only complex dug to floor level, revealing the terrazzo floor surface. Two central pillars have a large fox depicted on them. One central pillar, no. 9, is 3.4 m high; pillar no. 10 is 3.6 m high; their weight is 7.1 and 7.2 tonnes respectively. The complex was clearly built to “house” these monolithic pillars, which prove how well-versed our ancestors were in working with gigantic stones, not merely in quarrying them but in shaping and decorating them as well. Archaeologists believe that 200 T-pillars originally stood at Göbekli Tepe. If each weighed “only” five tonnes, it would still mean that 1,000 tonnes of pillars were excavated and decorated, and it highlights the importance of the site and the effort that went into creating it.

Complex C is nicknamed “the circle of the boar”, as it depicts various wild pigs. There remain nine pillars around the wall, but several were removed at some point in the past. One pillar shows a net of birds. As later cultures are known to have caught migratory cranes in nets, could this be a custom that was practised much earlier than assumed? Complex C is also of interest because a U-shaped stone has been found there which is deemed to have been the access stone. This stone has a central passage of 70 centimetres in width, and one side of the U is topped with a depiction of a boar; the other side unfortunately is missing. Again, the U shape and the boar underline the craftsmen’s technical expertise in carving, which is shown even more so on pillar no. 27, featuring the earlier-mentioned three-dimensional reptilian creature. This intricate sculpture could be regarded as being on a par with Michelangelo’s statue of David.

Complex D is nicknamed “the Stone Age zoo”. Pillar no. 43 has scorpions, and some pillars are indeed so profusely decorated—much more intensively than in the other complexes—that “zoo” is quite an apt description. Once again, there are two central pillars (nos 18 and 31), though other pillars reveal symbols, like one in the shape of the letter H as well as one with an H turned 90 degrees. The site has revealed other symbols, specifically a cross, a resting half-moon and horizontal bars—evidence that the origin of writing is likely to be much older than is currently assumed. Pillar no. 33 is the “star” of the complex. Schmidt states that the shapes on this pillar come close to the Egyptian hieroglyphs, hence he posits the existence of a pictographic language in the 10th millennium BC.

Combined, these four complexes—and others, still unexcavated—are a series of ovals and resemble the layout of the oval-shaped Stone Age complexes found on Malta. This is all the more remarkable as Malta’s oval shapes were considered unique, though some of the megaliths on Sardinia also display some oval-like tendencies but not as profoundly as at Göbekli Tepe.

A “rock temple” lower down on the slope is equally oval in shape and has an opening to the “burial chamber”. Whereas at other sites these openings are so narrow that a human could not navigate to the interior, here it is wide enough to enter.

Elsewhere on the site, on the northern slope of the hill, there is a rectangular complex named “the lion column building”. Its four pillars have depictions of leonine creatures, which could also be tigers or leopards. One pillar has a 30-cm-high graffito of a squatting woman who appears to be giving birth.

Speculation on Göbekli Tepe

Excavations at Göbekli Tepe are still ongoing; only a quarter of the suspected 200 T-pillars have been discovered so far, and not all the structures have been unearthed. In short, further surprises may be in store. It is therefore early days to draw major conclusions, but what could it all mean? The site definitely demonstrates that things which we thought were much more recent are far older—and all present in one site, sitting in a region which shows that a civilisation worthy of that name existed there in the 10th millennium BC, millennia before anyone would have dared to guess a few decades ago.

Klaus Schmidt has labelled Göbekli Tepe “the first temple” and “a sanctuary of the Stone Age hunter”. He sees the site as part of a death cult, not specifically linked with a sedentary group but a type of central sanctuary for several of the tribes living in the region. The carved animals are believed to have been there to protect the dead. At Çayönü, as previously described, one structure has a cellar that was found to contain human skulls and bones. So far, though, Göbekli Tepe has no evidence of habitation and therefore appears to have been purely a religious centre.

Once again, it appears that, just as the ancient Egyptians did, the civilisation that constructed Göbekli Tepe had far greater regard for their religious buildings than for any structures of a “practical” or more materialistic nature. Still, with only Complex B excavated to floor level, no tombs or graves have been found to date.

Some have voiced criticism as to whether hunter-gatherers could have created such a structure as Göbekli Tepe. The many flint arrowheads (and the lack of construction tools) found around the site would seem to support this criticism, and one could even see these artefacts as part of sacred hunts rather than as part of the daily activities to put food on the table—if indeed tables even existed then.

Schmidt maintains that the hunter-gatherers convened at the site at certain times of the year. Whether these meetings were determined by solar or lunar cycles is anyone’s guess, but it is nevertheless an interesting question to ponder. Equally, one could logically conclude that those who constructed the site lived there and were a dedicated resource supported by others who sustained them in dietary and housing needs. Archaeologists have estimated that up to 500 persons would have been required to extract the 10- to 20-tonne pillars and move them from the quarry to their destination, a distance ranging from 100 to 500 metres. However, Schmidt actually believes that maintaining the community of builders was the real reason behind why our ancestors “invented” agriculture: they began to cultivate the wild grasses on the hills to sustain this sedentary population. In short, he believes that “religion motivated people to take up farming”.

As well as appearing to have ritual significance, Göbekli Tepe, with its large and exquisitely decorated stone blocks, reveals that its creators had an extraordinary ability and familiarity with stone masonry and carving. That our ancestors in 10,000 BC were so skilled is an archaeological discovery that is wiping out long-cherished beliefs about the origin of civilisation.

As for the carvings, why were some and not other animals chosen? Why do the depictions seem to have no clear or apparent organisation but appear to be a rather random collection? Truth is, we don’t know. In later civilisations, all of these animals were given divine attributes. Some cultures chose to depict snakes because these animals shed their skin, which they saw as a symbol of rebirth. Others opted for the same animal for different reasons. So far, there is no way of knowing what beliefs the creators and users of Göbekli Tepe held.

Some observers have pointed out that some of the cranes are depicted with human-like knees and have suggested that a form of shamanism was practised inside this temple. Sister sites have revealed sculptures of a mixture of animal and human, specifically that of the body of a bird with a human head. As it happened, thousands of years later the ancient Egyptians used this symbol as a hieroglyph to depict the ba, the human soul freed from the body at death or during shamanic flight.

Andrew Collins has specifically underlined the shamanic potential of these sites in modern-day Turkey. The image of the previously mentioned naked woman depicts her hair in the shape of a hemispherical mushroom cap. The side of one pillar at Göbekli Tepe features a series of serpents with mushroom-shaped heads, four winding their way downwards and a fifth one climbing up to meet them, while the other side shows several interwoven serpents wearing mushroom-like caps, eight emerging at the top and nine at the bottom. Is this evidence of a ritual involving hallucinogenic mushrooms or similar mind-altering substances?

The bones of vultures have been found at Nevali Çori, Göbekli Tepe and Jerf el-Ahmar (in Syria). A communal cave site, Shanidar, in the Upper Zagros Mountains of northern Iraq, contained a series of severed birds’ wings covered with red ochre. The remains have been dated to c. 8870 BC. The wings are believed to have been used in some ceremony, but precisely in what manner remains unknown. However, it is known that, in the distant past, the people of this region placed the bodies of the dead on high constructions and let vultures eat the flesh of the dead. Depictions of such a Neolithic excarnation tower have been found on a mural in Çatal Höyük. Interestingly, human bones have recently been found in the soil that once filled the niches behind the megaliths at Göbekli Tepe. Schmidt argues: “…the ancient hunters brought the corpses of relatives here, and installed them in the open niches by the stones. The corpses were then excarnated.” Not just vultures but wild animals seem to have taken part in this ritual. This may explain why so many animals are depicted on the T-pillars: perhaps the people who constructed these sites felt that “something” of the dead lived on in these animals.

Cradles of civilisation

What is known is that Göbekli Tepe and its sister sites have pushed back the age of monolithic building much further in time. Previously, we looked to the likes of Stonehenge and the Egyptian pyramids, but now we find that our ancestors were hauling massive stones to build their constructions around 12,000 years ago. Even if a structure like the Sphinx were suddenly found to be 10,000 years old, the immediate reaction might now perhaps be: “So what? It is not that unique.” Furthermore, if the dates for some of these sites in Turkey pre-date the assumed time-frame for such events as the disappearance of Atlantis or the Great Flood, it means that these ancient ancestors cannot be neatly placed as “survivors from a deluge”.

Our ancient history has grown much more interesting and complex. The cultures that followed the establishment of Göbekli Tepe had domesticated pigs, sheep, cattle and goats and cultivated wheat species such as einkorn. Indeed, recent analysis has shown that the first cultivation of domesticated wheat occurred at Karacadag, a mountain 32 kilometres from Göbekli Tepe. Other domesticated cereals such as rye and oats also originated here. According to Schmidt, this adventure began c. 8000 BC.

It is easy and tempting to label this region as “the cradle of civilisation”, but the fact of the matter is that it has already been proven that corn (maize) was engineered in Mexico at the same time, only underlining how the frontiers of “civilisation” are being pushed back on both continents. In fact, there is evidence of Barbary sheep being cultivated by our ancestors in North Africa as early as 18,000 BC. Furthermore, several grains of emmer wheat have been found at the Palestinian site of Nahal Oren, suggesting cultivation of this crop occurred there as early as 14,000 BC.

In any case, it is clear that Göbekli Tepe is not alone. It may be receiving much of the focus, but another site, Karahan Tepe, 63 kilometres east of Urfa in the Tektek Mountains, deserves attention. Discovered in 1997 and investigated by archaeologist Bahattin Çelik of the Turkish Historical Society, it has been dated to c. 9500–9000 BC. It has a number of T-pillars as well as high reliefs of a winding snake and other carvings similar to those at Göbekli Tepe. Covering an area of 325,000 m2, Karahan Tepe is much bigger than Göbekli Tepe. The stone pillars are spaced 1.5 to 2.0 metres apart and protrude above ground level, waiting for an archaeologist to expose them fully. Other carved stones include a battered torso of a naked man and polished rock with forms of goats, gazelles and rabbits.

It is too early to draw any extraordinary conclusions from these sites, apart from the fact that our history is no longer as we know it. But just as Jericho proved in part that the Bible contains historical facts, these sites may yet substantiate some of the Sumerian myths which claimed that agriculture, animal husbandry and weaving had been brought to mankind from the sacred mountain Du-Ku, which was inhabited by the Anunna deities. Though it’s unlikely that this mountain was Göbekli Tepe, we are probably in the correct general vicinity here at the frontier of the Taurus Mountains.

Around 8000 BC, descendants of the creators of Göbekli Tepe turned on their forefathers’ achievements and entombed their temple under thousands of tonnes of earth, creating the artificial hill—a “belly”—that we see today. Why they did this is unknown, though it was a decision that preserved the monument for posterity but also involved an extraordinary amount of time and effort. Schmidt argues that the local landscape began to change around that time: as the trees were chopped down, the soil began to lose its fertility; the area became arid and bare, and the people were forced to move elsewhere. Could it be that they began to make their descent and, millennia later, established what is known as the Sumerian civilisation? Such a scenario is just one possibility.

Even in ancient Egypt, religious constructions were often abandoned if not dismantled after a while because they belonged to a particular “cycle” of time that had since passed. If that were the case with Göbekli Tepe, it would mean that knowledge of astronomy is older by millennia. The past five decades have so radically reshaped our understanding of the period 10,000–4000 BC, specifically the level of “civilisation” our ancestors had achieved in those days, that this shouldn’t at all come as a surprise. And it seems that it’s a given that somewhere, even older towns are waiting to be uncovered.

However, it is equally clear that entering into the mindset of these hunter-gatherers—how they saw these animals and what they believed happened to the dead—is a difficult subject which will require years of study. Alas, it is an area where few archaeologists dare to tread, and in all likelihood they will hop from one site to the next, as they’ve done for several decades, and will “only” uncover the fact that civilisation is much older than we’ve assumed. Already, other sites are vying for Göbekli Tepe’s fame. The previously mentioned site of Jerf el-Ahmar, located along the Euphrates in Syria, has been dated to 9600–8500 BC. Other sites will certainly soon submit their applications. It’s likely they will all reveal that they are part of our history, but not as we know it.

This article appeared in Nexus Magazine, Volume 16, Number 4 (June-July 2009) and Darklore (Volume 4).

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Ancient Irish Poetry

Lugh’s Crane Magic

Havoc its strain of battles shared death there.

In this a battle after foreigners broke (our) shared settlement

by destruction of it. They will be defeated by hosts.

O Fairy-hosts, land of men on guard,

birds of prey rain down (on them), men without choice.

Be hindered (the) foreigners. Another (the other) company fears,

another company listens, they are very terribly in torment,

dark (sad) men (are they). Roaring brightly ninefold* are we!

Hurrah and Woe! Leftward*! O you my beautiful ones!

Sacred will be the sustenance after cloud and flowers

through its powerful skills of wizards.

My battle will not dwindle until (its) end.

Not cowardly my request with (their) encountering me

with a land of rushes laid waste by fire

death’s form established, death on us given birth.

Before (the presence of) the Sídhe with each of them,

before Ogma I satisfy,

before the sky and the earth and the sea*,

before the sun and the moon and the stars*.

O Band of warriors my band here to you

My hosts here of great hosts sea-full

(of) mighty sea-spray (boiling) smelted golden powerful,

conceived, may it be sought upon the field of battle.

Joint death its strain. Havoc its strain.

—

Kenmare’s Pacification Spell

Melt away (expire, soften) fully, melt away completely.

I swear this myself to every prince.

Melt into sleep, melt in tranquillity.

Be borne a bright newness

to (the) head of the hosts of Fiacha of princes.

Melt clean(ly), melt (with) generosity

(all those) around an ignorant (unjust) king.

Melt away completely, melt away into sleep.

Be borne a fresh newness.

(But) of Mogh Corb

melt away his silver and gold and enamel (jewelry),

melt away fairy (allies of the king) and king and great ones,

empowered with you and from you to Mogh Ruith

and from (the) men of Corb

and to Buan

empowered himself

a sight (seen to be done) three times

with that a sight of wisdom

the (high) king made humble.

The draught will be drowned.

(Magical) energy will enliven,

each will be healed,

will transform into peace. Melt away.

—

Buan’s Invocation of the Stag-God

Then Buan gave the excellence of ancient word

aloud in its telling, and said:

O Spectre of stags* of great knowledge,

O Man whose sight is in visions

of Ireland of many byred calms,

God of requests beside me,

O Stag*, hooves sharp as swords

to antler-points white-silver,

pig* of the wilds fresh green terrible,

fair cow* of red-speckled* ear-points,

the trinity who do not scrutinize,

cow* and great pig* of keen sight,

fierce stag* of divine possessions,

glorious, free of the restraint of crowds,

who sing together, have advanced together

to our harbour of complete attentions.

O father of mine, pledged to his people forever,

The veils are removed,

by the source of great wisdom

keenly seen, upon song

from out of the magical mists of prophecy.

The generations of the Gael increase.

The triple-yeared wild boar* has grown,

subdued the wraths of supreme power,

sovereignty of battles pugnacious,

of a proper ale feast, of a lot of the harp,

in a wide-faced stag*.

Good son gentle fair Eoghan Great Muillethan

wages a war of inheritance.

Eimhne gentle many-beautied

in my joy much magnified

gentle handsome flower-bright,

my woman, she the cow*,

let her have no reason to lament.

The Battle of Clare will be put to the sword,

before my gaze be it soldiered.

May the sons of women reign.

The bound-givings equally guaranteed

by Cormac and in need abandoned,

let them be performed.

Let there be no belonging here for profound grief.

I bestow its silence (You bestow my silence).

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Loreena McKennitt – All Souls Night

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We don’t care how crazy that man is, we want exact transmission of that crazed Mind. We are crazed ourselves. It would help to know we are not alone. We are delighted by the calmness of this other one. We are sent to the woods to see, really see, what we’d so often looked at and never noticed at all, by that other Mind. We need to know exactly what it must be like to be an ambassador, a killer, a hulking fool. – Lew Welch

Crazy Days, crazy nights. Lots of insomnia, and tossing about. I have lots to say, but I will hold off on the conversation at this bit and toss this entry to the wind. I have been on a tear of late, and Lew has been the perfect companion. Most of the poetry in this and other entries are from the Poetry Post out front of Caer Llwydd. It seems it is getting quite a following. It is nice to know….

Bright Love,

Gwyllm

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On The Menu:

The Linkage…

THE BASIC CON

Komuso Zen Priest Playing Shakuhachi

Lew Welch Quotes

From The Poetry Post: Excerpts From The Dao Te Ching (what’s been posted lately)

The Poems Of Lew Welch

Tsuru no Sugomori – Antonio Olías

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The Linkage:

On Lew Welch: The Song The Poet Sang

The Attack Of The Killer Rabbits!

Starchild: Alien-Human Hybrid?

Bob Arnold’s Poetry Blog… Thanks Laura~!

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THE BASIC CON

Those who can’t find anything to live for,

always invent something to die for.

Then they want the rest of us to

die for it, too. – Lew Welch

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Komuso Zen Priest Playing Shakuhachi

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Lew Welch Quotes:

“Step out onto the Planet. Draw a circle a hundred feet round. Inside the circle are 300 things nobody understands, and , maybe, nobody’s ever really seen. How many can you find?”

“Looking for enlightenment is like looking for a flashlight when all you need the flashlight for is to find the flashlight.”

“You can’t fix it. You can’t make it go away. I don’t know what you’re going to do about it, but I know what I’m going to do about it. I’m just going to walk away from it. Maybe a small part of it will die if I’m not around feeding it anymore.”

“trails go nowhere. they end exactly where you stop.”

“The True Rebel never advertises it. He prefers his joy to Missionary Work”.

“Since the business of living has so many barbs in it, and since so many of our friends are liars or fools or inarticulate or emotionally blunt or are sucking on us for what they imagine we can give though we can’t, it is pure joy to read the poems of the truth-sayers, the simple singers, the masters of prayer and devotion, and the crazed, wise, babblers of Ecstasy, the High-Mind Singers to no end.”

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Excerpts From The Dao Te Ching…

6. Experience

Experience is a riverbed,

Its source hidden, forever flowing:

Its entrance, the root of the world,

The Way moves within it:

Draw upon it; it will not run dry.

8. Water

The best of man is like water,

Which benefits all things, and does not contend with them,

Which flows in places that others disdain,

Where it is in harmony with the Way.

So the sage:

Lives within nature,

Thinks within the deep,

Gives within impartiality,

Speaks within trust,

Governs within order,

Crafts within ability,

Acts within opportunity.

He does not contend, and none contend against him.

10. Harmony

Embracing the Way, you become embraced;

Breathing gently, you become newborn;

Clearing your mind, you become clear;

Nurturing your children, you become impartial;

Opening your heart, you become accepted;

Accepting the world, you embrace the Way.

Bearing and nurturing,

Creating but not owning,

Giving without demanding,

This is harmony.

– Lao Tse –

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The Poems Of Lew Welch

THE SONG MT. TAMALPAIS SINGS

This is the last place.

There is nowhere else to go.

Human movements,

but for a few,

are Westerly.

Man follows the sun.

This is the last place.

There is nowhere else to go.

Or follows what he thinks to be the

movement of the Sun.

It is hard to feel it, as a rider,

on a spinning ball.

This is the last place.

There is nowhere else to go.

Centuries and hordes of us,

from every quarter of the earth,

now piling up,

and each wave going back

to get some more.

This is the last place.

There is nowhere else to go.

“My face is the map of the Steppes,”

she said, on this mountain, looking West.

My blood set singing by it,

to the old tunes,

Irish, still,

among these Oaks.

This is the last place.

There is nowhere else to go.

This is why

once again we celebrate

the great Spring Tides

Beaches are strewn again with Jaspar,

Agate, and Jade.

The Mussel-rock stands clear.

This is the last place.

There is nowhere else to go.

This is why

once again we celebrate the

Headland’s huge, cairn-studded, fall

into the Sea.

This is the last place.

There is nowhere else to go.

For we have walked the jeweled beaches

at the feet of thr final cliffs

of all Man’s wanderings.

This is the last place.

There is nowhere else we need to go.

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He Thanks His Woodpile

The wood of the madrone burns with a flame at once

lavender and mossy green, a color you sometimes see in a sari.

Oak burns with a peppery smell.

For a really hot fire, use bark.

You can crack your stove with bark.

All winter long I make wood stews:

Poem to stove to woodpile to stove to

typewriter. woodpile. stove.

and can’t stop peeking at it!

can’t stop opening up the door!

can’t stop giggling at it

“Shack Simple”

crazy as Han Shan as

Wittgenstein in his German hut, as

all the others ever were and are

Ancient Order of the Fire Gigglers

who walked away from it, finally,

kicked the habit, finally, of Self, of

man-hooked Man

(which is not, at last, estrangement)

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Not yet 40, my beard is already white. by Lew Welch

Not yet 40, my beard is already white.

Not yet awake, my eyes are puffy and red,

like a child who has cried too much.

What is more disagreeable

than last night’s wine?

I’ll shave.

I’ll stick my head in the cold spring and

look around at the pebbles.

Maybe I can eat a can of peaches.

Then I can finish the rest of the wine,

write poems ’til I’m drunk again,

and when the afternoon breeze comes up

I’ll sleep until I see the moon

and the dark trees

and the nibbling deer

and hear

the quarreling coons

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The image, as in a Hexagram:

The image, as in a Hexagram:

The hermit locks his door against the blizzard.

He keeps the cabin warm.

All winter long he sorts out all he has.

What was well started shall be finished.

What was not, should be thrown away.

In spring he emerges with one garment

and a single book.

The cabin is very clean.

Except for that, you’d never guess

anyone lived there.

___________

I Saw Myself

I saw myself

a ring of bone

in the clear stream

of all of it

and vowed

always to be open to it

that all of it

might flow through

and then heard

“ring of bone” where

ring is what a

bell does

___

Tsuru no Sugomori – Antonio Olías

This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love; the more they give, the more they possess.

– Rainer Maria Rilke

I first met Gayle the year she moved to Portland, back I think in 2004. She had a most amazing laugh, and presence. She passed recently, and we went to her memorial service. She was a character; a working class heroine who was in the pioneering edge of modern feminism. She was a bundle of love, and very, very opinionated. 80) She never minced words, and you could always count on getting a direct answer. She had a most interesting life. I didn’t know the half of it until she died. I wish I’d known earlier.

Gayle, lots miss ya. A brilliant journey for you I hope.

(The picture above is the container that Gayle asked her ashes to be put in!)

The following poem: “To Be Of Use”, was used in the program at her memorial. I find it incredibly moving.

Take Care,

Gwyllm

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To Be Of Use

The people I love the best

jump into work head first

without dallying in the shallows

and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.

They seem to become natives of that element,

the black sleek heads of seals

bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,

who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,

who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,

who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge

in the task, who go into the fields to harvest

and work in a row and pass the bags along,

who are not parlor generals and field deserters

but move in a common rhythm

when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.

Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.

But the thing worth doing well done

has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.

Greek amphoras for wine or oil,

Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums

but you know they were made to be used.

The pitcher cries for water to carry

and a person for work that is real.

Marge Piercy

A picture of Gayle from the early 60′s.

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Sarah Vaughn – What Lola Wants…

A great bit of music…. I hope you enjoy! My friend Morgan turned me on to them. Fits my mood to a tee…..

More Turfing on the way…

Gwyllm

Street Sweeper Social Club – 100 Little Curses

Wo ohohoh

Wo ohohoh

Wo ohohoh oh

100 little curses

Now you tumble and fall

Down your grand marble stairway

May the caviar, pate you were eating

Block your airway

May your manservant deliver

The Heimlich, with honor

May this make you vomit on your Dolce Gabbana

May your wife’s worried face show her horrific expression

May you realize she’s not worried, that’s just Botox injections

May all the commotion cause to crash the chandelier

(?) Shock diamonds from DeBeers

May your Ferrari break down

May your chauffeur get high

And smash up your stretch Rolls

Up Rodeo Drive

Off the breaking backs of others

Where you got all your bucks

Till we make the revolution I just hope your life sucks

All my people in the place put your fist in the air

All my damn mother get up out of your chairs

All my real damn peoples we got love for here

Except for that mother right there

Get him

Wo ohohoh

Wo ohohoh

Wo ohohoh oh

100 little curses

May your champagne not bubble

May your pinot be sour

May that white stuff you snort be 96% flour

May the famous rapper you bring

To your daughter’s sweet sixteen

Get some pride and walk out, as if born with a spleen

May the death squads you hire be bad with instructions,

And by mistake be at your mansion with the street sweepers bustin

May this make your parties get ? and white Russians

Dive behind the chimney all cryin and cussin

May your chef be all pissin in the bisque in the kitchen

May I assume your autobiography is filed under fiction

Cuz on the breakin backs of others is where you got all your cash

Till we make the revolution I hope your life sucks ass

All my people in the place put your fist in the air

All my damn mother fuckers get up out of your chairs

All my real damn peoples we got love for here

Except for that mother right there

Get him

Wo ohohoh

Wo ohohoh

Wo ohohoh oh

100 little curses

Street Sweeper Social Scene bring the heavy funk

“Conscience is no more than the dead speaking to us” – Jim Carroll

“I’ll Die For Your Sins If You Live For mine.”

A wee bit of homage for Jim Carroll. I never knew him, I read his poetry on occasion, and I certainly enjoyed his musical adventures…

Don’t try to look up his poetry on the web at this point, there seems to be a tonne of attack sites advertising it with some nasty malware attached… I think Jim would of found that funny or sad.

He was a poet who developed his style through his pain, the monkey on his back and the life he pursued. He was an original, and I think his voice has been stilled way to early. I was interested on how he would develop as he got older. Now of course, we won’t get that chance.

From what I understand, he was sitting at his desk, working at poetry when he died. What poet wouldn’t like that?

Here is to you Jim. May your poems be spray painted on walls and sidewalks. May your books of poems be handed out freely in the streets.

I hope it was a quick journey across the river, and I pray the Muse greeted you on the other shore..

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm

On The Menu:

Some Jim C. Linkage

Jim C. Quotes

I Am Alone

Biography

8 Fragments For Kurt Cobain

Catholic Boy w/lyrics

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Some Jim C. Linkage:

Jim Carroll

A beautiful rememberance…

Jim’s website… Catholicboy.com

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Jim Carroll Quotes:

“I love this mansion, though it is too many windows

…to open halfway each morning

…to close halfway each night.”

“Our team is good at getting dressed real quick, because we’re the type of team that wears their uniforms all day.”

“Violence is so terribly fast . . . the most perverse thing about the movies is the way they portray it in slow motion, allowing it to be something sensuous . . . the viewer’s lips slightly wet as the scene plays out. Violence is nothing like that. It is lightning fast, chaotic, and totally intangible. “

— Jim Carroll (Forced Entries: The Downtown Diaries: 1971-1973)

“all right

buddah gets a backstage pass

but all his friends have to pay”

— Jim Carroll (Void of Course)

“That, I realized, is the great beauty of dreams: the devil may inevitably find a way to jerk you off, but you can always wake up before he makes you cum.”

— Jim Carroll (Forced Entries: The Downtown Diaries: 1971-1973)

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Jim Carroll – I Am Alone

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Jim Carroll (1949 – 2009)

Jim Carroll (born August 1, 1949 in New York City died September 11, 2009) was an author, poet, autobiographer, and punk musician. Carroll is best known for his 1978 novel The Basketball Diaries, which was made into a movie in 1995 starring Leonardo DiCaprio.

Raised in New York City, Carroll attended several Catholic Grammar Schools from 1955 to 1963. In fall 1963, he entered public school, but was soon rewarded a scholarship to the elite Trinity High School (a private school). He entered Trinity High School in 1964.

Apart from being interested in writing, Carroll was a passionate basketball player throughout his grade school and middle school career. He entered the “Biddy League” at age 13 and participated in the National High School All Star Game in 1966, hence the title of his most famous book.

As a teenager, Carroll was a heroin addict who sometimes prostituted himself to afford his habit. The novel The Basketball Diaires concerns his life in New York City’s hard drug culture and his struggle to rid himself of his addiction.

Carroll published his first book, Organic Trains, at age 17. Several of his poems have been published in such magazines as Paris Review and Poetry. In 1970, his second collection of poems, 4 Ups and 1 Down was published. That same year, Carroll started working for Andy Warhol. At first, he was writing film dialogue and inventing character names; later on, Carroll worked as the co-manager of Warhol’s Theater. Carroll’s first above-ground publication, the collection Living At The Movies was published in 1973.

He formed the Jim Carroll Band, a New Wave/punk rock group, in 1980. Their biggest commercial success was the single “People Who Died,” from their debut album, Catholic Boy. He has also collaborated with many influential punk and hard rock musicians, including Lou Reed, Blue Öyster Cult, Boz Scaggs and Rancid.

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8 Fragments For Kurt Cobain by Jim Carroll

1/

Genius is not a generous thing

In return it charges more interest than any amount of royalties can cover

And it resents fame

With bitter vengeance

Pills and powdres only placate it awhile

Then it puts you in a place where the planet’s poles reverse

Where the currents of electricity shift

Your Body becomes a magnet and pulls to it despair and rotten teeth,

Cheese whiz and guns

Whose triggers are shaped tenderly into a false lust

In timeless illusion

2/

The guitar claws kept tightening, I guess on your heart stem.

The loops of feedback and distortion, threaded right thru

Lucifer’s wisdom teeth, and never stopped their reverbrating

In your mind

And from the stage

All the faces out front seemed so hungry

With an unbearably wholesome misunderstanding

From where they sat, you seemed so far up there

High and live and diving

And instead you were swamp crawling

Down, deeper

Until you tasted the Earth’s own blood

And chatted with the Buzzing-eyed insects that heroin breeds

3/

You should have talked more with the monkey

He’s always willing to negotiate

I’m still paying him off…

The greater the money and fame

The slower the Pendulum of fortune swings

Your will could have sped it up…

But you left that in a plane

Because it wouldn’t pass customs and immigration

4/

Here’s synchronicity for you:

Your music’s tape was inside my walkman

When my best friend from summer camp

Called with the news about you

I listened them…

It was all there!

Your music kept cutting deeper and deeper valleys of sound

Less and less light

Until you hit solid rock

The drill bit broke

and the valley became

A thin crevice, impassible in time,

As time itself stopped.

And the walls became cages of brilliant notes

Pressing in…

Pressure

That’s how diamonds are made

And that’s WHERE it sometimes all collapses

Down in on you

5/

Then I translated your muttered lyrics

And the phrases were curious:

Like “incognito libido”

And “Chalk Skin Bending”

The words kept getting smaller and smaller

Until

Separated from their music

Each letter spilled out into a cartridge

Which fit only in the barrel of a gun

6/

And you shoved the barrel in as far as possible

Because that’s where the pain came from

That’s where the demons were digging

The world outside was blank

Its every cause was just a continuation

Of another unsolved effect

7/

But Kurt…

Didn’t the thought that you would never write another song

Another feverish line or riff

Make you think twice?

That’s what I don’t understand

Because it’s kept me alive, above any wounds

8/

If only you hadn’t swallowed yourself into a coma in Roma…

You could have gone to Florence

And looked into the eyes of Bellinni or Rafael’s Portraits

Perhaps inside them

You could have found a threshold back to beauty’s arms

Where it all began…

No matter that you felt betrayed by her

That is always the cost

As Frank said,

Of a young artist’s remorseless passion

Which starts out as a kiss

And follows like a curse

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Jim Carroll – Catholic Boy

I was born in a pool, they made my mother stand

And I spat on that surgeon and his trembling hand

When I felt the light I was worse than bored

I stole the doctor’s scalpel and I slit the cord

I was a Catholic boy,

Redeemed through pain,

Not through joy

I was two months early they put me under glass

I screamed and cursed their children when the nurses passed

Was convicted of theft when I slipped from the womb

They led me straight from my mother to a cell in the Tombs

They starved me for weeks, they thought they’d teach me fear

I fed on cellmates’ dreams, it gave me fine ideas

When they cut me loose, the time had served me well

I made allies in heaven, I made comrades in Hell

I was a Catholic child

The blood ran red

The blood ran wild

I make angels dance and drop to their knees

When I enter a church the feet of statues bleed

I understand the fate of all my enemies

Just like Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane

I watched the sweetest psalm stolen by the choir

I dreamed of martyrs’ bones hanging from a wire

I make a contribution, I get absolution

I make a resolution to purify my soul

They can’t touch me now

I got every sacrament behind me:

I got baptism,

I got communion,

I got penance,

I got extreme unction

I’ve got confirmation

‘Cause I’m a Catholic child

The blood ran red

The blood ran wild!

Now I’m a Catholic man

I put my tongue to the rail whenever I can.

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Just because I like these poems, just because they exist and have survived….

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm

Wave after wave, each mightier than the last,

Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep

And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged

Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame….

– Tennyson, “The Ninth Wave”

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Just Because – Ancient Irish Poems…

How Curious The Light Behaves

How curious the light behaves

Reflecting off the dancing waves.

Oh how my very being craves

A view from down below.

Suspended in my watery lair,

I would not need to gasp for air,

For I’m no longer human there

Beneath the icy flow.

It’s peaceful there, but I have found

I still can hear the distant sound

Of voices of the souls who drowned

And left loved ones to mourn.

The lonely wails transmit the pain

Of those who just could not remain

So journeyed to the unknown plane

Of dead souls and unborn.

But in this world there still exist

Survivors who will always miss

The passion of their lovers’ kiss

That warmed them night and day.

Though here above the vast, cold sea,

My heart is without tragedy,

For I have someone dear to me

Who hasn’t passed away.

Never let that be untrue,

For I could not bear thoughts of you

Trapped underneath the ocean blue

Deprived of your last breath.

No harm to you would I condone,

For I’d be left here on my own

To face this tragic world alone,

A fate far worse than death.

– Pre-Christian Irish Poem –

—-

The Harp of Cnoc I’Chosgair

Harp of Cnoc I’Chosgair, you who bring sleep

to eyes long sleepless;

sweet subtle, plangent, glad, cooling grave.

Excellent instrument with smooth gentle curve,

trilling under red fingers,

musician that has charmed us,

red, lion-like of full melody.

You who lure the bird from the flock,

you who refresh the mind,

brown spotted one of sweet words,

ardent, wondrous, passionate.

You who heal every wounded warrior,

joy and allurement to women,

familiar guide over the dark blue water,

mystic sweet sounding music.

You who silence every instrument of music,

yourself a sweet plaintive instrument,

dweller among the Race of Conn,

instrument yellow-brown and firm.

The one darling of sages,

restless, smooth, sweet of tune,

crimson star above the Fairy Hills,

breast jewel of High Kings.

Sweet tender flowers, brown harp of Diarmaid,

shape not unloved by hosts, voice of cuckoos in May!

I have not heard music ever such as your frame makes

since the time of the Fairy People,

fair brown many coloured bough,

gentle, powerful, glorious.

Sound of the calm wave on the beach,

pure shadowing tree of pure music,

carousals are drunk in your company,

voice of the swan over shining streams.

Cry of the Fairy Women from the Fairy Hill of Ler,

no melody can match you,

every house is sweet stringed through your guidance,

you the pinnacle of harp music.

– Gofraidh Fion O Dalaigh. 1385]

—

Little Bird

Little bird! O little bird!

I wonder at what thou doest,

Thou singing merry far from me,

I in sadness all alone!

Little bird! O little bird!

I wonder at how thou art

Thou high on the tips of branching boughs,

I on the ground a-creeping!

Little bird! O little bird!

Thou art music far away,

Like the tender croon of the mother loved

In the kindly sleep of death.

_________

Have a wonderful weekend!

“We cling to our own point of view, as though everything depended on it. Yet our opinions have no permanence; like autumn and winter, they gradually pass away.” -Chuang Tzu

Chuang Tzu And The Butterfly

Chuang Tzu in dream became a butterfly,

And the butterfly became Chuang Tzu at waking.

Which was the real—the butterfly or the man ?

Who can tell the end of the endless changes of things?

The water that flows into the depth of the distant sea

Returns anon to the shallows of a transparent stream.

The man, raising melons outside the green gate of the city,

Was once the Prince of the East Hill.

So must rank and riches vanish.

You know it, still you toil and toil,—what for?

-Li Po

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Late Night… listening to the sounds of the house quieting down towards midnight. Warm, a burst of summer struggles up for a few days, tomorrow in the 90′s they say. Visited with my friend Terry today, drifted home, had a couple of drinks and vegged with some videos. I am awaiting the equinox at this point… Harvesting apples off of our tree, leaving one for the squirrels Mary did today. Everyone gets a share in her world. I watch her talk with the cat, the dog and the creatures and plants. Ever noticed that magick is near by if you just look a little wider?

I hope this finds you in happiness. Here, I will share some of mine if you like.

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm

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On The Menu:

The Mystery Telegram

Chuang-Tsze Quote

Radiohead – Jigsaw falling into place

A Tale of London

Radiohead – House of Cards

Chuang Tzu Poetry…

Radiohead – In Rainbows – Reckoner

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The Mystery Telegram

Oh… I have my suspicions, this Telegram popped up earlier this week at Caer Llwydd. I am on your trail and I shall identify you, Mystery Telegram Sender…!

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Chuang-Tze Quotes

“You will always find an answer in the sound of water.”

“I dreamed I was a butterfly, flitting around in the sky; then I awoke. Now I wonder: Am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man?”

“Happiness is the absence of the striving for happiness.”

“Flow with whatever may happen and let your mind be free. Stay centered by accepting whatever you are doing. This is the ultimate.”

“If water derives lucidity from stillness, how much more the faculties of the mind! The mind of the sage, being in repose, becomes the mirror of the universe, the speculum of all creation.”

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Radiohead – Jigsaw falling into place

_____________________

A Tale of London

– Lord Dunsany

“Come,” said the Sultan to his hasheesh-eater in the very furthest lands that know Bagdad, “dream to me now of London.”

And the hasheesh-eater made a low obeisance and seated himself cross-legged upon a purple cushion broidered with golden poppies, on the floor, beside an ivory bowl where the hasheesh was, and having eaten liberally of the hasheesh blinked seven times and spoke thus:

“O Friend of God, know then that London is the desiderate town even of all Earth’s cities. Its houses are of ebony and cedar which they roof with thin copper plates that the hand of Time turns green. They have golden balconies in which amethysts are where they sit and watch the sunset. Musicians in the gloaming steal softly along the ways; unheard their feet fall on the white sea-sand with which those ways are strewn, and in the darkness suddenly they play on dulcimers and instruments with strings. Then are there murmurs in the balconies praising their skill, then are there bracelets cast down to them for reward and golden necklaces and even pearls.

“Indeed but the city is fair; there is by the sandy ways a paving all alabaster, and the lanterns along it are of chrysoprase, all night long they shine green, but of amethyst are the lanterns of the balconies.

“As the musicians go along the ways dancers gather about them and dance upon the alabaster pavings, for joy and not for hire. Sometimes a window opens far up in an ebony palace and a wreath is cast down to a dancer or orchids showered upon them.

“Indeed of many cities have I dreamt but of none fairer, through many marble metropolitan gates hasheesh has led me, but London is its secret, the last gate of all; the ivory bowl has nothing more to show. And indeed even now the imps that crawl behind me and that will not let me be are plucking me by the elbow and bidding my spirit return, for well they know that I have seen too much. ‘No, not London,’ they say; and therefore I will speak of some other city, a city of some less mysterious land, and anger not the imps with forbidden things. I will speak of Persepolis or famous Thebes.”

A shade of annoyance crossed the Sultan’s face, a look of thunder that you had scarcely seen, but in those lands they watched his visage well, and though his spirit was wandering far away and his eyes were bleared with hasheesh yet that storyteller there and then perceived the look that was death, and sent his spirit back at once to London as a man runs into his house when the thunder comes.

“And therefore,” he continued, “in the desiderate city, in London, all their camels are pure white. Remarkable is the swiftness of their horses, that draw their chariots that are of ivory along those sandy ways and that are of surpassing lightness, they have little bells of silver upon their horses’ heads. O Friend of God, if you perceived their merchants! The glory of their dresses in the noonday! They are no less gorgeous than those butterflies that float about their streets. They have overcloaks of green and vestments of azure, huge purple flowers blaze on their overcloaks, the work of cunning needles, the centres of the flowers are of gold and the petals of purple. All their hats are black—” (“No, no,” said the Sultan)—”but irises are set about the brims, and green plumes float above the crowns of them.

“They have a river that is named the Thames, on it their ships go up with violet sails bringing incense for the braziers that perfume the streets, new songs exchanged for gold with alien tribes, raw silver for the statues of their heroes, gold to make balconies where the women sit, great sapphires to reward their poets with, the secrets of old cities and strange lands, the earning of the dwellers in far isles, emeralds, diamonds, and the hoards of the sea. And whenever a ship comes into port and furls its violet sails and the news spreads through London that she has come, then all the merchants go down to the river to barter, and all day long the chariots whirl through the streets, and the sound of their going is a mighty roar all day until evening, their roar is even like—”

“Not so,” said the Sultan.

“Truth is not hidden from the Friend of God,” replied the hasheesh-eater, “I have erred being drunken with the hasheesh, for in the desiderate city, even in London, so thick upon the ways is the white sea-sand with which the city glimmers that no sound comes from the path of the charioteers, but they go softly like a light sea-wind.” (“It is well,” said the Sultan.) “They go softly down to the port where the vessels are, and the merchandise in from the sea, amongst the wonders that the sailors show, on land by the high ships, and softly they go though swiftly at evening back to their homes.

“O would that the Munificent, the Illustrious, the Friend of God, had even seen these things, had seen the jewellers with their empty baskets, bargaining there by the ships, when the barrels of emeralds came up from the hold. Or would that he had seen the fountains there in silver basins in the midst of the ways. I have seen small spires upon their ebony houses and the spires were all of gold, birds strutted there upon the copper roofs from golden spire to spire that have no equal for splendour in all the woods of the world. And over London the desiderate city the sky is so deep a blue that by this alone the traveller may know where he has come, and may end his fortunate journey. Nor yet for any colour of the sky is there too great heat in London, for along its ways a wind blows always from the South gently and cools the city.

“Such, O Friend of God, is indeed the city of London, lying very far off on the yonder side of Bagdad, without a peer for beauty or excellence of its ways among the towns of the earth or cities of song; and even so, as I have told, its fortunate citizens dwell, with their hearts ever devising beautiful things and from the beauty of their own fair work that is more abundant around them every year, receiving new inspirations to work things more beautiful yet.”

“And is their government good?” the Sultan said.

“It is most good,” said the hasheesh-eater, and fell backwards upon the floor.

He lay thus and was silent. And when the Sultan perceived he would speak no more that night he smiled and lightly applauded.

And there was envy in that palace, in lands beyond Bagdad, of all that dwell in London.

_____________________

Radiohead – House of Cards (shown on Turfing before, but hey… it’s sweet.)

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Chuang Tzu Poetry…

Distinguishing Ego from Self

All that is limited by form, semblance, sound, color is called object.

Among them all, man alone is more than an object.

Though, like objects, he has form and semblance,

He is not limited to form.

He is more.

He can attain to formlessness.

When he is beyond form and semblance, beyond “this” and “that,”

where is the comparison with another object?

Where is the conflict?

What can stand in his way?

He will rest in his eternal place which is no-place.

He will be hidden in his own unfathomable secret.

His nature sinks to its root in the One.

His vitality, his power hide in secret Tao.

Goods and Possessions

Goods and possessions are no gain in his eyes.

He stays far from wealth and honor.

Long life is no ground for joy, nor early death for sorrow.

Success is not for him to be pround of, failure is no shame.

Had he all the world’s power he would not hold it as his own.

If he conquered everything he would not take it to himself.

His glory is in knowing that all things come together in One and life and death are equal.

Surrendering

If you persist in trying to attain what is never attained (It is Tao’s gift),

If you persist in making effort to obtain what effort cannot get,

If you persist in reasoning about what cannot be understood,

You will be destroyed by the very thing you seek.

To know when to stop,

To know when you can get no further by your own action,

This is the right beginning!

—

Action and Non-Action

by Chuang Tzu

The non-action of the wise man is not inaction.

It is not studied. It is not shaken by anything.

The sage is quiet because he is not moved,

Not because he wills to be quiet.

Still water is like glass.

You can look in it and see the bristles on your chin.

It is a perfect level;

A carpenter could use it.

If water is so clear, so level,

How much more the spirit of man?

The heart of the wise man is tranquil.

It is the mirror of heaven and earth

The glass of everything.

Emptiness, stillness, tranquillity, tastelessness,

Silence, non-action: this is the level of heaven and earth.

This is perfect Tao. Wise men find here

Their resting place.

Resting, they are empty.

From emptiness comes the unconditioned.

From this, the conditioned, the individual things.

So from the sage’s emptiness, stillness arises:

From stillness, action. From action, attainment.

From their stillness comes their non-action, which is also action

And is, therefore, their attainment.

For stillness is joy. Joy is free from care

Fruitful in long years.

Joy does all things without concern:

For emptiness, stillness, tranquillity, tastelessness,

Silence, and non-action

Are the root of all things.

—

Cutting Up An Ox

Prince Wen Hui’s cook

Was cutting up an ox.

Out went a hand,

Down went a shoulder,

He planted a foot,

He pressed a knee,

The ox fell apart

With a whisper,

The bright cleaver murmured

Like a gentle wind.

Rhythm! Timing!

Like a sacred dance,

Like “The Mulberry Grove,”

Like ancient harmonies!

“Good work!” the Prince exclaimed,

“Your method is flawless!”

“Method?” said the cook

Laying aside his cleaver,

“What I follow is Tao

Beyond all methods!”

“When I first began

To cut up oxen

I would see before me

The whole ox

All in one mass.

After three years

I no longer saw this mass.

I saw distinctions.

“But now, I see nothing

With the eye. My whole being

Apprehends.

My senses are idle. The spirit

Free to work without plan

Follows its own instinct

Guided by natural line,

By the secret opening, the hidden space,

My cleaver finds its own way.

I cut through no joint, chop no bone.

“A good cook needs a new chopper

Once a year–he cuts.

A poor cook needs a new one

Every month–he hacks!

I have used this same cleaver

Nineteen years.

It has cut up

A thousand oxen.

The edge is as keen

As if newly sharpened.

“There are spaces in the joints;

The blade is thin and keen:

When this thinness

Finds that space

There is all the room you need!

It goes like a breeze!

Hence I have this cleaver nineteen years

As if newly sharpened!

“True, there are sometimes

Tough joints. I feel them coming,

I slow down, I watch closely,

Hold back, barely moving the blade,

And whump! the part falls away

Landing like a clod of earth.

“Then I withdraw the blade,

I stand still

And let the joy of the work

Sink in.

I clean the blade

And put it away.”

Prince Wen Hui said,

“This is it! My cook has shown me

How I ought to live

My own life!”

– Chuang Tzu –

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Radiohead – In Rainbows – Reckoner

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“I am free, my mind is free,

I am neither a sick person nor a physician

Neither a believer nor an infidel

Nor a mullah or syed

In the fourteen spheres I walk in freedom

I can be imprisoned nowhere”.- Bulleh Shah

Two poets of verse, one of the voice divine. Odd little day here in Portland. Rain/Sun/Rain. Not any great details to relate, so here we are with the entry for this evening… Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Phil Whalen & Robinson Jeffers. If that isn’t a melange, then I don’t know what is.

Blessings,

Gwyllm

_____________

On The Menu:

Nusrat Fatah Ali Khan

Philip Whalen

Robinson Jeffers

Quotes: Bulleh Shah

Art: Roberto Venosa

__________________

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan – Must Nazron Se Allah Bachaye

__________________

– Phillip Whalen –

THE EXPENSIVE LIFE

Tying up my plastic shoes

I realize I’m outside, this is the park & I am free

From whatever pack of nonsense & old tape loops

Play with the Ayer’s dogs, Barney & Daphne

They don’t ask me why I shave my head

“Cut the word lines,” Burroughs recommends

Daphne & Barney fatter than ever & only I am dieting

(Crease along the dotted lines)

Loops of tacky thinking fall unloosed. The sun

Getting hotter than my flannel shirt requires

What about THE BUDDHIST REVIVAL IN CHINA?

Won’t read it now… too blind to see it

Almost too blind to write this, in my room no flowers

The service station wants four bits for compresssed air

At only 16 pounds per square inch

I can see the farthest mountain.

–

THE IMPERFECT SONNET

“The person of whom you speak is dead.”

Where is the second crystal?

One came in last night & took it; this one

Held the papers on the table

Now I want topaz.

In the middle of the night—

The glass doors locked, nothing else missing

Worthless Quartz eccentrically shaped gone

As Emperor Nicholas Romanov

As “Bebe” Rebozo

Say that you love me say

That you will bring me

A delicious cup of coffee

A topaze cup! From Silesia—

Property of Hapsburg Emperors

The better crystal is upstairs.

_________________

-Robinson Jeffers-

BEAKS OF EAGLES

An eagle’s nest on the head of an old redwood on one of the

precipice-footed ridges

Above Ventana Creek, that jagged country which nothing but a

fallen meteor will ever plow; no horseman

Will ever ride there, no hunter cross this ridge but the winged

ones, no one will steal the eggs from this fortress.

The she-eagle is old, her mate was shot long ago, she is now

mated with a son of hers.

When lightening blasted her nest she built it again on the same tree,

in the splinters of the thunderbolt.

The she-eagle is older than I; she was here when the fires

of eighty-five raged on these ridges,

She was lately fledged and dared no hunt ahead of them but ate

scorched meat. The world has changed in her time;

Humanity has multiplied, but not here; men’s hopes and thoughts

and customs have changed, their powers are enlarged,

Their powers and follies have become fantastic,

The unstable animal never has been changed so rapidly. The motor

and plane and the great war have gone over him,

And Lenin lived and Jehovah died: while the mother-eagle

Hunts her same hills, crying the same beautiful and lonely cry

and is never tired; dreams the same dreams,

And hears at night the rock-slides rattle and thunder in the throats

of these living mountains.

It is good for man

To try all changes, progress and corruption, powers, peace

and anguish, not to go down the dinosaur’s way

Until all his capacities have been explored: and it is good for him

To know that his needs and nature have no more changed in fact

in ten thousand years than the beaks of eagles

–

MEDITATION ON SAVIORS

I

When I considered it too closely, when I wore it like an element

and smelt it like water,

Life is become less lovely, the net nearer than the skin, a

little troublesome, a little terrible.

I pledged myself awhile ago not to seek refuge, neither in death

nor in a walled garden,

In lies nor gated loyalties, nor in the gates of contempt, that

easily lock the world out of doors.

Here on the rock it is great and beautiful, here on the foam-wet

granite sea-fang it is easy to praise

Life and water and the shining stones: but whose cattle are the

herds of the people that one should love them?

If they were yours, then you might take a cattle-breeder’s

delight in the herds of the future. Not yours.

Where the power ends let love, before it sours to jealousy.

Leave the joys of government to Caesar.

Who is born when the world wanes, when the brave soul of the

world falls on decay in the flesh increasing

Comes one with a great level mind, sufficient vision, sufficient

blindness, and clemency for love.

This is the breath of rottenness I smelt; from the world

waiting, stalled between storms, decaying a little,

Bitterly afraid to be hurt, but knowing it cannot draw the

savior Caesar but out of the blood-bath.

The apes of Christ lift up their hands to praise love: but

wisdom without love is the present savior,

Power without hatred, mind like a many-bladed machine subduing

the world with deep indifference.

The apes of Christ itch for a sickness they have never known;

words and the little envies will hardly

Measure against that blinding fire behind the tragic eyes they

have never dared to confront.

II

Point Lobos lies over the hollowed water like a humped whale

swimming to shoal; Point Lobos

Was wounded with that fire; the hills at Point Sur endured it;

the palace at Thebes; the hill Calvary.

Out of incestuous love power and then ruin. A man forcing the

imaginations of men,

Possessing with love and power the people: a man defiling his

own household with impious desire.

King Oedipus reeling blinded from the palace doorway, red tears

pouring from the torn pits

Under the forehead; and the young Jew writhing on the domed hill

in the earthquake, against the eclipse

Frightfully uplifted for having turned inward to love the

people: -that root was so sweet O dreadful agonist? –

I saw the same pierced feet, that walked in the same crime to

its expiation; I heard the same cry.

A bad mountain to build your world on. Am I another keeper of

the people, that on my own shore,

On the gray rock, by the grooved mass of the ocean, the

sicknesses I left behind me concern me?

Here where the surf has come incredible ways out of the splendid

west, over the deeps

Light nor life sounds forever; here where enormous sundowns

flower and burn through color to quietness;

Then the ecstasy of the stars is present? As for the people, I

have found my rock, let them find theirs.

Let them lie down at Caesar’s feet and be saved; and he in his

time reap their daggers of gratitude.

III

Yet I am the one made pledges against the refuge contempt, that

easily locks the world out of doors.

This people as much as the sea-granite is part of the God from

whom I desire not to be fugitive.

I see them: they are always crying. The shored Pacific makes

perpetual music, and the stone mountains

Their music of silence, the stars blow long pipings of light:

the people are always crying in their hearts.

One need not pity; certainly one must not love. But who has seen

peace, if he should tell them where peace

Lives in the world…they would be powerless to understand; and

he is not willing to be reinvolved.

IV

How should one caught in the stone of his own person dare tell

the people anything but relative to that?

But if a man could hold in his mind all the conditions at once,

of man and woman, of civilized

And barbarous, of sick and well, of happy and under torture, of

living and dead, of human and not

Human, and dimly all the human future: -what should persuade him

to speak? And what could his words change?

The mountain ahead of the world is not forming but fixed. But

the man’s words would be fixed also,

Part of that mountain, under equal compulsion; under the same

present compulsion in the iron consistency.

And nobody sees good or evil but out of a brain a hundred

centuries quieted, some desert

Prophet’s, a man humped like a camel, gone mad between the mud-

walled village and the mountain sepulchres.

V

Broad wagons before sunrise bring food into the city from the

open farms, and the people are fed.

They import and they consume reality. Before sunrise a hawk in

the desert made them their thoughts.

VI

Here is an anxious people, rank with suppressed

bloodthirstiness. Among the mild and unwarlike

Gautama needed but live greatly and be heard, Confucius needed

but live greatly and be heard:

This people has not outgrown blood-sacrifice, one must writhe on

the high cross to catch at their memories;

The price is known. I have quieted love; for love of the people

I would not do it. For power I would do it.

–But that stands against reason: what is power to a dead man,

dead under torture? –What is power to a man

Living, after the flesh is content? Reason is never a root,

neither of act nor desire.

For power living I would never do it; they’are not delightful to

touch, one wants to be separate. For power

After the nerves are put away underground, to lighten the

abstract unborn children toward peace…

A man might have paid anguish indeed. Except he had found the

standing sea-rock that even this last

Temptation breaks on; quieter than death but lovelier; peace

that quiets the desire even of praising it.

VII

Yet look: are they not pitiable? No: if they lived forever they

would be pitiable:

But a huge gift reserved quite overwhelms them at the end; they

are able then to be still and not cry.

And having touched a little of the beauty and seen a little of

the beauty of things, magically grow

Across the funeral fire or the hidden stench of burial

themselves into the beauty they admired,

Themselves into the God, themselves into the sacred steep

unconsciousness they used to mimic

Asleep between lamp’s death and dawn, while the last drunkard

stumbled homeward down the dark street.

They are not to be pitied but very fortunate; they need no

savior, salvation comes and takes them by force,

It gathers them into the great kingdoms of dust and stone, the

blown storms, the stream’s-end ocean.

With this advantage over their granite grave-marks, of having

realized the petulant human consciousness

Before, and then the greatness, the peace: drunk from both

pitchers: these to be pitied? These not fortunate

But while he lives let each man make his health in his mind, to

love the coast opposite humanity

And so be freed of love, laying it like bread on the waters; it

is worst turned inward, it is best shot farthest.

Love, the mad wine of good and evil, the saint’s and murderer’s,

the mote in the eye that makes its object

Shine the sun black; the trap in which it is better to catch the

inhuman God than the hunter’s own image.

__________________

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan & Yadaan Vichhre Sajan Diyan Aiyan

Live at Digbeth Civic Hall, Birmingham. 1985….

__________________

I know not who I am

I am neither a believer going to the mosque

Nor given to non-believing ways

Neither clean, nor unclean

Neither Moses not Pharaoh

I know not who I am

I am neither among sinners nor among saints

Neither happy, nor unhappy

I belong neither to water not to earth

I am neither fire, not air

I know not who I am – Bulleh Shah

– From The Tao Te Ching –

63.

Act without doing;

work without effort.

Think of the small as large

and the few as many.

Confront the difficult

while it is still easy;

accomplish the great task

by a series of small acts.

The Master never reaches for the great;

thus she achieves greatness.

When she runs into a difficulty,

she stops and gives herself to it.

She doesn’t cling to her own comfort;

thus problems are no problem for her.

_______

Here is an entry for Sunday… Raining like crazy here, the fall has fallen indeedy do. Friends coming by, I am doing the meat on the barby routine. This edition features that triple threat: Tim Buckley/Lord Dunsany/William Shakespeare… Kind of a power trio of sorts. Tim Buckley is a long time musical fave. I got to see him several times at the Troubadour in L.A. An amazing singer. He influenced everyone from the Cocteau Twins, to Brendan Perry. Lord Dunsany is an icon, little known in the US, but quite influential in many occult/metaphysical circles. William Shakespeare needs no introduction, except that he is one of the patron deities of Caer Llwydd, statuette and all.

Hope this finds you well, and surrounded by Love. More tomorrow, or the next day.

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm

___________

On The Menu:

Excerpts From The Tao Te Ching (interspersed through this entry)

Tim Buckley – Sing A Song For You

When The Gods Slept – Lord Dunsany

William Shakespeare – Sonnets For An Early Fall

Tim Buckley – Morning Glory

Art: mostly Poussin….

_____________

Tim Buckley – Sing A Song For You

___________

– From The Tao Te Ching –

56.

Those who know don’t talk.

Those who talk don’t know.

Close your mouth,

block off your senses,

blunt your sharpness,

untie your knots,

soften your glare,

settle your dust.

This is the primal identity.

Be like the Tao.

It can’t be approached or withdrawn from,

benefited or harmed,

honored or brought into disgrace.

It gives itself up continually.

That is why it endures.

___________

When The Gods Slept

from Time And The Gods, by Lord Dunsany

All the gods were sitting in Pegana, and Their slave, Time, lay idle at Pegana’s gate with nothing to destroy, when They thought of worlds, worlds large and round and gleaming, and little silver moons. Then (who knoweth when?), as the gods raised Their hands making the sign of the gods, the thoughts of the gods became worlds and silver moons. And the worlds swam by Pegana’s gate to take their places in the sky, to ride at anchor for ever, each where the gods had bidden. And because they were round and big and gleamed all over the sky, the gods laughed and shouted and all clapped Their hands. Then upon earth the gods played out the game of the gods, the game of life and death, and on the other worlds They did a secret thing, playing a game that is hidden.

At last They mocked no more at life and laughed at death no more, and cried aloud in Pegana: “Will no new thing be? Must those four march for ever round the world till our eyes are wearied with the treading of the feet of the Seasons that will not cease, while Night and Day and Life and Death drearily rise and fall?”

And as a child stares at the bare walls of a narrow hut, so the gods looked all listlessly upon the worlds, saying:

“Will no new thing be?”

And in Their weariness the gods said: “Ah! to be young again. Ah! to be fresh once more from the brain of Mana-Yood-Sushai.”

And They turned away Their eyes in weariness from all the gleaming worlds and laid Them down upon Pegana’s floor, for They said:

“It may be that the worlds shall pass and we would fain forget them.”

Then the gods slept. Then did the comet break loose from his moorings and the eclipse roamed about the sky, and down on the earth did Death’s three children—Famine, Pestilence, and Drought—come out to feed. The eyes of the Famine were green, and the eyes of the Drought were red, but the Pestilence was blind and smote about all round him with his claws among the cities.

But as the gods slept, there came from beyond the Rim, out of the dark and unknown, three Yozis, spirits of ill, that sailed up the river of Silence in galleons with silver sails. Far away they had seen Yum and Gothum, the stars that stand sentinel over Pegana’s gate, blinking and falling asleep, and as they neared Pegana they found a hush wherein the gods slept heavily. Ya, Ha, and Snyrg were these three Yozis, the lords of evil, madness, and of spite. When they crept from their galleons and stole over Pegana’s silent threshold it boded ill for the gods. There in Pegana lay the gods asleep, and in a corner lay the Power of the gods alone upon the floor, a thing wrought of black rock and four words graven upon it, whereof I might not give thee any clue, if even I should find it—four words of which none knoweth. Some say they tell of the opening of a flower towards dawn, and others say they concern earthquakes among hills, and others that they tell of the death of fishes, and others that the words be these: Power, Knowledge, Forgetting, and another word that not the gods themselves may ever guess. These words the Yozis read, and sped away in dread lest the gods should wake, and going aboard their galleons, bade the rowers haste. Thus the Yozis became gods, having the power of gods, and they sailed away to the earth, and came to a mountainous island in the sea. There they sat upon the rocks, sitting as the gods sit, with their right hands uplifted, and having the power of gods, only none came to worship. Thither came no ships nigh them, nor ever at evening came the prayers of men, nor smell of incense, nor screams from the sacrifice. Then said the Yozis:

“Of what avails it that we be gods if no one worship us nor give us sacrifice?”

And Ya, Ha, and Snyrg set sail in their silver galleons, and went looming down the sea to come to the shores of men. And first they came to an island where were fisher folk; and the folk of the island, running down to the shore cried out to them:

“Who be ye?”

And the Yozis answered:

“We be three gods, and we would have your worship.”

But the fisher folk answered:

“Here we worship Rahm, the Thunder, and have no worship nor sacrifice for other gods.”

Then the Yozis snarled with anger and sailed away, and sailed till they came to another shore, sandy and low and forsaken. And at last they found an old man upon the shore, and they cried out to him:

“Old man upon the shore! We be three gods that it were well to worship, gods of great power and apt in the granting of prayer.”

The old man answered:

“We worship Pegana’s gods, who have a fondness for our incense and the sound of our sacrifice when it squeals upon the altar.”

Then answered Snyrg:

“Asleep are Pegana’s gods, nor will They wake for the humming of thy prayers which lie in the dust upon Pegana’s floor, and over Them Sniracte, the spider of the worlds, hath woven a web of mist. And the squealing of the sacrifice maketh no music in ears that are closed in sleep.”

The old man answered, standing upon the shore:

“Though all the gods of old shall answer our prayers no longer, yet still to the gods of old shall all men pray here in Syrinais.”

But the Yozis turned their ships about and angrily sailed away, all cursing Syrinais and Syrinais’s gods, but most especially the old man that stood upon the shore.

Still the three Yozis lusted for the worship of men, and came, on the third night of their sailing, to a city’s lights; and nearing the shore they found it a city of song wherein all folks rejoiced. Then sat each Yozi on his galleon’s prow, and leered with his eyes upon the city, so that the music stopped and the dancing ceased, and all looked out to sea at the strange shapes of the Yozis beneath their silver sails. Then Snyrg demanded their worship, promising increase of joys, and swearing by the light of his eyes that he would send little flames to leap over the grass, to pursue the enemies of that city and to chase them about the world.

But the people answered that in that city men worshipped Agrodaun, the mountain standing alone, and might not worship other gods even though they came in galleons with silver sails, sailing from over the sea. But Snyrg answered:

“Certainly Agrodaun is only a mountain, and in no manner a god.”

But the priests of Agrodaun sang answer from the shore:

“If the sacrifice of men make not Agrodaun a god, nor blood still young on his rocks, nor the little fluttering prayers of ten thousand hearts, nor two thousands years of worship and all the hopes of the people and the whole strength of our race, then are there no gods and ye be common sailors, sailing from over the sea.”

Then said the Yozis:

“Hath Agrodaun answered prayer?” And the people heard the words that the Yozis said.

Then went the priests of Agrodaun away from the shore and up the steep streets of the city, the people following, and over the moor beyond it to the foot of Agrodaun, and then said:

“Agrodaun, if thou art not our god, go back and herd with yonder common hills, and put a cap of snow upon thy head and crouch far off as they do beneath the sky; but if we have given thee divinity in two thousand years, if our hopes are all about thee like a cloak, then stand and look upon thy worshippers from over our city for ever.” And the smoke that ascended from his feet stood still and there fell a hush over great Agrodaun; and the priests went back to the sea and said to the three Yozis:

“New gods shall have our worship when Agrodaun grows weary of being our god, or when in some night-time he shall stride away, leaving us nought to gaze at that is higher than our city.”

And the Yozis sailed away and cursed towards Agrodaun, but could not hurt him, for he was but a mountain.

And the Yozis sailed along the coast till they came to a river running to the sea, and they sailed up the river till they came to a people at work, who furrowed the soil and sowed, and strove against the forest. Then the Yozis called to the people as they worked in the fields:

“Give us your worship and ye shall have many joys.”

But the people answered:

“We may not worship you.”

Then answered Snyrg:

“Ye also, have ye a god?”

And the people answered:

“We worship the years to come, and we set the world in order for their coming, as one layeth raiment on the road before the advent of a King. And when those years shall come, they shall accept the worship of a race they knew not, and their people shall make their sacrifice to the years that follow them, who, in their turn, shall minister to the End.”

Then answered Snyrg:

“Gods that shall recompense you not. Rather give us your prayers and have our pleasures, the pleasures that we shall give you, and when your gods shall come, let them be wroth—they cannot punish you.”

But the people continued to sacrifice their labour to their gods, the years to come, making the world a place for gods to dwell in, and the Yozis cursed those gods and sailed away. And Ya, the Lord of malice, swore that when those years should come, they should see whether it were well for them to have snatched away the worship from three Yozis.

And still the Yozis sailed, for they said:

“It were better to be birds and have no air to fly in, than to be gods having neither prayers nor worship.”

But where sky met with ocean, the Yozis saw land again, and thither sailed; and there the Yozis saw men in strange old garments performing ancient rites in a land of many temples. And the Yozis called to the men as they performed their ancient rites and said:

“We be three gods well versed in the needs of men, to worship whom were to obtain instant joy.”

But the men said:

“We have already gods.”

And Snyrg replied:

“Ye, too?”

The men answered:

“For we worship the things that have been and all the years that were. Divinely have they helped us, therefore we give them worship that is their due.”

And the Yozis answered the people:

“We be gods of the present and return good things for worship.”

But the people answered, saying from the shore:

“Our gods have given us already the good things, and we return Them the worship that is Their due.”

And the Yozis set their faces to landward, and cursed all things that had been and all the years that were, and sailed in their galleons away.

A rocky shore in an inhuman land stood up against the sea. Thither the Yozis came and found no man, but out of the dark from inland towards evening came a herd of great baboons and chattered greatly when they saw the ships.

Then spake Snyrg to them:

“Have ye, too, a god?”

And the baboons spat.

Then said the Yozis:

“We be seductive gods, having a particular remembrance for little prayers.”

But the baboons leered fiercely at the Yozis and would have none of them for gods.

One said that prayers hindered the eating of nuts. But Snyrg leaned forward and whispered, and the baboons went down upon their knees and clasped their hands as men clasp, and chattered prayer and said to one another that these were the gods of old, and gave the Yozis their worship—for Snyrg had whispered in their ears that, if they would worship the Yozis, he would make them men. And the baboons arose from worshipping, smoother about the face and a little shorter in the arms, and went away and hid their bodies in clothing, and afterwards galloped away from the rocky shore and went and herded with men. And men could not discern what they were, for their bodies were bodies of men, though their souls were still the souls of beasts and their worship went to the Yozis, spirits of ill.

And the lords of malice, hatred and madness sailed back to their island in the sea and sat upon the shore as gods sit, with right hand uplifted; and at evening foul prayers from the baboons gathered about them and infested the rocks.

But in Pegana the gods awoke with a start.

___________

– William Shakespeare –

Sonnets For An Early Fall

Sonnet 01 From fairest creatures we desire increase

From fairest creatures we desire increase,

That thereby beauty’s rose might never die,

But as the riper should by time decease,

His tender heir might bear his memory:

But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,

Feed’st thy light’st flame with self-substantial fuel,

Making a famine where abundance lies,

Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.

Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament

And only herald to the gaudy spring,

Within thine own bud buriest thy content

And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.

Pity the world, or else this glutton be,

To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.

—

Sonnet 08 Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?

Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?

Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.

Why lovest thou that which thou receivest not gladly,

Or else receivest with pleasure thine annoy?

If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,

By unions married, do offend thine ear,

They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds

In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.

Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,

Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,

Resembling sire and child and happy mother

Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing:

Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,

Sings this to thee: ‘thou single wilt prove none.’

—

Sonnet 116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle’s compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

—

Sonnet 73 That time of year thou mayst in me behold

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou seest the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire

Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by.

This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

___________

Tim Buckley – Morning Glory

_____________

– From The Tao Te Ching –

12.

Colors blind the eye.

Sounds deafen the ear.

Flavors numb the taste.

Thoughts weaken the mind.

Desires wither the heart.

The Master observes the world

but trusts his inner vision.

He allows things to come and go.

His heart is open as the sky.

________________