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 (Relatively speaking, of course.) Giant Naked Goddess to be Carved into Hillside
A 400-yard naked "Green Goddess" is to be carved into the Northumberland landscape, under a new plan revealed by a mining company.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/5715111/Giant-naked-goddess-to-be-carved-into-hillside.html
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- Callwords:allies, art, folkart, history, india, interfaith, iran, magic, meher baba, mystery, pavo, pictures, politics, prayer, resistance, spell
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Here is part two of the "Mounds and Deo Pavo Work" ( Read more and see pictures beneath the cut... )
Part one is linked here.... Part three coming soon). - Callwords:alexander, altars, ancestors, animism, appalachia, art, culture change, ecology, feri, folkart, gods, magic, meher baba, pavo, peacocks, resistance, spell, theurgy, work
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This is the first of three posts about a recent spirit working. Much of my magic nowadays is very intuitive and is prompted by the relationships I have with Ancestors, Allies and Gods. My methods use the rational mind, but the work itself is something different. I feel that such work works on me and on the world. Altars are immanent, resonant, willful prayers and draw Spirit into our ken and into expression. This prayer/spell started with a request for an all-white altar with an offering of flour and egg, worked its way into the building of a small outdoor mound intended to be a first step in the mysteries of practical earthworks as well as a spell/prayer for the protection of the Appalachian mountains and the restoration of the American Chestnut tree. There were also some vague dreams about Mounds and about my past visits--they were more promptings than sources of information. Deo Pavo/Peacock Angel took over, weaving in my Wyrd allies, especially Meher Baba, and fire worship, and reached a stage of completion concurrent with Iranian elections and subsequent unrest (a surprise resonance that didn't factor into my timing, but which probably isn't utterly irrelevant given the political foci and the Irani connections in my background). So the energies that emerged in this working started with a Damballah/Paga Legba flavor, threaded through contemplation of the ancient Appalachian mounds I've made pilgrimage to in the past (including two in West Virginia and the Great Serpent Mound in Ohio) and moved into the court of Deo Pavo, who manifested with a very Irani/Zoroastrian flavor and brought Meher Baba and other Allies along with Him (adding some clarity to that nexus of spirit energies and refining my sense of what's going on with them). So the effect is to honor and grow closer to Spirits, though the intention remains connected to the spirit of place and the need to protect our mountains and restore the nearly extinct Chestnut. After some interest in mounds and making a mound emerged in discussion on Facebook, I also started a group there called "Appalachian Earthworks". Below are some links to historic mounds in the Appalachian region; on the Facebook page, I'm also posting links to folks using earthwork sculpture as art or ritual. I am partly exploring it as a parallel to the "Dragon's Nest" (a ring of organic material) as an organic ritual form, one perhaps well suited to work with spirits of place, the ancestors, and spells to stop mountain top removal. Here are pictures of outdoor phase 1, begun last Dark Moon. ( Ritual Description, Photos and Mound Links )
Part Two coming soon.- Callwords:altars, ancestors, animism, appalachia, art, culture change, ecology, folkart, gods, magic, resistance, spell, theurgy
- Locus:Temple of Great Good Fortune
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The picture to the right is Allen Ginsberg on May 1, 1965 in Prague, Czechoslovakia. He's in front of the Hotel Merkur, assuming the throne of the May King at a celebration organized by the people in defiance of the communist state, which had forbidden (!) May Day celebrations for the previous 20 years.
Here's the poem that day inspired... you can hear him reading it here.
Kral Majales (I am the King of May)
Allen Ginsberg May 7, 1965
And the Communists have nothing to offer but fat cheeks and eyeglasses and
lying policemen
and the Capitalists proffer Napalm and money in green suitcases to the
Naked,
and the Communists create heavy industry but the heart is also heavy
and the beautiful engineers are all dead, the secret technicians conspire for
their own glamour
in the Future, in the Future,but now drink vodka and lament the Security Forces,
and the Capitalists drink gin and whiskey on airplanes but let the Indian brown
millions starve
and when Communist and Capitalist assholes tangle the Just man is arrested
or robbed or had his head cut off,
but noit like Kabir, and the cigarette cough of the Just man above the clouds in the bright sunshine is a salute to the health of the blue sky.
For I was arrested thrice in Prague, once for singing drunk on Narodni
street
once knocked down on the midnight pavement by a mustached agent who
screamed out BOUZERANT,
once for losing my notebooks of unusual sex politics dream opinions,
and I was sent from Havana by plane by detectives in green uniform,
and I was sent from Prague by plane by detectives in Czechoslovakian
business suits,
Cardplayers out of Cezanne, the two strange dolls that entered Joseph K's
room at more
also entered mine, and ate at my table, and examined my scribbles,
and followed me night and morn from the houses of lovers to the cafes of
Centrum--
And I am the King of May, which is the power of sexual youth,
and I am the King of May, which is industry in eloquence and action in amour,
and I am the King of May, which is long hair of Adam and the Beard of my own body
and I am the King of May, which is Kral Majales in the Czechoslovakian tongue,
and I am the King of May, which is old Human poesy, and 100,000 people chose my name,
and I am the King of May, and in a few minutes I will land at London Airport,
and I am the King of May, naturally, for I am of Slavic parentage and a Buddhist Jew
who worships the Sacred Heart of Christ the blue body of Krishna the straight back of ram
the beads of Chango the Nigerian singing Shiva Shiva in a manner which I have invented,
and the King of May is a middleeuropean honor,mine in the XX century despite space ships and the Time Machine, because I heard the voice of Blake
in a vision,
and repeat that voice. And I am the King of May that sleeps with teenagers laughing.
And I am the King of May, that I may be expelled from my
Kingdom with Honor, as of old,
To show the difference between Caesar's Kingdom and the Kingdom of the May of Man-
and I am the King of May, tho' paranoid, for the Kingdom of May is too
beautiful to last for more than a month-
and I am the King of May because I touched my finger to my forhead
saluting
a luminous heavy girl trembling hands who said "one moment Mr. Ginsberg"
before a fat young Plainclothesman stepped between our bodies-I was
going to England-
and I am the King of May, returning to see Bunhill Fields and walk on
Hampstead Heath,
and I am the King of May, in a giant jetplane touching Albion's airfield
trembling in fear
as the plane roars to a landing on the grey concrete, shakes & expels air, and rolls slowly to a stop under the clouds with part of blue heaven still
visible.
And tho' I am the King of May, the Marxists have beat me upon the street, kept me up all night in Police Station, followed me thru Springtime Prague, detained me in secret and deported me from our kingdom by airplane.
Thus I have written this poem on a jet seat in mid Heaven.
On Manifold Oneness, I've posted Ginsberg's "Independence Day Manifesto," a 1959 rallying cry for a culture of spirit. It ends with:
"When will we discover an America that will not deny its own God? Who takes up arms, money, police, and a million hands to murder the consciousness of God? Who spits in the beautiful face of poetry which sings of the glory of God and weeps in the dust of the world?"
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Not sure how to praise this; it is a lovely remembrance of a contemporary Prophet by a spiritually gifted artist, escaping through devotion the embarrassment that hounds most posthumous "collaborations" on the market. And/or, it is a beautiful expression of the spiritual relationship named "Ally."
- Callwords:allies, ancestors, art, devotion, folkart, link, music, new weird america, prophet, url, video, work
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She looks much better in full size. (I haven't seen her on the Mac yet... I hate these work machines for graphics!) | | |
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 I love this image of a youthful Dea Fortuna upon a beautiful throne. Here are the details from Wikimedia Commons: English: This bronze statue of Fortuna, the Roman goddess of fortune and luck, is believed to have been used for worship in a private home in Pompeii. The statue was on display with the A Day In Pompeii exhibit at the Discovery Place science museum.
Photo taken with a Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ50 in Charlotte, NC, USA.
Cropping and post-processing performed with The GIMP. | | |
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I love this print presently on ebay, though it's a bit too pricey just now...  | | |
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These are wood-burnt; I'm not sure what the hardwood is--I purchased it for the meaningful shape. They are painted in colors that are meaningful to me in working with Goddess Fortuna, and the backs have flecks of copper leaf. They are in an Indian box, and I found this little tray, perhaps for a candle, with the alphabet around it that's perfect for displaying a single tile for contemplation or as a daily draw. The English alphabet can be used in most of the ways other magical alphabet can be, and perhaps it should be explored more commonly and more heartily sacralized.   | | |
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Several worthwhile insights in this engaging 20 minute presentation--applicable to creative artists and priest/ess(e)s... a bit near the end that's especially appropriate for aspectors!
Eat, Pray, Love" Author Elizabeth Gilbert muses on the impossible things we expect from artists and geniuses -- and shares the radical idea that, instead of the rare person "being" a genius, all of us "have" a genius.
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Today would have been the 74th birthday of Richard Brautigan, and I wish he'd been able to stay with us. He's one of my most favorite writers (and his quirkiness gives him a strange spiritual power.) Some selections: "Have You Ever Had a Witch Bloom like a Highway"
Have you ever had a witch bloom like a highway
on your mouth? and turn your breathing to her
fancy? like a little car with blue headlights
passing forever in a dream?
| "ROMMEL DRIVES ON DEEP INTO EGYPT"
—San Francisco Chronicle headline
June 26, 1942
Rommel is dead.
His army has joined the quicksand legions
of history where the battle is always
a metal echo saluting a rusty shadow.
His tanks are gone.
How's your ass?
| "The Memoirs of Jesse James"
I remember all those thousands of hours
that I spent in grade school watching the clock,
waiting for recess or lunch or to go home.
Waiting: for anything but school.
My teachers could easily have ridden with Jesse James
for all the time they stole from me. | "Have You Ever Felt like a Wounded Cow"
Have you ever felt like a wounded cow
halfway between an oven and a pasture?
walking in a trance toward a pregnant
seventeen-year-old housewife's
two-day-old cookbook? |
some more online here. | | |
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 Vesta has been everywhere I look, and not just because of the season. I started noticing a few weeks ago, when a long-term Baba follower with the given name "Vesta" died and I had an unexpected response. I'm making the Goddess Vesta some digital iconography in spare moments. I don't have much technical skill with Photoshop and used some low-resolution clouds, so this one is rough, but is nevertheless my favorite and is my current desktop at work. | | |
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This seems to be one of the best online reflections of what Brother Theodore's fully developed pieces were like (without the bother of an interviewer). It's actually shorter than it says... the piece ends just under 8 minutes.
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I've been straining myself with politics and war. I always find that when feeling glum, Brother Theodore cheers me up: | | |
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I think my religion--or at least my methodology--might be called "Godart," or "Godzart" ...as in god/z+art.
"Godz" is already used by others and tends to indicate a postmodern understanding of the number and gender of Deity, especially when used with various verbs (Godz is, Godz are) and pronouns (neutral, male & female, singular and plural), or when capitalization is varied.
I like that it emphasizes "god/z"... I like "art" more than "law" or "dharma" and just as much as "praxis". I like that it's a compound of what I regard as the two most important words or concepts, the ones that, for me, give value to life.
I think that "love" and "good" are only half the Godhead. "Art" comes closer than any other single word to encompassing the Divine, especially when the Divine is seen as process. Godz are not the noun "creator," but rather the conscious powers of creation themselves, the infinitely realized potential of the infinitive "to create". I like the multivalence and immanent-Pagan feel of "Godz are creation". That phrase has a riddle-like quality to me and to the monotheist, would be a contradiction, paradox or rebuke.
Art is ontological essence, cosmology, theodicy, way and goal. We are art becoming artists, artists becoming godz. I like that art isn't linear and is expressive and person-al. At least those things seem essential to me for any art I want to experience, as is spiritual intention... the coinage has appeal to me because I regard "real" art as spiritual practice (even if that's not how the artist conceives of it, or even if the artist is a cliched nihilist...art is ideation, and the exploration of nihilism is ideationally necessary at some point in one's spiritual self-discovery... art is always--and for me, definitionally--a representation of experienced consciousness, always personal, always autobiographical. There is no factor, ever, more relevant than the person of the artist... which does not mean, though, that the artist always or usually understands his or her own work. Real art defies all intention and has a life of its own.
I like that art implies fabrication, and that with a "z" instead of a plural or possessive "s", the compound is unclear whether the religion is fabricated by god/z or whether it is about fabricating god/z. It can carry both meanings at once, as well as implying divine possession.
I could get germanically compound crazy and make group religion "godzfolkart," and maybe a practitioner is a godzartist or godzard. I like that "godzard" echoes "wizard" and "communard". Maybe a grove dedicated to this religion is a godzfolkarbor, a temple a godzfolkartden or godzfolkarthouse.
I like the qabalistic implications of a "z" twixt two three letter words, God on the left and art on the right. With godzart, The first letter is Masonic "G" and the last is Tau, with the snakey or lightning flash z twixt "od" and ar(t). (Od is a metaphysical term for lifeforce or attendant concepts, as in odic force, but could also be od(d)). God and art also bring together germanic and latinate words, with the late-comer "z" mediating.
I need a godzine and I need to figure out what godzilla means. ;-)
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From the Wikipedia entry for genius loci (found this a bit synchronous after being surprised earlier today by the TV revelation about how much forest in Britain was cleared only during and after the 18th century... much more, much later than I imagined, even knowing about the industrial revolution and all the estate builders).
Alexander Pope made the Genius Loci an important principle in garden and landscape design with the following lines from Epistle IV, to Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington:
- Consult the genius of the place in all;/That tells the waters to rise, or fall;/Or helps th' ambitious hill the heav'ns to scale,/Or scoops in circling theatres the vale;/Calls in the country, catches opening glades,/Joins willing woods, and varies shades from shades,/Now breaks, or now directs, th' intending lines;/Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs.
Pope's verse laid the foundation for one of the most widely agreed principles of landscape architecture. This is the principle that landscape designs should always be adapted to the context in which they are located. | | |
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- Callwords:allies, america, ancestors, art, crafts, culture change, folkart, music, poetry, politics, resistance
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The inestimable Odetta has flown the form.
- Callwords:allies, america, ancestors, art, crafts, culture change, folkart, music, poetry, politics, resistance
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I found a notebook with quotations I found over a couple years in grad school and liked--a mixed bag, but a pleasure to see after a few years. Here's one that strikes me, and should be on my altar: "An intense copper calm, like a universal yellow lotus, was more and more unfolding its noiseless measureless leaves upon the sea." -- H. Melville, Moby Dick, ch. 70 ( Some more here... ) | | |
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A cosmological poem with neo/Platonic and/or Hermetic resonance from Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman (1819–1892).Eidólons The word "eidolon" defined | | |
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Nine gate temenos
yields two urban crowns:
sparkling one for first fire,
darkling one for Baroness.
Golden spectre past all price,
what corpse feeds
the gnawing rose-root worm
beneath your shining pyre?
-- Copper: Abdal-Ataraxia
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There are changes afoot. After camp, I shouldn't be suprised. Those are always subtly tectonic. But this is not just the end of a year and the beginning of a new one, but also the end of a cycle of years and the beginning of a new one. An upswing one.
I still haven't figured out what the cowboy garb is all about, though.
(I'm buying new clothes and mining the thrift stores... in this quest for the elements of a new and freaky look, Among many other non-tack items, I have acquired the makings of one definite cowboy look and several versatile parts that lend themselves to other cowboy looks... including some butch boots I'm taking great pleasure in... weird, I know... weird, and most unlikely, unless I can still blame Krishna... while not a gopa look, it has definitely freak flair and an air of hay and patchouli ... ;-)
The other outfits are closer to freak paisley and patchouli, or weird appropriations of youth fashion... so those aren't nearly as surprising...
PS: and it's not just fashion... after about 20 years, I also find myself experiencing a desire to ride a horse again. For me, this is most unusual. Seems to be the tip of some archetype ... | | |
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 I have a habit of saving images without documentation... I'm organizing a bunch of stuff I've saved at work and just have to share this bizarre 19th century image of the Temptation of John Wilkes Booth. Note, of course, that the ugly demon wears a peacock feather. The feather is also, interestingly, just above the head of Lincoln, who's sitting in his box seat in the upper right, presumably waiting on the riotous "sockdologizing old man trap" line that prompted such laughter as to muffle the sound of gunfire. What strange last words to hear, especially for him. (Lincoln is mostly a bag of flattering lies shaped like a man, ascribed motives he neither knew nor condoned. Which is not to say he's any hero's nemesis. From an honest West Virginia vantage, both DC and Richmond were competing imperialist regimes. So I do have oddly mixed feelings about this image. It's as bizarre as the collection of dubious tales we call history, and strangely fascinating). [CLICK IMAGE TO ENGLARGE] | | |
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Even mentions geomancy! Video and some text here: African Fractals: Ron Eglash on TED.com
"I am a mathematician, and I would like to stand on your roof." This is how Ron Eglash greeted many African families while researching the intriguing fractal patterns he noticed in villages across the continent. He talks about his work exploring the rigorous fractal math underpinning African architecture, art and even hair braiding -- and his cool math tools for students. (Recorded June 2007 in Arusha, Tanzania. Duration: 16:51.) | | |
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Italy declares emergency for crumbling Pompeii site By Silvia Aloisi
Reuters Friday, July 4, 2008
http://www.iht.com/bin/printfriendly.php?id=14245755 ROME: The Italian government declared a state of emergency at the Pompeii archaeological site on Friday to try to rescue one of the world's most important cultural treasures from decades of neglect. A cabinet statement said it would appoint a special commissioner for Pompeii, the ancient Roman city buried by an eruption of the Vesuvius volcano in AD 79 and now a UNESCO World Heritage site. "To call the situation intolerable doesn't go far enough," said Culture Minister Sandro Bondi, who took office in Silvio Berlusconi's new conservative government in May. Archaeologists and art historians have long complained about the poor upkeep of Pompeii, dogged by lack of investment, mismanagement, litter and looting. Bogus tour guides, illegal parking attendants and stray dogs also plague visitors. Some 2.5 million tourists visit Pompeii each year, making it one of Italy's most popular attractions, and many have expressed shock at the site's decay. A report in daily Corriere della Sera this week said most of the 1,500 houses at the site are closed to the public, its frescoes have faded to become almost invisible and restoration work that began in 1978 has yet to be completed. The "state of emergency", which the government said would last for a year, allows for extra funds and special measures to be taken to protect the site. "Every year at least 150 square metres of fresco and plaster work are lost for lack of maintenance," Antonio Irlando, a regional councillor responsible for artistic heritage, told the newspaper. "The same goes for stones: at least 3,000 pieces every year end up disintegrating," he said. A long-running dispute between local authorities over how to look after Pompeii has only made things worse. Pompeii's superintendent Pietro Giovanni Guzzo, who will now be flanked by the government's commissioner, said he had long denounced problems at the site -- from retired guards who have not been replaced to the lack of a sewage system and poor "veterinary surveillance". Two-thirds of the 66 hectare (165 acre) town, home to some 13,000 people in the Roman era, have been uncovered since serious excavations began 260 years ago. The remaining third is still buried, but Corriere said the ground above it is being used as an illegal rubbish dump -- a result of the trash crisis in the nearby city of Naples -- and is scattered with tyres, fridges and mattresses.
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| Go towards
the Light, Jesse!
Piss Christ
by Andres Serrano
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Here are a couple images of Fortuna that I find disturbing. They're registers of the ascendency of scientism expressed as violent misogyny. I'm also disturbed by the rationalist rejection of the chancey reality that Magna Dea Fortuna represents. After all this, it's finally time for Eris to speak. I prefer Her coherency to theirs. | | |
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Fascinated by color today.
Found these interesting, both for the science and for metaphorical resonances.
THE HUMAN IS A BLOCKED TETRACHROMAT -- Not 3 but 4... sort of.
I find this phrase, over at "Infrared Spectroscopy and Degrees of Freedom," (part of "Spectral Sensitivity of the Eye" particularly pregnant:
"Any given molecule can change its energy in any of its "degrees of freedom". There is one degree of freedom per independent mode of motion, ie., translational (rigid "whole body" movement in the x, y or z directions), rotational (whole body rotation around one or two independent axes) or vibrational (oscillation of bond length or angle)."
Mmm... "one degree of freedom per independent mode of motion," eh? Sounds both true and useful.
I'm also looking for a color wheel that's based on the visual spectrum (not evenly divided, since we see more shades of green than of red, for example). Anyone know where I can find it? I've seen some graphs, but not the long-lost thing I remember...)
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Wonderful images I just discovered in Fortune: All is but Fortune, compiled and edited by Leslie Thomson and published by the Folger Shakespeare Library in 2000.
1. Color Dea Fortuna with many symbols (This one by Thomas Trevelyon, 1608):
2. Dea Fortuna favors an Ape:
3. Dea Fortuna, Pan, Eros and Hermes bowling with the Seven Spheres (winner gets a Fool's cap):
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So I found the phrase "wheat pasting" in learning about Shepard Fairey... at first I thought this meant using a paste-like compound to produce a temporary image, one that could be quickly applied through a stencil... turns out it just means wheat paste for adhering paper prints--i.e., organic glue for litter.
Howsomever, I am now on a quest for a recipe.
I'd really like to learn about any organic, disappearing "paints" that can be made and thickly applied through a stencil. But I'd also especially like it to be made of barley or wheat flour. (That's what I meant by "osirian" guerilla potential).
This would be easy experimentation, but if this reminds anyone of anything in particular, please let me know... | | |
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"Too Many Shadows" and the sweetness of separation and longing.
Though this is an original composition, Goddess Isis bless Jean Ritchie for her preeminent role in collecting the songs of our ancestors and preserving the heart of folk culture. Ritchie gathered the scattered pieces and gave them new life with her love. She is considered to be the "Mother of Folk." She is a True Bard, and there is no greater scholar-practitioner.
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Beyond the impressive proletarian Obama posters, this Fairey's work and philosophy is beyond impressive. I want to learn more about public stenciled wheatpastings! Talk about osirian guerilla potential! See more of his work here. The one on the left is called "Woman of the Revolution"   | | |
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Lady Olivia Robertson writes of an interesting manifestation of Osiris in her May Day letter and includes beautiful pictures. Wow! The image of the Lord's face is very compelling.
Read and see pics HERE
More FOI pictures HERE, including the Foundation Center at historic Clonegal Castle, Olivia's magical artwork, and others of historical interest. | | |
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The picture to the right is Allen Ginsberg on May 1, 1965 in Prague, Czechoslovakia. He's in front of the Hotel Merkur, assuming the throne of the May King at a celebration organized by the people in defiance of the communist state, which had forbidden (!) May Day celebrations for the previous 20 years.
Here's the poem that day inspired... you can hear him reading it here.
Kral Majales (I am the King of May)
Allen Ginsberg May 7, 1965
And the Communists have nothing to offer but fat cheeks and eyeglasses and
lying policemen
and the Capitalists proffer Napalm and money in green suitcases to the
Naked,
and the Communists create heavy industry but the heart is also heavy
and the beautiful engineers are all dead, the secret technicians conspire for
their own glamour
in the Future, in the Future,but now drink vodka and lament the Security Forces,
and the Capitalists drink gin and whiskey on airplanes but let the Indian brown
millions starve
and when Communist and Capitalist assholes tangle the Just man is arrested
or robbed or had his head cut off,
but noit like Kabir, and the cigarette cough of the Just man above the clouds in the bright sunshine is a salute to the health of the blue sky.
For I was arrested thrice in Prague, once for singing drunk on Narodni
street
once knocked down on the midnight pavement by a mustached agent who
screamed out BOUZERANT,
once for losing my notebooks of unusual sex politics dream opinions,
and I was sent from Havana by plane by detectives in green uniform,
and I was sent from Prague by plane by detectives in Czechoslovakian
business suits,
Cardplayers out of Cezanne, the two strange dolls that entered Joseph K's
room at more
also entered mine, and ate at my table, and examined my scribbles,
and followed me night and morn from the houses of lovers to the cafes of
Centrum--
And I am the King of May, which is the power of sexual youth,
and I am the King of May, which is industry in eloquence and action in amour,
and I am the King of May, which is long hair of Adam and the Beard of my own body
and I am the King of May, which is Kral Majales in the Czechoslovakian tongue,
and I am the King of May, which is old Human poesy, and 100,000 people chose my name,
and I am the King of May, and in a few minutes I will land at London Airport,
and I am the King of May, naturally, for I am of Slavic parentage and a Buddhist Jew
who worships the Sacred Heart of Christ the blue body of Krishna the straight back of ram
the beads of Chango the Nigerian singing Shiva Shiva in a manner which I have invented,
and the King of May is a middleeuropean honor,mine in the XX century despite space ships and the Time Machine, because I heard the voice of Blake
in a vision,
and repeat that voice. And I am the King of May that sleeps with teenagers laughing.
And I am the King of May, that I may be expelled from my
Kingdom with Honor, as of old,
To show the difference between Caesar's Kingdom and the Kingdom of the May of Man-
and I am the King of May, tho' paranoid, for the Kingdom of May is too
beautiful to last for more than a month-
and I am the King of May because I touched my finger to my forhead
saluting
a luminous heavy girl trembling hands who said "one moment Mr. Ginsberg"
before a fat young Plainclothesman stepped between our bodies-I was
going to England-
and I am the King of May, returning to see Bunhill Fields and walk on
Hampstead Heath,
and I am the King of May, in a giant jetplane touching Albion's airfield
trembling in fear
as the plane roars to a landing on the grey concrete, shakes & expels air, and rolls slowly to a stop under the clouds with part of blue heaven still
visible.
And tho' I am the King of May, the Marxists have beat me upon the street, kept me up all night in Police Station, followed me thru Springtime Prague, detained me in secret and deported me from our kingdom by airplane.
Thus I have written this poem on a jet seat in mid Heaven.
On Manifold Oneness, I've posted Ginsberg's "Independence Day Manifesto," a 1959 rallying cry for a culture of spirit. It ends with:
"When will we discover an America that will not deny its own God? Who takes up arms, money, police, and a million hands to murder the consciousness of God? Who spits in the beautiful face of poetry which sings of the glory of God and weeps in the dust of the world?"
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 Here's a "Pagan folk art" icon of Walt Whitman I made about five years ago. And here's one of my favorite poems from him... (note there are four sections) Chanting the Square Deific1 Chanting the square deific, out of the One advancing, out of the sides, Out of the old and new, out of the square entirely divine, Solid, four-sided, (all the sides needed,) from this side Jehovah am I, Old Brahm I, and I Saturnius am; Not Time affects me--I am Time, old, modern as any, Unpersuadable, relentless, executing righteous judgments, As the Earth, the Father, the brown old Kronos, with laws, Aged beyond computation, yet never new, ever with those mighty laws rolling, Relentless I forgive no man--whoever sins dies--I will have that man's life; Therefore let none expect mercy--have the seasons, gravitation, the appointed days, mercy? no more have I, But as the seasons and gravitation, and as all the appointed days that forgive not, I dispense from this side judgments inexorable without the least remorse. 2 Consolator most mild, the promis'd one advancing, With gentle hand extended, the mightier God am I, Foretold by prophets and poets in their most rapt prophecies and poems, From this side, lo! the Lord Christ gazes--lo! Hermes I--lo! mine is Hercules' face, All sorrow, labor, suffering, I, tallying it, absorb in myself, Many times have I been rejected, taunted, put in prison, and crucified, and many times shall be again, All the world have I given up for my dear brothers' and sisters' sake, for the soul's sake, Wanding my way through the homes of men, rich or poor, with the kiss of affection, For I am affection, I am the cheer-bringing God, with hope and all-enclosing charity, With indulgent words as to children, with fresh and sane words, mine only, Young and strong I pass knowing well I am destin'd myself to an early death; But my charity has no death--my wisdom dies not, neither early nor late, And my sweet love bequeath'd here and elsewhere never dies. 3 Aloof, dissatisfied, plotting revolt, Comrade of criminals, brother of slaves, Crafty, despised, a drudge, ignorant, With sudra face and worn brow, black, but in the depths of my heart, proud as any, Lifted now and always against whoever scorning assumes to rule me, Morose, full of guile, full of reminiscences, brooding, with many wiles, (Though it was thought I was baffled, and dispel'd, and my wiles done, but that will never be,) Defiant, I, Satan, still live, still utter words, in new lands duly appearing, (and old ones also,) Permanent here from my side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4 Santa Spirita, breather, life, Beyond the light, lighter than light, Beyond the flames of hell, joyous, leaping easily above hell, Beyond Paradise, perfumed solely with mine own perfume, Including all life on earth, touching, including God, including Saviour and Satan, Ethereal, pervading all, (for without me what were all? what were God?) Essence of forms, life of the real identities, permanent, positive, (namely the unseen,) Life of the great round world, the sun and stars, and of man, I, the general soul, Here the square finishing, the solid, I the most solid, Breathe my breath also through these songs. | | |
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 I Invoke the Blessings of Ostaratide
(An empty stage is covered by low fog and soft light. A drum beat signals the beginning of the world as set pieces come into view. A group of PRIESTS enters dressed in desert robes and hooded.)
1st PRIESTESS: Long ago, before the priests and the pharaohs, when the pyramids were but a dream in the mind of Ra, the great dark king Osiris ruled in Africa.
(OSIRIS comes into view on set piece.)
2ND: He was tall and slender so that his body fit lightly upon his eternal soul. On his head, he wore the lofty crown of Nubia, adorned with ostrich feathers, as light and beautiful as truth.
(Drums increase tempo.)
3RD: His braided beard fell down his chin onto his strong black chest, befitting the one whose fertility made life swell, even in the desert.
1ST: Wherever he stepped, water lilies blossomed.
2ND: His naked body from ankles to wrists was decorated in gold and precious stones like drops from a rainbow.
(Drums out)
ALL: This was Osiris who ruled.
3RD: Powerful and black! Great Osiris took the people from the ways of beasts, and taught them humanity.
(Harp music up.)
1ST: He taught the world the cultivation of the fields, the care of the sacred herds.
2ND: Using music, and gentle persuasion, he transformed the earth into a proud golden universe!
from ISIS IN NUBIA, Act 1, Scene 1
by Sterling Houston
Man is Mother of the Child.
Time is not a line, but a single organ of Becoming.
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My fascination with spiritual autobiographies seems to have led me to a drive to craft my own, both as spiritual process and as personal expression. (My academic work was focused on spiritual autobiographies by Queer men).
I’m thinking that I will develop this as a website, something to work on like a “Leaves of Grass,” continually reshaping it as long as I live. --I think books are problematic; the rational order in which they have to be put and the expectations of convention mean that they’re all distortions, and the primary distorting factors are the market and the accommodation of reader expectation. --Books and “teacher” status construct an illusion of authority that is dangerous and always illegitimate, and their fixity tends to retard creators who identify with them. --I can’t and don’t want to stand still long enough to draft and redraft and would value an editor’s opinion only for market sales or to achieve some specific objective. What I shall try to render is a truer impression of fluid identity and how central “correspondence” is to organizing my experience (resonance rather than cause and effect). --An electronic approach will allow me to use multiple media, to tell the same story in different ways and to link between them, to tell the same story in contradictory ways, to link to material of friends and organizations, and to show all the "messy" reality of the subject matter, the complexity of lived experience… it allows for contextual links and definitions, and it allows me to change anything at the drop of a hat. It doesn’t bind me to editor or audience, and as such would appeal only to a certain sort… but the appeal would be based more on what it actually is, not marketability. And the hyperlinked environment means that the reader or randomness itself has an equal hand in constructing the text, and that no two people would encounter the same text. It seems much TRUER to me all around.
--it allows me to involve readers directly in the construction of the text, and there may be tantalizing ways of encouraging reader interaction with the text. --this allows me to incorporate all sorts of things, including oracular work and magical notebooks, etc., with or without imposed interpretations, etc. | | |
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copperstewart's journal
