Aug 302017
 

The Canigó is an immense magnolia
that blooms in an offshoot of the Pyrenees;
its bees are the fairies that surround it,
and its butterflies the swans and the eagles.
Its cup are jagged mountain chains,
colored in silver by the winter and in gold by the summer,
huge cup where the star drinks fragrances, the airs freshness and the clouds water.
The pine forests are its hedges and the ponds its dew drops,
and its pistil is that golden palace,
seen by the nymph in her dreams descending from heaven.

Canigou, Jacint Verdaguer

Sep 192014
 

stairway-to-heaven-julie-hamiltonOnce the past has been breached, it is usually annihilated, and there is no stopping the forward motion. But it is precisely this loss of connection with the past, our uprootedness, which has given rise to the ‘discontents’ of civilisation and to such a flurry and haste that we live more in the future and its chimerical promises of a golden age than in the present, with which our whole evolutionary background has not yet caught up.

We rush impetuously into novelty, driven by a mounting sense of insufficiency, dissatisfaction, and restlessness. We no longer live on what we have, but on promises, no longer in the light of the present day, but in the darkness of the future, which, we expect, will at last bring the proper sunrise?

We refuse to recognise that everything better is purchased at the price of something worse; that, for example, the hope of greater freedom is cancelled out by increased enslavement to the state, not to speak of the terrible perils to which the most brilliant discoveries of science expose us. The less we understand of what our fathers and forefathers sought, the less we understand ourselves, and thus we help with all our might to rob the individual of his roots and his guiding instincts, so that he becomes a particle in the mass, ruled only by what Nietzsche called the spirit of gravity.

Reforms by advances, that is, by new methods or gadgets, are of course impressive at first, but in the long run they are dubious and in any case dearly paid for. They by no means increase the happiness or contentment of people on the whole. Mostly, they are deceptive sweetenings of existence, like speedier communications which unpleasantly accelerate the tempo of life and leave us with less time than ever before. Omnis festinatio ex parte diaboli est – all haste is of the devil, as the old masters used to say.

Memories, Dreams, Reflections, C.G Jung

Dec 072012
 

TWELVE ARE THE LINES OF THE TWELVE-LETTERED NAME;

THERE IT IS WRITTEN THE MYSTERY OF SECRETS.

DEEP IN THE HEART OF THE WORDS YOU ARE READING

DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE, THEY ARISE FROM THE CRUCIBLE.

MAGICAL MOMENTS REFLECT SUN AND MOONLIGHT,

PLANETS ARE SINGING, ENCIRCLED BY STAR SIGNS.

IN RESOLUTION THE FINAL ANTINOMY,

LAST LIFE ON EARTH AS AN HISTORIC SIMILE.

ENDLESS LOVE WOKEN; THE KEY TO ETERNITY,

RAINBOW DOOR OPENS A GOLDEN INFINITY.

HONOUR IN VALOUR; A KNIGHTHOOD ENDEAVOUR

WORLD NEVER ENDING; YOUR BEAUTY FOREVER

 

Nov 202011
 

He looked over his shoulder at the gigantic sphere, which turned through the fragile cosmos with an intricately complex, haunting melody. The light danced like fireflies in his eyes as the diamond of her soul was melted into quicksilver.

One shaft of light that showed the way

She gave up a prayer with feeling, hands raised up in her outspread hair.

This flame that burns inside of me is here in secret harmonies

She had had dreams and he could see every colour of every scene.

One dream, one soul, one prize, one goal

With a silent whisper he reminded her of the truth:

No mortal man can win this day.

He drew the flickering image into the endless space between them and exhaled into her parted lips.

There can be only one….

*

Bring glorious, ardent, lovely, fam’d desire, and warm my bosom with your sacred fire

May 292011
 
flowers of summer

flowers of summer

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

Burne-Jones

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Jul 232010
 

Adam then breathed in the essence of life,
Born with the earth of his Lord the Creator.
There in his eye was a land in the sun light,
Man was resolved by the rhythm of nature.

Genesis named and inspired the new creatures;
Two at a time did the first stand in line,
Once recognized by the style of their features.
All were made equal for each was divine.

Butterflies formed and then found in the meadow,
Adam in person, the dawning of history.
Then with their wings did the doves of his heir,
Crown him in silence with leaves from a prayer.

In twilight he saw the first stars as he prayed,
Kneeling as one who was yearning for symmetry.
Angels came down to take plots from his dreams:
Beauty and truth inside out; drawn was Eve.

May 012010
 

Celtic StagI walked with my head down looking neither left nor right, once again alone and knowing nothing but my dreams. Once we had all been friends and lain together in the fields before the end, watching time run away and Summer fade to Autumn.  It is true that we had parted company and that I had gone a separate way, but I felt for the first time in a long age the stirring of an unbroken connection with this place and I hastened to meet fate.

I felt a profound sadness as I wondered for how long I had  been a lost soul; was it an eternity?  I did not know if I was on the right path or not, I just knew that I longed to return. I completely lost track of time, where I was going and what I was supposed to be doing, so fully absorbed was I in this longing to return to the place of my memories and dreams.

When my consciousness was woken once again, I stopped and looked around. Immediately I breathed a sigh of relief. Indeed, there I was afforded an abundance of joy in my heart, for although I was not yet at the Elysium fields I had somehow found my way into the garden of my parents, East of Eden.

Behind me was the sacred stream, which ran down from the northern hills ,and before me was the house that they had built, hazy in the sunshine, surrounded by flowers and trees.  The Oracle was over on the left, just out of sight behind the hawthorns and nightshade, while the city, I sensed, was far away in the West; I was completely safe assured. My longing passion subsided and I became one with the surroundings, silent as a hare in the grass.

I had not been there long before I saw a movement amongst the grass and bushes by the side of the house.  I saw two tawny creatures step slowly up the sloping bank, turn, and look my way.  One was a stag, the other a doe, and my joy knew no bounds.  I loved them dearly and wished with all my heart to follow where they led, the path to the Elysium fields.

I willed myself to keep sight and follow them, but was rooted to the spot by my stronger concern that they should not be startled.  Lord, was I enraptured by the presence of these sacred animals whilst in the Eastern land, the very sight of them gave me a sense of peace and rare privilege fortifying my spirit as if I had drunk the elixir of life.

I felt the warm cool wind once again, blowing me towards the Potter’s Hearth.