Zeus’ First and Twice-Born Sons

In his hands he held his lovely golden wand with which he can lull men’s eyelids or wake them from sleep: and with this wand he called the ghosts and led them, and they followed him*.

Zeus turned his attention to his golden son. “Step forward Apollo,” he said, “For I would have you build me here a house, where men from all corners of the world will come to hear of their destiny.

Standing on the outskirt of the forest, the Magician relayed a key message to his wine-loving friend:

“Zeus’s twice-born son, your time shall surely come.

As grows the living vine, the victory shall be thine”.

The wolf by Apollo’s side pricked up its ears and whined as he watched the two whispering on the edge of the emerald forest. Apollo looked down at his faithful beast and both cocked their heads to one side.
“And what of me, Father? Art I not the bringer of light, voice of all reason and destroyer of dark night? How shall my sun by worshipped if the temple is all thine and he is the death-defying vine?

Zeus looked long and hard at his progeny, whose heart was cold as his mind was brilliant light. “How soon, I wonder, my great golden child, ’til you think yourself greater, even, than I?”

It was then that Zeus’ deer silver daughter put a restraining hand on her golden brother’s shoulder and entreated him in an urgent voice.
“Bait him not, beloved brother; the chariot of the sun shall be struck down by lightening and the silver moon shall die of grief – then you would see that our licentious youth shall sober in a second and sit upon thy gilded throne!”

“Ay, sister of the moon, with his hairy hand upon my priceless goblet, while his sluts strum tuneless ditties upon my incomparable turtleshell lyre!”

Apollo’s eyes flashed hot and cold.
Dionysus raised his cup to them in a toast: “You have my blessing brother, I think not to steer the chariot of the sun, nor to take your hallowed place in heaven…”I’d rather have a bit of fun.
“You’ll have to watch the lyre, though, methinks the sound of music shall do much to make our mystery!”

Apollo turned back to their father with an ironic smile.

“The muses who love me shall make here their bed. The will of the King of the Gods shall be carved out in lead”.

Zeus clasped the prince of the Sun with both arms. “Ah, that’s my boy! And fear thee not, Prince of Paeans, for although it is my will that shall be done, it is you who shall dictate my whims and wishes to the wondering world.”

*Homer, The Odyssey

The Love Child and the Magician

A bull emerged from the forest, metamorphosising with a swagger into a shining youth, handsome as a handsome youth can be.

He walked hand in hand with the loveliest female in the land, raising to his moistened lips an earthen jar of ruby-coloured wine.

Her love-child laughed with his magician.

Hera looked broodingly at the twice-born son of his father and a cloud began descending on the assembly. “I hope you will not reserve too many honours for this youth, Dionysus, husband, for he is only quite immortal, with half true blood in his blue, engorged veins”.

“But see the ones who follow him, my wife; you must admit he is in great company: The body of desire with the power of love and the herald of all ages. I see no issue here but that which is great!” Zeus roared with laughter and raised a glass in toast to his progeny.

Time for Adventures at Thomas Sabo

Thomas Sabo watch — Thomas Sabo Time Piece

Bavarian jeweller and watchmaker Thomas Sabo, who specialises in high quality, design-led silver jewellery, has launched his new collection of watches for Spring Summer 2010, featuring novel styles for urban adventures.

The new inspiration behind the “Time for Adventures” range is cool city style-icons, designed to celebrate the jet-setters and clubland divas of today. In the words of the designer: “Hot spots are their territory, speed and adrenalin their engines. They conquer the world’s capitals of fashion with their cosmopolitan, free and courageous style”.

Built around the same categories as Sabo’s stylish jewellery ranges, ‘rebel at heart’, ‘classic’ and ‘it girl’, the watches can be perfectly co-ordinated with necklaces, bracelets, earrings and other special Sabo gems.

Click here for more information

Birth of Phoebus Apollo

The owl of Zeus’s daughter Athena sat blinking inscrutably in the branches of a large white tree.

Artemis, his deer, second-born child beneath, blinked her virginal eyes and then ran like the wind towards the edges of the emerald forest.

She sped through the trees until she reached the pebble-dashed shore of the finite sea, where Poseidon threw waters from the churning, ink-black ocean out to land.

A vast breaking wave upheld the glistening form of her darling, new-born brother, Phoebus Apollo.

The top of his fin cut the air like a knife,  carving a circle of purest, white light.  Seven sacred colours framed his perfect, golden mind,  as Artemis declared to him:  “We two are one, combined!”

Her love for him supplanted all other desire and she cried out loud: “Give me now my silver arrows, for I should strike down dead any one who would dare come between us!”

His answering voice was like an echo of her dream before she dreamt it. “Swim, enchanting sister, while my light is still cool, deep, into the salt-filled waters. A weapon such as this,” he held above him a golden bow, “may only be brought from the abyss”.

She cast off her linen robe and dipped one foot into the ocean, shielding her eyes from the blue-lit morning star as it rose up on the Eastern horizon.

Every other face turned toward it as she made her way to the bottomless abyss, heedless of the dragon chained within.

Things take so much Time

As her eyes ran over the black and white plates of the book, the two in the room became increasingly attuned to the music playing between them. In his mind it grew louder, recalling to him the daughter of memory.

She reached out a hand for the volume button and pushed it higher. Lush electronic sounds swelled like waves and a soft, angelic voice swept over them on the breeze.

A brief history of time unfolded in his fathomless mind.

She was wearing golden sandals, shoes that were paid-for by her father, together with a light coloured dress. Around her wrist was a bracelet full of charms and with his bright, ancient eyes, he saw that the necklace at her throat was made from the stuff of magic; a gift from her mystery-loving mother.

Over 2,400 years had passed since they had been this close. On that occasion the moon had been perfectly halved by the shadow of the Earth, and Jupiter was at the same point in its orbit as it would be in three and a half hours, that self-same night.

He looked over his shoulder and nodded to the gigantic sphere, which turned through the fragile cosmos by an intricately complex, haunting melody. Both of them saw with the eye of their mind that a gateway had opened in the ether.

Suddenly aware of time, she picked up her mobile phone and studied its display. It was only half past 9.00.

Strange.

Normally she felt this way much later in a given day. The force was usually been strongest between 1 and 2, she mused earnestly, casting aside the book.

She had never quite realized why.

Things take so much time

Thrice Descended Master

Now I invoke thee, great Cadmean queen, to bless thy mystics, lenient and serene.

It wasn’t the flickering light in the upper storey window that drew the watcher’s attention, for there were many lights in his eye that evening. It was the melody drifting upwards through the gradually darkening sky.

A rose-gold sun set the western horizon alight and resplendent Venus shone like a beacon above the rooftops. The lone figure, invisible to the naked eye, made slow, wide circles in the radiant atmosphere.

Sensing her presence below, the watcher moved down effortlessly and hovered before the house in his sights. The flame of a candle within licked gently at the surrounding air and a heady scent was carried to his face with the rising music. He inspired silently, considering the one inside.

She was stretched like a cat upon the bed, with one hand relaxed behind her head. An open book lay face down beside her on the pillow.

Intently he watched, his eye now fixed.

A powerful gust of wind blew the window open and she jumped violently, shaken from her hazy reverie by the sudden noise and rush of cooler air. Moving like quicksilver, he slipped inside.

She searched the indigo space he left behind him, trying to trace the formless form that had been there. Arising thoughtfully, she took a step towards the window.

He watched again while she turned her head north and then south, seeking what or whomsoever had disturbed the smoky ether.

Finding nothing but the dying throes of day, she fastened shut the window and lay down again, book in hand, not quite unaware of the almost unexpected arrival of the thrice-descended master.

The Lover

church of the water bearer — Window in the Woods

‘Let the veils be drawn now, Hermes,
Cloak the truth; you might encrypt it.
Keep the signs but aide the journey
Of the searching soul, the mystic.

‘‘Draw thyself the hieroglyphics –
Found in space, the deep harmonic –
Bind in books our thoughts: Ellipses,
Angles, curves, through time atomic.

‘‘Water bearer, when your church is,
You shall find yourself an angel,
Name of ‘Peace’. Recall these verses
When the North-star turns to Vega.

‘‘Then, at last, shall seals be broken,
Holy words shall be respoken,
Love, in spirit, shall be woken,
Doors once closed shall then reopen.

‘‘No more bound the heart, Prometheus;
Free at last the fire bringer.
As Pandora stands divested
Of all things but Hope, which lingers.

‘So Apollo’s wolf shall wander
Through the forests, undercover
Of the moon. Her golden brother
Thus returns, reveals The Lover.

‘Forwards backwards, time is taking
Certain steps through every section.
Herein find the secret waiting:
Future from the past; reflection.’

Dream Destination: Varkala, India

If it’s a chilled hippy hideout with a spiritual air and myriad magical charms you’re looking for, then Varkala in the Kerela region of Southern India might just be your dream destination.

I returned to this lush subcontinental paradise in late March, just before the rainy season, when the weather is at it’s most sultry and the region’s vibrant religious festivals are at the peak of their cycle.

First I spent a week at the delightfully eccentric (and at the time rather haunted) guesthouse, Davina Lagoona, which specialised in ayurvedic meals and massages in an animal-themed boutique at the edge of the Kerelan backwaters. After five days of green tea, delicious vegan dishes and early morning yoga in the sweltering heat, my wintery pastiness had made way for a light, sub-tropical glow.

For my next stop it was a choice between heading for the hills to a full-time yoga retreat and monastic regime, presumably with the goal of some form of enlightenment and/or levitation, or pack up and go to the beach at Varkala. As you’ll see from the picture postcard shot taken from my favourite cliff-top cafe, Varkala won hands down.

Orchards of Paradise

Deep in the orchards of paradise there was, infinite, complete,

The tome of eternity’s sunrise; secrets unbound were unseen.

Time Pieces

One still

Has two to go.

The birds do

Speak of it,

They say:

“Parlez Vous

Twit, Twoo?”

I say: “Oui,

Quelle heure e’til?”

“C’est trois”,

They say.

“Tres bon”,

Say I.