Yeh I am not sure about the Post/Drake reference in lieu to the Paul Cohellio song??
But yeh weird you appeared in my dream last night at my nanas place before she had to sell the place and go into a retirement home. Must be some star conjunction happening at moment? Venus or something?
Yeh I've never listened to much popular music since 2020. It all seems too produced no blame just can't seem to relate to music at moment. Found this Japanese band that just hits it. Like raw stuff live https://youtu.be/-S5oLh4WE88?si=7yerKjXAKh3A8ezE
Funny thing about canaries (unless you happen to BE the canary in question):
They're very vocal, and naturally share their song and spirit of happiness with whoever is around, even when they're caged - why? - just because they can. And that's what gets them marked for a short life in the dark of the Underworld, that unfailing optimism. They're chosen not for the tune they sing, but because their last breath will be issued as a cheerful chirp - only when they've gone silent does it fulfill the mining company's purpose for it, the very antithesis of its nature.
There are many coalmines in this culture, and not much blue sky, driven as it is to pickpocket everything it can sell from the living Earth. A toxic atmosphere is ubiquitous, with very few opportunities to catch a breath of real air. The canary isn't "defective" because it can't sing a chipper song, it's voice is silent because the environment is death. If the miner weren't so busy absentmindedly whistling past the graveyard of his own making maybe he would have noticed the tune taking on a deeper, darker tone long ago, before he got this deep in and took that last fatal turn, and got hopelessly lost in blind ambition. Now, only when the miner's whistling stops will he know that he's gone too far.
Thanks Tess. I've had to go dark and silent for a "minute", Saturn returned riding on a Centaur and trampled me into the dust, then they both sat on me, and I haven't been able to catch a breath or a break. This canary has been way down in the dark, and had a peek into the realm of the hundred-handed, where those who dare cheat Death live out eternity in pointless labors. I'm not done there yet, but if ever I see blue skies again, I have mined some tales to tell that may raise a chirp. Who ever thought the Void could be such a bustling place?
Tonight I will have a nice meal then go sit quietly on the grass out under the Heavens while Uranus holds the open door to the galactic center, and offer to share a stem of prosecco with the Seven fair ladies who reside there, and ask them to share their thoughts with me in a dance under the eclipse of the Harvest Moon - perhaps they will show me the way home.
WOW. This... wow. I just laid eyes on it after doing a poetry ceremony for the eclipse followed by a kundalini yoga kriya/long meditation for it, and then... well first off its good to see your name here, and it's good to hear from you. You've crossed my mind a multitude of times, I am sorry I never sent a text or called. I don't have any excuse other than i've been in my own whirlwind of many things I won't mention here but - this was perfect to read, and beautiful, and thoughtful, and THANK YOU. It's a gift to hear from you.
Saturn is no joke.. I became much more familiar with the lessons he brings this last year, and they continue. You are in your second Saturn return though, I did not know this. You know of the seven sisters! I did not know this. I hope you were able to tune in and find whatever you were looking for, or release whatever has been asking to get out. The latter was the case for me. I miss ya, and yes, the void is certainly a.. well, i have spent many years there myself. If you ever want to catch up let me know okay? Also... I didn't know that about canaries. I speak of the coal mine canary all the time, but I had it backwards in my head. I thought the canary started going off (meaning making sounds, like a siren) when they smelled the poison in the air. i didnt know they had to die for the miners to get a fucking clue. i thought it was the other way around. whoa.
That is somewhat sobering and also quite timely for this eclipse, as the lunar mansion it takes place in is symbolized by a funeral cot / coffin. Salute to you, dear friend. It was refreshing to read this and hear from you.
Thank you Tess, I'm glad I was able to add something of value to a very moving and timely work of art - and we both learned something, I did not know about the symbol for the Lunar Mansion, haven't yet gotten that far in my study. But it does seem fitting, at least in the way the eclipse energy seems to be affecting me - or maybe it's just that "I've got a tombstone head and a graveyard mind" ( Bo Diddly - "Who Do You Love?" ) As it turns out, the sky is completely overcast here so my "date" is a no-show, and the gloom is just as fitting as the coffin - maybe next time, but I was warned that this eclipse wouldn't likely be all pleasantries. Just the same, Selene smiled brightly last night, and that's a fitting enough birthday gift for me.
Yes, I know (some) about the Seven Sisters and have made it a big part of my "mission" to discover all that I can, as I look to those ladies as my patron goddesses and associate my "awakening" 2 years ago with them. In my private necropolis in the space between worlds (and between my ears) I have called on them for guidance and support in my work there, have seen them dance in gloriously colored silk gowns on the cobblestone courtyard before the ruins of the Cathedral where 18 months ago I knelt and raised my gauntleted fist to a rising would-be god and promised him a taste of his own poison. Shy Maia is my favorite of them, prone as She is to keeping to herself in Her cave in the mountains high above the city, a lady after mine own heart. One particularly compelling part of their story is that every culture on Earth has some version of it in its lexicon of myths, and the fact that each of those myths speaks of SEVEN is significant in that there are presently only SIX visible to the naked eye, as of at least 75,000 years ago based on star map regression, suggesting that such diverse cultures as the Australian Maori, the Chinese and Japanese, Indian and European, African, North and South American, Mesopotamian...I believe all have a common originating story that birthed them, long before Homer and Ovid and Hessiod recorded them on paper, when our tribal ancestors gathered around their sacred fires and held the unknown at bay with the light of those flames and their rituals, and the spoken myths that tied their cultures together, writing them first in starlight so they wouldn't be forgotten. We could gain a lot by revisiting them there and learning from their wisdom.
In the intervening months since it began, my own tale has expanded and taken on mythical proportions of its own; many of the archetypes of those ancient stories have come to visit or have been exhumed from their resting places, wearing slightly different forms but familiar nonetheless - a sexy vampiric siren who first appeared "...neither naked nor ashamed, but as I was created, and as were you." An old fat hippie in a tie-dyed toga with a very large jar of wine and a bag of "incense", driving a chariot pulled by two Centaurs and accompanied by a retinue of tribal elders from their home in the Pleiades, on their way to a music festival at some farm in Upstate New York. An "impression-able" 3-year-old in a jester hat and harlequin footie pajamas. A nun from a foreign land who got cold feet about the afterlife halfway there and jumped ship, "swimming to the light" of my watchfire as Charon's yacht passed nearby. A guant darkrobed fellow, alternately a large black raven with a wickedly sharp hooked beak (now missing a few tailfeathers ;)). A flaming giant, twin tornadoes of rage and fear forming his towering figure, weilding a fiery lash, the "Master At Arms" and protector of the exiles who wander in this place (ooooh, anger is never so potent as when turned inward!) A lighthouse keeper in a small stone cottage on a rocky shore of the sea, sketching by lamplight as he peers through a window into the distance, the focus of his gaze worlds away. And of course yours truly, shipwrecked and completely out of my element, a salty old dog learning new tricks, trying to salvage something of value from the wreckage of a mercenary life, to rise to a higher calling and a crystalline new world hanging from a branch of the WorldTree, ripe for picking...and far above my reach.
...So I study, sharpen my blade and my quill, and drop seeds of dissent and encouragement here and there, a bit of guerilla gardening while on my travels. And I wait for the Muse to tickle the canvas, the story emerging a brushstroke at a time, alive in my mind but resistant to the constraints of mere words, too vivid for the black and white of my skills of yet, and sacred in some way I can't quite define. It's a story that can't be told all at once, it has to be born under the right signs, and to present it poorly is one Heresy I would not choose to be guilty of, an unforgivable sin - or maybe just my Virgo perfectionism or my soul wound showing.
But the wheel turns, and the Fates spin their thread, and all things come in their time. Some night, maybe soon, Selene will smile down from above outside my window and enlighten the page; shy Maia will reach over my shoulder and take my hand in Hers, guiding my quill to make the right symbols to honor what I've been shown. I'll stoke up the watchfire, call the tribe and the spirits of the Ancestors to gather round, and I'll begin a tale as old as time - and just maybe it will be worthy of adoption into the body of myths that helps define a new culture, picked fresh from a higher branch of the Tree.
I'd be honored to catch up with you (but you may have to slow down a bit, give an old geezer a bit of a head start), swap war stories and big ideas and happenings, and just chill out. It sounds like you've hit a new stride and are doing well, all things considered, and I'd love to hear about it. I hope you've gotten a bit of entertainment from my wall of nonsense here, and that we get a chance to follow up in the near future. All in all, it turned out to be a pleasant eclipse night after all, despite the clouds - those fair ladies showed up after all. 🥂🙏🕊
The poets will keep on finding the words. Keep writing, Tess. 💫
Thank you friend. I will. You as well. ❤️ 🙏
Paul Ochs
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gv1KEF8Uw2k
[Verse 1]
Oh, I marched to the Battle of New Orleans
At the end of the early British wars
A young land started growing
The young blood started flowing
But I ain't a-marching anymore
[Verse 2]
For I've killed my share of Injuns in a thousand different fights
I was there at the Little Big Horn
I heard many men a-lying
I saw many more a-dying
But I ain't a-marching anymore
[Bridge]
It's always the old to lead us to the wars
Always the young to fall
Now look at all we've won with the saber and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all?
[Verse 3]
For I stole California from the Mexican land
Fought in the bloody Civil War
Yes, I even killed my brothers
And so many others
But I ain't a-marching anymore
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Drake
[Verse 4]
For I marched to the battles of the German trench
In a war that was bound to end all wars
Oh, I must have killed a million men
And now they want me back again
But I ain't a-marching anymore
[Bridge]
It's always the old to lead us to the wars
Always the young to fall
Now look at all we've won with the saber and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all?
[Verse 5]
For I flew the final mission in the Japanese skies
Set off the mighty mushroom roar
When I saw the cities burning
I knew that I was learning
That I ain't a-marching anymore
[Verse 6]
Now the labor leader's screamin' when they close the missile plants
United Fruit screams at the Cuban shore
Call it peace or call it treason
Call it love or call it reason
But I ain't a-marching anymore
No, I ain't a-marching anymore
These lyrics are beautiful - i like your addition to verse 3. I have never listened to those songs by post/drake - im hesitant to 💀
Yeh I am not sure about the Post/Drake reference in lieu to the Paul Cohellio song??
But yeh weird you appeared in my dream last night at my nanas place before she had to sell the place and go into a retirement home. Must be some star conjunction happening at moment? Venus or something?
Yeh I've never listened to much popular music since 2020. It all seems too produced no blame just can't seem to relate to music at moment. Found this Japanese band that just hits it. Like raw stuff live https://youtu.be/-S5oLh4WE88?si=7yerKjXAKh3A8ezE
This was a much more raw version of Plato’s cave.
holy shite. thank you for that.
Funny thing about canaries (unless you happen to BE the canary in question):
They're very vocal, and naturally share their song and spirit of happiness with whoever is around, even when they're caged - why? - just because they can. And that's what gets them marked for a short life in the dark of the Underworld, that unfailing optimism. They're chosen not for the tune they sing, but because their last breath will be issued as a cheerful chirp - only when they've gone silent does it fulfill the mining company's purpose for it, the very antithesis of its nature.
There are many coalmines in this culture, and not much blue sky, driven as it is to pickpocket everything it can sell from the living Earth. A toxic atmosphere is ubiquitous, with very few opportunities to catch a breath of real air. The canary isn't "defective" because it can't sing a chipper song, it's voice is silent because the environment is death. If the miner weren't so busy absentmindedly whistling past the graveyard of his own making maybe he would have noticed the tune taking on a deeper, darker tone long ago, before he got this deep in and took that last fatal turn, and got hopelessly lost in blind ambition. Now, only when the miner's whistling stops will he know that he's gone too far.
Thanks Tess. I've had to go dark and silent for a "minute", Saturn returned riding on a Centaur and trampled me into the dust, then they both sat on me, and I haven't been able to catch a breath or a break. This canary has been way down in the dark, and had a peek into the realm of the hundred-handed, where those who dare cheat Death live out eternity in pointless labors. I'm not done there yet, but if ever I see blue skies again, I have mined some tales to tell that may raise a chirp. Who ever thought the Void could be such a bustling place?
Tonight I will have a nice meal then go sit quietly on the grass out under the Heavens while Uranus holds the open door to the galactic center, and offer to share a stem of prosecco with the Seven fair ladies who reside there, and ask them to share their thoughts with me in a dance under the eclipse of the Harvest Moon - perhaps they will show me the way home.
WOW. This... wow. I just laid eyes on it after doing a poetry ceremony for the eclipse followed by a kundalini yoga kriya/long meditation for it, and then... well first off its good to see your name here, and it's good to hear from you. You've crossed my mind a multitude of times, I am sorry I never sent a text or called. I don't have any excuse other than i've been in my own whirlwind of many things I won't mention here but - this was perfect to read, and beautiful, and thoughtful, and THANK YOU. It's a gift to hear from you.
Saturn is no joke.. I became much more familiar with the lessons he brings this last year, and they continue. You are in your second Saturn return though, I did not know this. You know of the seven sisters! I did not know this. I hope you were able to tune in and find whatever you were looking for, or release whatever has been asking to get out. The latter was the case for me. I miss ya, and yes, the void is certainly a.. well, i have spent many years there myself. If you ever want to catch up let me know okay? Also... I didn't know that about canaries. I speak of the coal mine canary all the time, but I had it backwards in my head. I thought the canary started going off (meaning making sounds, like a siren) when they smelled the poison in the air. i didnt know they had to die for the miners to get a fucking clue. i thought it was the other way around. whoa.
That is somewhat sobering and also quite timely for this eclipse, as the lunar mansion it takes place in is symbolized by a funeral cot / coffin. Salute to you, dear friend. It was refreshing to read this and hear from you.
Thank you Tess, I'm glad I was able to add something of value to a very moving and timely work of art - and we both learned something, I did not know about the symbol for the Lunar Mansion, haven't yet gotten that far in my study. But it does seem fitting, at least in the way the eclipse energy seems to be affecting me - or maybe it's just that "I've got a tombstone head and a graveyard mind" ( Bo Diddly - "Who Do You Love?" ) As it turns out, the sky is completely overcast here so my "date" is a no-show, and the gloom is just as fitting as the coffin - maybe next time, but I was warned that this eclipse wouldn't likely be all pleasantries. Just the same, Selene smiled brightly last night, and that's a fitting enough birthday gift for me.
Yes, I know (some) about the Seven Sisters and have made it a big part of my "mission" to discover all that I can, as I look to those ladies as my patron goddesses and associate my "awakening" 2 years ago with them. In my private necropolis in the space between worlds (and between my ears) I have called on them for guidance and support in my work there, have seen them dance in gloriously colored silk gowns on the cobblestone courtyard before the ruins of the Cathedral where 18 months ago I knelt and raised my gauntleted fist to a rising would-be god and promised him a taste of his own poison. Shy Maia is my favorite of them, prone as She is to keeping to herself in Her cave in the mountains high above the city, a lady after mine own heart. One particularly compelling part of their story is that every culture on Earth has some version of it in its lexicon of myths, and the fact that each of those myths speaks of SEVEN is significant in that there are presently only SIX visible to the naked eye, as of at least 75,000 years ago based on star map regression, suggesting that such diverse cultures as the Australian Maori, the Chinese and Japanese, Indian and European, African, North and South American, Mesopotamian...I believe all have a common originating story that birthed them, long before Homer and Ovid and Hessiod recorded them on paper, when our tribal ancestors gathered around their sacred fires and held the unknown at bay with the light of those flames and their rituals, and the spoken myths that tied their cultures together, writing them first in starlight so they wouldn't be forgotten. We could gain a lot by revisiting them there and learning from their wisdom.
In the intervening months since it began, my own tale has expanded and taken on mythical proportions of its own; many of the archetypes of those ancient stories have come to visit or have been exhumed from their resting places, wearing slightly different forms but familiar nonetheless - a sexy vampiric siren who first appeared "...neither naked nor ashamed, but as I was created, and as were you." An old fat hippie in a tie-dyed toga with a very large jar of wine and a bag of "incense", driving a chariot pulled by two Centaurs and accompanied by a retinue of tribal elders from their home in the Pleiades, on their way to a music festival at some farm in Upstate New York. An "impression-able" 3-year-old in a jester hat and harlequin footie pajamas. A nun from a foreign land who got cold feet about the afterlife halfway there and jumped ship, "swimming to the light" of my watchfire as Charon's yacht passed nearby. A guant darkrobed fellow, alternately a large black raven with a wickedly sharp hooked beak (now missing a few tailfeathers ;)). A flaming giant, twin tornadoes of rage and fear forming his towering figure, weilding a fiery lash, the "Master At Arms" and protector of the exiles who wander in this place (ooooh, anger is never so potent as when turned inward!) A lighthouse keeper in a small stone cottage on a rocky shore of the sea, sketching by lamplight as he peers through a window into the distance, the focus of his gaze worlds away. And of course yours truly, shipwrecked and completely out of my element, a salty old dog learning new tricks, trying to salvage something of value from the wreckage of a mercenary life, to rise to a higher calling and a crystalline new world hanging from a branch of the WorldTree, ripe for picking...and far above my reach.
...So I study, sharpen my blade and my quill, and drop seeds of dissent and encouragement here and there, a bit of guerilla gardening while on my travels. And I wait for the Muse to tickle the canvas, the story emerging a brushstroke at a time, alive in my mind but resistant to the constraints of mere words, too vivid for the black and white of my skills of yet, and sacred in some way I can't quite define. It's a story that can't be told all at once, it has to be born under the right signs, and to present it poorly is one Heresy I would not choose to be guilty of, an unforgivable sin - or maybe just my Virgo perfectionism or my soul wound showing.
But the wheel turns, and the Fates spin their thread, and all things come in their time. Some night, maybe soon, Selene will smile down from above outside my window and enlighten the page; shy Maia will reach over my shoulder and take my hand in Hers, guiding my quill to make the right symbols to honor what I've been shown. I'll stoke up the watchfire, call the tribe and the spirits of the Ancestors to gather round, and I'll begin a tale as old as time - and just maybe it will be worthy of adoption into the body of myths that helps define a new culture, picked fresh from a higher branch of the Tree.
I'd be honored to catch up with you (but you may have to slow down a bit, give an old geezer a bit of a head start), swap war stories and big ideas and happenings, and just chill out. It sounds like you've hit a new stride and are doing well, all things considered, and I'd love to hear about it. I hope you've gotten a bit of entertainment from my wall of nonsense here, and that we get a chance to follow up in the near future. All in all, it turned out to be a pleasant eclipse night after all, despite the clouds - those fair ladies showed up after all. 🥂🙏🕊
Nihil ausus, nihil mutatum. Carpè Noctum.
More.
Like neo Cathar poetry.
Gospel of marcion stuff
whoa. i didn’t know what either of those things were and had to research them. thank you. 🙏
Dying for something is the easy way.
Living for something is the hard one.
Christ calls us to be dead to the world, and alive, in HIM, to live for HIM. Which is to LOVE, as HE Loves.
Dead to materialism, desire, lust, greed, fear, pain,despair, death, and to be alive to love, joy, peace, courage, strength.
Your poem, spawned that rant.
As for canaries, the loss of one was too much, now I fear the canaries are about to go like the carrier pigeons did.
More reasons to be a Pan-Theistic Apocaloptimist.
I am optimistic that the apocalypse will pan out as GOD wills it not how I expect it to.