Category Archives: Ancient Sites

Unspeakable Beauty

strangegoingsonintheshed

june-wong-641420-unsplash June Wong at Unsplash

“To be fully alive is to have an aesthetic perception of life because a major part of the world’s goodness lies in its often unspeakable beauty.”

Yukitaka Yamamoto

96th generation High Priest (Guji) of the Tsubaki Grand Shrine in Mie Prefecture, Japan (Shinto shrine).

masaaki-komori-601598-unsplash Masaaki Komori at Unsplash

I keep Yukitaka Yamamoto’s quote in an accessible place, to often remind of life’s purpose. Why? My recent posts have been infused with hints of regret, pain, and vulnerability. Not something I’ve wanted to disclose, but when the spirit wants to be heard, you give it space.

linus-nylund-465861-unsplash Linus Nylund at Unsplash

My unavoidable sojourn at home has been an illuminating experience. It’s guided me out of the stillness of the inner temple into the tranquil spirituality of the garden outside. What the eyes have been blind to, the Soul has joyously acknowledged. That is, the world’s goodness lying…

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Encryption…

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Now they had unleashed the hounds the outcome of the chase was inevitable.

One shard of memory alone held hope…

Slipping into the museum without paying could only encourage capture…

The dark arches spoke of deep secrets too arcane to delineate…

Out of the shadowy recesses a thin form materialised.

Did that wan smile ever waver?

I stuffed the loose package between clammy fingers and turned to leave…

“Clavis!” she hissed, and disappeared.

Already the concierge was blocking my exit with his bulk…

Outside the wild yelps and bays rose in anticipation…

Was that laughter I heard amid the fury?

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Betwixters?…

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“We still don’t know how they did it, or why, or even if they really did it or not…

…We do know that for at least two thousand years these sort of monuments were a preoccupation, were the preoccupation of a world wide culture.

And then they were not!

The traditional supposition is climate change.

But there is another way to look it.

One that involves teleology…

And a change of state…

An evolution.

Amphibians can live in water and on land.

What would we call a creature that lives neither in nor out of time but somewhere between?”…

 

A Trigonometry of Seeming…

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The gnomon holds a special position

in the annals of architecture:

It is to time what the fulcrum is to movement.

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Would, then, movement be anything without time?

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And yet, for the gnomon

to tell us anything,

we have to move around it…

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Continuously

shifting our perspective,

before the position

is finally shadowed forth…

 

Scryer of Time…

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Scryer of Time.

On sky weathered stone

our accidental tourist  has stepped

through long horned, shaggy coated, cattle

to glean and ponder

the sun in rippled grain:

no shadow cast

from this bright interior’s sheen

the mountain top of yonder earth

beckons…

*

Should an eagle become an egg

all fracture

I’ll fly!

I’ll fly!

beyond that outer maelstrom

of troubled cloud

and return heather dusted

 head space full

of truth’s sweet, fragrant lie

lipped to life’s cold scrutiny

in a fluid bowl of vision.

*

May moss-fleck

reflections

trickle…

to ground and save us one and all:

Scryer of Time.

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Sun-Day…

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On one side a giant kisses the sky,

On the other a fore-finger, its hand buried in clay.

Yet should you ask, ‘why?’

There is no one left to say…

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Can a sliver of blue heaven

Between hard rock face,

Answer the riddle

Set by time and place?

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Could Sentinels of Stone point out the way?

Is there really such a difference betwixt night and day?

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First it was a tickle,

Then it was a stroke…

As the pale sun’s disk

Caressed by bark

Slid down to earth

And then began to talk…

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‘You enter this portal to

avoid traversing the dark.’

 

 

 

 

Sylvan Grade…

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Can stone

turn to tree

or was that just eroded memory?

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Yet, if water turns to earth

and air

and earth to fire

and air to water

by dint of long forgotten alchemy.

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And if indeed

the Fire-King and Earth-Maiden

have spawned a beautiful daughter…

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There may yet be

some fleeting semblance of hope

for me…

‘Cloud City Central!’…

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The phrase was uttered as a prognosis as much as a question and so we smiled an affirmative, in relief, that we were not the only one’s to have been thus transported…

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It is not by happy chance, alone, that one is brought here, although happen stance can play a part in bringing people to this beguiling, auspicious place, which is not a place so much as a state of being…

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For those who have never been, it’s inhabitants are apt to appear forgetful, or inept, or even…foolish.

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There are no machines of any kind in Cloud City, nor or there any contraptions…

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Of what use is it then, and what possible good can come of it?

One word…

Replenishment.

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Chanteater…

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It was probably foolish, I know…

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But I took a liking to this ‘little lady’.

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Who, if the board is correct, could have been supporting the capstone’s weight  for over six thousand years.

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Which is some feat, as you can probably see…

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We call it stone technology and we have been experimenting with sound in a number of these ‘chambers’.

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I was expecting the chant to have little vibratory effect because the tomb was clearly, in part, wrecked.

What I wasn’t expecting was for both the sound and the breath to be sucked from my being, like something or someone was thirsty…

Like I said, foolish, but maybe it also served…

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