Category Archives: art

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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Sayings…

France & Vincent

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‘Those that work get bread.’

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A simple, straightforward enough equation,

yet, in the outer world, where the idler often has ‘bread’

in far greater abundance than the worker,

it is far from true…

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In the outer world,

subject as it is

to the laws of indifference and imperfection,

the ‘Jinni of the lamp’ obeys only the one who siezes it!

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Not so, the inner world.

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Here, only those who know travail can find rest,

and only one who ‘wields the knife’ is graced Isaac.

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It is only here that the worker gives birth to his father.

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Peripheral Views…

France & Vincent

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…Without ‘supernatural elements’ this type of conditioning would be unhealthy

and is the one most beloved of insecure, manipulative minds

intent on turning their victims into ‘Apes of Faith’.

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Which is, perhaps, one of the reasons why the ‘supernatural’

is here so heavily stressed.

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A radiant visage and countenance

is such a mainstay of supernatural narrative

that it must have some basis in real experience…

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…As is telepathy.

There are though, also, some people who are very good at this.

In which context, ‘reading one’s mind’

is not the same as, ‘hearing one’s thoughts’.

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The praeternaturally lengthy life-spans in this

and other biblical stories

probably have more to do with an editorial attempt

to ‘square’ original myth with historical time-frames

than with history, which is not to say

that people a very long time ago

were not a lot bigger and/or lived a lot longer…

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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…

 

Armoury Show…

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The prosperous town of Armore was built next to a forest.

Late one night Old-Man-Log came out of the forest and sat down in the middle of the town’s market square.

He opened up the palm of his right hand and started cackling.

The next morning as the sun came up he was still sitting there cackling at the palm of his hand.

The towns-folk of Armore gathered around him to learn the source of Old-Man-Log’s amusement.

There in the middle of his palm was a little red man who was dancing.

“Who is that little red fellow?” asked the townsfolk falling over themselves to get a better look  at him.

“Why, his name is Mammon,” said Old-Man-Log, “see how he dances and spins for your amusement growing redder and redder?”

“Let me see…”

“And me…”

So it went with the towns-folk of Armore as they pushed and shoved and trampled each other in order to get a better look at the spectacle being played out before them…

At the end of the day when Old-Man-Log returned to the forest forty of the towns-folk lay dead.

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The next day Old-Man-Log was sitting in the market square again and this time the crush to see his show left eighty people dead.

The day after that, the death toll was one-hundred-and-sixty.

Finally Old-Man-Log said, “People of Armore, why do you put up with this day after day. Don’t be killed. Pick up stones and stone me.”

Without hesitation the towns-folk of Armore immediately picked up stones and threw them at Old-Man-Log.

They stoned him from all directions and before long he lay dead.

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But then the dead man’s body began to stink.

The stench was so bad that people fainted and died.

The wind blew and wherever it carried the foul smell people died.

The dead man opened his mouth and spoke, “People of Armore, why do you put up with this. Don’t be killed. Bring your hauling ropes and haul me away.”

*

Without hesitation the towns-folk of Armore immediately ran for their hauling ropes and tied them around the body of Old-Man-Log.

They began to tug the ropes but Old-Man-Log’s body was hard to shift.

The towns-folk tugged harder and one of the ropes snapped. The men pulling the rope fell on top of each other and died.

Another rope snapped killing more people and then another with the same result.

The dead man opened his mouth again, “People of Armore, why do you put up with this. Don’t be killed. Sing me my song.”

He sang it to them, “Pull our log/Old-Man-Log/Pull our log…”

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Altogether the towns-folk sang the dead man’s song and the body began to move…

It moved so quickly, sliding along the ground that whenever anyone stopped for breath they were run over by the body and killed.

When at last Old-Man-Log was sung back into the forest the few towns-folk that remained returned to their homes to sleep.

Next morning when the towns-folk of Armore awoke they remembered nothing of Old-Man-Log.

It was as though they had been intoxicated.

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A Border-Land of Spirits…

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We do not doubt the immortal nature of the Spirit in Man.

Neither do we care to speculate on its probable state or condition in any future life.

The Spirit, breathed into Man by the Great Mystery,

ultimately returns to the one who gave it.

After being freed from the body it is everywhere and pervades all nature.

So much reverence is due to the disembodied spirit we do not name the dead aloud.

Ohiyesa