Tag Archives: esoteric

White-Skunk seeks medicine II…


‘How you must have stopped and wondered

How I must feel

Out on the meadows

While you roam the fields.’

– Shaman Blues


… So Skunk went on the land but before long he accidentally stood on and broke Meadow-Lark’s leg.

“Lima, lima, lima,” cried Meadow-Lark in distress.

“If you tell me where I can find my musk-sac,” said Skunk, “I will fix that leg with some brushwood.”

“All right,” said Meadow-Lark, “but it will not be easy for you to retrieve your musk-sac.”

“You must tell me anyway,” said Skunk.

“It is being held by some Clever Fellows who have given it to one of their orphan children as a toy,” said Meadow-Lark.

Skunk did not like the sound of that at all.

“They are rolling your musk-sac back and forth between themselves and the child,” went on Meadow-Lark. “Sparkle, sparkle, sparkle goes your musk-sac and so pacifies the child.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Skunk, becoming angry, he fashioned a wooden leg out of brushwood for Meadow-Lark and again went on his way thinking how best to prise his musk-sac from the hands of those Clever Fellows.

A little way along the track Skunk came upon a pungent shrub and fashioned for himself a makeshift musk-sac.

In comparison to his own musk-sac it was very weak but it was better to have that than nothing at all.

On went Skunk feeling a little better about his prospects…

to be continued

White-Skunk seeks medicine…


“There will never be another one, like you.

There will never be another one who can, do the things you do.”

Shaman Blues


…”My musk-sac… my power,” cried Skunk as he drifted along the river on his raft of logs.

Someone hailed him from the river-bank, “Yes, your musk-sac came floating past here,” they said, “we tried to retrieve it, but it was floating down the middle of the river.”

“My thanks, nonetheless,” shouted Skunk, “I will return and show you my good will.”

Skunk continued to wail about his lost musk-sac and a little further on somebody else hailed him from the river-bank, “As a matter of fact your musk-sac floated ashore here, but we pushed the filthy thing back into the current.”

“My curse upon you,” shouted Skunk, “I will pass back along this way and you will feel my vengeance.”

So it went with Skunk on his journey.

Some there were who, sensing its power, had attempted to retrieve the musk-sac for him whilst others, thinking it repulsive when it drifted to the shore, had thrown it back into the current of the river.

Skunk promised boons in abundance to those who had tried to help and the force of his wrath to those who had not.

By now, Skunk had drifted on his raft of logs to the lower reaches of the river.

Here, he went ashore to continue his search over land. …

to be continued


The Mirror Man…


If it were possible to achieve objectivity for a space…

We could reflect on what it might mean for man.

Yet, even the most spotless surface,

would only hold its image reversed.

And since we have now out grown

the perfect symmetry

of our own form…

that we might come

to yearn our other halves…

The halves we thought we knew

when sumberged as subject.

Like serfs striving to serve an ideal…

We could not help but see ourselves exposed.

But would such exposure lead to selflessness?



Accidents of Light…


Our experiences in dream, if often enough repeated,

become as much a part of the fabric of the soul

as our waking experiences.

The man who regularly flies in his dreams

will be initmate with the nuances of flight.

His soul will know how to ‘skit’ and ‘scurry’

and ‘dip’ and ‘bob’ but also how to ‘soar’…

His rising will lack tension or constraint.

His descent will be without gravity.

Would such a man not look askance

at some of our concepts in the waking hours?

His notions of ‘contentment’ may hop, skip and jump

a little more than our own, and be a bit more ‘airborne’…

And would the poets flight of fancy not seem

to him somewhat ponderous and earth bound?



Threat of the New…


The man who has plotted the course of science

will have discovered in its development

the key which unlocks the doors to knowledge and understanding.

Both portals have fictitious hinges and hypothetical handles.

By stepping beyond their frame our senses become subtle.

The eye reacts to ‘the new’ by immediately reproducing ‘the familiar’ as if in counter-point…

In this way can that which is ‘alien’ move secretly amongst us.

…The novel sound initially causes so much pain to the ear

that we even seek to model a foreign tongue

on our own meanings…

“Wie spate ist es?”


“What is the time?”

As if time were a mere matter of counting.

Yet, how many hours have come and gone

since the ‘beginning’ of time?

Precisely none!

…To be involved in exceptional experiences, therefore,

is to become, in part, their inventor.

In this our art knows no bounds.

Time Lines III…

Image result for humbaba sumerian


… “And everywhere literalism rears its convoluted head.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“I mean, I don’t think these people regarded those so called entities as we do.”


“Just because one creates a form to represent something doesn’t necessarily mean that one believes that a being lives and breathes in that form.”

“You mean the form is just a focus.”


“A focus through which an effect can manifest.”

“The form facilitates a manifestation.”

“It’s not clear to me how that helps us.”

“It renders fear redundant.”




Time Lines II…

Image result for Pazuzu


… “In later Assyrian Mythology, Anzu becomes Pazuzu.”

“Am I missing something, here?”

“Pazuzu is a ‘wind demon’ responsible for bringing plague and pestilence, and whatever else we may think about the notions of a demon, in that region of the world, a wind that brings both pestilence, usually locusts, and plague, does indeed exist.”

“Am I still missing something here?”

“Pazuzu is reputed to be the brother of Humwawa!”

“Ah, The Spirit of the Cedar Forest from Gilgamesh, I think I’m starting to see… But are you sure?”

“Well, there has been a certain amount of degeneration in the iconography, which is only natural, given the time span’s involved, but we can, I think, clearly see the resmemblance…”

“We can, particularly in the positioning of the arms…”

“Both ‘demons’ are described by the authorities as having a skull-like ‘canine’ or ‘lionine’ head.”

“I can go along with skull-like, but I would not like to be drawn into the dog or cat debate.”

“Very wise…”

“Ugly looking spud, though, isn’t he?”

“He is, although, almost incredibly, back in the day, his figure was made into amulets, worn, usually around the neck, and used to ward off other, more malevolent, forces.”

“The ancients’ attitude to what we might regard as ‘good’ and ‘evil’ was, to say the least, somewhat ambivalent.”

“It is at least possible, then, that the actions of the heroes in Gilgamesh were directly responsible for the creation of this ‘environmental bane’.”

“But if a good wind can be turned bad, surely a bad wind can be turned good?”

“That, my dearest Wendlebury, is what still remains to be seen.”



Time Lines…

Image result for Anzu and Ninurta


“And what have we here?” says Wen in that provocative way of hers which means she is up to something.

“Anzu and Ninurta.”

“Nope, not doing it for me.”

“Anzu, Guardian of the Threshold, who stole the Tablets of Destiny from the Gods, and Ninurta, the God of agricultural and pastoral fertility,  who was sent to slay Anzu and retrieve the tablets.”

“Hmmm… This is a late interpretation of the iconography I take it?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, let’s see now, ‘Anzu’ was a Thunder-Bird, was possibly the Thunder-Bird and ‘Ninurta’ is carrying Lightning-Bolts.”

“That’s very good. A straight forward depiction of the thunder-storm.”

“Well, hardly straight forward but, essentially, yes…”

“No, those figures could hardly be described as straight forward…”

“Legs going one way…”

“…Body going the other.”

“Didn’t we have that, monster ‘looking-back-over-its-shoulder’ thing as symbolic of time at one point?”

“We did, and again, this may well be our original depiction of that concept. Not a bad effort given that, in one interpretation, this monster stole the Tablets of Destiny.”

“Not a bad effort given that, in another interpretation, thunder and lightning occur simultaneously but we see lightning first.”

“I think I like that interpretation better.”

“Even though this culture might not have known that thunder and lightning are simultaneous?”

“They knew an awful lot about the stars, and the sky, and if this is a depiction of a thunder storm, then they clearly did know. Besides, its more organic.”

“Or less contrived. Is this part of Gilgamesh?”

“Strictly speaking, no…”

“And leniently speaking?”

“Well, therein lies a tale…”

“I’m all ears.”




Fancy Dress…


Pity the man who sees too deeply

for he alone knows the terrible secret of superficiality.

It is self-preservation that demands we be fickle, and false, and frivolous.

Anybody dependant upon this ‘sorbet of surfaces’ to any extent

must at one time have tried and failed to penetrate beneath it.

Yet to find pleasure in falsifying life’s image,

precisely to the degree in which their own world was spoiled,

can be regarded as the mark of an artist.

And perhaps it is only artists that can dress man

in colour, and light, and goodness

so that we no longer have to suffer

at the unadorned sight of ourselves.

Heart and Soul…


Pious people generally are unaware

how much latitude is necessary for

 a scholar to take the religious problem seriously.

It is only by viewing the question historically

that it seems to make any sense at all.

But even then our scholar stands no nearer piety.

Every age possesses its signature niavety

of which all other ages are envious.

How charming the notion that a pious man

be surpassed by the scholar,

by that presumptious half-man,

inventor and High-Priest of ‘modern ideas’!