Ace Swords Hermes Salamander - "Indra's Miracle Web"

Indra’s Miracle Web

For the moment, we’re just numbers to some
As we waken to be stewards
To this beauteous orb
This grand planet, so majestic!
We are so blessed and don’t know it yet.
Can you now choose to embrace
All your natural birthrights
And shuck off the husk?

Getting closer, yes our time it is night.
Post-American reality
Makes its visions known.
All is changing, all is moving
Quickly becoming something else new.
What will it all come to be,
When we start to acknowledge
Just how we’re needed?

I’m a dreamer, I have visions myself
Of a time when each of us remembers
Why we are here
What we came for, who we really are
‘neath shallow and brittlest masks
I’m just another yourself
You’re my mirror and I am yours.

Drance among the trees
Skipping along with dolphins
Salamanders breeze
Crackling through air with undines
All connected we are
(Indra’s miracle web.)

6 Swords Hades Phoenix - Lughnaghsadh!

Lughnaghsadh!

Six weeks have passed since the Sun
reached its peak from our earthsome
viewpoint. Already, the days feel so much
shorter than before. Try as some might to avoid it
Autumn has announced her timely arrival
on the shores of our Augusted consciousness.
If we let our eyes but see, the ants and squirrels
busy themselves with their preparations
for winter’s onslaught, much as our ancestors
did at one time (and our descendants no
doubt will take up again, contemporary
Grasshoppery notwithstanding). Sitting
underneath this wise Standing Person
in the midst of Albanian Washington Park
I trust in the mother of us all, this Gaia
that supports my very life, the one without
of which I am but atoms and particles
that would circulate in space without tether.
Pleromic unification around divine spark
but holds all threads together, embodied fragile
as this hirsute poet desirous of shucking
off the shorts in addition to shirt and sandals.
Our beknighted scientists, near-sighted Gnostics
of ego, have formally arbitrated that the former
midpoints, those equinox and solstice brethren,
were actually seasons’ beginnings. To differ
I beg. For really there are eight seasons,
and the one in which we are now infounded
has a strange Celtic name that looks unutterable.
Lughnaghsadh it is called, for a celebration
of the sun god Lugh. This fire festival of yore
serves to mark the initial harvests of the fields
and calls us to gather in what we have reaped
on our way to the midpoint of Mabon, fall’s
day with its equal night. Oh, it is a sweet
time of year, as the corn itself brings out
its sugar and crafts such delicious starches.
Soon the butternuts, acorns and sweet dumpling
squashes will be making their market debuts.
And I sing a song for cooling skies to become
commonplace come September, indeed the favored
turn of the wheel of the year. I smile blessings
outward to all. Happy Lughnaghsadh, one and all.

Tower Hephaestus Deer - Musings on courage

It occurred to me today that today's world is so paralyzed and intoxicated with addictive hate, that it really does take courage to love and to hold myself and others accountable for our actions. The whiny worshippers of Jehovah-Satan (Yaldabaoth) pretty much wish to remain children. I think there are a number of people within the sciences that want to stay that way, just as much as I know there are within the arts. I myself have long felt rueful about being a playwright. I wish I could do theater without "theater people," many of whom are as addicted to drama offstage as they are alive to it onstage. People who wish to shuffle off their responsibilities to be human beings just make me tired.

And they deserve my love as much as our next sick and suffering fellows do, "in or out of the rooms of [Empire] Anonymous." Alcoholics=Narcotics=Overeaters=Gamblers=Sex & Love Addicts=Debtors=Empire=Domestication=Socialization=Absence-in-all-but-Body. Anonymous.

Sometimes I wonder if I even have the strength to treat the likes of W, Cheney, Ann Coulter with lovingkindess. I know they won't appreciate it, they'll spit on it even. Try to stomp their feet in my face. And I struggle with knowing the difference between compassion and "idiot compassion," forgiveness that's appropriate and worthwhile and the "codependent forgiveness" that erodes my sense of self just to make nice and be "in-control." Sometimes the compassionate thing is to express outrage. Sometimes it's taking defensive measures, though I don't know that the Israeli rabbinical council's declamation that there are no innocents where they dropped their bombs is anything but raving madness that needs to be contained somehow.

I must strive to send blessings outward, and ask the cosmos to heal sick humanity. To be shown where compassionate action lies, because frankly I don't know. I know it's not in protesting, not for me anymore. Show me where a protest has an effect these days. I haven't seen it, mostly because the protest continues the addicts' game. Really, it's about surrender, about knowing what to surrender and how. I won't even go into "why" because that's just conundrum-in-the-making for my ever-hungry addict to play with.

There are some interesting synchronicities going on too. I've performed my "Hekate's Prayer for the Common American" a few times in Albany now. People seem to really respond to it, not just the "calling south" aspect of it--I use my body as a percussion instrument as I sing it out. They're responding to the words as well. We know we have to turn to each other to create the Big Edens that are inside us, that are immanent within. I have seen a town we future-residents call "Scanekta." I don't know if I'm spelling it right. It's funny, I moved up to Albany understanding that Schenectady was nearby, though I've not seen my vision of Scanekta there. I've met people, and I've even been able to stroll the meadows and streets pied nue and the rest of me too! In total acceptance, and even sometime lust in some of the town's more bawdy residents. In my visions.

I'm being prompted to focus on what lights me up. There will be opposition because where I need to go carries the "threat" that others will have to also look within to find the Kingdom of Heaven. I'm going out on a limb, but I say the life I want is not only possible, but it's inevitable. Others have lived it, I will live it, and I offer it up that I'm living it now. I'm all lit up.

Blessings.

2 Wands Hermes Bear

Hymn to Hermes

Ah, winged one, I don’t know why
I should have difficulties writing
a song to you, North God of my
understanding, but they multiply.
Perhaps it’s because you’re so intimate--
such a part and parcel of my mundane
existence. I employ the mail, use
the phone, I’m always communicating
and therefore I am embedded
in a reality as Hermetic as it’s
become Hadean, Kaliesque even.
Not to worry, not you. All of it
holds information. Scientists before me
often mistook their single pointed
awareness as reality’s cornerstone.
I refuse that tortuous error,
preferring instead to inhabit middle
spaces, seeking third modes of balance
midst technique and mystique.
Your godsome semibrother Hephaestus
favors craftsmen, but so too do you
in your own way. And know this,
Hermes, I do love thee as a brother,
albeit one who’s beyond mere corporality.
I see the beings in my pantheon
and those who come to visit as brethren.
I am I hope, sensible enough to grasp
that I don’t understand what makes
us equal, especially given that this
skin-packaged ego is slated for death,
amidst this deteriorating meat space.
Perhaps I will be engendering a magic
based on the current comprehension
of the transitional and the contingent?
I don’t know much, o Messenger God
of information, knowledge and the wisdom
perennial. I evoke you in the homely tones
of prayers to serenity without even knowing
of it. Therein I humbly seek you out
as companion into this realm of glorious
births, miraculous ascents, swoop-spectacular
falls and sweet endings. Sprinkle some of your
Trismegistal dirt on this hungry body. Cause
me to sing ululating praises to thee,
O Ruler of Geminis and Virgos.
Help me to lift the five hundred pound
And reach my voice out to others.
Helper of secretaries and lawyers alike.
You are community’s deity, Mercury.
Remind me I’ve nothing of which to fear.