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Tumbling muses

Tumbling muses, a cascade of language, a release from exactitude, so often poetry is not created, not constructed, never owned, not signed for in triplicate. It bursts upon the brain, insistent and immediate. Presumptious, impatient it will flounce off, melting into vagueness if not given full attention. ” If you don’t want me, I know someone else……”

The yaffle’s green laugh
Framing the numinous.
Splendour remains subdued-
The first splinters of Spring.

Time rushes silently by:
A wonder not noticed
But for a moment
Of pause.

Heaven is nowhere else
If it is not here, now.

When the sleeping wake,
when the dying relax,
When the conceited admit
Mystery,

Heaven will be here, now.

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This is one of my new prints from “The Lights of Sovereignty” series. This one is “The Light of Beltane”. A bit early, but then my “Light of Spring Equinox” decided to depixilate itself so I’ll have to upload the original again! These images, mandalas of light, complete the Energy Cards for our
Range of Sovereignty Essences (except for “the Merlin” and ” the Earth Goddess” which will arrive sometime, hopefully!).

Flowers of The Yew

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Yew notes

If you are drowning in the depths of winter, if you find the dark days dismal, if you are wearied by the woes of the world, if you find that you have lost your direction, lost your spark – then place yourself next to the banked-up fire of the yew tree spirit. Its constant energy and life- force will warm you through and help restore your core strengths and inspir new growth.
Yew is the oldest of trees, eternal, ever-living, vibrant wirh dragon-life, a great restorer and a great healer. Anchor you energies in the eternal silence of the yew tree and learn to sing again.

” I am Yew
Slow breath of Eternity
Joyful and profound

I am Yew
Well of Time
Source of Life.”

SONG OF THE YEW TEACHER

This is the song
Of the Yew Teacher,
The spiral snake,
The dragon healer.
Strong song and silent teacher.

Before the dawn
Before the first day
I knew the sun’s name
As it called me forth.

Pollen
Heavy,yellow
On the wind.

Red apple,
Sweet heart of death.

Green tongues and
life-blood fire.

Patient roaring,
Passion turning:

“come not with your mind
Nor your chatter.
Drown in me
Die in me
Join the centre:

The hub, the wheel,
The word,
The laughter.
The fire inside,
Concealed, concealing.

Wood and weather,
Warm and winter.

In my shadow,
Dance,
Dissolve.”

Past the sitting one who sees
Past the root into the chamber
Where the watchers weave and gather
Where the dragon’s breath is potent
Where the silver wheel is woven
Where the time is marked and measured
Where the space is held and hallowed

Where the land is named
And numbered.

” I am fire
And I am water.

I am earth
And I am ether”

This is the heart of Time,
The heart of matter,

The drum of centuries
The door
The silence…..

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The Ten Mahavidyas

The mahavidyas, or “great wisdoms”, “wisdom goddesses”, or “Ten objects of Transcendent Wisdom” is a medieval Indian system of metaphysical thought that brings together aspects of goddess energy in a powerful and evocative manner. In certain aspects it falls outside the more familiar Hindu orthodoxy, whilst deepening and adding commentary to the esoteric traditions of the Himalayan region.

I first came across the Mahavidyas in my fourth year at the University of Edinburgh and was drawn to the powerful imagery- especially as presented in Alain Danielou’s “Hindu Polytheism”- so that I incorporated elements of symbolism in my sculpture projects. At the time I was using the image of the bowl a lot in my work and it seemed an ideal form to express the numinous within the familiar. A container of space, requiring emptiness to define itself, the bowl has often been employed as a metaphor for the polarity of existence.
Much more recently I was asked to make images representing each Mahavidya in the same way that I found symbolic forms for tree energies. It took a while to consider. It is one thing tuning into a tree energy and seeing how to visually freeze that unique energy dance, it is a different matter of scale to do the same to a powerful universal energy presence. Resolution came when I acknowledged that the Mahavidya energy patterns are transgender, transhuman, transspatial, transtemporal, transcultural entities. In other words, it was not necessary to get “permission” or authentication to begin this work. They do not belong to any one species or gender or time or theology, though their symbolic references will be culturally specific. I am possessed wholly by these energies as I am with the frequencies of the electro-magnetic spectrum. I do not need to achieve knowledge or understanding outside of myself. In fact they have a more permanent existence than what I consider to be my own personal reality.

MAHAKALI

Great Time
Time accumulating,
Licking
Laughing.
Disintegrates
your considerate sciences,
Your careful measured certainty.

Unfettered
Definitions cease.
Knowing Her
There is nothing else to know.

Beyond subatomic passion,
Endless rest, but awake.

Scurrilous,
Untramelled Reality,
Radiant darkness
Embedded, entangled,
Woven into solidity

Solid time
Still time
Waiting time.
Ungraspable, unavoidable

Warm red tongue
Licking your soul.
Warm lips clasping.

Atrocious vastness,
Contigious unity,
Invisible light
Revealed.

Exploding souls
Supernovae.

The image above is one of a series of prints I made of the Mahavidyas and related energies. This one is Kali, the Great Night of Time, Deathless Silence, Perfect Bright Darkness. Kali means ‘time’.
Though these energies are personified and worshipped as deities, they transcend all human categorisation and all cultural niceties. They are raw reality, which is why they are so scary! Any image is Mahakali, every concept is Mahakali. This image I have made is therefore perfectly MahaKali, though not exclusively so!!

If you are interested inseeing the other images or purchasing a few(!!) please go to click here

Djinns for dinner

Sandstorm on Party Night, Kuwait City.

Uninvited, yet
They all came in, happy
And yelling
From the desert.

Djinns dressed
In sand and wind.
Dancing to their own
Songs –
Wild melodies,
Drones.
Dancers spinning
Skirts of dust,
Spinning round the mango trees,
Spinning orange blossoms
Off the bushes.

They stayed too long,
Loud and restless,
And when they chose to go,
Slowly,
One by one,
Their cries echoing
Down the hidden streets,
Nothing was left
Except their buffeted
Debris.

And for us earthbound,
Solid watchers,
only a sense of bewildered
frustration,mild
Irritation at the dusty
Silence,
The slippery surface
Of things.

The desertion of energy,
The everyday aftermath
Of the unexpected,
The return
Of time.

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Desert Dawn

Desert dawn

So in morning we headed out well before daybreak, past the refineries glowing like giant topaz crystals, into the desert to watch the sunrise.

Turning off the road between scrub bushes: small desert mice in the headlights scurrying out of the way.

On a slight rise, we stop and lay out the rug, light the charcoal stove and put the kettle on. It will only take an hour to boil! Cool stillness, high half moon, Venus alone in the night sky, a mirage of road lights swaying on the horizon.

Gradually light rises, not blue but violet grey; wind polished pebbles of white, yellow, black, translucent like sugar, evenly cover the crust of cream-coloured sand, take form and shadow.

The history of days and nights: small scurrying footprints, undulating grooves of tails, doubled hopping of birds and tentative quarrying for food or shelter.

As the moon grows brighter the sky becomes white over purple- grey in the east, the faint disc shows, grows and fills with white. Facing the sun, no warmth yet, and a wind cool on the neck. The cry of a disturbed bird, distant rumble from camels a little way off, stirring, then gliding away to graze.

Slowly the warmth flows down warming the cool sand. Strong, hot tea. We wander away singly or in groups,out and back. Silence and laughter. Eyes resting on muted colour, clear horizons, still earth, hollow perfect blue sky.

As the heat blossoms: coffee, aromatic, spice- rich, in the tent of the camel farmer. Brown, white, chocolate camels, loose- limbed, nonchalent, splayed impossibly, bird- beaked, love-filled eyes, grumble and turn to watch, or not.

Time measured by heat,
black beetle,
flash of hawk,
chatter of sparrows.
A day seamless
and silky- sweet as fresh camel milk.

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Nocturne:Perigee

Perigee Dream

Arabian night.

Flying through moonlight

Four laughing princesses.

The lights of heaven

One mile below us.

Returning to the garden:

Cicadas,

fragrant

Shadows. 

Complete

Full

The moon floats

In between

and knows:

All dreams are one dream

All sleeping is one sleep

All songs are one song

All loves are one love

All hearts are one heart

There is only human being

Only one sigh

Only one breath

Only one moment.

This song is an old song

With new words

And a new tune.

The return of

Spring,

Forever the return of spring.

Four laughing princesses

Spinning in the night sky.

How a language is written, how the sounds are turned to shape. What changes, what pathways are found and lost? Here we have English, painfully constructed step by step from left to right, from past to future, letter by separate letter, precise as bricklaying.

Does each language- tongue music- become more or less when it is understood? It stays art when the medium of sounds and the message of symbols somehow dance together. Otherwise it is in danger of becoming a servant to the mundane instruction.
Free of meaning it stays a sussuration of mind, sine wave and pattern in the white noise of the universe.

Arabic script is maybe one of the artistically fluent of language symbols. It reminds me of medieval musical notation, rise and fall of chant, images on a distant horizon, ripples on the surface of a stream……..

Woke like Coleridge from the opium of sleep:
Flashes of glimmer
scales of colour
Slippery eels sinuous muscular lines of language
Lost in murky depths.

Sitting in dapples of sunlight.
Lost in the tree tops are the
Voices of doves,
Maybe angels
Or djinns
Blown in from the desert
Lonely,
After
So many endless years
Of pious
Rigid-backed denial –
The bitter tongues
Of the righteous.

So many pious years

In the dark cool cave before dawn:

Day by day
The moon is filling up
With tears.

Even with a thousand arms,
Kannon,
How shall you gather up
All the lost?

How encompass
All the bereft?

Things
Are moments
And cannot be prevented
From flying away.
Even the stars….

Even the stars.

This spring
Under the cherry blossom
Will gather the wan smiling ghosts
Once more.

We are dust
Held together by song.

Sing
Sing
Before the song is forgot.

The tongues of the djinn
Fading in daylight.
Muttering
Back to the cerebellum,
To practice cadence
And metre.

Voices in Arabic:
The wind as it dances and whips
Around tent wires and mast heads,
Aeolian harmony
Between knotted spirals
Dust devils
Sand patterns.
Well water
Cold night air
Crescent moon.

In Kuwait,
She said,
Every household
Had a musician,
Every one
A diver
For pearls
Of cool, iridescent
Beauty.
Oud in the shade of night fall……

A trial to see if text and pictures upload to this blog. Throwing sticks in a river and seeing where they go!
Working from an iPad adds new levels of stuff perhaps. I expect I will get used to working in the dark. I find working on a screen is like being in an unfamiliar dark room with only a small torch. You can see what you are looking at but everything else dissappears back into obscurity! Kim’ s game with virtual objects, files, pages,……yikes.
Here is an ephemeral light painting, one of many. Illuminating nothing, ripples in the ether.

Words are pictures

White page
White mind.

The mind moves
The pen moves.

Outside sounds fade-
The tide of mind roars near.

Whose thoughts are these?
Whence do they come?

Writing in light.
Talking in silence.

Take a thought
Watch it drop
A thousand miles.
Take another……..

Last night
The moon was an ark,
Half light, half dark,
Sweeping through a drift of cloud.
Half the world sleeping,
Half the world watching.
All dreaming.

Shifting on its axis
The earth dreams thst there was a cry
Arising in the east.
Debris swept across lands
What was, suddenly is not.
Dreaming,
The breath comes in
The breath releases.

Echoes
Dreams
Reflections