TURFING

(Vimana III - Gwyllm Llwydd)


Well the world keeps turning and life keeps churning. I have a few new projects going, but I felt in the mood this evening for a bit o' Turfing...

This one seems full of 'P's' for some reason, just check out the titles. Anyhoooo... here is to the future and those who are gathered together to deliver it kicking and squirming. I was lucky enough to stumble upon some writings from Dale R. Gowin, a fellow traveler...

Oh yes, I want to share with you that I heard from Walter Medeiros that he finally got Satty's 'Visions Of Frisco' published! Check back to Earthrites/Turfing in the next couple of days, and I will have ordering information for you!

I hope you enjoy this entry... 8o)

Bright Blessings,
Gwyllm
________

On The Menu:
Portishead - The Rip
Principles Of Revolutionary Luminism - Dale R. Gowin
Poetry For Spring: Hafiz
Portishead - We Carry On
_______
Portishead - The Rip (Live Jools Holland

________

And Now.... I know Dale from a Email Group that we are both on. If you get a chance, check out his site (listed below) I think he is truly onto something, and I tip my hat to him- Gwyllm

A brief word from Dale R. Gowin:

The Luminist Manifesto - The Future Begins Now

Three axioms of a viable worldwide revolutionary consensus:

I. Every person born on Earth is an equal co-heir of the commonwealth of Earth.
II. No collective policy is legitimate unless it has the full consent and agreement of every person affected by it.
III. Voluntary cooperation for mutual benefit is the most efficient and satisfactory basis for all economic and social relations.


Principles Of Revolutionary Luminism
By Dale R. Gowin

www.luminist.org


This essay was written in 1996 while the author was incarcerated in a prison in New York State. It was revised in January 1998, and further revisions were made in June 1998. It includes a summary of some of the concepts contained in the Proposal for the Formation of the Church of Gnostic Luminism.


The goals of Revolutionary Luminism are the total liberation of the human race, individually and collectively, and a worldwide expansion of human consciousness into higher, more inclusive states from which the realities of our present historical and evolutionary situation can be accurately perceived and properly addressed.

Revolutionary Luminism seeks to enable the self-actualization of every member of the human race, and seeks to implement a worldwide society that will insure full liberty, autonomy, and security for every woman and man on Earth - not a "world government": rather a worldwide grassroots free-market anarchocommunist commonwealth based on voluntary cooperation, individual liberty and personal responsibility - "all for (every) one and (every) one for all".

This vision has been the goal of all true revolutionary movements in history, though it has never been realized due to the unripeness of human evolution and the counter-revolutionary strategies of a privileged elite addicted to tyrannical power and personal profit.

The vision of a worldwide libertarian commonwealth has also been the secret goal of an underground tradition which has existed within and outside of the Freemasonic Fraternities of the world - a tradition which traces its history through the Theosophists and Rosicrucians, the Illuminati and the Knights Templar, the Gnostics and the Essenes, Hermeticists and Pythagoreans, and on back into the mists of pre-history.

We are now entering an era in which these strands are twining together and this elusive dream of liberty is becoming both a real possibility and a real necessity - at the least a necessity for the preservation of civilization, and ultimately a prerequisite for human survival on Earth.

The forces which oppose our goal are also uniting, and are in fact in virtually complete control of Earth at this moment. Their motivation is to squeeze Earth like a grape and quench their lust for short-range profits on Her final agonies. As Jim Keith writes: "If you haven't gotten the idea that this world is run by a criminal elite lacking the slightest concern for the welfare of mankind, then you haven't been paying attention."

This opposition is led by a dark cabal of ultra-rich elitists who are plotting the establishment of a totalitarian world government, a "new world order" in which the institutional violence and coercion of State Authority will be cemented into permanence. The top 3% of Earth's population who own or control 97% of our substance seek to realize their 6,000-year-old objective of world domination. They plan to use their technologies of mass brainwashing and mind control, genocide, genetic manipulation, and ecocide to totally enslave or eliminate entire cultures, classes, and races of humanity. They plan to establish an omnipotent, monolithic, hierarchical, insectoid technocracy which will crush human liberty into extinction beneath its jack-boots.

We will not allow them to achieve their twisted apocalyptic dream. A signal has gone forth through the synapses of all sentient life, an alarm bell to wake the sleeping masses. We must rouse ourselves from our somnambulistic trance, shake off the chains of State and Corporate conditioning and indoctrination, and take our places in the spontaneously arising Legions of Light, Life, Love, and Liberty that are unfurling their banners throughout the world.

The entrenched late-20th-century power structures of Earth comprise the ultimate and absolute enemy of human liberty, equality and fraternity; of biodiversity and ecological health; of truth, justice, and love; of the survival of life on Earth.

Revolutionary Luminism is a flaming sword that can slay this world-consuming Leviathan.

BASIC PRINCIPLES
The term Luminism (also spelled "Illuminism") refers to the experience of "enlightenment" - the expansion of human consciousness into states which allow direct personal experience of reality (gnosis).

This expanded consciousness provides access to new perspectives from which the apparent contradictions between science and religion disappear, as well as those between the spiritual and the political.

For convenience, the essential revelations made available by the gnostic experience can be summarized under four basic philosophical headings:

(1) Ontology, or, "What is real?"

(2) Epistemology, or, "How do you know?" (Both grammatical senses of this question are implied; i.e., "What is the source and nature of your knowledge?" and "How does knowing happen?")

(3) Ethics, or, "What is the right (good, virtuous, beneficial) way for us to live and act as humans on Earth?" and

(4) Political theory, or, "How should human society on Earth be organized?"

The concepts summarized below are not presented as dogma to be believed; rather they are discoveries made by empirically verifiable research, which can be experimentally demonstrated and proven in the laboratory of the human mind and heart.

I. Ontology:
Consciousness in itself is the First Cause, the Prime Mover, the Supreme Being. Consciousness in itself comprises the totality of "ultimate reality". Consciousness is prior to, not a product of, material forms. Consciousness in itself permeates all of time and space, yet it is not limited to the dimensions of time and space; it may be referred to technically as "eternal" and "infinite". Consciousness in itself is formless, yet it permeates and manifests all forms.

Consciousness is a basic force of the universe, like gravity and the nuclear forces that bind atoms together. The human brain does not generate consciousness as an "epiphenomenon", like a generator produces electricity; rather, the brain is analogous to a radio receiver that picks up the "broadcast" of consciousness.

Consciousness is in itself the ultimate identity or "true self" of every person and every living being. The human "ego" or apparent self is an artificial construct comprised of various levels of exterior identifications. These levels include the mind (memories, habits of thought, mannerisms, personality); the body (appearance, gender); one's physical accoutrements (clothing, car, house, property, etc.); and one's "social self" (family, genealogy, tribe, nation, class, race, etc.). The "true self" - the part of one's self that is ultimately real - is prior to all of these and dependent on none of them.

Your own innermost Self (whoever you are) is a pure expression of universal Consciousness, embodying and enlivening the various levels of exterior being that comprise your apparent self. As such, the True Self has no beginning and no end, was not created and cannot be destroyed (in conformation with the laws of conservation of matter and energy). What we call "death" is the change that occurs when one's essential Self separates from the various levels of exterior identification that it has been attached to during a specific sojourn in time and space. The True Self, your own most real essence, cannot die.

When the True Self separates from its outermost (physical) levels of identification, yet retains connection with various intermediate (mental, emotional) levels, it may retain connection to the physical world and return to physical life in a new body (i.e. reincarnate). This return occurs in obedience to a force of attraction caused by one's deeds, words, and thoughts during a lifetime, which cause vibratory reactions (every action has an equal and opposite reaction). This force of attraction is called "karma" in Sanskrit and is a fundamental law of the universe.

II. Epistemology:
Consciousness knows the truth about itself and about all things. Every human being can access this knowledge by "going within" or focusing one's attention on the subjective nature of one's consciousness rather than one's exterior identifications.

This inward focusing of the attention can lead to the experience of Illumination, or spontaneous intuitive apprehension of reality. Knowledge obtained in this manner is accompanied by a subjective sense of certainty and authenticity. With experience and training, this sense of certainty can be tuned and refined into an instrument of exacting accuracy and precision. It may indeed become one of the standard tools of 21st century science.

The Illumination experience can be nurtured and developed by numerous methods that have been developed during many millennia of underground Luminist experimentation and research. Among these methods are yoga, meditation, religious practices, shamanism, the martial arts, ceremonial Magick, Qabalah, sensory deprivation, modern technologies like biofeedback and "brain machines", and - most importantly for our own era - controlled use of entheogenic (psychedelic) herbs and chemicals.

These tools and techniques can facilitate access to altered states of consciousness of many sorts. One classic reference to these altered states was written by the seminal psychologist and philosopher William James in his Varieties of Religious Experience: "Sour normal waking consciousness, rational consciousness as we call it, is but one special type of consciousness, whilst all about it, parted from it by the filmiest of screens, there lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different. We may go through life without suspecting their existence; but apply the requisite stimulus, and at a touch they are there in all their completeness, definite types of mentality which probably somewhere have their field of application and adaptation. No account of the universe in its totality can be final which leaves these other forms of consciousness quite disregarded."

Results obtained from the Illumination experience can be checked and verified by the syncretic/eclectic method of objective analysis. "Syncretic" implies awareness of and open-mindedness toward all available sources of knowledge; and "eclectic" implies the selective use of only those elements of each which prove to be valid after exacting scrutiny and careful evaluation. When information deriving from gnostic experiences is supported by a "preponderance of evidence" from multiple sources, it may be tentatively accepted as valid. When one's personal revelations harmonize with the "golden thread" of valid truth found by syncretic/eclectic research in the myriads of religious, philosophical, and scientific traditions of Earth, then the results may be accepted as reliable and sound.

III. Ethics
All living beings, as has been said above, are expressions of the same universal essence (which may be referred to as Consciousness, Life, Spirit, God, or the Self, according to personal preference). The recognition that other beings share one's own essential Self forms the basis of all truly valid ethical principles. The ideal referred to as "the Golden Rule" in Christianity reflects this central realization. In practical terms, it might be expressed in the words, "Pain hurts (and pleasure pleases) the other as much as it does me." Thus compassion and empathy are valid guides to ethical correctness in all situations.

To exterior appearance, living beings seem to be separate, but the eyes of Illumination reveal that the Many are fundamentally inseparable from the One. Therefore, ultimately, anything which benefits another also benefits oneself, and "an injury to one is an injury to all". The principle of mutual aid follows from this realization. Actions which benefit others as well as oneself are ethically sound, and aid to some degree in the upliftment of the collectivity of which the individual is a part; and actions which benefit oneself at the expense or to the detriment of others are ethically wrong in that they detract to some degree from the wellbeing of the whole.

The accuracy of the information that flows between individuals in society is an essential element of the healthful functioning of the totality, in the same way that the flow of neuroelectrical data through the human nervous system and the synapses of the brain is integral to the healthful functioning of the body and the cells which compose it. Therefore truthfulness is an essential ethical principle of the highest importance. Truthfulness may be defined as an honest attempt to embody and bear witness to the truth to the best of one's ability, and to refrain from deliberately deceiving or misleading others. On a personal level, truthfulness eliminates the accumulation of subconscious "baggage", lingering thoughts and feelings that are repressed from conscious awareness. This "baggage" impedes the consciousness expansion necessary for Illumination and insulates the individual from participation in the telepathic or transpersonal psychic experiences which provide meaning and enrichment to our lives and aid in the acceleration of human social evolution into more humane and intelligent forms.

Harmlessness, ahimsa in Sanskrit, is the attempt to live in such a way as to inflict the absolute minimum necessary harm to other living beings, rooted in the realization that they are not truly "other" but co-participants with us in an organic totality. One immediate application of this principle is vegetarianism, the choice to refrain from eating the flesh of animals or using products whose production involves the death or suffering of animals. On a purely physical level, there is strong evidence that humans are not genetically designed to digest animal flesh, but that the human teeth and digestive system was engineered by evolution to process seeds, nuts, grains, fruits and herbs. Anthropological evidence indicates that our early human ancestors were not hunters, but scavengers who harvested bone-marrow from the leavings of carnivores during shortages of plant proteins. Actual flesh eating probably originated from the extreme environmental pressures of the Pleistocene ice age. Continuation of this practice in times of abundance is detrimental to human health. On a spiritual level, vegetarianism aids in the development of empathy, compassion, and the realization of the unity of all life.

Another essential principle is pacifism, the choice to refrain from deliberately harming or injuring other humans. Aside from the minimum force necessary to protect the life and liberty of self and loved ones, it is wrong to participate in the infliction of harm on others, either personally or by participation in social institutions formed to inflict wholesale harm. Conscientious application of this principle requires us to refrain from supporting such institutions in any way, even by taxation, and to do everything within our power to aid in their reduction and elimination.

Similarly, anarchism, considered as an ethical principle, is the choice to refrain from any form of coercion, and refusal to participate in any social institutions that practice it (i.e. government, which actually is a form of organized crime wearing a thin veneer of pretended legitimacy). By extension, this principle requires us to aid the deconstruction and dissolution of such institutions, and their replacement with institutions based on voluntary cooperation and mutual aid, in every possible way.

The principle of biostewardship is the responsibility we share as humans to care for and preserve the ecological health and safety of the natural world of which we are apart, and the biodiversity of our environment. We must actively oppose any institution, "public" or "private", which needlessly endangers or harms the flora and fauna of Earth.

IV. Political Theory:
Every human being is a citizen of the Universe, prior to citizenship in any lesser jurisdiction such as nation or race. Proof of citizenship is the fact of existence; your membership card is your belly button. Universal citizenship confers certain inherent and inalienable rights, including, as Thomas Jefferson phrased it, "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness".

Every person who is alive on Earth is a co-heir of Earth, entitled by right of inheritance to a fair and equal share of the resources drawn from the planet by society. Thus, no person can legitimately be deprived of access to the necessities of life, including food, shelter, clothing, medical care and education. A clear indicator of the degree of justice in a society is the extent to which it insures these rights to every citizen. Any society that denies the essential prerequisites of survival to any person is unjust, an outlaw state; and it is the moral duty of all honest Earth-dwellers to work tirelessly toward the abolition of such states, and their replacement with alternative social institutions based on voluntary cooperation and mutual aid.

The just society will recognize the Royal Sovereignty of the Individual. Within the sphere of private actions which do not infringe upon the liberty and autonomy of others, the freedom of the individual is absolute. Any coercive interference with the freedom of individual action, if such action does no harm to others, is tyranny, and may justly be resisted by any means necessary.

The authority with which the collective decisions of a just society will be enforced will be legitimate only if it has the full, informed, voluntary consent and agreement of every person affected by it. "Authority" imposed without consent is tyranny, and may justly be resisted by any means necessary.

A worldwide social system based on these Revolutionary Luminist principles is destined to come into being on Earth; its pattern is programmed into the DNA code of the human species. The ancient prayer, "Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven", expresses a foreshadowing of this future society. However, our achievement of this genetic destiny is threatened by the dark powers that rule the planet in these last days of the Old Millenium - forces intoxicated by the evil and averse dream of world domination, armed with geocidal megadeath machines, blindly pursuing the illusory loot of profit and power at the expense of all else. A choice must be made between these two destinies, and those who are now alive on Earth must make this choice.

The worldwide voluntary/cooperative society of the future can be prefigured by the social-organic metaphor. The goods and services required for survival and happiness will be provided to every individual by society in the same way that the bloodstream nourishes each cell of our bodies. A technological communication and information system will connect every member of society just as the nervous system connects the cells and organs of our bodies. In a healthy organic system, every discrete unit is autonomous and self-regulating; each cell follows its own built-in instructions (i.e. its own "will").

The economy of the future world society will not require money as a medium of exchange; it will be a gift economy. Goods and services will be provided as free gifts to whoever needs them, and the work of production will be performed voluntarily, as each worker chooses. The motivation for production will be the natural human desire to provide superior enjoyments for self and others. The increased efficiency afforded by a voluntary/cooperative economy, coupled with the technologies of cybernetic automation, will provide virtually limitless abundance and leisure for everyone.

Bringing this future society into being will require an act of revolution on an unprecedented scale. It is the nature of coercive authority to resist relinquishing its grip on its victims at all costs. The 6,000-year-old conspiracy of darkness that rules the Earth today and threatens us all with, in George Orwell's words, "a boot stamping on a human face forever", is so entrenched and all-pervasive that it can only be deposed by a spontaneous, simultaneous worldwide uprising of the people. Bringing this revolution about is the only activity that is truly worthwhile; it provides the only hope for a future of liberty, security and peace, for an end to the suffering, tyranny, and ecocide that characterizes 20th century Earth society. We have had the First and Second World Wars; now we must have the First World Revolution.

But "revolution" does not necessarily imply "violence". Such tactics as work stoppages, boycotts, tax refusal, and organization of cooperatives and collectives, have the potential to bring the planetary death machine down, if enough people participate.

The Revolutionary Luminist strategy for creating the necessary worldwide social revolution involves making the miracle of Illumination available to as many Earthdwellers as possible. As minds and hearts around the world are opened to the light of revelation, the innate intuitive recognition of the necessity of change will be unavoidable for more and more women and men every day. A clear consensus of "the way it ought to be" will begin to emerge as a "critical mass" of humanity becomes awakened.


________

Poetry For Spring: Hafiz


I Will Hire You as a Minstrel

Take one of my tears,
Throw it into the ocean

And watch the salt in the wounds
Of this earth and men begin to disappear.

Take one of my tears
And cradle it in your palm.
Mount a great white camel
And carry my love into every desert,
Paying homage to every Prophet
Who has ever walked in our world.

O take one of my tears
And stop weeping only for sadness,

For there is so much More to this life
Than you now understand.

Take one of my tears
And become like the Happy One,
O like the Happy One --
Who now lives Forever
Within me.

When a drop from my Emerald Sea
Touches your soul's mouth,
It will dissolve everything but your Joy
And an Eternal Wonder.

Then,
The Beloved will gladly hire you
As His minstrel

To go traveling about this world,
Letting everyone upon this earth

Hear
The Beautiful Names of God
Resound in a thousand chords!

Hafiz himself is singing tonight
In Resplendent Glory,

For the cup in my heart
Has revealed the Beloved's Face,
And I have His oath in writing

That He will never again depart.

0 Hafiz, take one of your tears,
For you are weeping like a golden candle-

Throw one tear into the Ocean of your own verse

And let the wounds
Of every lover of God who kneels in prayer
And comes close to your words
Begin, right now,
To disappear.
---
The Secret

I need a drink, wine maiden, that cup with grape stain lined,
for love that once seemed pleasing has burdened down my mind.

Ah smell how West Wind wafts her musk through the tavern door;
now feel our pumping hearts beat fast, watch our fears unwind.

Why do we who visit love think we'd stay forever?
We know the yearn to wander will always lovers find.

So we asked the Elder: What law makes love bring pain?
Sobriety, he laughed, you'll feel better when you're wined.

Your plight cannot be aided by that dull fear to risk
the toss and turn of love's dark storm upon the ocean blind.

See clear in all these gathered friends who still hold you dear
love's secret is that you must love without desires that bind.

Hafez, enjoy the one you love, drink deep and embrace;
seek not with her to please your world, just give love and be kind.
---
What Happens?

What happens when your soul
Begins to awaken
Your eyes
And your heart
And the cells of your body
To the great Journey of Love?

First there is wonderful laughter
And probably precious tears

And a hundred sweet promises
And those heroic vows
No one can ever keep.

But still God is delighted and amused
You once tried to be a saint.

What happens when your soul
Begins to awake in this world

To our deep need to love
And serve the Friend?

O the Beloved
Will send you
One of His wonderful, wild companions ~
Like Hafiz.
---

A Brimming Cup of Wine

A Flower-Tinted cheek, the flowery close
Of the fair earth, these are enough for me
Enough that in the meadow wanes and grows
The shadow of a graceful cypress-tree.
I am no lover of hypocrisy;
Of all the treasures that the earth can boast,
A brimming cup of wine I prize the most--
This is enough for me!

To them that here renowned for virtue live,
A heavenly palace is the meet reward;
To me, the drunkard and the beggar, give
The temple of the grape with red wine stored!
Beside a river seat thee on the sward;
It floweth past-so flows thy life away,
So sweetly, swiftly, fleets our little day--
Swift, but enough for me!

Look upon all the gold in the world's mart,
On all the tears the world hath shed in vain
Shall they not satisfy thy craving heart?
I have enough of loss, enough of gain;
I have my Love, what more can I obtain?
Mine is the joy of her companionship
Whose healing lip is laid upon my lip--
This is enough for me!

I pray thee send not forth my naked soul
From its poor house to seek for Paradise
Though heaven and earth before me God unroll,
Back to thy village still my spirit flies.
And, Hafiz, at the door of Kismet lies
No just complaint-a mind like water clear,
A song that swells and dies upon the ear,
These are enough for thee!
________

Portishead - We Carry On LIVE On Jools Holland

_________

One of those late at night postings...
so, short and sweet!

On The Menu:
Gradam Ceoil
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN MYRDIN AND HIS SISTER GWENDYDD
How Lancelot Came to the Nunnery in Search of the Queen
Cerdic And Arthur
Iarla O Lionaird - I Am Asleep

I return to the old theme, one of tribe, love, music, poetry. I hope you enjoy!

Gwyllm

_______
Gradam Ceoil

________



A DIALOGUE BETWEEN MYRDIN AND HIS SISTER GWENDYDD.

RED BOOK OF HERGEST I.

I. I have come to thee to tell
Of the jurisdiction I have in the North;
The beauty of every region has been described to me.

II. Since the action of Ardderyd and Erydon,
Gwendydd, and all that will happen to me,
Dull of understanding, to what place of festivity shall I go?

III. I will address my twin-brother
Myrdin, a wise man and a diviner,
Since he is accustomed to make disclosures
When a maid goes to him.

IV. I shall become the simpleton's song:
It is the ominous belief of the Cymry. The gale intimates
That the standard of Rydderch Hael is unobstructed.

V. Though Rydderch has the pre-eminence,
And all the Cymry under him,
Yet, after him, who will come?

VI. Rydderch Hael, the feller of the foe,
Dealt his stabs among them,
In the day of bliss at the ford of Tawy.

VII. Rydderch Hael, while he is the enemy
Of the city of the bards in the region of the Clyd;
Where will he go to the ford?

VIII. I will tell it to Gwendydd.
Since she has addressed me skilfully,
The day after to-morrow Rydderch Hael will not be.

IX. I will ask my far-famed twin-brother,
The intrepid in battle,
After Rydderch who will be?

X. As Gwenddoleu was slain in the blood-spilling of Ardderyd,
And I have come from among the furze,
Morgant Mawr, the son of Sadyrnin.

XI. I will ask my far-famed brother,
The fosterer of song among the streams,
Who will rule after Morgant?

XII. As Gwenddoleu was slain in the bloodshed of Ardderyd,
And I wonder why I should be perceived,
The cry of the country to Urien.

XIII, Thy head is of the colour of winter boar;
God has relieved thy necessities
Who will rule after Urien?

XIV. Heaven has brought a heavy affliction
On me, and I am ill at last,
Maelgwn Hir over the land of Gwynedd.

XV. From parting with my brother pines away
My heart, poor is my aspect along my furrowed cheek;
Now, after Maelgwn, who will rule?

XVI. Run is his name impetuous in the gushing conflict;
And fighting in the van of the army,
The woe of Prydein of the day!

XVII. Since thou art a companion and canon
Of Cunllaith, which with great expense we support,
To whom will Gwynedd go after Run?

XVIII. Run his name, renowned in war;
What I predict will surely come to pass,
Gwendydd, the country will be in the hand of Beli.

XIX. I will ask my far-famed twin-brother,
Intrepid in difficulties,
Who will rule after Beli?

XX. Since my reason is gone with ghosts of the mountain,
And I myself am pensive,
After Beli, his son Iago.

XXI. Since thy reason is gone with ghosts of the mountain,
And thou thyself art pensive,
Who will rule after Iago?

XXII. He that comes before me with a lofty mien,
Moving to the social banquet;
After Iago, his son Cadvan?

XXIII. The songs have fully predicted
That one of universal fame will come;
Who will rule after Cadvan?

XXIV. The country of the brave Cadwallawn,
The four quarters of the world shall hear of it;
The heads of the Angles will fall to the ground,
And there will be a world to admire it.

XXV. Though I see thy cheek so direful,
It comes impulsively to my mind,
Who will rule after Cadwallawn?

XXVI. A tall man holding a conference,
And Prydein under one sceptre,
The best son of Cymro, Cadwaladyr.

XXVII. He that comes before me mildly,
His abilities, are they not worthless?
After Cadwaladyr, Idwal.

XXVIII. I will ask thee mildly,
Far-famed, and best of men on earth,
Who will rule after Idwal?

XXIX. There will rule after Idwal,
In consequence of a dauntless one being called forth,
White-shielded Howel, the son of Cadwal.

XXX. I will ask my far-famed twin-brother,
The intrepid in war,
Who will rule after Howel?

XXXI. I will tell his illustrious fame,
Gwendydd, before I part from thee;
After Howel, Rodri.

XXXII. Cynan in Mona will be,
He will not preserve his rights;
And before the son of Rodri may be called,
The son of Cealedigan will be.

XXXIII. I will ask on account of the world,
And answer thou me gently;
Who will rule after Cynan?

XXXIV. Since Gwenddoleu was slain in the bloodshed of
Ardderyd, thou art filled with dismay;
Mervyn Vrych from the region of Manaw.

XXXV. I will ask my brother renowned in fame,
Lucid his song, and he the best of men,
Who will rule after Mervyn?

XXXVI. I will declare, from no malevolence,
The oppression of. Prydein, but from concern;
After Mervyn, Rodri Mawr.

XXXVII. I will ask my far-famed twin-brother,
Intrepid in the day of the war-shout;
Who will rule after the son of Rodri Mawr?

XXXVIII. On the banks of the Conwy in the conflict of Wednesday,
Admired will be the eloquence
Of the hoary sovereign Anarawd.

XXXIX. I will address my far-famed twin-brother,
Intrepid in the day of mockery,
Who will rule after Anarawd?

XL. The next is nearer to the time
Of unseen messengers;
The sovereignty in the band of Howel.

XLI. The Borderers have not been,
And will not be nearer to Paradise.
An order from a kiln is no worse than from a church.

XLII. I will ask my beloved brother,
Whom I have seen celebrated in fame,
Who will rule after the Borderers?

XLIII. A year and a half to loquacious
Barons, whose lives shall be shortened;
Every careless one will be disparaged.

XLIV. Since thou art a companion and canon of Cunllaith,
The mercy of God to thy soul!
Who will rule after the Barons?

XLV. A single person will arise from obscurity,
Who will not preserve his countenance;
Cynan of the dogs will possess Cymry.

XLVI. I will ask thee on account of the world,
Answer thou me gently,
Who will rule after Cynan?

XLVII. A man from a distant foreign country;
They will batter impregnable Caers
They say a king from a baron.

XLVIII. I will ask on account of the world,
Since thou knowest the meaning;
Who will rule after the Baron?

XLIX. I will foretell of Serven Wyn,
A constant white-shielded messenger,
Brave, and strong like a white encircled prison;
He will traverse the Countries of treacherous sovereigns;
And they will tremble before him as far as Prydein.

L. I will ask my blessed brother,
For it is I that is inquiring it,
Who will rule after Serven Wyn?

LI. Two white-shielded Belis
Will then come and cause tumult;
Golden peace will not be.

LII. I will ask my far-famed twin-brother,
Intrepid among the Cymry,
Who will rule after the two white-shielded Belis?

LIII. A. single passionate one with a beneficent mien,
Counselling a battle of defence;
Who will rule before the extermination?

LIV. I will ask my far-famed twin-brother,
Intrepid in the battle,
Who is the single passionate one
That thou predictest then?
What his name? what is he? when will he come?

LV. Gruffyd his name, vehement and handsome:
It is natural that he should throw lustre on his kindred;
He will rule over the land of Prydein.

LVI. I will ask my far-famed twin-brother,
Intrepid in battles,
Who shall possess it after Gruffyd?

LVII. I will declare from no malevolence,
The oppression of Prydein, but from concern;
After Gruffyd, Gwyn Gwarther.

LVIII. I will ask my far-famed twin-brother,
The intrepid in war,
Who will rule after Gwyn Gwarther?

LIX. Alas! fair Gwendydd, great is the prognostication of the oracle,
And the tales of the Sybil;
Of an odious stock will be the two Idases;
For land they will be admired; from their jurisdiction, long animosity.

LX. I will ask my far-famed twin-brother,
Intrepid in the battles,
Who will rule after them?

LXI. I will predict that no youth will venture;
A king, a lion with unflinching hand,
Gylvin Gevel with a wolf's grasp.

LXII. I will ask my profound brother,
Whom I have seen tenderly nourished,
After that who will be sovereign?

LXIII. To the multiplicity of the number of the stars
Will his retinue be compared;
He is Mackwy Dau Hanner.

LXIV. I will ask my unprotected brother,
The key of difficulty, the benefit of a lord--
Who will rule after Dan Hanner?

LXV. There will be a mixture of the Gwyddelian tongue in the battle,
With the Cymro, and a fierce conflict;
He is the lord of eight chief Caers.

LXVI. I will ask my pensive brother,
Who has read the book of Cado,
Who will rule after him?

LXVII. I say that he is from Reged,
Since I am solemnly addressed;
The whelp of the illustrious Henri,
Never in his age will there be deliverance.

LXVIII. I will ask my brother renowned in fame,
Undaunted among the Cymry,
Who will rule after the son of Henri?

LXIX. When there will be a bridge on the Tav, and another on the Tywi,
Confusion will come upon Lloegyr,
And I will predict after the son of Henri,
Such and such a king and troublous times will be.

LXX. I will ask my blessed brother,
For it is I that is inquiring,
Who will rule after such and such a king?

LXXI. A silly king will come,
And the men of Lloegyr will deceive him;
There will be no prosperity of country under him.

LXXII. Myrdin fair, of fame-conferring song,
Wrathful in the world,
What will be in the age of the foolish one?

LXXIII. When Lloegyr will be groaning,
And Cymir full of malignity,
An army will be moving to and fro.

LXXIV. Myrdin fair, gifted in speech,
Tell me no falsehood;
What will be after the army?

LXXV. There will arise one out of the six
That have long been in concealment;
Over Lloegyr he will have the mastery.

LXXVI. Myrdin fair, of fame-conferring stock,
Let the wind turn inside the house,
Who will rule after that?

LXXVII. It is established that Owein should come,
And conquer as far as London,
To give the Cymry glad tidings.

LXXVIII. Myrdin fair, most gifted and most famed,
For thy word I will believe,
Owein, how long will he continue?

LXXIX. Gwendydd, listen to a rumour,
Let the wind turn in the valley,
Five years and two, as in time of yore.

LXXX. I will ask my profound brother,
Whom I have seen tenderly nourished,
Who will thence be sovereign?

LXXXI. When Owein will be in Manaw,
And a battle in Prydyn close by,
There will be a man with men under him.

LXXXII. I will ask my profound brother,
Whom I have seen tenderly nourished,
After that who will be sovereign?

LXXXIII. A ruler of good breeding and good will he be,
Will conquer the land,
And the country will be happy with joy.

LXXXIV. I will ask my profound brother,
Whom I have seen tenderly nourished,
After that who will be sovereign?

LXXXV. Let there be a cry in the valley
Beli Hir and his men like the whirlwind;
Blessed be the Cymry, woe to the Gynt.

LXXXVI. I will ask my far-famed twin-brother,
Intrepid in battles,
After Beli who will be the possessor?

LXXXVII. Let there be a cry in the Aber,
Beli Hir and his numerous troops;
Blessed be the Cymry, woe to the Gwyddyl.

LXXXVIII. I will address my farfamed twin-brother
Intrepid in war;
Why woe to the Gwyddyl?

LXXXIX. I will predict that one prince will be
Of Gwynedd, after your affliction;
You will have a victory over every nation.

XC. The canon of Morvryn, how united to us
Was Myrdin Vrych with the powerful host,
What will happen until the wish be accomplished?

XCI. When Cadwaladyr will descend,
Having a large united host with him,
On Wednesday to defend the men of Gwynedd,
Then will come the men of Caer Garawedd.

XCII. Do not separate abruptly from me,
From a dislike to the conference;
In what part will Cadwaladyr descend?

XCIII. When Cadwaladyr descends
Into the valley of the Tywi,
Hard pressed will be the Abers
And the Brython will disperse the Brithwyr.

XCIV. I will ask my profound brother,
Whom I have seen tenderly nourished;
Who will rule from thenceforth?

XCV. When a boor will know three languages
In Mona, and his son be of honourable descent,
Gwynedd will be heard to be abounding in riches.

XCVI. Who will drive Lloegyr from the borders
Of the sea, who will move upon Dyved?
And as to the Cymry, who will succour them?

XCVII. The far-extended rout and tumult of Rydderch,
And the armies of Cadwaladyr,
Above the river Tardennin,
Broke the key of men.

XCVIII. Do not separate abruptly from me,
From dislike to the conference,
What death will carry off Cadwaladyr?

XCIX. He will be pierced by a spear from the strong timber
Of a ship, and a hand before the evening;
The day will be a disgrace to the Cymry.

C. Do not separate abruptly from me
From dislike to the conference,
How long will Cadwaladyr reign?

CI. Three months and three long years,
And full three hundred years
With occasional battles, he will rule.

CII. Do not separate abruptly from me
From dislike to the conference,
Who will rule after Cadwaladyr?

CIII. To Gwendydd I will declare;
Age after age I will predict;
After Cadwaladyr, Cynda.

CIV. A hand upon the sword, another upon the cross,
Let every one take care of his life;
With Cyndav there is no reconciliation.

CV. I will foretell that there will be one prince
Of Gwynedd, after your affliction,
You will overcome every nation.

CVI. And as to the tribe of the children of Adam,
Who have proceeded from his flesh,
Will their freedom extend to the judgment?

CVII. From the time the Cymry shall be without the aid
Of battle, and altogether without keeping their mien,
It will be impossible to say who will be ruler.

CVIII. Gwendydd, the delicately fair,
The first will be the most puissant in Prydein;
Lament, ye wretched Cymry!

CIX. When extermination becomes the highest duty,
From the sea to the shoreless land,
Say, lady, that the world is at an end.

CX. And after extermination becomes the highest duty,
Who will there be to keep order?
Will there be a church, and a portion for a priest?

CXI. There will be no portion for priest nor minstrel,
Nor repairing to the altar,
Until the heaven falls to the earth.

CXII. My twin-brother, since thou hast answered me,
Myrdin, son of Morvryn the skilful,
Sad is the tale thou hast uttered.

CXIII. I will declare to Gwendydd,
For seriously hast thou inquired of me,
Extermination, lady, will be the end.

CXIV. What I have hitherto predicted
To Gwendydd, the idol of princes.
It will come to pass to the smallest tittle.

CXV. Twin-brother, since these things will happen to me,
Even for the souls of thy brethren,
What sovereign after him will be?

CXVI. Gwendydd fair, the chief of courtesy,
I will seriously declare,
That never shall be a sovereign afterwards.

CXVII. Alas I thou dearest, for the cold separation,
After the coming of tumult,
That by a sovereign brave and fearless
Thou shouldst be placed under earth.

CXVIII. The air of heaven will scatter
Rash resolution, which deceives, if believed:
Prosperity until the judgment is certain.

CXIX. By thy dissolution, thou tenderly nourished,
Am I not left cheerless?
A delay will be good destiny when will be given
Praise to him who tells the truth.

CXX. From thy retreat arise, and unfold
The books of Awen without fear;
And the discourse of a maid, and the repose of a dream.

CXXI. Dead is Morgeneu, dead Cyvrennin
Moryal. Dead is Moryen, the bulwark of battle;
The heaviest grief is, Myrdin, for thy destiny.

CXXII. The Creator has caused me heavy affliction;
Dead is Morgeneu, dead is Mordav,
Dead is Moryen, I wish to die.

CXXIII. My only brother, chide me not;
Since the battle of Ardderyd I am ill;
It is instruction that I seek;
To God I commend thee.

CXXIV. I, also, commend thee,
To the, Chief of all creatures
Gwendydd fair, the refuge of songs.

CXXV. The songs too long have tarried
Concerning universal fame to come;
Would to God they had come to pass!

CXXVI. Gwendydd, be not dissatisfied;
Has not the burden been consigned to the earth?
Every one must give up what he loves.

CXXVII. While I live, I will not forsake thee,
And until the judgment will bear thee in mind;
Thy entrenchment is the heaviest calamity.

CXXVIII. Swift is the steed, and free the wind;
I will commend my blameless brother
To God, the supreme Ruler;
Partake of the communion before thy death.

CXXIX. I will not receive the communion
From excommunicated monks,
With their cloaks on their hips;
May God himself give me communion!

CXXX. I will commend my blameless
Brother in the supreme Caer;
May God take care of Myrdin!

CXXXI. I, too, will commend my blameless
Sister in the supreme Caer;--
May God take care of Gwendydd. Amen!
_______



How Lancelot Came to the Nunnery in Search of the Queen
By S. Weir Mitchell

Three days on Gawain's tomb Sir Lancelot wept,
Then drew about him baron, knight, and earl,
And cried, "Alack, fair lords, too late we came,
For now heaven hath its own, and woe is mine:
But 'gainst the black knight Death may none avail.
I will that ye no longer stay for me.
In Arthur's realm I go to seek the Queen,
Nor ever more in earthly lists shall ride."
So, heeding none, seven days he westward rode,
And at the sainted mid-hour of the night
Was 'ware of voices, and above them all
One that he knew, and trembled now to hear.
Rose-hedged before him stood a nunnery's walls,
With gates wide open unto foe or friend.
Unquestioned to the cloister court he came,
And in the moonlight, on the balcony, saw
Beneath the arches nuns and ladies stand,
And in their midst a cowled white face he loved,
Whereat he cried aloud, "Lo, I am here!
Lo, I am here!--I, Lancelot, am here!
Would ye I came? I could not help but come."
Spake then the Queen, low-voiced as one in pain:
"Oh, call him here, I pray you call him here."
Then lit Sir Lancelot down, and climbed the stair,
And doffed his helm, and stood before the Queen.
But she that had great fear to see his face:
"Oh, sinless sisters, ye that are so dear,
Lo, this is he through whom great ills were wrought;
For by our love, which we have loved too well,
Is slain my lord and many noble knights.
And therefore, wit ye well, Sir Lancelot,
My soul's health waneth; yet through God's good grace
I trust, when death is come, to sit with Christ,
Because in heaven more sinful souls than I
Are saints in heaven; and therefore, Lancelot,
For all the love that ever bound our souls
I do beseech thee hide again thy face.
On God's behalf I bid thee straitly go,
Because my life is as a summer spent;
Yea, go, and keep thy realm from wrack and war,
For, well as I have loved thee, Lancelot,
My heart will no more serve to see thy face;
Nay, not if thou shouldst know love in mine eyes.
In good haste get thee to thy realm again,
And heartily do I beseech thee pray
That I may make amend of time mislived.
And take to thee a wife, for age is long."
"Ah no, sweet madam," said Sir Lancelot,
"That know ye well I may not while I breathe;
But as thou livest, I will live in prayer."
"If thou wilt do so," said the Queen, "so be.
Hold fast thy promise; yet full well I know
The world will bid thee back." -- "And yet," he cried,
"When didst thou know me to a promise false?
Wherefore, my lady dame, sweet Guinevere,
For all my earthly bliss hath been in thee,
If thou wilt no more take of this world's joy,
I too shall cease to know the bliss of life.
I pray thee kiss me once, and nevermore."
"Nay," said the Queen, "that shall I never do.
No more of earthly lips shall I be kissed."
Then like to one stung through with hurt of spears,
Who stares, death-blinded, round the reeling lists,
At gaze he stood, but saw no more the Queen;
And as a man who gropes afoot in dreams,
Deaf, dumb, and sightless, down the gallery stairs
Stumbling he went, with hands outstretched for aid,
And found his horse, and rode, till in a vale
At evening, 'twixt two cliffs, came Bedevere,
And with his woesome story stayed the knight.
At this, Sir Lancelot's heart did almost break
For sorrow, and abroad his arms he cast,
And cried, "Alas! ah, who may trust this world!"
---


Cerdic And Arthur
By John Lesslie Hall

Hengist went off to All-Father's keeping,
Wihtgils's son, to the Wielder's protection,
Earl of the Anglians. From the east came, then,
Cerdic the Saxon a seven-year thereafter;
The excellent atheling, offspring of Woden
Came into Albion. His own dear land
Lay off to the eastward out o'er the sea-ways,
Far o'er the flood-deeps. His fair-haired, eagle-eyed
Liegeman and son sailed westwardly,
O'er the flint-gray floods, with his father and liegelord,
O'er the dashing, lashing, dark-flowing currents
That roll and roar, rumble, grumble
Eastward of Albion. Not e'er hath been told me
Of sea-goers twain trustier, doughtier
Than Cerdic and Cynric, who sailed o'er the waters
Valiant, invincible vikings and sea-dogs
Seeking adventure. Swift westwardly,
O'er the fallow floods, fared they to Albion,
Would look for the land that liegemen-kinsmen
Of Hengist and Horsa and high-mooded Aella
And Cissa had come to. Cerdic was mighty,
Earl of the Saxons. His excellent barks,
His five good floats, fanned by the breezes,
Gliding the waters were wafted to Albion,
Ocean-encircled isle of the sea-waves,
Delightsomest of lands. Lay then at anchor
The five good keels close to the sea-shore;
The swans of the sea sat on the water
Close by the cliff-edge. The clever folk-leader
Was boastful and blithesome, brave-mooded Saxon,
Said to his earlmen: "Excellent thanes
True-hearted, trusty table-companions,
See the good land the loving, generous
Gods have given you: go, seize on it.
I and my son have sailed westwardly,
To gain with our swords such goodly possessions
As Hengist and Aella did erstwhile win
On the island of Albion. On to the battle,
The foe confronteth us." Folk of the island,
Earlmen of Albion, angry-mooded, then,
Stood stoutly there, striving to hurl them
Off in the ocean east to the mainland,
Back o'er the billows. Bravely Albion's
Fearless defenders fought with the stranger
Then and thereafter: early did Cerdic
See and declare that slowly, bloodily,
And foot by foot, must the folk of the Saxons
Tear from the Welsh their well-lovèd, blithesome,
Beautiful fatherland. Brave were the men that
So long could repel the puissant, fearless
Sons of the Saxons that had sailed o'er the oceans
To do or to die, doughty, invincible
Earls of the east. The excellent kinsmen,
Father and son, scions of Woden,
Burned in their spirit to build in the south the
Greatest of kingdoms: 't was granted to Cerdic
To be first of the famous folk-lords of Wessex,
Land-chiefs belovèd; to lead, herald the
World-famous roll of the wise, eminent
Athelings of Wessex, where Egbert and Ethelwulf,
Alfred and Edward, ever resplendently,
Spaciously shine, shepherds of peoples,
Excellent athelings, and Athelstan, Godwin
And Harold the hero, helms of the Saxons,
Have their names written in record of glory
In legend and story, leaving their fame as an
Honor forever to England, peerless
Mother of heroes.--The men of the east
Slowly, bloodily builded a kingdom
Where Aesc and Aella not e'er had been able
To bear their banners, though both these athelings
Were in might marvellous, mood-brave, heroic
Leaders of liegemen.--Beloved of the Welsh
Was the atheling Arthur, excellent, valiant
Lord of the Silurians, land-prince, warrior
Famed 'mid the races. He rued bitterly
That father and son, Saxon invaders,
To the left and right were wresting, tearing
From races no few their fond-lovèd, blood-bought
Homesteads and manors, were hacking and sacking
Folk of the southland, and far westwardly
Had bitterly banished the best of the heroes
And earlmen of Albion. Arthur was mighty,
Uther Pendragon's offspring belovèd,
His fame far-reaching. Afar and anear then,
All men of Albion honored and loved him;
Sent over Severn beseeching the mighty
Silurian leader no longer to tarry
In crushing the foemen, but quickly to drive them
Back to their bottomless bogs in the eastward
O'er the rime-cold sea; said wailingly:
"The fierce, pitiless folk of the eastward,
Mighty, remorseless men of the waters,
Treacherous, terrible, will take speedily
Our name and nation, and naught will be left us
But to dare and to die." The doughty, invincible
Atheling Arthur, earl of Siluria,
Offspring of Uther, early was ready;
Feared not, failed not, fared on his journey
Seeking for Cerdic. Severn's waters
Saw him and laughed, little expecting
That Arthur the king and the excellent knights
Of the Table Round, with troopers a-many,
Would suffer the foemen to seize and possess the
Lands of Siluria, would let the remorseless,
Implacable, pitiless pagan and heathen
Sail over Severn; not soon did it happen
While Arthur the atheling his earth-joys tasted
Here under heaven. That hero was brave,
Great, all-glorious: God fought for him:
Nor Cerdic nor Cynric could soon injure that
Hero of Heaven; his horrible destiny
Wyrd the weaver wove in her eerie,
Mysterious meshes, mighty, taciturn
Goddess of gods: she gives whom she will to
Speed in the battle. Brave-mooded Arthur,
Offspring of Uther, was eager for glory,
Peerless of prowess: proudly, dauntlessly
Fought he for Albion. Not e'er heard I
Of better battle-knight, more bold, fearless,
That sun ever shone on: the sheen of his glory
With lustre illumined the land where his mother
Gave birth to the bairn; and broad, mighty,
Spacious his fame was; his splendid achievements
Were known to all nations. None could e'er dare to
Cope with that hero, till the conquering, dauntless
Earl of the Anglians, ever-belovèd
Founder of freedom and father of kings,
O'er the seas sailing, slowly, bloodily
Builded the best and broadest of kingdoms
Heroes e'er heard of. The heart of king Arthur
Was sad as he saw the Saxon invader
How, foot by foot, forward, onward,
He ever proceeded, eastward, westward,
Far to the north, founding and building
A kingdom and country to crush and destroy the
Land that he long had lived for, thought for,
Fiercely had fought for. Famed was Arthur,
Wide his renown; but Wyrd the spinster
Taketh no heed of hero or craven;
Her warp and her woof she weaveth and spinneth
Unmindful of men. The mighty war-hero,
Atheling Arthur, set out on his journey,
Laid down his life-joys; the belovèd folk-lord's
Feasting was finished. Unflinching, fearless,
Doomed unto death, dead on the battle-field
Fell the brave folk-prince. Foul was the traitor,
Hated of heroes. The hope of his countrymen
Sank into darkness; for dead was Arthur,
The last and the best and bravest of Albion's
Athelings of eld. Not ever thereafter
Could the Welshman withstand the sturdy, mighty
Tread of the Saxon as tramping, advancing,
Onward he went, eastward, westward,
Far to the northward: none withstood him,
Now Arthur was lifeless; he alone was able
To stay for a moment that sturdy, mighty,
Invincible march.--The valiant, doughty
Kinsmen of Cerdic, conquering earlmen,
Forward then bare bravely, unfalt'ringly,
Daringly, dauntlessly, the dragon of Wessex
Fuming and flaming; fearlessly bare it
Northward, eastward, on to the westward,
O'er Severn and Thames and Trent and Humber
And east oceanward, till all the great races
Of Albion's isle owned as their liegelords
The children of Cerdic, sire of kings and
Founder of freedom. Few among athelings
Were greater than he, gift-lord eminent,
Wielder of Wessex; the wise-mooded, far-seeing,
Brave-hearted folk-prince builded his kingdom
As a bulwark of freedom. His brave, high-hearted
Table-companions, trusty, faithful
Liegemen and thanes, leaped to his service
In peace and in war: well did they love him,
Bowed to his bidding; blithely followed him
Where the fight was fiercest; would fall in the battle
Gladly, eagerly, excellent heroes,
Ere they'd leave their dear lord alone on the battle-field,
Bearing unaided the onset of foes and
The brunt of the battle. The brave ones were mindful
Of the duties of liegemen; dastardly thought it
To flee from the field while their fond, loving
Leader and liegelord lingered thereon
Dead or alive; deemed him a nidering
Who stood not stoutly, sturdily, manfully
Close to his lord as he led in the battle,
Facing the foemen. The free-hearted earlmen
Minded the days when their dear-honored liegelord
Feasted the throngs of thanemen-kinsmen
In the handsomest of halls heroes e'er sat in
'Neath dome of the welkin. Well they remembered
How their lord lovingly lavished his treasures
On all earlmen older and younger,
Greater and lesser: 't were loathsomest treason
To leave such a lord alone in the battle,
With a foe facing him. The folk-ruler mighty
King-like requited them with costliest gems,
Most bountiful banqueting. The brave-hearted man
Builded his kingdom, broadly founded it
Northward, eastward, on to the westward,
South to the seaward. He said tenderly,
Cerdic discoursed, king of the Saxons,
Father of England: "Old, hoary is
Cerdic your king, kinsmen-thanemen,
Warriors of Wessex. Well have ye served me,
Ye and your fathers. I yet remember
How, ere age came on me, I ever was foremost
In deeds of daring, in doughty achievements,
In feats of prowess. I fought valiantly
Alone, unaided, with only my faithful,
Well-lovèd sword, and swept away hundreds
Of earlmen of Albion: now age, ruthless,
Horrible foe of heroes and warriors,
Hath marred my might, though my mood is as daring,
My spirit as stout and sturdy as ever
In years of my youth. I yearn in my soul, now,
To cross over Severn and cut into slivers
The wolf-hearted Welshmen. Well-nigh a forty
Years in their circuits have seen me a-conquering
Here under heaven: from hence, early
I go on my way. Woden will bid me
To the halls of Valhalla, where heroes will meet me,
Gladly will seat me 'mid the glory-encircled
Heroes of heaven. In my heart it pains me
To feel my war-strength fading and waning
And ebbing away. Would I might leap now
Like a king to the battle, not cow-like breathe out my
Soul in the straw. The son of my bossom,
Cynric my bairn, bravely will lead you
When I am no more: he ever hath proved him
A bold battle-earl. My blade I will give him,
Sigbrand my sword: he hath served me faithfully
Sixty of winters: well do I love him,
Bold-hearted battle-brand." The brave earlmen, then,
Shouted lustily, loudly commending
The words of good Cerdic. Cynric they loved, too,
Son of the hero; themselves had beheld him
How valiant, adventurous, invincible, king-like
He ever had borne him, since erst he landed
To fight, with his father, the fierce, implacable,
Wolf-hearted Welshmen: well did they love him,
And oft on the ale-benches earlmen asserted
That, when good king Cerdic, gracious, belovèd
Ward of the kingdom, went on his journey,
Laid down his life-joys, his liegefolk would never
Find them a folk-lord fonder, truer,
More honored of all men, than atheling Cynric
Surely would prove him. Shouted they lustily,
"Wes hael, wes hael! hero of Wessex,
Cerdic the conqueror," clanging their lances
And beating their bucklers, bellowed like oxen,
Blew in their shields, shouting, yelling
Glad-hearted, gleefully. The good one discoursed, then,
Cerdic the king said to his liegemen
(Henchmen all hearkened): "Hear ye, good troopers,
Of Sigbrand my sword. I said he was trusty,
And bitter in biting. I brought him to Albion
Far from the eastward. I fared, long ago,
East over Elbe and Oder and Weser
And thence to the northward, never wearying,
Greedy for glory; 'mid the Goths found it,
Old, iron-made, excellent sword-blade,
Weland his work. Well I remember
How I heard high-hearted heroes and athelings,
My true-hearted troopers, tell how a dragon,
His cave guarding, kept there a treasure
Age after age; how earls of the eastward
Said that Sigbrand, the sword-blade of Hermann,
Was kept in that cave covered with magic,
Encircled with sorcery, secretly guarded,
Bound with enchantments. I boldly adventured
A grim grapple with that grisly, terrible
Fire-spewing dragon, to fetch to the westward
The well-lovèd, warlike, wide-famous brand
Of Hermann the hero. I hied o'er the rivers
And off to the eastward: earls of those lands there
Laughed when they learned that a lad from the westward
Would dare the great dragon that had daunted their fathers
Five hundred winters. I fared eastward then,
Met with the monster, mightily smote him,
To earth felled him; flamings of battle
Horribly hurled he, hotly he snorted,
Would seethe me in poison. Wtih the point of my blade
I proudly did prick him. Prone he fell forward,
Dead lay the dragon. His den was no more
A horror to heroes; hastened I in, then,
To joy in the sight of jewels and treasures
And song-famous swords that had slept on the wall there
From earliest eras, edge-keen, famous,
Magic-encircled swords of the ancients,
Old-work of giants. With joy, saw I
World-famous Sigbrand, sword-blade of Hermann,
Men-leader mighty, matchless battle-knight,
Hero of Germany. I hastily seized it
All rusting to ruin; the rime-carved, ancient
Sword of the hero was soon hanging then
Safe at my side: it hath served me faithfully
Sixty of winters, well-tried, trusty
Friend-in-the-battle. When I fare, troopers,
Hence to Valhalla, high-hearted Cynric,
My fond-lovèd son, folk-lord of Wessex,
Will take up the brand borne by his father
And carve out a kingdom clean to the northward and
Wide to the westward; the Welshman will cower
And shudder and shake, as the shout of the Saxon
Frightens afresh forest and river
And meadow and plain. I shall pass on my journey
Early anon: old and hoary,
Death will subdue me. Dear young heroes,
Do as I bid ye. Bear ye onward
The banner of Wessex. Wyrd will help you
If doughty your valor. I dare to allege it,
That the gods have given this goodly, bountiful
Land of Albion to the liegemen and children
Of Cerdic the Saxon; seize, hold to it
Forever and ever. Ye early will see me
Lorn of my life-joys, lying unwarlike,
Dead in my armor. I urge you, good heroes,
To build me a barrow broad-stretching, lofty,
High on the cliff-edge, that comers from far
May see it and say that so did Angle-folk
Honor the atheling that erstwhile led their
Fathers of old in founding a kingdom."
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Iarla O Lionaird - I Am Asleep

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(Gwyllm Llwydd - "Endogenous Sun")


Into the heart of the matters at hand... This is a shot (look up) of "Endogenous Sun", with the culprit who painted it...

This Sunday we have a quick overview of the opening of The Portland Muralist Art Show... and an article of note from the waaaay back machine, and poetry of course. John Donne, one of the greats.

Enjoy!
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On The Menu:
Portland Muralist Show Opening!
Death Of The Gods
Poetry For A May Evening: John Donne

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm
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Portland Muralist Show Opening!

Well, the opening of the show is over and the art is up on the walls. Amazing Stuff to be seen and there are great stories to be told with every piece

So I want to thank a few people who in my mind, makes the Muralist Show a success:

Joanne Oleksiak
Chris Haberman
Mark Meltzer
Joe Cotter
Without their tireless work, it would not of happened.

Joanne: who was there everytime I emailed, or on site to help who ever came in, with a gentle hand directing and suggestions.

Chris: who is an amazing fellow, being Curator, chief picture hanger, and fount of information and always a smile! (love to do a mural with this guy!)

Mark Meltzer: Always a kind word, and tireless! Marks' enthusiasm and joy is a wonder. Watch for some projects between us coming up... (yes, public art is political!)

Joe Cotter: Joe has relentlessly pursued having the status of Outdoor Murals changed so we can be back on the streets with our art. Joe for me is the soul of the show. One person, can, and does move mountains, and that person is Joe.

An Honorary goes out to:
Morgan Miller & Robin Hawley and the staff at Maletis for providing all of the beer!

For Those That Came To The Opening:
I want to thank Lyterphotos' and his daughter, Connie and Eurock (Connie started the program that gave birth to Davinci Middle School which has the best Arts Program in Oregon), Andrew and his friends, John Gunn, The Carnahan Clan, Lynn & Steve from Mirador (who are directly responsible for my participation by their kind donation of garage door space for the infamous "Mirador Mural"), Victor, Steve & Melanie, Mike Hoffman and many others for coming to the opening.

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I especially want to point out Clear Channel for making it so difficult for muralist to have access to wall space in Portland. Without their corporate presence and legal maneuverings, Portland would have a vibrant art presence on the streets. As Clear Channel cannot tell art from advertisment, they have obstructed the local muralist for several years. Way to go Clear Channel! Always the community's needs & desires at heart!
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Love and Thanks especially to Mary (my better half) for making me finish the painting and helping with the last details on the sides, helping me to hang the 4 sections and backing me up 100 percent of the way. Without Love, Nothing Is Ever Accomplished!

Some Pics Of The Event, And Art Work!

Nick Olmsted and friends...
Nick's work is fascinating. I will try to get some up on Turfing soon. He works with youth who are having difficulties, and seems to be a very devoted person to the powers of art. I am astounded by his work, and presence. He has a wonderful smile as you can see (that is him on the left)

He combines some wonderful elements in his mural work, and graphics, and I have to say that his enthusiasm is infectious!







Jason Coatney's Excellent Work...



Some of the Art being produced during the show (Mark Larsen working away!)

There were several pieces being done during the show; it was quite fascinating watching the various techniques as the pieces unfolded. I kept having those Ah Ha! moments, like 'why didn't I think of that'?


















This was a panel from a very large piece which was once on display at the Capital rotunda in Salem Oregon. Lots of indigenous artist worked on it, and this is but one example. I am hoping to get back soon and photograph it in its totality, so that there is a record of it on the web... I was truly blown away by the work done on this installation, and the flow and harmony of it. The his/herstories told in illustration are well worth the visit to this exhibit!

Toma Villa... 'Stick Indians'
Toma told me a fascinating story regarding this piece; His father used to warn him about 'the Stick Indians' when they went out fishing when Toma was a child. The Stick Indians were beings who would seize children and steal them away. Toma lived a life of semi-terror from the story as you can imagine.









Mark Meltzer looking tired and blissed!


One of the nicest things about group shows is getting to know the artist... who time and again, prove to be thoughtful and wonderful people. It was an honor getting to know them: Nick, Asa, Jennifer Mercede, Baba W Diakite, Larry Kangas, Jason Coatney, Angelina Marino among many... (Sorry if you are not listed, my brain is starting to run down...!)

Chris & Joanne (sorry for the blur)... ...Joe Cotter (earlier photo)


Chris, Gwyllm and Charlie Alan Kraft fooling about...















Asa "Spades" Kennedy with a bad case of beer cap eyes in front of his work....


Muralist Show - Group Shot of Artist....


We will have some more photos' this week... Take Care!
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Death Of The Gods
From: The Sorceress, by Jules Michelet, [1939]

There are authors who assure us that a little while before the final victory of Christianity a mysterious voice was heard along the shores of the Ægean Sea, proclaiming: "Great Pan is dead!"

The old universal god of Nature is no more. Great the jubilation; it was fancied that, Nature being defunct, Temptation was dead too. Storm-tossed for so many years, the human soul was to enjoy peace at last.

Was it simply a question of the termination of the ancient worship, the defeat of the old faith, the eclipse of time-honoured religious forms? No! it was more than this. Consulting the earliest Christian monuments, we find in every line the hope expressed, that Nature is to disappear and life die out—in a word, that the end of the world is at hand.

The game is up for the gods of life, who have so long kept up a vain simulacrum of vitality. Their world is falling round them in crumbling ruin. All is swallowed up in nothingness: "Great Pan is dead!"


It was no new evangel that the gods must die. More than one ancient cult is based on this very notion of the death of the gods. Osiris dies, Adonis dies—it is true, in this case, to rise again. Æschylus, on the stage itself, in those dramas that were played only on the feast-days of the gods, expressly warns them, by the voice of Prometheus, that one day they must die. Die! but how?—vanquished, subjugated to the Titans, the antique powers of Nature.

Here it is an entirely different matter. The early Christians, as a whole and individually, in the past and in the future, hold Nature herself accursed. They condemn her as a whole and in every part, going so far as to see Evil incarnate, the Demon himself, in a flower. 1 So, welcome—and the sooner the better—the angel-hosts that of old destroyed the Cities of the Plain. Let them destroy, fold away like a veil, the empty image of the world, and at length deliver the saints from the long-drawn ordeal of temptation.

The Gospel says: "The day is at hand." The Fathers say: "Soon, very soon." The disintegration of the Roman Empire and the inroads of the barbarian invaders raise hopes in St. Augustine's breast, that soon there will be no city left but the City of God.

Yet how long a-dying the world is, how obstinately determined to live on! Like Hezekiah, it craves a respite, a going backward of the dial. So be it then, till the year One Thousand,—but not a day longer.


Is it so certain, as we have been told over and over again, that the old gods were exhausted, sick of themselves and weary of existence? that out of sheer discouragement they as good as gave in their own abdication? that Christianity was able with a breath to blow away these empty phantoms?

They point to the gods at Rome, the gods of the Capitol, where they were only admitted in virtue of an anticipatory death, I mean on condition of resigning all they had of local sap, of renouncing their home and country, of ceasing to be deities representative of such and such a nation. Indeed, in order to receive them, Rome had had to submit them to a cruel operation, that left them poor, enervated, bloodless creatures. These great centralised Divinities had become, in their official life, mere dismal functionaries of the Roman Empire. But, though fallen from its high estate, this Aristocracy of Olympus had in nowise involved in its own decay the host of indigenous gods, the crowd of deities still holding possession of the boundless plains, of woods and hills and springs, inextricably blended with the life of the countryside. These divinities, enshrined in the heart of oaks, lurking in rushing streams and deep pools, could not be driven out.

Who says so? The Church herself, contradicting herself flatly. She first proclaims them dead, then waxes indignant because they are still alive. From century to century, by the threatening voice of her Councils, 2 she orders them to die. . . . And lo! they are as much alive as ever!

"They are demons . . ."—and therefore alive. Unable to kill them, the Church suffers the innocent-hearted countryfolk to dress them up and disguise their true nature. Legends grow round them, they are baptised, actually admitted into the Christian hierarchy. But are they converted? Not yet by any means. We catch them still on the sly continuing their old heathen ways and Pagan nature.

Where are they to be found? In the desert, on lonely heaths, in wild forests? Certainly, but above all in the house. They cling to the most domestic of domestic habits; women guard and hide them at board and even bed. They still possess the best stronghold in the world—better than the temple, to wit the hearth.

History knows of no other revolution so violent and unsparing as that of Theodosius. There is no trace elsewhere in antiquity of so wholesale a proscription of a religion. The Persian fire-worship, in its high-wrought purity, might outrage the visible gods of other creeds; but at any rate it suffered them to remain. Under it the Jews were treated with great clemency, and were protected and employed. Greece, daughter of the light, made merry over the gods of darkness, the grotesque pot-bellied Cabiri; but still she tolerated them, and even adopted them as working gnomes, making her own Vulcan in their likeness. Rome, in the pride of her might, welcomed not only Etruria, but the rustic gods as well of the old Italian husbandman. The Druids she persecuted only as embodying a national resistance dangerous to her dominion.

Victorious Christianity, on the contrary, was fain to slaughter the enemy outright, and thought to do so. She abolished the Schools of Philosophy by her proscription of Logic and the physical extermination of the philosophers, who were massacred under the Emperor Valens. She destroyed or stripped the temples, and broke up the sacred images. Quite conceivably the new legend might have proved favourable to family life, if only the father had not been humiliated and annulled in St. Joseph, if the mother had been given prominence as the trainer, the moral parent of the child Jesus. But this path, so full of rich promise, was from the first abandoned for the barren ambition of a high, immaculate purity.

Thus Christianity deliberately entered on the lonely road of celibacy, one the then world was making for of its own impulse—a tendency the imperial rescripts fought against in vain. And Monasticism helped it on the downward slope.

Men fled to the desert; but they were not alone. The Devil went with them, ready with every form of temptation. They must needs revolutionise society, found cities of solitaries,—it was of no avail. Everyone has heard of the gloomy cities of anchorites that grew up in the Thebaïd, of the turbulent, savage spirit that animated them, and of their murderous descents upon Alexandria. They declared they were possessed of the Devil, impelled by demons,—and they told only the truth.

There was an enormous void arisen in Nature's plan. Who or what should fill it? The Christian Church is ready with an answer: The Demon, everywhere the Demon—Ubique Dæmon. 3

Greece no doubt, like all other countries, had had its energumens, men tormented, possessed by spirits. But the similarity is purely external and accidental, the resemblance more apparent than real. In the Thebaïd it is no case of spirits either good or bad, but of the gloomy children of the pit, wilfully perverse and malignant. Everywhere, for years to come, these unhappy hypochondriacs are to be seen roaming the desert, full of self-loathing and self-horror. Try to realise, indeed, what it means,—to be conscious of a double personality, to really believe in this second self, this cruel indweller that comes and goes and expiates within you, and drives you to wander forth in desert places and over precipices. Thinner and weaker grows the sufferer; and the feebler his wretched body, the more fiercely the demon harries it. Women in particular are filled, distended, inflated by these tyrants, who impregnate them with the infernal aura, stir up internal storm and tempest, make them the sport and plaything of their every caprice, force them into sin and despair.

Nor is it human beings only that are demoniac. Alas! all Nature is tainted with the horror. If the devil is in a flower, how much more in the gloomy forest! The light that seemed so clear and pure is full of the creatures of night. The Heavens full of Hell,—what blasphemy! The divine morning star, that has shed its sparkling beam on Socrates, Archimedes, Plato, and once and again inspired them to sublimer effort, what is it now?—a devil, the great devil Lucifer. At eve, it is the devil Venus, whose soft and gentle light leads mortals into temptation.

I am not surprised at such a society turning mad and savage. Furious to feel itself so weak against the demons, it pursues them everywhere, in the temples and altars of the old faith to begin with, later in the heathen martyrs. Festivals are abolished; for may they not be assemblages for idolatrous worship? Even the family is suspect; for might not the force of habit draw the household together round the old classic Lares? And why a family at all? The empire is an empire of monks.

Yet the individual man, isolated and struck silent as he is, still gazes at the skies, and in the heavenly host finds once more the old gods of his adoration. "This is what causes the famines," the Emperor Theodosius declares, "and all the other scourges of the Empire,"—a terrible dictum that lets loose the blind rage of the fanatic populace on the heads of their inoffensive Pagan fellow-citizens. The Law blindly unchains all the savagery of mob-law.

Old gods of Heathendom, the grave gapes for you! Gods of Love, of Life, of Light, darkness waits to engulf you! The cowl is the only wear. Maidens must turn nuns; wives leave their husbands, or if they still keep the domestic hearth, be cold and continent as sisters.

But is all this possible? Who shall be strong enough with one breath to blow out the glowing lamp of God? So reckless an enterprise of impious piety may well bring about strange, monstrous, and astounding results. . . . Let the guilty tremble!

Repeatedly in the Middle Ages shall we find the gloomy story recurring of the Bride of Corinth. First told in quite early days by Phlegon, the Emperor Hadrian's freedman, it reappears in the twelfth century, and again in the sixteenth,—the deep reproach, as it were, the irrepressible protest of outraged Nature.

"A young Athenian goes to Corinth, to the house of the man who promises him his daughter in marriage. He is still a Pagan, and is not aware that the family he hopes to become a member of has just turned Christian. He arrives late at night. All are in bed, except the mother, who serves the meal hospitality demands, and then leaves him to slumber, half dead with fatigue. But hardly is he asleep, when a figure enters the room,—a maiden, clad in white, wearing a white veil and on her brow a fillet of black and gold. Seeing him, she raises her white hand in surprise: 'Am I then already so much a stranger in the house? . . . Alas! poor recluse. . . . But I am filled with shame, I must begone.' 'Nay! stay, fair maiden; here are Ceres and Bacchus, and with you, love! Fear not, and never look so pale!' 'Back, back, I say! I have no right to happiness any more. By a vow my sick mother made, youth and life are for ever fettered. The gods are no more, and the only sacrifices now are human souls.' 'What! can this be you? You, my promised bride I love so well, promised me from a child? Our fathers’ oath bound us indissolubly together under Heaven's blessing. Maiden! be mine!' 'No! dear heart, I cannot. You shall have my young sister. If I groan in my chill prison-house, you in her arms must think of me, me who waste away in thoughts of you, and who will soon be beneath the sod.' 'No! no! I call to witness yonder flame; it is the torch of Hymen. You shall come with me to my father's house. Stay with me, my best beloved!' For wedding gift he offers her a golden cup. She gives him her neck-chain; but chooses rather than the cup a curl of his hair.

"’Tis the home of spirits; she drinks with death-pale lips the dark, blood-red wine. He drinks eagerly after her, invoking the God of Love. Her poor heart is breaking, but still she resists. At last in despair he falls weeping on the bed. Then throwing herself down beside him: 'Ah! how your grief hurts me! Yet the horror of it, if you so much as touched me! White as snow, and cold as ice, such alas! and alas! is your promised bride.' 'Come to me! I will warm you, though you should be leaving the very tomb itself. . . .' Sighs, kisses pass between the pair. 'Cannot you feel how I burn?' Love unites them, binds them in one close embrace, while tears of mingled pain and pleasure flow. Thirstily she drinks the fire of his burning mouth; her chilled blood is fired with amorous ardours, but the heart stands still within her bosom.

"But the mother was there, though they knew it not, listening to their tender protestations, their cries of sorrow and delight. 'Hark! the cock-crow! Farewell till to-morrow, to-morrow night!' A lingering farewell, and kisses upon kisses!

"The mother enters furious, to find her daughter! Her lover strives to enfold her, to hide her, from the other's view; but she struggles free, and towering aloft from the couch to the vaulted roof: 'Oh! mother, mother! so you begrudge me my night of joy, you hunt me from this warm nest. Was it not enough to have wrapped me in the cold shroud, and borne me so untimely to the tomb? But a power beyond you has lifted the stone. In vain your priests droned their prayers over the grave; of what avail the holy water and the salt, where youth burns hot in the heart? Cold earth cannot freeze true Love! . . . You promised; I am returned to claim my promised happiness. . . .

"'Alack! dear heart, you must die. You would languish here and pine away. I have your hair; ’twill be white to-morrow. 4 . . . Mother, one last prayer! Open my dark dungeon, raise a funeral pyre, and let my loving heart win the repose the flames alone can give. Let the sparks fly upward and the embers glow! We will back to our old gods again.'"

Footnotes

4:1 Compare Muratori, Script. It., i. 293, 545, on St. Cyprian; A. Maury, Magie, 435.

5:2 See Mansi, Baluze; Council of Arles, 442; Tours, 567; Leptines, 743; the Capitularies, etc. Gerson even, towards 1400.

6:3 See the Lives of the Fathers of the Desert, and the authors quoted by A. Maury, Magie, 317. In the fourth century the Messalians, believing themselves to be full of demons, were constantly blowing their noses, and spitting unceasingly, in their incredible efforts to expectorate these.

10:4 At this point of the story I suppress an expression that may well shock us. Goethe, so noble in the form of his writings, is not equally so in the spirit. He quite mars the wonderful tale, fouling the Greek with a gruesome Slavonic notion. At the instant when the lovers are dissolved in tears, he makes the girl into a vampire. She curses because she is athirst for blood, to suck his heart's blood. The poet makes her say coldly and calmly this impious and abominable speech: "When he is done, I will go on to others; the new generation shall succumb to my fury."

The Middle Ages dress up this tradition in grotesque garb to terrify us with the devil Venus. Her statue receives from a young man a ring, which he imprudently places on her finger. Her hand closes on it, she keeps it as a sign of betrothal; then at night, comes into his bed to claim the rights it confers. To rid him of his hellish bride, an exorcism is required (S. Hibb., part iii. chap. iii. 174). The same story occurs in the Fabliaux, but absurdly enough applied to the Virgin. Luther repeats the classical story, if my memory serves me, in his Table-talk, but with great coarseness, letting us smell the foulness of the grave. The Spaniard Del Rio transfers the scene from Greece to Brabant. The affianced bride dies shortly before the wedding-day. The passing-bell is tolled; the grief-stricken bridegroom roams the fields in despair. He hears a wail; it is the loved one wandering over the heath. . . . "See you not," she cries, "who my guide is?" "No!" he replies, and seizing her, bears her away to his home. Once there, the account was very near growing over tender and touching. The grim inquisitor, Del Rio, cuts short the thread with the words, "Lifting the veil, they found a stake with a dead woman's skin drawn over it." The Judge Le Loyes, though not much given to sensibility, nevertheless reproduces for us the primitive form of the legend. After him, there is an end of these gloomy story-tellers, whose trade is done. Modern days begin, and the Bride has won the day. Buried Nature comes back from the tomb, no longer a stealthy visitant, but mistress of the house and home.
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Poetry For A May Evening: John Donne



Batter my heart, three-person’d God; for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow me and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth’d unto your enemy:
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

—Holy Sonnet XIV, ca 1615
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Witchcraft By A Picture

I fix mine eye on thine, and there
Pity my picture burning in thine eye ;
My picture drown'd in a transparent tear,
When I look lower I espy ;
Hadst thou the wicked skill
By pictures made and marr'd, to kill,
How many ways mightst thou perform thy will?

But now I've drunk thy sweet salt tears,
And though thou pour more, I'll depart ;
My picture vanished, vanish all fears
That I can be endamaged by that art ;
Though thou retain of me
One picture more, yet that will be,
Being in thine own heart, from all malice free.
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Song

Soul's joy, now I am gone,
And you alone,
—Which cannot be,
Since I must leave myself with thee,
And carry thee with me—
Yet when unto our eyes
Absence denies
Each other's sight,
And makes to us a constant night,
When others change to light ;
O give no way to grief,
But let belief
Of mutual love
This wonder to the vulgar prove,
Our bodies, not we move.

Let not thy wit be weep
Words but sense deep ;
For when we miss
By distance our hope's joining bliss,
Even then our souls shall kiss ;
Fools have no means to meet,
But by their feet ;
Why should our clay
Over our spirits so much sway,
To tie us to that way?
O give no way to grief, &c.
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Love's Alchemy

Some that have deeper digg'd love's mine than I,
Say, where his centric happiness doth lie.
I have loved, and got, and told,
But should I love, get, tell, till I were old,
I should not find that hidden mystery.
O ! 'tis imposture all ;
And as no chemic yet th' elixir got,
But glorifies his pregnant pot,
If by the way to him befall
Some odoriferous thing, or medicinal,
So, lovers dream a rich and long delight,
But get a winter-seeming summer's night.

Our ease, our thrift, our honour, and our day,
Shall we for this vain bubble's shadow pay?
Ends love in this, that my man
Can be as happy as I can, if he can
Endure the short scorn of a bridegroom's play?
That loving wretch that swears,
'Tis not the bodies marry, but the minds,
Which he in her angelic finds,
Would swear as justly, that he hears,
In that day's rude hoarse minstrelsy, the spheres.
Hope not for mind in women ; at their best,
Sweetness and wit they are, but mummy, possess'd.
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Mary & Gwyllm after the hanging of "Endogenous Sun"

Just because we've arms doesn't mean we can't fly.- Gwyllm

Friday Evening... if you are in Portland or nearby!

Come to the Portland Muralist Art Show! - Opening: May 2nd, 5-9PM!
Olympic Mills Commerce Center, 107 SE Washington Street, PDX - May 2-June 28

Opening Reception: First Friday, May 2, 5-9PM

Come by, and say hello. Hugs Guaranteed!
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I hope you have had a good Beltaine, and I hope the weekend will be a beautiful one for you and yours.

Much Love to my Family and Circle of Friends where ever you may be!

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm
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On the Menu:
Albert Hofmann 1906-2008
The Links
Roberto Venosa's Talking Portrait of Terence McKenna
The Fire-Festivals of Europe - The Beltane Fires
Poetry For Beltane: Robert Graves
Steve Roach - Cloud Motion
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Albert Hofmann 1906-2008

We would like to say a fond farewell to Albert Hofmann, the father of LSD, and one of the messengers of the modern age.

A man who blended science with mysticism, and practiced a deep and abiding love.

Without his work, we'd still be in the dark ages, and more than likely Turf would not be here today...

Albert died this week, 102 years of age. Of sound mind, and sound body up to his last day, he was in the midst of the alpine spring when he let go of his mortal coil.

Thank You Albert for your gifts, and I feel blessed to have been touched by the magick you brought, and how you helped shape the world as a better place.

A Good Voyage, and I hope Anita was there when you burst through the door of light.
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The Links:
'Give Peace A Chance' lyrics going on sale in London
New African Art, Resisting Assimilation
Shades of The Ranters: Are the Quakers Going Pagan?
Rush Limbaugh 'Dreaming' Of Riots In Denver
Unclear On Basic Concepts: Psychiatrist says S.C. teen accused in plot is competent
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Roberto Venosa's Talking Portrait of Terence McKenna

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The Fire-Festivals of Europe - The Beltane Fires
(From The Golden Bough)

In the Central Highlands of Scotland bonfires, known as the Beltane fires, were formerly kindled with great ceremony on the first of May, and the traces of human sacrifices at them were particularly clear and unequivocal. The custom of lighting the bonfires lasted in various places far into the eighteenth century, and the descriptions of the ceremony by writers of that period present such a curious and interesting picture of ancient heathendom surviving in our own country that I will reproduce them in the words of their authors. The fullest of the descriptions is the one bequeathed to us by John Ramsay, laird of Ochtertyre, near Crieff, the patron of Burns and the friend of Sir Walter Scott. He says: “But the most considerable of the Druidical festivals is that of Beltane, or May-day, which was lately observed in some parts of the Highlands with extraordinary ceremonies. … Like the other public worship of the Druids, the Beltane feast seems to have been performed on hills or eminences. They thought it degrading to him whose temple is the universe, to suppose that he would dwell in any house made with hands. Their sacrifices were therefore offered in the open air, frequently upon the tops of hills, where they were presented with the grandest views of nature, and were nearest the seat of warmth and order. And, according to tradition, such was the manner of celebrating this festival in the Highlands within the last hundred years. But since the decline of superstition, it has been celebrated by the people of each hamlet on some hill or rising ground around which their cattle were pasturing. Thither the young folks repaired in the morning, and cut a trench, on the summit of which a seat of turf was formed for the company. And in the middle a pile of wood or other fuel was placed, which of old they kindled with tein-eigin—i.e., forced-fire or need-fire. Although, for many years past, they have been contented with common fire, yet we shall now describe the process, because it will hereafter appear that recourse is still had to the tein-eigin upon extraordinary emergencies.

“The night before, all the fires in the country were carefully extinguished, and next morning the materials for exciting this sacred fire were prepared. The most primitive method seems to be that which was used in the islands of Skye, Mull, and Tiree. A well-seasoned plank of oak was procured, in the midst of which a hole was bored. A wimble of the same timber was then applied, the end of which they fitted to the hole. But in some parts of the mainland the machinery was different. They used a frame of green wood, of a square form, in the centre of which was an axle-tree. In some places three times three persons, in others three times nine, were required for turning round by turns the axle-tree or wimble. If any of them had been guilty of murder, adultery, theft, or other atrocious crime, it was imagined either that the fire would not kindle, or that it would be devoid of its usual virtue. So soon as any sparks were emitted by means of the violent friction, they applied a species of agaric which grows on old birch-trees, and is very combustible. This fire had the appearance of being immediately derived from heaven, and manifold were the virtues ascribed to it. They esteemed it a preservative against witch-craft, and a sovereign remedy against malignant diseases, both in the human species and in cattle; and by it the strongest poisons were supposed to have their nature changed.

“After kindling the bonfire with the tein-eigin the company prepared their victuals. And as soon as they had finished their meal, they amused themselves a while in singing and dancing round the fire. Towards the close of the entertainment, the person who officiated as master of the feast produced a large cake baked with eggs and scalloped round the edge, called am bonnach bea-tine—i.e., the Beltane cake. It was divided into a number of pieces, and distributed in great form to the company. There was one particular piece which whoever got was called cailleach beal-tine—i.e., the Beltane carline, a term of great reproach. Upon his being known, part of the company laid hold of him and made a show of putting him into the fire; but the majority interposing, he was rescued. And in some places they laid him flat on the ground, making as if they would quarter him. Afterwards, he was pelted with egg-shells, and retained the odious appellation during the whole year. And while the feast was fresh in people’s memory, they affected to speak of the cailleach beal-tine as dead.”

In the parish of Callander, a beautiful district of Western Perthshire, the Beltane custom was still in vogue towards the end of the eighteenth century. It has been described as follows by the parish minister of the time: “Upon the first day of May, which is called Beltan, or Baltein day, all the boys in a township or hamlet, meet in the moors. They cut a table in the green sod, of a round figure, by casting a trench in the ground, of such circumference as to hold the whole company. They kindle a fire, and dress a repast of eggs and milk in the consistence of a custard. They knead a cake of oatmeal, which is toasted at the embers against a stone. After the custard is eaten up, they divide the cake into so many portions, as similar as possible to one another in size and shape, as there are persons in the company. They daub one of these portions all over with charcoal, until it be perfectly black. They put all the bits of the cake into a bonnet. Every one, blindfold, draws out a portion. He who holds the bonnet, is entitled to the last bit. Whoever draws the black bit, is the devoted person who is to be sacrificed to Baal, whose favour they mean to implore, in rendering the year productive of the sustenance of man and beast. There is little doubt of these inhuman sacrifices having been once offered in this country, as well as in the east, although they now pass from the act of sacrificing, and only compel the devoted person to leap three times through the flames; with which the ceremonies of this festival are closed.”

Thomas Pennant, who travelled in Perthshire in the year 1769, tells us that “on the first of May, the herdsmen of every village hold their Bel-tien, a rural sacrifice. They cut a square trench on the ground, leaving the turf in the middle; on that they make a fire of wood, on which they dress a large caudle of eggs, butter, oatmeal and milk; and bring besides the ingredients of the caudle, plenty of beer and whisky; for each of the company must contribute something. The rites begin with spilling some of the caudle on the ground, by way of libation: on that every one takes a cake of oatmeal, upon which are raised nine square knobs, each dedicated to some particular being, the supposed preserver of their flocks and herds, or to some particular animal, the real destroyer of them: each person then turns his face to the fire, breaks off a knob, and flinging it over his shoulders, says, ‘This I give to thee, preserve thou my horses; this to thee, preserve thou my sheep; and so on.’ After that, they use the same ceremony to the noxious animals: ‘This I give to thee, O fox! spare thou my lambs; this to thee, O hooded crow! this to thee, O eagle!’ When the ceremony is over, they dine on the caudle; and after the feast is finished, what is left is hid by two persons deputed for that purpose; but on the next Sunday they reassemble, and finish the reliques of the first entertainment.”

Another writer of the eighteenth century has described the Beltane festival as it was held in the parish of Logierait in Perthshire. He says: “On the first of May, O.S., a festival called Beltan is annually held here. It is chiefly celebrated by the cow-herds, who assemble by scores in the fields, to dress a dinner for themselves, of boiled milk and eggs. These dishes they eat with a sort of cakes baked for the occasion, and having small lumps in the form of nipples, raised all over the surface.” In this last account no mention is made of bonfires, but they were probably lighted, for a contemporary writer informs us that in the parish of Kirkmichael, which adjoins the parish of Logierait on the east, the custom of lighting a fire in the fields and baking a consecrated cake on the first of May was not quite obsolete in his time. We may conjecture that the cake with knobs was formerly used for the purpose of determining who should be the “Beltane carline” or victim doomed to the flames. A trace of this custom survived, perhaps, in the custom of baking oatmeal cakes of a special kind and rolling them down hill about noon on the first of May; for it was thought that the person whose cake broke as it rolled would die or be unfortunate within the year. These cakes, or bannocks as we call them in Scotland, were baked in the usual way, but they were washed over with a thin batter composed of whipped egg, milk or cream, and a little oatmeal. This custom appears to have prevailed at or near Kingussie in Inverness-shire.

In the north-east of Scotland the Beltane fires were still kindled in the latter half of the eighteenth century; the herdsmen of several farms used to gather dry wood, kindle it, and dance three times “southways” about the burning pile. But in this region, according to a later authority, the Beltane fires were lit not on the first but on the second of May, Old Style. They were called bone-fires. The people believed that on that evening and night the witches were abroad and busy casting spells on cattle and stealing cows’ milk. To counteract their machinations, pieces of rowan-tree and woodbine, but especially of rowan-tree, were placed over the doors of the cow-houses, and fires were kindled by every farmer and cottar. Old thatch, straw, furze, or broom was piled in a heap and set on fire a little after sunset. While some of the bystanders kept tossing the blazing mass, others hoisted portions of it on pitchforks or poles and ran hither and thither, holding them as high as they could. Meantime the young people danced round the fire or ran through the smoke shouting, “Fire! blaze and burn the witches; fire! fire! burn the witches.” In some districts a large round cake of oat or barley meal was rolled through the ashes. When all the fuel was consumed, the people scattered the ashes far and wide, and till the night grew quite dark they continued to run through them, crying, “Fire! burn the witches.”

In the Hebrides “the Beltane bannock is smaller than that made at St. Michael’s, but is made in the same way; it is no longer made in Uist, but Father Allan remembers seeing his grandmother make one about twenty-five years ago. There was also a cheese made, generally on the first of May, which was kept to the next Beltane as a sort of charm against the bewitching of milk-produce. The Beltane customs seem to have been the same as elsewhere. Every fire was put out and a large one lit on the top of the hill, and the cattle driven round it sunwards (dessil), to keep off murrain all the year. Each man would take home fire wherewith to kindle his own.”

In Wales also the custom of lighting Beltane fires at the beginning of May used to be observed, but the day on which they were kindled varied from the eve of May Day to the third of May. The flame was sometimes elicited by the friction of two pieces of oak, as appears from the following description. “The fire was done in this way. Nine men would turn their pockets inside out, and see that every piece of money and all metals were off their persons. Then the men went into the nearest woods, and collected sticks of nine different kinds of trees. These were carried to the spot where the fire had to be built. There a circle was cut in the sod, and the sticks were set crosswise. All around the circle the people stood and watched the proceedings. One of the men would then take two bits of oak, and rub them together until a flame was kindled. This was applied to the sticks, and soon a large fire was made. Sometimes two fires were set up side by side. These fires, whether one or two, were called coelcerth or bonfire. Round cakes of oatmeal and brown meal were split in four, and placed in a small flour-bag, and everybody present had to pick out a portion. The last bit in the bag fell to the lot of the bag-holder. Each person who chanced to pick up a piece of brown-meal cake was compelled to leap three times over the flames, or to run thrice between the two fires, by which means the people thought they were sure of a plentiful harvest. Shouts and screams of those who had to face the ordeal could be heard ever so far, and those who chanced to pick the oatmeal portions sang and danced and clapped their hands in approval, as the holders of the brown bits leaped three times over the flames, or ran three times between the two fires.”
The belief of the people that by leaping thrice over the bonfires or running thrice between them they ensured a plentiful harvest is worthy of note. The mode in which this result was supposed to be brought about is indicated by another writer on Welsh folk-lore, according to whom it used to be held that “the bonfires lighted in May or Midsummer protected the lands from sorcery, so that good crops would follow. The ashes were also considered valuable as charms.” Hence it appears that the heat of the fires was thought to fertilise the fields, not directly by quickening the seeds in the ground, but indirectly by counteracting the baleful influence of witchcraft or perhaps by burning up the persons of the witches.

The Beltane fires seem to have been kindled also in Ireland, for Cormac, “or somebody in his name, says that belltaine, May-day, was so called from the ‘lucky fire,’ or the ‘two fires,’ which the druids of Erin used to make on that day with great incantations; and cattle, he adds, used to be brought to those fires, or to be driven between them, as a safeguard against the diseases of the year.” The custom of driving cattle through or between fires on May Day or the eve of May Day persisted in Ireland down to a time within living memory.

The first of May is a great popular festival in the more midland and southern parts of Sweden. On the eve of the festival huge bonfires, which should be lighted by striking two flints together, blaze on all the hills and knolls. Every large hamlet has its own fire, round which the young people dance in a ring. The old folk notice whether the flames incline to the north or to the south. In the former case, the spring will be cold and backward; in the latter, it will be mild and genial. In Bohemia, on the eve of May Day, young people kindle fires on hills and eminences, at crossways, and in pastures, and dance round them. They leap over the glowing embers or even through the flames. The ceremony is called “burning the witches.” In some places an effigy representing a witch used to be burnt in the bonfire. We have to remember that the eve of May Day is the notorious Walpurgis Night, when the witches are everywhere speeding unseen through the air on their hellish errands. On this witching night children in Voigtland also light bonfires on the heights and leap over them. Moreover, they wave burning br