Well We been working our butts of getting all our accumulated belongings packed up. D-day is about to arrive. We are suppose to close on Tuesday and leave for VT on Wednesday morning early (like 3 am early). We've still got a good deal of work to do but now it looks doable.
Helen and I likely won't be posting for the foreseeable future as we soon will be homeless and with no computer/internet. Fear not though.. I'm sure we'll be purchasing a lappy soon and hitting the McDonalds, library, or whoever has free wi-fi :)
Thursday, August 13, 2009
thoughts on "Reflections" post
I must admit that I LOVE Poe's works. He was known to lapse into
flights of fancy, often leaving the reader wondering WTF he is talking about .. but still.
His literary talent, and vivid imagery are rarely equaled today, even by those who find themselves in
an opiate utopia.
A dream within a dream is one of my favorite Poe Poems.. it makes one ponder.
How do we know what's real and what is only imagined? Why do we struggle to make this distinction?
How or why is the answer relevant? Are these perceptions molded by our cultural norms?
If our "reality" is truly shaped by our individual experiences, then wouldn't dreams be part of that
reality?
If we are all tied together in the "collective unconcious" or Gaian Mind wouldn't one be able to change
their own or another's reality through the use of magic?
"Magick is the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will." Crowley
if so how would this effect the person whos will (reality) has been changed. Would they know it had
occured?
In talking about energies we say we have the right to manipulate it to our will and that if we fail to
do so it can harm us.
"A Witch has the right and the obligation to control her/his environment." (author unknown)
What about the will of others?
Food for Though
flights of fancy, often leaving the reader wondering WTF he is talking about .. but still.
His literary talent, and vivid imagery are rarely equaled today, even by those who find themselves in
an opiate utopia.
A dream within a dream is one of my favorite Poe Poems.. it makes one ponder.
How do we know what's real and what is only imagined? Why do we struggle to make this distinction?
How or why is the answer relevant? Are these perceptions molded by our cultural norms?
If our "reality" is truly shaped by our individual experiences, then wouldn't dreams be part of that
reality?
If we are all tied together in the "collective unconcious" or Gaian Mind wouldn't one be able to change
their own or another's reality through the use of magic?
"Magick is the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will." Crowley
if so how would this effect the person whos will (reality) has been changed. Would they know it had
occured?
In talking about energies we say we have the right to manipulate it to our will and that if we fail to
do so it can harm us.
"A Witch has the right and the obligation to control her/his environment." (author unknown)
What about the will of others?
Food for Though
Friday, August 7, 2009
Reflections
A dream Within A Dream
E.A. Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less _gone_?
_All_ that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
_One_ from the pitiless wave?
Is _all_ that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
More Poe can be found here
E.A. Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less _gone_?
_All_ that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
_One_ from the pitiless wave?
Is _all_ that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
More Poe can be found here
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Blessed Lammas
"Lammas marks the middle of summer and beginning of the harvest season. Lammas is considered a time of thanksgiving and is the first of the three Pagan harvest festivals. The Sun's strength begins to wane and the plants of spring begin to wither and drop their fruits or seeds to ensure future crops."
Lammas has arrived and its time to start enjoying the fruits of our labor, but its not time to let up as this is only the first of the harvest. Now is the time to start preparing for the hard winter ahead. But do take some time to enjoy whats come to frutation.
The goddess has been good to us this Lammas season. We've worked our butts off to get our house in order and keep it clean for prospective buyers. It finally paid off!! Thursday evening our agent came by with paperwork to sign and tell us closing is on the 18th.. Perfect, as we're leaving for VT in the wee hours of the 19th!!
Ceres is the goddess I choose to look to for this holiday as she is the goddess of grain. A statue of her sits atop our lovely VT State Capitol Building.
I'll also leave you with my favorite harvest song and a poem..
and the lyrics:
Harvest Chant .. Starhawk
Our hands will work for peace and justice
Our hands will work to heal the land
Gather 'round the harvest table
Let us feast and bless the land
Under the Harvest Moon by Carl Sandburg
Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.
May you never hunger, may you never thirst
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