Category Archives: may all who journey

In This Time of Iron by pd lyons


 

the wise

trusting themselves

work only on ways

to maintain

integrity

Phoebe, the tabby cat who lived in the shed, By pd Lyons – English/Irish/French


 

Phoebe

the tabby cat

who lived in the shed

the semi savage

yet ever grateful for the feed

is dead

~

and i am feeling so alone

and i am so sorry

sorry for the whole fucking world

i am

~

crying like a baby

no matter what

everything ends in tears

and the next time…?

the next time…?

~

je répondrai

je répondrai

oui

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Phoebe

an cat tabby
a bhí ina gcónaí sa chaillfidh
an Savage leath
ach bhí riamh buíoch as an bheatha
marbh

agus tá mé ag mothú mar sin féin
agus tá mé leithscéal sin
leithscéal as an domhan fucking ar fad
tá mé

ag caoineadh cosúil le leanbh
is cuma cén
Críochnaíonn gach rud i Tears
agus an chéad uair eile ...?
an chéad uair eile ...?

je répondrai
 je répondrai
oui


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe

Le chat tigré

qui vivait dans le hangar 
le sauvage demi encore 
jamais reconnaissants pour l'alimentation 
est mort

et je me sens si seul et 
je suis tellement désolé 
désolé pour tout le monde 
putain je pleure comme un bébé
 
peu importe ce que tout 
se termine dans les larmes

Et la prochaine fois ...
la prochaine fois

je répondrai

je répondrai

oui

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Contemplate This, from May Sarton & Carl Jung and my Good Dad


one of the benefits of growing up with a dad who was an out of print / second hand books seller – or as it was back in the pre computer days , a book scout; was that he would give me little gems that he thought were ” up my alley”.  As a teenager i was given things like Henry miller, James Joyce, Tolkien, Tanith Lee, Anais Nin, etc. these days i am no teenager but i am well blessed with books.

currently i am re reading a beautiful book once given to me by my dad. Of course i no longer have the copy he gave me, one of us may have sold it years ago, or maybe it perished in my own great water in the storage space disaster of 2010 .any way I am reading Journal of a Solitude by May Sarton. She was a particularly beautiful gift to me from my father.

If any of you write or art or deal with solitude or depression  in any way I would recommend her as boon companion. She seems fond of Jung and so my offerings here are her quotes from Joung :

” I have been pondering two passages from Jung. The first is a key to the dangers of sublimation : “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious” The second is:

” Only the living presence of the eternal images can lend the human psyche a dignity that makes it morally possible for man to stand by his own soul, and be convinced that it is worthwhile to persevere with himself. Only then will he realize that the conflict is in him, that the discord and tribulation are his riches which should not be squandered by attacking others; and that if fate should exact a debt from him in the for of guilt, it is a debt to himself.” – from Journal of a solitude by May Sarton, W.W. Norton New York 1977, page110

so I got mine for .50 used paperback in keeping with my dads school of used book hunting techniques.

why not get your own?

imagine  a world where people decide that they are worth persevering with themselves and that “riches… should not be squandered by attacking others!

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/845386.Journal_of_a_Solitude

 

845386

 

my birthday present from HH Dali Lama & Archbishop Desmond Tutu, to YOU


November 11 was my 61st birthday. One of my birthday presents from Shelly and Morgan was a book called The Book of Joy. It was a weekend visit between His Holiness the Dali Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu as recorded by Douglas Abrams. It was marking the 80th birthday of His Holiness. I would like, as my own birthday gift to the world, to share a few lines. I can only speak for my self wen i say i found them profoundly helpful , not so much because of my feeling old but because it was just after the presidential elections in my homeland.

Anyway by way of background on the two men this from the front fly leaf of the book:

“Noble Peace Prize Laureates His Holiness the Dali Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu have survived more than fifty years of exile and the soul crushing violence of oppression. Despite their hardships – or, as they would say, because of them – they are two of the most joyful men on the planet.

In April 2015, Archbishop Tutu traveled to the Dali Lama’s home in Dharamsala, India, to celebrate His Holiness’s eightieth birthday and to create this book as a gift for others. They looked back on their long lives to answer a single burning question : how do we find joy in the face of life’s inevitable suffering? “

So I don’t get past their little introduction note before I found this gem. I share it here to hope it will bring you benefit and perhaps inspire you to look to our own self for the power of joy –

 

” No dark fate determines the future. We do. Each day and each moment, we are able to create and re-create our lives and the very quality of human life on our planet. This is the power we wield.”

 

and i would add it is not something some one can give you, or take away from you. it is something you can find within your self or loose by surrendering your self to others. these guys come from serious oppression and violence and yet they say there is a way to joy and it is up to each person to choose. how much easier should it be then for those of us who benefit from the abundance , security and freedoms in our Western cultures to be living a life of joy?

“Lasting Happiness cannot be found in pursuit of any goal or achievement. It does not reside in fortune or fame. It resides only in the human mind and heart, and it is here that we hope you will find it. “

through the book they speak of their own personal experiences, that of theistic and non- theistic as well as citing scientific research and analysis. there by truly making it a gift to the world.

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29496453-the-book-of-joy

29496453

this rose of peace, by pd lyons


index

this rose of peace and understanding

flower of compassion and tolerance

tell me

where in the heart

of this desert does it grow

this is a weapon of mass destruction

this is a weapon of mass destruction

once upon a time when we were young…..


Dark Moon May 19, 2004. Cape Breton. In Gemini

crone, the woman past menopause, old age, deep secrets, wisdom, divination, prophecy,

death and resurrection, endings (therefore new beginnings*)

Element: water

Colour: black

Goddesses: Hecate, Anna. 1

Moon in Gemini – I adapt – mutable air sign. 2

Colour: orange

spells. To finish the old and move on to the new, to juggles the many projects (multi task*),

finding new car or job, mental arts including meditation, divination etc. Magick for learning to

understand and deal with siblings. 3

crystal or scrying bowl placed in the centre of the circle – “This is the ending before the

beginning, the death before new life. Now on the ebb tide the secrets of the shore line are

uncovered by the retreating waves. The moon is hidden, but the faintest of stars are revealed

and those who have eyes to see may read the fates and know the mysteries. The Goddess,

whose name cannot be spoken, naked enters the Kingdom of Death. In the most vast silence

and stillness, all is possible. We meet in the time of the Crone, to touch the deep power of the

dark.”  1

This phase of the Moon Mother’s face means totally having the potential to be whole, to voyage

forth in the dark void with your light-body. You spare yourself nothing, for all sacrifices are

realized to be ‘making sacred’… During the Dark Moon you can see into the future and

actualize it through the harmonic vibrations of your cells. This takes deep trust and also getting

in touch with your larger purpose from before you were born – why you incarnated?

 

We are crossing the sea of the dark night

in the boats of our bodies, these vehicles of light.

Help me to release all that is not love                                      ( Banishing Pentacle @ each 

Help me to release all that is not light                                         ‘Help- Me’ line)*

Help me to release all that is not truth

Help me to release all that is not prosperity

Help me to release all that is not compassion

Help me to release all that is not proper action

Help me to release all that is not courage

Help me to release all that is not…(improvise)

I am happy even in a black hole for I am a light unto myself. 4  

††††††††

送眀

††††††††ഀƐwഏ

 

Cast circle outside do Shelly’s elven spell outside..( use above re scrying/meditation inside.)

Inside Altar: Chessboard, midnight blue cloth, black obsidian egg south, hematite egg east,

pyrite egg west, scallop shell with Irish Cavan soil in it – north. Gargoyle stone candle holder,

green candle, centre bowl of salt water for scrying, quartz crystals and eggs around it, goddess figure ( Willendorf figure terracotta) crone, and sword lies between scallop shell & crystal eggs.

Do Shelly’s fairy prosperity charm inside. meditate. speak out loud Starhawk quote and This

Mother’s face. Speak Help me lines, as above plus improvising. Shelly casting banishing

pentacle with her dagger at the end of each line.

Open circle outside. Prior to opening invoke protection (psychic & physical – shooting star in

the south as if in answer) Crisp cold clear night.

When everything else is gone, true happiness remains.pdl

Sources

* improvised/ stuff of our own

  1. Spiral Dance. Starhawk. 1979 edition. Harper Row. SF
  2. Goddess Spirituality. Ffiona Morgan. 1991ed. Daughters Of The Moon Publishing. CA.
  3. Solitary Witch. Silver Raven Wolf. 2003. Llewellyn Publications. St. Paul
  4. Faces Of The Moon Mother. Rowena Pattee Kryder. 1991. Golden Point Productions. Mount

Shasta, CA.

:5. Witches’ Date Book. 2004. Llewellyn Worlwide. St.Paul.

6.The Old Farmer’s Almanac, Canadian Edition. Robert B. Thomas. 2004. Yankee Publishing

Inc. Dublin, NH.

7 Wicca Craft, Gerina Dunwich. 1991. Citadel Pres. NY

8 Wicca. Viviane Crowley. 1989. Aquarian Press/Harper-Collins. London.

  1. Masks Of Misrule. Nigel Jackson. 1996. Capall Bann Publishing. Berks UK.

 

All is sacred.

The goddess is always present

 

scorpion night 1

scorpion night 1

here’s the thing


every action has a reaction
this is karma,
a lot like physics
not too mysterious at all

 

there are no laws

scorpion night 4 pd lyons

scorpion night 4 pd lyons

When you need violence to speak


 

when you need guns to speak,

you’re not speaking the word of god,

you are speaking the words of tyranny

this is a weapon of mass destruction

          ( this is a weapon of mass destruction)

Siane part 3, real magic, by pd lyons


 

Real magic has the quality of knowing. By paying attention you get to know things and when they will happen. With this knowledge you can create the illusion that you cause the inevitable to happen. Real power is when you have people convinced that they can’t get along without you. But there are other things, things beyond people. Once I convinced the wind that it couldn’t get along without me.

 

I’d go out to the top field where the horses ran free. Where they worried themselves only with petty grievances, grazed as they wished regardless of day or night and sometimes lulled by whatever dreams it is that horses dream. lay like dead things strewn.

On a grey out crop of lichenined stone I’d stand, turn my face to the sky and say:

 

“If I could be anything in the world

I would be the wind.

To kiss the sea.

Embrace the sky

Caress the earth.

Come wind I call you

Bring the rain, bring the storm,

The lightning and the thunders roar.

Come wind I love you!”

 

I tried this several times and sometimes the wind would come up strong while other times calm and quiet. In other words, I made no impact what so ever. But I did not give up. By now the horses took notice of my antics and drew around as if seeking inspiration from my sermon on the mount. Perhaps they found some but the wind did not. Once I got so angry this is what I said:

“If I could be anything in the world

It would never be the wind,

Insignificant bastard of the heavens

Ignorant victim of a manipulative earth,

Carrier of piss spit bird droppings

Owner of dust and ashes….”

 

At this did the wind hesitate even for a moment before it went back to ignoring me?

 

Eventually the horses too lost interest in my daily ritual. After all I brought no carrot or apple, I didn’t respond to their sparing for attention and I was as bored as they with their rearing, bucking, bluffs.

 

Finally, I decided to give up. I decided that if I couldn’t be master then I would surrender. So when the wind was quiet, I’d say,

“As the wind is quiet and still, so am I.”

And too if the wind moved from the East I’d say,

“As the wind I too move from the east.”

 

So it was with every direction and with every temperament. As gentle breeze or herald of the storm and too through the seasons such as that of summers comfort or raging winter’s howl. For a whole year this was my daily practise. There were times when I thought I ‘d be carried away, dragged along the ground or else motionless so long I ‘d drop from fatigue. this did not happen. But I did begin to really know the wind, a scent on the air, look of the sky, temperature from yesterday compared with today, slight almost invisible trembling of leaves – all were signs. So closely did I follow that I became as if a shadow to the wind.

 

In time my movements became just slightly ahead until it was I who cast a shadow called the wind. Until once more late autumn and, I could say “Follow my hands as I have led you this way forever.” And the wind, having no memory of forever, believed that this was so and therefore had always been so. How could it doubt I was who I claimed to be? After all, had we not moved together and had it not now been reminded that this had always been?

So once again I spoke, my purpose being to keep my image in its fragile memory,

“I have known you with whisper, shout and breath,

Shared with you submission and mastery,

Shared with you the gift of motion and stillness

Now  remember me!”

 

And the wind enveloped me and inhaled and from the breath of my voice to the scent carried on every hair of my body – I was known!

 Quiet then rocked with shivers head cradled between my knees, my own steamy urine pooling around my toes before trickling down to where a bald faced chestnut mare stood watching like a ghost…

 

 

who is she? with video this time


horses are the heart

of the planet

we

the blood – pdl

 

 

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