Tag Archives: mythology

Xunantunich, by pd lyons – from Myths of Multiplicity


In 1990 I was lucky enough to travel to Belize. For half the trip we were doing a horse trekking in the highlands. We stayed at a former orange plantation – i remember most vividly the  of free flying parrots. They were elegant airborne acrobats so unlike those domesticated souls back in the states. We wold ride through the jungle for hours sometimes lunching by water falls, or swimming into limestone caves. we each were issued a machete to lop off the foliage as we rode. It was deemed poor etiquette to not do your fair share of keeping the trails clear. occasionally we’d pass trees of ripe citrus – reach up from horse back and pick one. Our guide had worked with Harrison Ford on a film based in Belize. He told us he really liked Harrison and became friendly with him. So much so that Harrison promised to take him back to America where he could work for him. But this never happened and now he didn’t like Mr. Harrison Ford too much no more.

Xunantunich is a Mayan  site. It had been excavated years ago, a pyramid complex. The steps of which were terrifyingly steep and slippery with wet limestone. All to quickly we would be done with our days of 4-6 hour rides and return to Belize City our only solace being to go on and spend a week on Ambergris Caye discovering the sea.

DSC_8253

Xunantunich

The silent policeman
Lay himself down
Across the great western highway
Tired from watching everyone
He wants a return to dreaming
A return to those days of the high bush
Those days of the interior.

Swimming into limestone caves
Box of toucan matches
Lighted lantern
Floats on a little block of wood
While on a smoke of kerosene
Coming back to him now, the words of his fathers:
“So now you know. Everything is alive.”

The silent policeman
Lay himself down
Across the great western highway
Tired of growing heavy with the world
He wants a way
To avoid
End of Paradise Hotels
ESSO drums
Coca-Cola CESSNAS
To return
To those days of the interior.

Behind his eyes bare foot women light the lamps
Honey shadows seep up into a palm thatch
While owls make questions of constellations
And rolling in from across the valley
A hush answers “From the pale eye of the hunter
A single tear drop fell arching over an unseen face
It touched Earth and disappeared.”

Ring tail ghosts come by
Soft grey kisses through white jungle nets of night
Beyond an ancient plaza
Immersed in some whisper of wings
Jealous eyes of jaguar
Two great gold pearls on the edge of rain.

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

DSC_8247http://www.metbelize.com/lodging.html

(unfortunately I did not get custody of the photos so none from Belize)

2015 NOTE – in setting up this blog post i search for some info re Xunantunich and found this piece of info kind of interesting, keep in mind i wrote the piece on my flight home in 1990 –  from Wikipedia listing –

Xunantunich’s name means “Stone Woman” in the Maya language (Mopan and Yucatec combination name), and, like many names given to Maya archaeological sites, is a modern name; the ancient name is currently unknown. The “Stone Woman” refers to the ghost of a woman claimed by several people to inhabit the site, beginning in 1892. She is dressed completely in white, and has fire-red glowing eyes. She generally appears in front of “El Castillo”, ascends the stone stairs, and disappears into a stone wall.[citation needed]

Xunantunich – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xunantunich
LyonsCover01fin)

myths of multiplicity by pd lyons 2014 runner up erbacce poetry prize

ruff draft from current work in progress – my badlands by pd lyoons


my badlands

along the north sea port
joined a Virgil woman
guiding darker underground
beneath the cities of men

up for air

ice hung with our breath
long wrapped woolens
nestled steel in our pockets
heated by such as our own mortal blood
behind the drapes through the doors
in the company of sailors whores and other stranded strangers
ritual of smoke
purification of rum
dreams of southern seas twined stories of the ice
phantomed like Frankenstein and Winnetou
each of us a mythology onto ourselves

what could we do but cling?
what could we do but put our breathing mouths together
labyrinth
tongues
underworld
archetypes
born in strawberries
learned in nights beyond my ability to count
I let you be that,
you let me be the arms of love
able to carry you across the threshold
not a room above the kiosk
rather an immortal bed of mortality
unresolved
not needing to be
anything more than
another breath.

 

untitled by pd lyons

untitled by pd lyons

 

inspired by Springsteen, memories and coffee ( not whiskey !) first read to the public  in the Lir Tearooms Castlepollard Westmeath Ireland december 2015 https://www.facebook.com/Lir-Tearooms-1631099490438657/info/?tab=overview

About Birth, by pd lyons


 

the first meeting

sky and earth

begot ice

 

the first meeting

sun and ice

begot the wordless woman

 

she alone with open mouth

barefoot of silence

taught the earth

all there ever was to know

 

Picture 146

Xunantunich, by pd lyons – from Myths of Multiplicity


In 1990 I was lucky enough to travel to Belize. For half the trip we were doing a horse trekking in the highlands. We stayed at a former orange plantation – i remember most vividly the  of free flying parrots. They were elegant airborne acrobats so unlike those domesticated souls back in the states. We wold ride through the jungle for hours sometimes lunching by water falls, or swimming into limestone caves. we each were issued a machete to lop off the foliage as we rode. It was deemed poor etiquette to not do your fair share of keeping the trails clear. occasionally we’d pass trees of ripe citrus – reach up from horse back and pick one. Our guide had worked with Harrison Ford on a film based in Belize. He told us he really liked Harrison and became friendly with him. So much so that Harrison promised to take him back to America where he could work for him. But this never happened and now he didn’t like Mr. Harrison Ford too much no more.

Xunantunich is a Mayan  site. It had been excavated years ago, a pyramid complex. The steps of which were terrifyingly steep and slippery with wet limestone. All to quickly we would be done with our days of 4-6 hour rides and return to Belize City our only solace being to go on and spend a week on Ambergris Caye discovering the sea.

DSC_8253

Xunantunich

The silent policeman
Lay himself down
Across the great western highway
Tired from watching everyone
He wants a return to dreaming
A return to those days of the high bush
Those days of the interior.

Swimming into limestone caves
Box of toucan matches
Lighted lantern
Floats on a little block of wood
While on a smoke of kerosene
Coming back to him now, the words of his fathers:
“So now you know. Everything is alive.”

The silent policeman
Lay himself down
Across the great western highway
Tired of growing heavy with the world
He wants a way
To avoid
End of Paradise Hotels
ESSO drums
Coca-Cola CESSNAS
To return
To those days of the interior.

Behind his eyes bare foot women light the lamps
Honey shadows seep up into a palm thatch
While owls make questions of constellations
And rolling in from across the valley
A hush answers “From the pale eye of the hunter
A single tear drop fell arching over an unseen face
It touched Earth and disappeared.”

Ring tail ghosts come by
Soft grey kisses through white jungle nets of night
Beyond an ancient plaza
Immersed in some whisper of wings
Jealous eyes of jaguar
Two great gold pearls on the edge of rain.

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

DSC_8247http://www.metbelize.com/lodging.html

(unfortunately I did not get custody of the photos so none from Belize)

2015 NOTE – in setting up this blog post i search for some info re Xunantunich and found this piece of info kind of interesting, keep in mind i wrote the piece on my flight home in 1990 –  from Wikipedia listing –

Xunantunich’s name means “Stone Woman” in the Maya language (Mopan and Yucatec combination name), and, like many names given to Maya archaeological sites, is a modern name; the ancient name is currently unknown. The “Stone Woman” refers to the ghost of a woman claimed by several people to inhabit the site, beginning in 1892. She is dressed completely in white, and has fire-red glowing eyes. She generally appears in front of “El Castillo”, ascends the stone stairs, and disappears into a stone wall.[citation needed]

Xunantunich – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xunantunich
LyonsCover01fin)

myths of multiplicity by pd lyons 2014 runner up erbacce poetry prize

Who is the non-symbolic me?


My concern is that Jung’s approach is an indulgence in ones own or his own personal mythology. Concepts that put a further layer of fantasy between person and what is. Granted it is wonderful to have all these deep and wonderful images with which to identify aspects of oneself, the world, the universe. I myself loved it, the adventure of anima, animus,shadow, hero. But aren’t we just playing at stories and fantasy then calling it truth. A certain element of applied fallacy, agreed falsehoods dressing the psyche in elegant emperor clothing? Would it be better to develop courage to sit our selves and our patients down without grandiose or compartmentalizing the experience of self? To say this it it. This is the simplicity of what is going on. To lead on to the authentic experience in direct fashion, no need for fantastical symbols. If we have a non-symbolic relationship to our life would we not then have an authenticity of that life? Who is the non-symbolic me? The archetypes may very well rule our unconscious. They are us living an unconscious life, a life of belief, wishes, lustful desire, fear, aversion caught in a downward spiral. But like illusion slips away as we become more conscious, authentically living a life that is what it is not what it symbolises. So as we move away from symbolic and embrace the what is, our awareness of what is, our consciousness, our true authentic self , which has been with ‘us’ all along – begins to relax into each moment of its awareness. There is no relaxing in the past or in the future. there is no freedom no truth in symbolism – in a dream, a wish, a belief. Seeing our life as a series of symbols keeps us frightened of the dark, the monsters. It is our own belief, concepts, fantasy, which causes the superstitions with which our true self; confined and constricted, suffers the stress of trying to live these untruths within these artificially created yet all too real pains of restriction.

“The last thing you want to do is encourage a schizophrenic to do dream work” –  Dr. Renee Nell

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