Bon appetit !

On 31 May 2012 00:21, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>Bon  appetit !

Fear not imaginings of "adversaries arguing over semantics."

As opposed to "the hope that this is a conversation between two friends sitting together at a meal."

I am well familiar with theological discussions. Such that i don't engage in them by preference.  Especially over a meal.  It would spoil my meal. Not so you.  I understand that.

The reason is simple.  If, in a discussion, one party is coming from a conclusion, no real discussion takes place.  A conclusion, is, by definition, an end of shared enquiry. A conclusion belongs at the end, not at the beginning. In that sense, we are not engaged in a shared enquiry.  I avoid argument as being futile and counter productive. As well as indigestion-causing.

Your paragraph 2/  

I simply address your statements.  So assume good humour. The remedy for solemnity.  I notice you follow with, "I don't share the fixed assumption we are speaking of something higher than everything, making everything lower."  You then quote a four line scripture the foundation of which depends entirely on the word, "God", used twice.  Self evidently, you do speak from a fixed assumption.

Para.3/

By a not so subtle shift, you have now moved to: The man called Jesus is the "One" you refer to.  But you ignored the "One" the whole story depends on in your basic premise.  Adding eleven further attributed titles to establish the point.

What was that about semantics?

Para.4/

A seven line verbatim quote about the doings of this "One".  (The second "One", that is.)  All very noble-sounding, if your choice is to base "enquiry" on noble-sounding words and titles, uttered by other men and women expressing their conclusion.

Makes no difference if they are echoed "with love".  I love echoes too.  But i wouldn't echo anybody's assumptions.  Especially when based on a denied premise.  There's no enquiry inside the parameters of a box.  Especially when it's not acknowledged as a philosophical box.

Para.5/

Next you say:  "Your question: On what authority do i presume to know the name of something greater than everything? Answer, i don't know the name of something greater than everything."

Unquote.

Thank you. Nobody does.  You can't give a name to that which transcends and includes all names of classifications.  Simply because, by definition it is beyond all categories and therefore comparable with nothing else.

But you do. It's your indispensable thesis:  "God".

You then return again to focus on the "One" you do value having a name for.  (And a neat little shift, from the word, "something", to the word, "someone".)

I saw that.

And then:  "It is arrogant to proclaim the name of someone we never experience."

That wasn't what i said.  I said, "some-thing".  That's your premise. Remember?

And then:  "But that's not our experience."   (Who said it was?)

Next:  "It is arrogant to presume that your experience,(or lack thereof) defines all other people's experience."

Oh precisely.  We agree at last.

Well worth re-stating.   "It IS arrogant to presume that your experience, (or lack thereof) defines ALL other people's experience."

Then you round off with a return to the rhetoric you love so much.

Semantic key words;  "mission", "sacrament", "fellowship", "worship", and of course, "The one", (twice).

(Did you ever study Advaita - "Non-duality"?)  I don't mean "read about it."  Anybody can do that.

Don't misunderstand.  I don't have a point.  You do.

And that this man,(excuse the word),became what he was by humbly becoming empty.

Have you ever practiced zazen meditation?  Or even got to grips with D.T.Suzuki's profound metaphysics?  "The Zen Doctrine of No Mind" for example.  By way of saying, do you think that only one man ever became totally empty?  I thought it was intended as an example for all.  Not to be "worshipped" as an anomaly.

I don't have to ask for an answer.

Don't therefore assume i am a "Zennist",or that i put eggs in any one basket.  Have you ever been so empty , you're not aware of being present? Keeps happening to me. Forty years of meditation.

What's the trip about following? Speaking somebody else's words.

Be yourself.  Be authentic.  Or if you prefer: "The way that can be spoken of is not the true way."~ Lao-Tzu.

Obvious.  "Beautiful words are not true, true words are not beautiful."~ Tao-Te- Jing.

Neither am i a Taoist.  In as much as anything is. Where can you draw a line?

And what about "The Gnostics?" Everything you may read on the web, as well as most commonly known books (but for one scholar: John Lamb Lash) is incomplete, totally misleading. Being written mostly by the church fathers. Consequently, the widespread misperception that they were an early offshoot of Christianity. Or were a bizarre sect who considered life to be evil.  Disinformation on both counts.  Even the much referred to work by Elaine Pagels, "The Gnostic Gospels" is equally incomplete and misrepresentative.  "Gospels" is her attempt to equate Gnosticism with Christianity which can't be done. They weren't even called "Gnostic", or "Gnosticism", (from "Gnosis"- Knowing), but were called "Telestai" (singular "Telestes". One who is aimed).

Were in fact the Eleusinian Mystery Schools, of antiquity, which were open to everyone, and were not a secret sect. The great library of Alexandria which was destroyed, intentionally. Which is part of why the disinformation has persisted so long....until recently.  In fact, the Christians  (so called) killed them.  As with the medicine women of Europa. And the indigenous of "the americas". All these were the full flowering of the matrilineal cultures who revered "nature" for itself. If you are serious about not believing lies about "the Gnostics", then read John Lash: "Not in His Image". I know you won't. Scepticism and lack of interest will prevent you.  Lack of curiosity can never proclaim truth.                                        But that's another story.  I'm not a Gnostic.

To recapitulate humour; all names have been reversed.For example: As a country dweller (Paiganos=Pagan),and , as one who freely chooses outside of doctrine, (Heresai=Heretic) i , by definition qualify as a Pagan Heretic.  Which the unaware would think was something bad.  Freedom of perception and one-with nature...Bad?   What's in a name?  Any name. No point making a fetish out of names.

You also live on a continent stolen by mass, and unprovoked genocide of a people wiser than the invaders. Still continuing right in your city. Rev. Kevin Annett: The 50,000 indian kids killed in the boarding schools. Don't misunderstand. I'm hardly blaming you personally for that.  That would be absurd.

But i wouldn't be too proud, or talk too loud, calling it humility.

Study their wisdom.  It's not patriarchal.

Glad i'm not in the business of being convincing.  Why convince or persuade?  Only the gullible are convinced. Only the ignorant are persuaded.

Do you perceive ireland ( Eire/ Inis Fodhla) as a catholic country?

It's equally Druidic.  The Romans didn't get far.  Any more than Columbus "discovered"..."america".

Endless surrounding research i could set you. But if you prefer to stop at a conclusion, fine.  I just wouldn't expose innocent minds to it before they've had a chance to explore themselves.

You know of course, what you call Christianity, was virtually invented as a political power move by Emperor Constantine in 553 A.D. (so called), ("Domini"!!) You may say "dominion", but that's inseparable from "dominate", the verb.  To assimilate, and thereby control, the diverse and contradictory beliefs of the time.  No more to establish peace than it is right now.  Hence the "Europan Dissociation", a virus later shipped to "america".

Read "The Donation of Constantine" while thinking of the indians, millions of innocent women and children.  And forget "Manifest Destiny" of any kind.

Nicea (Nice), not so nice. Was the occasion when it was planned and decreed, as expedient, and carried (not unanimously), that Jesus/ Yeshua/ Emanuel, would be held to be considered the son of "God".  Nicholas of Myra got a punch in the nose for objecting.  Later to be called, "saint" Nicholas, thence "Pelznichol", "the Yuletide Elf", "satan Claus"(the antagonist in Shakespearean theatre), Santa Claus, and Chris Cringle.  Same way they get rid of anybody who disagrees.

Talking of "fellow-ship", and unity -in-diversity, hence mutual aid, i have alerted you to the radiation, which doesn't go away. As well as what you can do for everyone's wellbeing.  As well as alerting you to the danger of vaccines. I know what's in them. Do you want the list?  That was certainly more than a year ago. Your response was to ridicule the whole thing. Thereby disrespecting my informed concern.  You didn't believe then and you don't believe now.

After all, what IS belief, but choosing to assume.

As i said, "the art of scepticism is in knowing where to apply it."

To be candid, in the event that i were to be critiquing the expression of your stand-point as a piece of work, i'd fail it on all accounts. Mainly since you have not a clue who you are writing to.

Since your words are not your own.  Ever hear of dialogue?

Along with misplaced scepticism, presumptuous, solely doctrinal, 

condescending, incurious, obsessive, even sneaky.

But that's only an honest appraisal of what you express, and not an argument.  After all, not everybody wears the same size shoes. And "one rule for the lion and the lamb is tyranny".

Or, as you said yourself,  "It is arrogant to presume that your experience, (or lack thereof) defines all other people's experience."

A sense of humour is a great thing.

I wish you enjoyment of my piano CD when it arrives.  I much prefer to express sensorially than intellectualy. The heart knows better than the head.

I prefer not to talk over a meal but eat in silence.

And peace to you too.  (agus ta siochan agat go leis)

Martin.

"God". What does that mean?

 

pictures : rainbowmaker

              hieroglyphics 1 martin law, November 2005

              hieroglyphics 4 martin law

              hieroglyphics 13, martin law, November 2009

                                                 

Fillet of god./An appetizer for whoever is hungry.

On 27 May 2012 11:47, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>An appetizer for whoever's hungry.

Assuming a fixed assumption of something higher and greater than everything, we make everything lower.  Thereby, permanently stuck in duality.  A duality of two false opposites that can never meet.
What's worse, we give it a name.
Question:  On what authority do you presume to know the name of something greater than everything?  Or even that there can be more than everything?  Who ever saw everything, to know if there's more?
So, ignorant of our arrogance to proclaim a name of something we never experience, we are further removed from the everything we claim to speak of.
The first course will be served in due course.
+M

Appetizers, anybody??

On 29 May 2012 20:50, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

>PS. to the scriptural hors d'oevres,
 In case you wonder, i can easily handle said text, if i so decide.
Self-evidently already pre-designing itself within, while otherwise pottering with trowel and watering can. "Tzu-jan" by itself so, effortlessly. Prefixed by, terms of engagement or non-engagement consist of candid ( i like that word-concept but prefer the sound of candour) candid truth that i regard theosophical discussions as
"ickey. Very ickey." So you never need compete with a conclusion which is already an end of enquiry. Might as well punch a samurai on the nose. I'm waterproof anyway.
Enjoyed our mutual "real discussion" at Kates though too. And our Dan and i recent intersoundings. Don't think you have any cause for anxiety frequency there.
I do have much literary experience of metaphysical dialogue however. Those ancient zennists were tough cookies. Talk about judo!  Like, weak evasion no1. on his "Him-sheet"... What is the "god-concept" if not the cornerstone, the very rock he clings to in stormy seas, if not the concept of the something greater than everything, which he flat out denies clinging to (what if i took it away?) See how he sneakily shifted that "something" to a "someone" in the next line.
Hate even talking about ickey things. First of all, delete any competitive engagement. Aint appetizing. 2nd, know it's not a discussion cos one party is starting with a conclusion which is an end. Might as well talk to a rock. That might be preferable.
3- He's in business as a rock climber. 4- I don't give a shit , i dropped out of bible class right after sunday school as nobody was enquiring what the fuck are you saying. It's just anti-life to lay it on innocent minds before they had a chance, hence the link with phydopelia or whatever it's called. They don't value matured innocence in themselves so can't stand it in others.
Speaking primarily as a country- dweller ( paiganos= pagan) as well as one who chooses freely (heresai= to choose/free-thinker--
heretic), a nice life- is -sacred-and -beautiful-defender, need i add.
Christy Annity was invented as a political control of the diverse  masses by Constantine in the year 553 (see:"The Donation of Constantine"). Where the motion was carried (not unanimously) that " let's decree "he" was the son of the god, as a handy bit of "propaganda" (a roman word) so we can "in-corporate" them instead of slaughtering them for mass entertainment. That way we'll have more customers in the long run." Same as they do now.
If we acquiesce (aqua? yielding?) to what was here before we came in we'll never get to be in the movie of the full flowering of what we came in with. Sod em. And gomorragh to ye.
Stay waterproof. Watch the billboards.
Every dark cloud has a rainbowmaker.  (+) %%%/£££/$$$?GZu$!!

 

"a natural order."

all this,emerging,is the natural order.

the old forever renewed.

then,out of the blue, the blossoming.

pink petals scattered wildly on spring wind.~

~~~~

artwork : Celestial Rose, martin law, February 2007

               Space Blossom, martin law, July 2005

Pan's Portentious Pine Portals (s g 2)

      

On 19 March 2012 03:46, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

was just talking by the fire, calm heart/hearth talk and de-stress. am happy to be the right person to call on in that regard. mulch. an interesting subject. S G’s site. what a lovely little house. the place is half way along the borlin valley, about 8 miles east of bantry. i was perusing "uncivilization" and dark mountain project. interesting. came across an article/review of gary snyder, poet of mention, there. stumbled across a site called, "the arc convention.org". "arc"; alternative research convention/ england. paddy day festive in bantry. no big deal. i was up till 6... again. related to  recent long phone talks, the word, "housewife" echoed in mind while cooking.  and the concept struck me as absurd, in that, how can "a female being" be possibly wedded to ..."a box"!? whether concrete, wood, or cardboard, a house is a sort of box. like,"oh she's not my "wife" she married a box you know".   "oh, i'm sorry to hear that"...." but then i did once go out with a basket case". i walked out beyond the westlodge today to look at a hill.

just to look. curious. looked and came back. bantry house was actually open. i look forward to coming at the grand-piano from a new angle.  listened to a lot of pianists, (celtic piano, anybody...?) not impressed people are all following dots and fall straight into off-the-peg cliche modes before they even sit down. no matter how technically competent. even the famous micheal o'suilleabhain. people just do more of what they've heard before.  very odd. i might get the pleiadians to send me some unheard of celtic improvisations. feed that into the irish grapevine and smoke it.  !  i mean... it might have a bit of a pleiadian "bloss" ( i think is the term traditionalists use, must be irish word, spelled different, with a "fada".. on it.) but the pleiades is in the taurus constellation and astrologers say eire is governed by taurus. must be why they grow cows instead of food.  i think ireland is "governed" by self serving idiots, ("eejits" as they say.) but don't mind. barry o'banana , the prez will soon be turned into a peach. all pear-shaped anyway. fruitcakes. "i guess" then, the revolution should be called "a harvest festival". here i go, another attack of spontaneous literacy from the higher shelf. "how to contact your higher shelf".  get a ladder. ". . . thanking the terton of two-ossist (and co. (inc.)) for her gracious human kindness and nurtureness. i am honoured your honour. and add; anything that was ever "wrong" with us is precisely what was and is always and ever will be, always right with us." after all, we should know, it's always been and is, "right WITH, us".  (forgive capitals.) (the damn romans!). not to mention "Das Capital" !  was musing... funny the similarity between "good"/"evil" &"god"/"devil".....only 1 letter different.  went to bed, thinking;  no way, no gods, no devils, no lucifers.  bullshit concepts.  like "putting legs on a snake".  only the mystical mystery of the beauty of what we foolishly call "nature". and we are that.~~~~ conceptions are conceptual no matter how immaculate. if it's not one thing it's amother.~~~~ groovy dreams.~~~~ "m" *

 

artwork :

hillside pines, martin law, 1995

digital play by pan, wfp for moo

Another Thorpe of the day

"a rainbow maker"~ painting

On 30 March 2012 04:31, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

“countesthorpe village hall”. i was on a concert there when i was very little.
tap dancing with a troupe of all girls! later won a prize for a painting on a bit of board in a home-grown garden produce show. my dad was in the
drama group there. i did some stage set scenery which was a bit far out for what they wanted. art college  influence! “another one of your crazy ideas me lad.” joan kent. met her  having her hair permed being dried under the drier, “come and meet mrs. whibley she’s very interesting, she’s a writer, we talked for ten minutes
after. later did all the drawings over here in co. kildare. posting them one by one.
my “rabbits” drawing was part of a publicity window display on charring cross road london.  ... i did eat. head full of  steam trains and leafy lanes. what a memory! remember first time  watching a tele-vision, two doors up the hill. it was a Pye . watched, ‘les companions de la chanson’, singing
“the chapel in the valley” little jimmy brown. one man had a long neck with a big adam’s apple. back home i drew an ad. in pencil, for “Pye televisions”.
not meaning to sound banal. hmm. remembering casual conversations
from the 40’s! ...small details. i don ‘t remember the future too well.
but, I feel it will surpass my best imaginings, just came to tell
everybody. !... it’s 4.30 and it feels like 1.30! must check the weather forecast and
compare it with the sky.
aren’t we blessed! --- stuart er... rainbowmaker.

WOW!

On 30 March 2012 02:38, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

.hey wow perfect amazing.
also your message just popped in the "instant" i just sent mine off.  just speed read yours and will go back and study it.    and... i mean, i "grew up" at 103 station road countesthorpe  lei-ces-ter ------ i was just off down green lane as you will read. could have gone even further.  actually missed a bit: there is a photo of "the vineries", station road. 103 is two doors down from there!  i meant to scribe something like.... "oh, and there's a photo of "the vineries". an old brick house and grounds, two doors down from where i grew up. childhood impressions. back then, in the 1940's, i recall walking down there to the house with my dad.  he ran a hairdressing business he set up himself in the small front room at 103. started the business from scratch, going around on the bike to cut peoples hair. i must have been very young.  we called in to the house at "the vineries".  i don't remember any vines, but apple orchards all the way back to the field by the railway line. the days of steam trains. the woman we were calling on, her name i recall was Anne Howsley.  my dad said something about , she was very unhappy, or depressed, or it seemed to me, something was mysteriously amiss. and she lived alone. we entered by the kitchen door from outside. the bare 1940's kitchen was painted apple green. very high walls. kitchens in those days were bare, with few appliances and no modern conveniences. she came in from a dark doorway from the left, very quietly. i just stood on the bare stone floor soaking up the mysterious atmosphere. after we left, i looked back at the house, feeling sad for this  lonely woman. an element of mystery still surrounds this memory.  perhaps i was always an impressionist.~~~~~~~~~~ back to this note. i could lose myself in this stuff. they say tobacco is good for the memory. i always seem to remember to buy more so  there might be something in it. even this particular green is joggling some ancient memory.  bet i could trace it back. amazed. pleased. the paintings look fine. after 45 years! must read yours. drink some tea. i thank you for all this. it's a bit exciting. i feel about 6. (years young). i always was a man of letters as well as colours. very enjoyable.   i bless your animals. hope they know they're lucky.
love~~~ stuart.



 

artwork :

no.2, martin law, 2006

Clipping:
From Countesthorpe Herald

"Thorpe of the day,(changing daily.)"

On 31 March 2012 20:52, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

"Thorpe" of the day. fine-tuning to appropriate colour tone.~ ....am i okay? more than fine thanks.
thanks so much for "the white goddess".  evening sun breaking through.  reflects in here off window across the street at a certain time on the clock. timed it last spring as it gradually got later. just lit a fire.  return to "the pooter", as a friend's child aptly called this p.c.  to be more succinct, in case i get published. saves trees, which everybody knows, are made out of paper.  i LOVE that my blog has large print. letters are to be looked at, not just scanned. ah... wondering how the ponies are doing. and needing names. they already got "manes".  name tags for nags. (i know what "tags" are now.)~ but here's a few tags for nags:  nag 1~    "hammaddi."- "champa" - "nagarjuna" - "nagual".~~~~~~ just sent you my sisters reply. thought noteworthy.~    was just on the "countesthorpe" google-earth link. looking again at the photos too.  where i was "raised", (strange concept !)  i mean; "was i too low?  read the history of the village. learned that "thorpe", comes from "torp", viking for outlying settlement. astonished to read that in 1242 *sic., the name of the "village" was spelled, (wait for it).........
~"Cuntassthorpe".~ you would wonder what went on in this outlying settlement. on land owned by william the conk. all sounds a bit torporous. as a child living there, the village was known in local colloquial as, (wait again)... "niffy crackum". west midlands english grassroots slang. if the preceding info were ever posted, i have three pertinent black/white photos, "snaps"of the artist at age 6 &7.  my sister has the whole archive i gather. of interest "to me", not as a "self". but with regard to "my" consciousness at that stage. something which wasn't wasted. in that, it wasn't outgrown as required.  they talk of "the inner child". well big deal. he's fine too, thank you. i can comfortably speak for/as him/me. has everything to do with art. they go, "oh self-taught.  you must be gifted". i still say, "no i don't need a rewards card thank you, i make my own." so, thank you for acknowledging my 700th birthday. i'm touched. or i must be. or should be, more like. becoming evident i have an experience, (not just a concept), of "age", that self-evidently diverges from the consensus norm. i sure don't feel 70. and have to wonder who's birthday i'm having. i'll be back on my bike. take a bottle of wine if i drank but i don't. mindful of the alkaline/acid thing. (don't do the acid thing either.)  it's never too late to have a happy childhood.   ~~M

rainbow reflecting makes full circle.

On 30 March 2012 01:51, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

.hello,    ..... ( a distant echo) a first re-sounding of my two remaining painting images
from 1968. toby had two goes at the colour tuning. the second approach had to involve a photo-shop job on the colour of the gypsy woman's face.  it's still a bit orange and should be a dusky tan. feel free to fiddle if you wish.
at least better than the transparency-print, which was "purple"!  (warm yellow + purple= golden brown.) way back then, i painted that picture twice, identically, in rapid succesion.  retracing and all.  the first one, on completion, all peeled off in sheets of elastic acrylic!  leaving a totally clean canvas.  i'd bought one unknowingly primed for oils. doesn't stick.  took it back, got another and did it all over again.  just in time to collect my weekly pittance from mr. lerman, and pay my rent. i hope the horses, the ponies, are behaving, not "nagging". what a hectic start to a day.  i hope it resolves and you all get on well. i don't recall those paintings having titles.  haha, see how long i've been in the peace movement. two years before "gypsy child".  "far out man".
come to think of it, "girl with doves", 13 letters. that'll do.  ....and "gypsy dreaming", 13.   lucky for some!
that was a good move, the bloglink to "countesthorpe".
where i sprouted from.  has set me reflecting.  hence the subject:  "rainbow reflecting makes full circle." unearthed a wellspring of memories bubbling up from a childhood seemingly untainted by trauma. considering i was what they call born, in 1942, middle of what they are pleased to call, "a world war". and counting.  which, later, must have imprinted the meme; "in the thick of it, but emerging out of it".  that fits with willy blake's four astrological element archetypes.  in this instance, taurus/ - "earth= "he struggles into life".
so, countesthorpe. with a mild sense of wonder, i studied the photos of that place on the link. i don't "do" past. i studied them in present mode, the mode of life. felt affectionate to what i saw, and remember.  very formative too. realizing, not everyone is blessed with benevolent childhood impressions.  i take a moment to gaze into them as they well up. i was last there, briefly, a day, 31 years ago. and only visited my parents house, shortly before my mother "passed away".  never letting on that my "marriage" and family had just disintegrated.  so what i saw was not the magic of childhood place that remains in seed form within my true imagination. i see the photo, "the beeches". the farmhouse on "green lane".  amazing!  it's still there.  and the two huge beech trees too.  one on each side of the straight path to the door.  wow!  i took the route down green lane twice a day from age 5 to age 11, to and from school. it wasn't the green lane which is said to be still there.  it's the one i internalized through the eyes and ears and nose of a young artistic boy in the 1940's. walking alone, seeming to recall every bit of hedgerow, stone or fence, or faded brick wall along the way. those beeches seemed huge then, and i witnessed them from three feet closer to the ground. i can still see the typical english farm buildings back in on the right -hand side. sort of mysterious and quiet, and those farm smells.  anything but mundane. many times since, i have drifted down there in imagination.  then, a few yards further, the row of old red-brick cottages with hanging plants and narrow footpath. encroached on by narrow flower-beds bordered with knobbly round dark slate.  where the lane swings right after that, and there's a photo."poplars farm". the "cosby" family lived there. jane cosby invited me one time, and i took some black and white photos of her horse.  and, there's "heathcote's" corner shop, just before "the spinney" on the left, which i always cut through on the "home stretch", to and from school.  i'm at the corner shop. went in to the small dark shop for a freezing home-made lolipop.it's a timeless,quiet hot summer day in eternity. i drank some "Tizer", "the appetizer". a big glass bottle full of amber coloured fizz and "god knows what". the side wall facing the spinney is covered with metal sheet advertisements, and there's a garage yard next to that smelling of hot rubber.  but no cars. hardly ever see a car. the odd small, always black thing, a ford prefect? going slow, not even disturbing the crows in the high tops of the ash trees, the "spinney".  the tar mc'addam melting , bubbling up. into the spinney for a thick stalk of cow-parsely, (locally called "keck") for a "pea-shooter". and a quick peep at the bird's nest in the hawthorn hedge where there's one wet and broken bright blue brown-mottled eggshell.
and the smell of fallen yellowed ash-leaves still takes me back there.
the world was much quieter then. there was a world war. but the world in my experience seemed to be sundrenched in a timeless hush. bushy and flourishing and tangled with wild honeysuckle smells and buzz of insects. when i say ,"eternity", i'm not being sentimental.  that's false feeling. this was just feeling what was present; the absence of "time". it seems, "sometimes" it was almost hallucinatory. that's a good memory to have. because, ultimately you discover, it never went away.  you did, for a while.  what was never there, how could it go away? it seems, i saw "the ordinary world" without veils. fortunate that my love of expressing it on paper was noticed and encouraged sufficiently that i never abandoned it.  i've done "the long  dark night of the soul". haha!  i call it, "the nong lark sight of the dole". but on reflection, a rainbow has to make a full circle.going off on a curve is fine, so long as you keep going and come back around. look!  we're all on this circular tour together. it seems dark now, when you think about it. what you get is what you think about.  thinking perpetuates the thought-image of a "me" that, "thinks".
thought thinks it has to think or there would be no me.
well fine.  you can't lose what you are even if you throw it away.  obvious?  who are you to throw yourself away?   how many of you there?
so i just give it away.  that's a dead give-away, and, well, i've already given it away. rainbow reflecting makes a full circle.    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Photo From:
www.leicestershirevillages.com

artwork :

Gypsy dreaming. martin law, 1968

Girl with doves, martin law, 1968

flowing with fractals

On 24 April 2012 01:41, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

.flowing with fractals,
i realize, may sound on the surface, like additional complexity. depending on whether mind is momentarily captivated by the focus into exponential drift into progressive  minutae,(sp.not in dictionary) or pursuing
the macrocosm where the theme is more readily recognizable. there we discern the pattern of the party puzzle.  a third-eye colour to enhance discernment of the unseen. fractal moments. life's little swirls and eddies. intending all day to approach editing, yet finding myself in the moment of enjoyment stepping back to survey the pattern so that focus is stabilized i observe the familiar momentary puzzle of does this go there, or does that go here? and is it a problem to be re-solved, or a pattern to be discerned.  interesting. while the macro priority (what matters), is the overall health and wholeness of the bio-sphere and all therein. our sole responsibility as microbic embodied spirit sensors symbiotically subsisting in the gaian carpet, is to vibrate harmoniously within the weave. earlier, in the relative terms of time, approaching the computer, a friend rang, running out of "credits", and with vehicle expired, enquired, would i be going to the shop?  if so, could you pick up an "irish times"?  has a crucial article on impending water-meter charges
so i did.  and also bought some water, and something to start fire.
having used it in combination to make food ingestible, i again approached the computer.  the phone rang, and another friend who had hinted by email earlier that it might, as it was not engaged, engaged me in conversation.  one of those moments when someone is glad to hear you're not engaged. and we explore further the minutae, (a word not in my dictionary.)
the larger pattern is, regarding my birth day. i have told perhaps a couple of people. though planned nothing more than having plenty of water on hand for tea, milk, and honey, and enough stuff to ensure a fire. anticipating relaxed conversation in nuances of presence otherwise too subtle to transcribe merely alphabetically, as is the case with "progress". outside the box, of course, there is zero pressure to resolve any conundrum on it's own terms. by way of saying , i haven't a clue. but the dynamic of flux is always in continual flow, so it doesn't matter not to know.  true, half a dozen heads may be "better than one"(?).   that is, as and when, they ultimately resolve into being of one mind.  not that i'm passing the buck, of course, or even hitting it head-on.
seems i'm "meant" to be writing this tonight, meant, in as much as that's what's happening, and that the process is enjoying itself, if at a snail's pace.  and they said snail-mail had gone! a fascinating fractal composed of, talk of "toothpaste", sources of vitamin B12, ponies on the loose, pyramids and progress, concealed nuclear meltdown, and "contact with celestial star-relatives has begun at mount adams".  all of which is why, the well-being of the bio-sphere is top priority, above personal acheivement, where , relatively speaking, nothing matters but that we unfold harmoniously in inescapable interdependence and enjoy the process.  blending the dreaming with the being. thankfulness for the small things being the "hathors' " advice for safely surfing the currently escalating solar storms. a phenomenon which amplifies polarity of emotional response, purging all that was unconscious and unacknowledged.   provoking the inner dialogue in it's habitual over-rationalization of hitherto unexplored realms of feeling.
but i digress, following the fractal flow.  when in doubt, whether it's a bed or a table, sleep on it. we will know what we don't now know, because the kaleidoscope changes, by itself. so let us stay tuned.  any day is good as a birth day.  i wonder how many there are in a second. at least that takes the pressure off.  my grandfather was a steam-engine drivers mate.  we'll come into the station when the signals change.  stay calm, and warm, and dry.
i had no notion to write any of this.  is this a book or what?  we will see what..."transpires", is the word i was looking for in a previous letter.  stay tuned. in concert~M*

artwork :

Crystal of love, martin law, May 2008

sure tis a grand piano

On 11 April 2012 00:23, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

.< a sort of rich resonant mahogany colour~
redolent of rounded mouldings holding literal tons of
tones in tensile fine-tuned-taught shimmering sheets of diatonic periodic dynamic-dominions -of- domino -cascadencies reverberating huge harmonic radiance evenly unto the ether... so to speak. he tuned the solid waiting dark vertical harp box without hassle in about forty minutes flat to a sharp pitch a semi-tone below concert and naturally so for caution and saying it was sound.  while i pottered for coal and black coffee by the fireside sitting listening.
witnessing through ears the artistry and craft of hands that had honed for noted and notable nobility of grand symphonic recital performance and didn't even stop for a cup of tea.   it's sound. i thanked him roundly handing two sheets of orange paper and a tracing of ten summers.  into his hands having just spanned a trail of scales for a soundcheck finale.  wow i can't do scales says i, you don't need em says he, only fish need scales say i, and he, only for fish is right.   and he out the door to another appointment.  and i a quick ramble of ivory medleys blessing all elephants with a blaze of westering yellow on eyelids dancing complementaries deep into the sanctum of iris.

"WOW"

On 2 May 2012 04:10, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

like this: a friend, had been busted last year for cultivating a certain natural herb* and has been in suspense for months, convinced, and prepared to go to jail. (as if the suspense wasn't bad enough). the court case was today, may day. her soul crying "may day may day". i had already promised to do something i hoped might help.which i did at 5am this morning. what bit i have gleaned of how to call on spirits of the directions,+ mother earth/father sky/ the inner no place of the heart. and in the correct order. while listening to Courtney Brown the remote viewer, & simultaneously focussing to compose a 13 word sentence (like fashioning an arrow),late into the night.  "……. is being protected,she will be free.court be kind and lenient" (13) consulted my book of most relevant indian signs and chose six. wrote the message 13 times neatly, added signs.
(sure spirit won't mind sharing this) at length and slowly, aloud called first on the east in peace and goodwill to hear my request. with incense clockwise round thru to north. i believe clockwise calls down. thank father sky/ from heart/ ground in earth. gratitude. read aloud 13 times. unwind in reverse, thanking each for being present. an additional inspiration: (hadn't yet thought of "suspended sentence") but bluetacked the "sentence" "suspended" above my pillow. (so in sleep, anything astral could read what i wrote, while my sleep self could remain in resonance.  6am. went to sleep. woke abruptly at 10. got up had coffee! slept again till about 3.30. ****   got up to find a joyful email of thanks. no jail. just a "4 year suspended sentence"! she had already totally revised and cleansed her lifestyle of virtually everything anyway.  i emailed and queried the 10 o'clock thing, "is that when it was"?  and it really was. but postponed till 1pm. so, i don't know. who knows? but good!  wah sh'te!(lakota for "good")  ~~M.

levels, stairs, and landings.

On Wed, Apr 18, 2012 at 9:11 PM, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

.>>>   ~@~  oh! is this the debrief zone portal?.............  aha, rainbow kinfolk!  namaste. just in from a sequence on TERRA. phew!  seemed like a lifetime.
(telepathically), yes, mayan day-sign 1 eb. initiate seed-planter.  post-2012-transition sector. stayed on to see northern tribes regain their roots, plus to merge back in on the shift.can i skip the life review? did a chunk of it down there on the side just now.  i fancy a phase on ERRA, the sister planet to TERRA, in the pleiades, just to balance up.always seem to learn a lot from ERRA.  and ah, the eternality of those vast bright vistas, lyran lifestyles, soft music of the trans- continental levitrain express,passing through the time-portals on a warm breeze across the plains.  fruit farms flashing past.  nut grove plantations along the winding serpentine waterways. clusters of white domes and flocks of bright coloured birds, robes of rose of the people in exotic and peaceful garden homes, and softly cruising through.
the ever present distant mystery mirage mountain range, all along the familiar heat-haze- blue-horizon-line. timeless fluttering flowers on leaf-shadow-walls, dancing and dappled, flicker and fade......... meanwhile, backtrack to 2012 on earth. slowly surfacing through a morning sleepdream, where a young woman patiently waits while i collect my bits and pieces, hat, coat, bag, and all in intimate innocence without age or agenda. and off and up together, round some landings and narrow wooden stairs to the top, where i turn around and say,"oh there's no door here, there's no way out up here".  and i wake up and it's ten-thirty.  only went to bed at six a.m.  up late listening to the latest "john lamb lash, on "grok the talk".  "the masculine, feminine rif". "rif"?  shouldn't that be "rift". what kind of proofreading is that.  highly recommended listening all the same. male/female, two names for one process. did you ever hear of a magnet whose poles didn't complement one-another?    (>      !      <)
so, slowly sipping a solitary coffee, contemplating with some compassion the state and fate of humanity, the planet, and all who sail in her, i decide to stay up and about. slightly startled from semi-slumber by the slap of a package from the letterbox to linoleum hallway floor.conditioned response thought it was a bill.  it did have a stamp on it that said  "pay your bill". not knowing anybody called bill, i was relieved to get a glimpse of non-conventional syntax.  (always a good sign.)  and i read, "editorial consolidation- site, post,art inventory and projection--- for--- art art law maker of rainbows."and perused ten impeccable pages of itemized blog-postings in semi-whelmed or elmed admiration at such flawlessly practical methodicality.   the "art art" reference, being from my name;  m(art)in  stu(art).  given that my dad's name was  "art(hur)", i can safely say, that art runs in the family. then in to town to scan and email the page in question as requested.  beckoned by charlie in a stationary car with a friend who's name is ayesha. i said ,"that name rings a bell, isn't that also the title of a book?"  charlie gave immediate clarification of the name's mythical symbology.  and i invited him for a drive on the 13th to celebrate your auspicious pyramidal greenhouse construction. gifting them each with my biz-card and a humourous word between us, having cut the biz-cards before retiring at dawn.  a couple more conversations, cards, and shopping, and back up the hill (on foot always) with enough energy to say "thank you", and to enjoy describing these different levels using only twenty-six letters in different juxtapositions.  i never cease to be astonished at my wonderment.~~~*** mrbm.

 

artwork :

stellar sister, martin law, april.2009

103 station road

On 31 March 2012 23:15, Martin Law martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote

.< "angelope", most respectfully, but couldn't resist a temporary blend of names which aptly fuse both the divine anthropos and the graceful theriomorph. which  stood in for using the prefix "dear", (deer).~ but what prompted this post script was... i zoomed in, with some aerial dexterity on "103 station road", noting it's current environs.  the house is directly opposite (north-side) of "waterloo crescent". two numbers (uphill) from "the vineries". the photo of which, exactly as it looked when the "i" was "born".
the front garden, now concrete, no longer the lawn i mowed from infancy, with central rose-tree + bird's-nest.  to the back garden. the elongated strip my dad hated till he suddenly became a fanatical and productive organic gardener. as a wee tot, i'd walk the length of the path, climb the fence, and very long ago now, be up to my head in a field of wheat, later grass. to the other side, under the two whelming huge ash trees, (i called," the twins"), now gone. to the railway line where steam trains regularly passed, both ways. slowing into the station. the 5 o'clock "tea-time train."
what most struck my eagles-eye, was that, in the exact centre of the back lawn, there showed still, after 70 years, a small bare patch where the concrete-cast bird-feeder water bowl once stood.
having, as a mischievous sun-blonded imp, many times disassembled it. much to my dad's understandable irritation.  in fact, one very dry hot summer, long ago when the roads melted and the parched lawn cracked into hard jig-saw segments. i took an urge to prise each segment up, stacking them neatly in a pile.
for obvious reasons i don't quite recall my dad's anger in full. but i seem to recall replacing each one as best i could. perhaps that's why i was encouraged to evolve to jig-saw puzzles, which he sold from the front room hairdressing "saloon" at christmas-time. along with cigarettes, and soaps, and shampoos, and, what was that sign i was asked to paint "in your artistic lettering,
....... "cofrettes and sets". unusually perhaps... i've never once been to a barber in my whole life.  i could always do it perfectly well myself.
but i love hair. the more the better.  never understood why people pay somebody to take it away. not as if you paid to be given some.
dear dad, wherever you may be, in spirit realms, i do deeply understand what the garden meant to you. i share that same love and dedication.
i thank you for your attempts to encourage me in what we love. and for setting such a brave example when no-ne had ever encouraged or acknowledged what you managed to do.   i never told you, but i do now. not one bit of it was wasted. quite the reverse. you said i wasn't methodical. well the reverse is true, now and forever.
i hope this incense smoke reaches you, somehow.
thank you. your son, martin.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

artwork :

a temple of gaia, martin law, march 2010

sacred sunrise, martin law, august 2010

kisses the wolf, martin law, january 2009