DEOdour-Rant.

 On Wed, Jun 13, 2012 at 7:25 PM, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

I go out and into the garden.  Early June, late evening gold a last burst slanting on ever-Druidic velvet hills.  Illuminating low hills, tree clumps and mounded fields with a wash of vivid olive limelight.I go into the garden musing, ruminating on some things, slow high shroudy cloud cover moving in from Kerry.  The west fleshed out with fleecy pastel orange highlights and sombre purple-grey high in the limpid baby-blue bowl.
In the silent garden sanctuary, a round raised lawn radiating flourishing leafy lines of diverse vegetables of every green from warm to cool.  Profusion of pure pink rose blooms, clotted and clamouring on bamboo cane tripod tipis.
I go into the garden with a will to Gaia.  Ruminating as the ever living livid limelight hills tentatively tone to monochrome. The slumbering hills, now, same as they ever were, anciently outside time. The darkening velvet carpet folds, long incised by barren roads that once were tracks and trails.  Highway links for metal, speed, and oil, that slice the continuity of consciousness.
"World's going to hell with all these tracks and trails." (Gary Snyder.
Poem: 'Civilization'.)
Roads:  Taken for granted as pumping arteries.  I couldn't live without arteries, but i could conceivably live without roads.  The happier the land for that.
Why transport, when it grows or can be made where you are?
There's a taboo against saying these things.
I have never started or steered a car.  I don't care for cars.  They dismember the lines of the land i am one-with.  They cut across consciousness.  In my sight, there is a blight.  A virus stalks the land.    
Not to fully see, is to be partially blind.
Familiarity is the mark of our uprootedness.  Everywhere, the grid dominates the organic.  Not to feel it, is the mark of our amnesia.
There is a taboo against saying these things!
My heart renounces, denounces the taboo in the interests of wholeness.  "Human and land are NOT TWO."  We move through it, and it moves through us.  In sacred imaginative vision i remain with the symbiotic weave of the whole.
What are roads and cars, but the worst addiction on Earth.  Evidenced by: "But you're mad. You couldn't live without them."
Well, i would be glad to.  Cars, oil, and concrete, cause wars.  The makers of cars come from Mars.  The first one was an ingenious idea.
But they never, really, evolved.  Vested interests curtail evolution.
Now they are like shoes. More of them than people.  They dominate.
Whatever is convenient, is considered indispensable.
We haven't solved transport.  Warmongers withhold the solution.  A solution which is bound to exist.  Think outside the metal box.
We are, speed, oil, and convenience junkies.  Too 'pre-occupied' with fake progress to grow our own food.  It is fake progress to run highways through ancient sites, (Tara, Avebury.)  Obliterating memory of who we are.  For convenience.  Turning our wholeness into 'a Public Convenience'.  How P.C. is that?
The vertical straight line bisecting the circle.  The linear dividing the whole.  In native american Indian tradition, that symbol depicts,"the power of attraction used wisely." In our attraction to wrong values we further desecrate, (de-sacred-ize) the symbol itself on the land that sustains us.
"Where there is no vision the people perish."  (Native wisdom.)
The nearest we get to vision, is 'more of the same'.  That's not vision, or wisdom, but madness.  And our madness will self-destruct.
Take any modern city seen from above.  Clearly seen from satellite distance  for what it is: A scab.  A wound on the land.  Literally, a festering scab.  A scab made of concrete, suppressing life.  A concrete concentration of 24 hour electricity powered by polluting and hazardous non-renewable energy sources. 'War juice'.
A polluted wound, expanding and draining it's surroundings exponentially, just to survive.  A tumour on the Earth.
Insatiable greed it's virus.  Financial competitive conformity (called 'commerce) it's religion, crime, and main activity.
Obligatory rules and regulations (unregulated) it's chief whip, bully, lock and key.  'Media', it's programming.  An insatiable poison scab on the land.  The first city was an ingenious idea.  But who's idea was it?
Was he even human?
"World's going to hell with all these tracks and trails/ Aurochs grow rare/ Wild goose flocks aren't what they used to be/ Fetch me my beads and amber/."   (Gary Snyder: 'Civilization'.)  ~Thanks Gary.
'Civilization.'  Something that produces the seeds of it's own destruction.  'Civilitas'.  Urban parasitic organism.  (Non-organic.)
Familiarity breeds amnesia.  If it's familiar we call it 'normal'.  The norm is familiar.
And now, we've fractured the radioactive vessel.  Pouring tonnes of undilutable time-proof toxins into the "life-giving waters taken for granted" (Thanks Jimi), as if they were a rubbish tip.  "Because we had no safe place to store them."  How about your bloodstream!!
Leaking on the wind, the breath of life, for a year and still going.  Killing the fish and the birds, the dolphins, the whales.  Hushing it up "for fear of causing alarm."  Leaving the leaking vessel teetering vulnerable and precariously on the edge of four already active fault lines.  Fighting about who's fault is it.
Time to wake up!!!  Re-member.
Civilization is alien invasion.  (Or might as well be.)  It's not yet human.  A parasitic intrusion.  In fact an illusion.
But take heart.  Along with remedial antidote, Vision, and wise pre-caution.
We are naturally, and intrinsically formed for symbiosis with the natural environs, our extended mother-being.  Without which we wouldn't be.  We are creatures embedded in nature.  We 'are' nature.
Imagining separateness, we kill the earth and sky which sustains us.
Obvious really.  We don't even know how to feed ourselves.
So, emergency has emerged, due to our refusal to merge.
Crucial opportunity to stop!  Revise. Re-vision everything. Most especially, everything you believe.  See with loving eyes.  Those 'ever-Druidic hills' which i didn't point to for nothing.  I point, but familiarity blinds you from feeling.  I am simply alluding to clear vision without projection, by whatever name.
You can only feel, through eyes of love. Not fear.  Fear paralyses the cortex, the aspect which responds responsibly.
Love the Earth that sustains you.  That's why it's called 'Mother Earth'.
Didn't they teach you in school?  No.  They don't.
Modern language!  Where is the eloquence?  The poetic insight?  The positive, exuberant, life-affirming rhetoric?  The antidote to the prevailing fear-based rhetoric.
Is it gone with the Indian Headmen you call 'chiefs'?  The holy wo(men) you call shamans and medicine people?  Gone with the wise Druidic Oak Bards?  The wise women, 'Ban-Sidhe' you call banshee who are supposed to howl in the night and you never wonder why.  And so never think to ask, sinking in a bog of tele-vision amnesia.
For Bandia ( Goddess's) sake, wake up and LOVE THE EARTH with your last breath !!  And the next breath.  But your present breath is enough for now.  There is no such thing as 'next', anywhere.
If you don't LOVE THE EARTH, that feeds you, with a calm and enduring passion, you will never see those hills (or anything else), as they are, in full CLARITY and BEAUTY forever outside your time schedule.
In which case, you might go and get stronger glasses, (not of alcohol) which won't help.  And continue with your tele-vision programming,
about the importance of winning and losing, as if you could have one without the other.  Knowing you are just another helpless part of the virus that blights your Mother who you never see and don't give a shit about anyway.  Good luck.  <

artwork : An ancient path, martin law, 1995

              Way to the mound, martin law, 1999

              A silent valley, martin law, 2002

              Below the mound, martin law, June 2011