On Sat, Aug 18, 2012 at 4:25 AM, Martin
Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com>
wrote:
~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile and after re-reading through your wondrous playful word weavings and of course staying in synch with whatever inflexions or peripherally nuanced momentary oblique asides and in passing not missing a beat along the path to wherever it may lead swinging around to heed a stray leaf becoming the part of the puzzle that continues the gossamer thread from stem to stem popping it into the basket like little red riding hood and not dropping a stitch on the way by way of demonstration that of course i dig your groove and it all makes perfect random organic sense red squigleys and all as i naturally scrutinize each footprint.
I earlier along the path, checking the state of the fire in the grate to safely stretch out and fall asleep in the chair to compensate the few missing hours of last night sleep and all that standing around bantering from stall to Bantry market stall a town built on subteranean water channels literally laterally and down to the lapping sea. It being a day of grey atlantic looming and impossible torrential canvas flapping monsoons in sudden waves of gutter swelling drain gurgling vertical downpour, hence my hopping from stall to sheltering stall loitering without tent each one an abundance of dripping glistening unpolluted produce. All hatches hastily and firmly down-battened some stray sails to no avail but all hands rope lashed to the common goal of 'business as usual' and a maritime was had by all.
So saying with intent to elucidate my meaning of the afore and aft mentioned 'house situation'. Simply said that my many moons of experimental affirmation whether drafted in duplicate, recited in repeated incantation, intoned internally in exponential replications of thirteen times thirteen hourly for three full moons aiming for thirteen counted on handlebar fingers by bicycle and while shopping and suchlike, on the occasion of manifesting a satisfactory place to live, quite self evidently bore fruit. The 'mis-shots referred to being previously stuck in a substandard daylightless dark and claustrophobic dungeon tomb of rooms, stuck being a modest metaphor paralysis of verve and will to move lasting a staggering nine years and the labyrinths of cobwebs customarily encountered in an underworld journey. Being an archetype of a test typically self inflicted in order to pass carrying the candle often quaking but ultimately unflinching faithfully following the golden thread of creativity despite surrounding environmental desecration of otherwise sacred space, not to mention the daily onslaught of diggers and dumptrucks and other long term traumas finally finding the exit out into light. Which is why i say, an affirmation of intent may well incurr a test of worthiness humbling the intender into releasing hold of the arrow of such intent for it to reach it's mark. And it did! So this is just an echo of that, in retrospect the tale told incomprehensible to some but not to you who know well that neck of the woods and the listening involved in the passing through. Bearing a gift safely wrapped in soft hide of delusory demons encountered. A small but sacred bundle self-destined to open like a flower of it's own accord. As the seed seeks the sun sensing cyclic signals of birdsong.
And so, whatever with the weather, the wild and weary ways of the world. Trust bears fruit. Seed to root. The gift is in the flower. Endless spirals and cycles of unknown suns. ><><><><><><><><
~~Rainbowmaker.
Meanwhile and after re-reading through your wondrous playful word weavings and of course staying in synch with whatever inflexions or peripherally nuanced momentary oblique asides and in passing not missing a beat along the path to wherever it may lead swinging around to heed a stray leaf becoming the part of the puzzle that continues the gossamer thread from stem to stem popping it into the basket like little red riding hood and not dropping a stitch on the way by way of demonstration that of course i dig your groove and it all makes perfect random organic sense red squigleys and all as i naturally scrutinize each footprint.
I earlier along the path, checking the state of the fire in the grate to safely stretch out and fall asleep in the chair to compensate the few missing hours of last night sleep and all that standing around bantering from stall to Bantry market stall a town built on subteranean water channels literally laterally and down to the lapping sea. It being a day of grey atlantic looming and impossible torrential canvas flapping monsoons in sudden waves of gutter swelling drain gurgling vertical downpour, hence my hopping from stall to sheltering stall loitering without tent each one an abundance of dripping glistening unpolluted produce. All hatches hastily and firmly down-battened some stray sails to no avail but all hands rope lashed to the common goal of 'business as usual' and a maritime was had by all.
So saying with intent to elucidate my meaning of the afore and aft mentioned 'house situation'. Simply said that my many moons of experimental affirmation whether drafted in duplicate, recited in repeated incantation, intoned internally in exponential replications of thirteen times thirteen hourly for three full moons aiming for thirteen counted on handlebar fingers by bicycle and while shopping and suchlike, on the occasion of manifesting a satisfactory place to live, quite self evidently bore fruit. The 'mis-shots referred to being previously stuck in a substandard daylightless dark and claustrophobic dungeon tomb of rooms, stuck being a modest metaphor paralysis of verve and will to move lasting a staggering nine years and the labyrinths of cobwebs customarily encountered in an underworld journey. Being an archetype of a test typically self inflicted in order to pass carrying the candle often quaking but ultimately unflinching faithfully following the golden thread of creativity despite surrounding environmental desecration of otherwise sacred space, not to mention the daily onslaught of diggers and dumptrucks and other long term traumas finally finding the exit out into light. Which is why i say, an affirmation of intent may well incurr a test of worthiness humbling the intender into releasing hold of the arrow of such intent for it to reach it's mark. And it did! So this is just an echo of that, in retrospect the tale told incomprehensible to some but not to you who know well that neck of the woods and the listening involved in the passing through. Bearing a gift safely wrapped in soft hide of delusory demons encountered. A small but sacred bundle self-destined to open like a flower of it's own accord. As the seed seeks the sun sensing cyclic signals of birdsong.
And so, whatever with the weather, the wild and weary ways of the world. Trust bears fruit. Seed to root. The gift is in the flower. Endless spirals and cycles of unknown suns. ><><><><><><><><
~~Rainbowmaker.
artwork:
Swirled Flower, martin law, October 2005
Solar Quincunx, martin law
Solar Quincunx, martin law
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