AFTER THE STORM. / IN FADING AMBER.

(Improvisation on two songs.)

AFTER THE STORM.~

To be reborn after the storm

when the clouds are breaking.

New light wings of the dawn

eden fields awaking

eden fields awaking.

One breath return of the light

waiting for tomorrow.

Beyond reach of the night

and the waves of sorrow

and the waves of sorrow.

Dressed in white mist on the grass

timeless future vision.

When dark ages will pass

healing all division

healing all division.

Bright star child of the light

silently in waiting.

First birds angels in flight

eden fields awaking

eden fields awaking.~

RBM. 1997.

Dawnwise and rising imperceptibly pale pastel washes brushed gilded and brimming beyond the rim. Gone away the distant thunderous soundwave tsunami and no more bombs in eden long gone and banished forever.

Smoky veils warming softly flushed from beyond the pale blushed paleolithic and dissolving the still dragonish remnants of shade. High feathered flocks of dawnborne winged ones on waves returning in formation.

Dawn like a gentle breath a pale soft spirit face reflecting eyes of aspiration emerging soulful assimilating learning the long ancient journeys through fields of polarity. Deeper than the darkest anthems of experience deepening the depth of wisdom forever.

The antithesis of turgid turbulence and turmoil dewsoaked and redeemed in swathes of freshly washed purely unpolluted Gaelic green barefoot in the grass. Free flowing veils in futurity glimpsed among morning mist cleansing traumas of time spent in samsaric seeming separation from source.

While winged and in waiting the still small silent crystal pinpoint of light emerges from the brink and fall of near void. Rising from the hush the warming gold smiling to arise the birthing chorus. The first primal stirrings of feathered awakenings responding.

Much more immediate than mere metaphor the great central sun the plenitude and pleroma pulsing the planetary body in all pervading spirit essence. Bathing bushy bordered earthly enclosures released forever outside time in kind sublime macro mind burning beyond eons of the long sleep of illusion.

The true mystic fields returning turning the turning Earth into light. It's the song of songs awakening from the moronic mirage into the mystery of being at one within all inclusive of and outside categories and concepts.

May the crystaline ozone dawn breeze wash away remaining ragged remnant relics of rashly delusive and unspeakable atrocity with its guileful rumours of hidden hubris and needless intrigue and be banished into the deep void of the obsolete.~

IN FADING AMBER.

As the day is long and the summer evening fading amber, melting in the west in crimson shades and gold.

As the earth is round its true enchantment long forgotten, and the blackbird song beneath the shady trees.

Till the light returns purple shrouds of night roll over. So the wound will heal the wilderness will bloom.

As the day is long and the summer evening fading amber, melting in the west in crimson shades and gold.~

{ RBM. 2002}

And so flowing industriously in the sublime and turning day and ever after into the farthest reaches of timeless eternity. As the day is long like a song or familiar mellow memory from another age of life.

The long slanting shadows a dazzled glance to flicker and fade like a film in the dreamtime. With the molten solar orb a sinking regal archetypal icon hypnotically emblazoned glinting to glow through stained glass and intricate tracery of black webbed branches.

The image sustains in the last rays of ancient enchantment. Blackbird rustles among crisp leaves in dusky shade under broad and deeply sonorous sleeping trees. From the void the sentinel songthrush parting song.

Slow sailing slumberous sombre shrouded cloudshapes darkening dragonish bringing in the night high above. Realigning harmonizing soothing the past world's wounds from forever with nurture of healing rest. As the day is long and the summer evening fading amber melting in the west in crimson shades and gold.~

**** **** ****

martin rainbowmaker*

Artwork:
   PRE-DAWN FIELDS, martin law, Oct 2014
           Towpath Vision, martin law, April 2013

A Wood of Dreams Video Feature

A WOOD OF DREAMS.

On Sunday, August 3, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Eyelids shade the high sun's glare, relaxing in high meadow grass. Just a pleasant summer breeze, and time becomes forgetfulness.

Childrens' voices fade away, on the path which leads through 'the wood of dreams.'

There may be mythic dragons there, antique fish that swim through trees. Footfalls on the trodden trail, spaces where the silence rings.

But for a single twig's sharp crack, nothing but bright sunlight streams, through hazel leaves and hawthorn limbs.

Around where willow nestles down, in loosestrife lush and meadowsweet, arteries of Earth's heartbeat.

Till time became forgetfulness, meandered on by contented streams. Deep spaces where the silence rings, with nothing but bright sunlight there.

One might settle here, or there. Manifest a table and a chair.

Something solid, made of wood, grounded in the living earth. Pause a while and take a rest, do what's wise and for the best. One could even build a nest.

Oh, but now what's this ? Thought has power it's clear. Whatever is imagined, instantly is here.

What kind of creature needs such a nest ? It seems rather large, and full of pine cones ! Whatever made it, must be friendly, glad i see no sign of bones.

Pine cones... Pine cones ? 'Pineal', that's it !

Straight from the mind's third eye.

But how in such a world as this, is a soul to take a rest ? I seem to recall somehow a bed is best. Passing through a wood of dreams, with the comforting voice of lilting streams.

When thinking of rest, a bed manifests. Tiptoe on stepping stones and tinkling pebbles to try it for size.

I find myself (whatever that means) on an archetype bed, and it's right in mid-stream.

What i didn't count on when thinking of snoozing, the mattress is soaked with water, and oozing ! I wasn't intending on taking a bath. I better keep moving and follow the path.

Must learn to read signs. But what signs ?

Signposts ? No that's silly. That way looks promising... (feeling chilly). Now i know how Alice must have felt, "curiouser and curiouser".

All very strange !

Signposts. Do you follow the signs, or the posts ? ... "FOLLOW THE POSTS."

What was it, i learned back there ? ' If you really must think, think clearly. Be precise and don't equivocate.' The tree deva says "put your best foot forward."

So now, with that clear, i'm entering a clearing, breaking cover, and there's a post but it's a totem pole !

It's a bit two-faced, looking both ways at once,

which i suppose makes sense when you've lost your direction. It does have an owl on top so i must be wising up a bit at least.

 

 

Wising, or waking ? 'Spaces where the silence rings.' 'But for a single twig's sharp crack.'

'Nothing but bright sunlight there.' ...

Eyelids shade the high sun's glare,

relaxing in high meadow grass.

Just a pleasant summer breeze,

and time becomes forgetfulness.~

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

Martin. a.k.a. 'Makes Rainbows'.

( Special thanks to Wendy for the way which i wended.)

ENERGY OF STONE.

On Sunday, September 21, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

What race of beings put these huge uniquely shaped boulders so high up on a steep hill?

Eons before a crane was even a twinkle in a megalithic man's imagination.

Archaeologists have said, they were 'put' here two thousand years ago, but 'put' is a funny sort of word in this context, and that's putting it mildly. Assuming there were no cranes, trucks, or even roads two thousand years ago. Artifacts are usually far more ancient than they are conventionally said to be.

Besides, these ones are four hundred and fifty feet above sea level. There's a panoramic view from up there and not many loose rocks laying around. The tallest stone is thirteen feet high. Possibly the tallest in the whole country.

 

It's said to have originally been twenty feet tall but that it 'broke off'! The uppermost part 'put' back in place, minus the base (which must have been pretty long and heavy to hold it steady) as recently as nineteen thirty eight.

Even so, unless there was zero gravity two thousand years ago it's a strange choice of objects to 'put' in such a place, as to mystify generations for that long, to the point of apathetic amnesiac familiarity. I mean, 'they were just primitive Bronze Age people weren't they ?'

Primitive?! I know that hill, i've pushed a bike up it. You'd hardly get a modern crane up it without it toppling or getting stuck. The sort of hill that reminds you why a bike used to be called a push bike. Unless you're a masochist or a tip-top testosterone teen in training. I speak from experience of course.

 

Obviously they must have come the other way, primitive people aren't stupid. They'd have to come down from higher up. Then do a sharp right and across, but it's still up and down on a narrow winding back road.

But there weren't any roads! Rutted muddy horse and cattle trails more likely. You can only imagine the dead weight of these bulky stones, they're massive.

 

Down from the hills with a heavy cart made of tree trunks, solid block wheels with bronze axels and no brakes that wouldn't burst into flames. Then a sharp right turn on a steep slope and then a few miles of twisty boggy gradients. Makes no sense at all.

Whatever was pulling them would have been totally wrecked in all ways and been run over by sheer density and volition. What race of beings would go to such fruitless trouble and why? I've heard of killing two birds with one stone but no, forget it. I prefer the miracle and mystery that the unthinkable was probably the case.

I can only suspect that the mystery is far deeper than we've ever dared to imagine, and due mostly to ingrained scepticism and i'm completely open to acknowledge that.

Life on Earth is infinitely stranger than "Bronze Age Celts, burial sites, beacons, megalithic tombs", etc. Look at Newgrange or Stonehenge, or Avebury, Egypt, Baalbek, (Baalbek !!) Adam's Calendar, (South Africa). Gobekli Tepi, pyramids of Giza, Europe, China, South America, structures in the high Himalayas and down deep on the ocean floor. Heavy stuff.

Totally global, and interconnected by geomantic lines and networks of planetary acupuncture. It really is such a vast subject that it encompasses everything.

Like the network of energy lines that surrounds the globe. There are plenty of writers, researchers, and dowsers who go into it in detail. Like Freddy Silva, in his book 'Secrets in the Fields'. Or Maria Wheatley, a dowsing adept with profound knowledge. 


 

'Ley lines' is a generic term for the planetary web of lines of force. Where many of them cross is a point of geopathic stress. It makes sense to access and recalibrate this energy with large crystaline stones , piercing the earth like acupuncture needles.

It's even suggested that wi-fi can be transmitted along these energetic lines. If so, and they are electromagnetic, then why not also telepathy and out of body travel, i wonder.

After all, the concept 'primitive' is just a conceit of current technocratic civilization.

Genuine crop formations regularly manifest exactly on earth vortex points. Most likely fine-tuning and stabilizing the planetary energy grid for its current progress into areas of uncharted space where turbulent flows of torroidal force have been detected.

Spirals of magnetic energy surround specific stone alignments creating a vortex, which has been shown to alter brainwaves to the alpha range. Also to produce a frequency just two degrees of Hertz below audible sound.

Harry Oldfield and other researchers have been able to photograph a rainbow spectrum around megaliths, corresponding exactly to the aura and order of the human chakra system.

 

My focus though is primarily artistic. The visual beauty and presence of these stone monoliths. They are always uniquely impressive triggers of inspiration. Human relation to the energy of stone goes back a long way.

There is emerging physical evidence that, there may well have been "giants on Earth in those days." Along with the forever presence of higher dimensional people of all kinds inhabiting unfamiliar and long forgotten realms.

Highly advanced civilizations come and go in cycles of millions of years. As this solar system among uncountable others swirls around the galactic core at 4883000 miles per hour. Spiraling through uncharted infinity from a golden age around to a higher golden age, our present destination.

That there were many civilizations far more advanced than this one is plainly obvious. Evidence and artifacts and visitations have been hidden from us until recently.

 

 

So i'm in no position to prejudge evidence of my terrestrial and extraterrestrial relatives and ancestors. They are way up ahead of me in this field.*

*** *** *** ***

Makes Rainbows.

OPTIMYSTICISM.

On Saturday, September 13, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

'Optimysticism', i launch an interesting new word, complete with 13 letters, it's bound for fortuitous futurity.

 

I bless this viral vessel full of seed syllables and synthesis and all who sail in her.

The genesis of the word was planted some years ago in conversation with a late friend who founded and established our local wholefood store and restaurant/art venue.

He said to me appropos of nothing in particular

(i think we were discussing hope), "if you can't be optimistic just be mystic." Of course, that made itself at home in my 'anagram brain', as another friend once addressed me as.

Well it's a nice looking word. Has an interesting shape to it, so it's probably sea-worthy and hopefully hear-worthy as well.

Being a synthesis of most positive ingredients,

complete unto itself.

Beginning with an O and ending with M, 'OM.'

The ultimate positive vibration. Universally giving rise to the known multiverse and infinitely more we don't know.

But 'optimysticism', what might it mean ? In a world of opposite poles, seemingly perpetually competing for 'full spectrum dominance'.

Well here's the first lesson in non-duality, if i may be so bold... 'Poles don't compete.'

Though contrarily, certain continents still seem to think they should. As if you could have a west without an east, especially on a sphere, and one good pole is nothing without another.

'Opposites arise mutually.' In plain language, obviously you can't have one of anything without another. Unless it's the infinite oneness without boundaries which includes everything, known and unknowable.

But you can't call that, 'one', either, because, being everything, there's nothing else to differentiate it from.

In case you didn't catch that, contemplate the Yin/Yang symbol. Two opposites that so define each other that they are not two, but one process. You know, like male and female, so formed in every way as to compliment and give rise to one another.

Forget dominance. Its day is over. Though some are slow to realize. It never works, only seems to, till it doesn't. Opposites (so called) are indivisible and can only ever compliment one another, literally.

The last people to realize such a self evident truth are, politicians, military, and a variety of over zealous sports enthusiasts. Samurai are a different matter, and you can't win at ping-pong without the assistance of a friend.

Everything is an infinite synthesis anyway. Now there's a thought ! 'I give thanks for everything without which nothing would be. Amen.'

Everything, is so much part of everything else that everything IS everything else. There's nothing greater than everything, and if you call it 'God', then you've made a separate something where there isn't one. That which is all things is everywhere without beginning or end.

The beginning of all this was the word, 'optimysticism', OM, which is a good vibe to start with. 'Opti', the root syllable of 'optimum', is as good as it gets. Way better than your current best.

Optimism is when that's what you fully expect it to be, despite doubt or apparent evidence to the contrary. A healthy antidote to bad vibing your existence.

Hope and fear go together. You just 'hope' for the best because you really fear the worst, so that's what you attract. Like attracts like, because it's an energy match, you only attract what something in you resonates with.

'Mystic', might sound mysterious but can hardly be other than what IS or it wouldn't be possible.

To the extent that we think it's 'out of the ordinary' we render its presence that much less self evident. Those fake opposites again, ordinary/extaordinary.

When we say, and believe, that the ordinary is not extaordinary we've collectively made it seem to be so, by chopping it in two and giving it two opposing names.

Better not use such divisively sharp words. Our word-thoughts chop everything in half, then we forget which part 'goeswith' which.

Mystic, is when we learn to no longer do that so nobody gets cut up about it.

Besides, what we resist, remains what we are focused on, for just as long as we focus on it as being something to be avoided. Like complaining that your shadow is always following you, when you can always walk in a different direction.

Optimysticism could mean the art of no longer denying that the outcome may equally be beyond all previous expectations. Thereby making such an energy match all the more likely.

Imagine being a powerful magnet. If your habitual focus is fearful it's a form of praying for what you actually least want. Whereas optimysticism is a focusing on what you most love, without any place left for doubt and fear.

 

So i simply launch this small wordcraft. With no hairsplitting or bottles broken on the bow.

It's pointed enough to not encounter resistance, light enough to encourage buoyancy, and it's not the stern that leaves witnessers awake.

I know it's been a choppy voyage but we're in similar vessels if not the same boat. Something in the wind tells me we are heading out of the storm, despite the look of the clouds. Not just metaphorically either.

May you never get totally wrecked, or linger long in languish in the doldrums. May a steady breeze blow, and billowing, fill your sails.

 

Stay aimed and on course for those calm waters and unimaginably unprecedented and welcoming pleasant shores out beyond the wildest storm when the blast is forever past.

Speaking as an optimysticist.~

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

Makes Rainbows*

THE OTHER WORLD.

On Thursday, August 14, 2014 at 1:13 PM, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Before the Dawn. (A song.)

You say it's been this way for a few thousand years. We've grown accustomed to a valley of tears. We close our eyes to the trouble and strife, and philosophize it's the nature of life.

I dream of a new world that's always been here, but i couldn't define it to make it seem clear. In imagination it's easily found. I pray that someday it'll be all around.

(Repeat verse.)

Guide us through the night, lead us to a new daylight. Battlefields and shattered fright, there must be another way. Guide us to the dawn, through these times that are tattered and torn. May the love within be born, to a new day.

A change in the wind and a change in the heart. A long way to go and a long time to start. A mighty mountain that is so hard to climb. A rolling river to the end of time.~

RBM. 1978.

The Other World.

The preceding verses are the words of a song i wrote, played, and sang, in 1978. It just now resurfaced while contemplating the same perennial theme: 'How do you express the seemingly inexpressable ?'

That was just one attempt among many from back then, and back further before that. It's the same theme that has always been the connecting thread running through all my art.

Well, that was thirty-six years ago as the crow flies. I'm still experimenting, improvising, artistically and poetically around that underlying theme. It's like a zen conundrum, though it does bear fruit, and evolve perception and being. To put it another way, i'm living it.

So what am i getting at (or not getting at), and why 'The Other World' ? What other world ?

'The world' is apparent just as you perceive it to be, but has everything to do with far more than what we call 'the senses.' Nothing is fixed or immutable and we are, in essence, quite other than machines. An understanding we must never reliquish.

Machines might be a bit like us, (we invent them). That does not mean we are as they are. They are just manifestations of our current ideas, from one out of an infinity of possible viewpoints.

It's very dangerous and deviating to liken ourselves to our toys and tools. A digger is like a hand but a hand is most certainly not a digger. We are living organisms, and infinitely more besides.

Our actual essence is invisible. Integral with a boundless field of mutable interdependent relationships, which science hasn't even been able to locate. So forget machines.

You don't have to look beyond where you are, to see we have been deviated by a subtle intrusion of a false analogy, increasingly alien to our essence.

Next time you're in a plane, look down on urban infrastructure. It's identical with an electronic circuitboard. That's exactly what it is. If you break the circuit you are served with a penalty and possibly put in contact with a circuit court.

The other world, is none other than the one in which we live, and breathe, and have, well, some of our being, but are in no sense actually unplugged from the mainframe.

The other world is this world, seen through the eyes of innocence and experience combined. A mature innocence, wholly in the present.

The world of nature, the biosphere, which we are inseparably one with, is a miraculously beautiful and indivisible living network of magically sentient cyclic fibonacci fractals in organically self sustaining balance and intra-communication, and we are embedded in, and are, it.

Yet it's plain to see, we are infected with an alien virus based on rectilinear grid systems. The grid is a net, superimposed, and held in place by coercion and aquiescence. Restricting the freely self organizing flow of life energy.

Do a double take at surrounding infrastructure, and observe it from above. Easy to do with Google Earth. Alien grids everywhere. We are entrained to not think outside the box.

Whereas, when you are attuned to the other world, you're home and in actual fact never left. So much for modern cities. Rigid alien tombstones branded onto the nurturing body of Mother Earth.

The real alien invasion happened long ago. We let our guard down and were tricked by our own vanity. Falling into a feverish sleep, dreaming turgid dreams of 'progress' and vain glory. Forgetting sacred earth and life, worshipping the artificial.

We are microcosmic bugs embedded in a magical carpet, one with the weave. Not intrinsically parasites. The only scum, being that which rises to the top (so called) when the spirit-body-politic is polluted.

The planetary body herself, sounds out a resounding primal clarion call, (Gaia Sophia's correction). Activating antibodies on all levels in ever expanding concentric waves.

While, obscene, unthinkable cruelty unleashed rains down on innocence, with no remorse.

The stark peak of original 'war in error' unchecked.

Yet beyond all words, human innocence still radiates the one and only true strength of spirit.

The other world is not some other place.

Love, or you will surely lose the race.

Live together in a state of grace.~

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

Makes Rainbows.

Empath soul link

On Mon, Sep 15, 2014 at 1:13 PM, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Just a moment of hello on the telepathograph~~~~~ the thought drift being hopefully helpful dispelling any remnants of bereftness as we know it well on many levels. Especially too as you say for sensitive souls evolving and refining, recalibrating our natural instinctive harmony and balance at the same time as being aware of 'normal' people going about their 'normal' life story and never stretching their imagination in the direction of simply relinquishing and revoking any allegiance to the unquestioned agreement as to what constitutes 'normal life.'  So to speak.
 

Just to reassure you dear friend that not since i left school has it ever impressed me as being normal and with maturity i'm exponentially more adept  at deconstructing the illusory pretence called 'normal' with authentic confidence while the bereftness remains an apparent planetary

phenomenological experience which however i'm blessed to have self-trained to put into perspective by filtering it through my version of meta- philosophical imaginative art, music, and poetry totally synthesized assimilated and blended with what is commonly called 'ordinary reality' and i say that in full recognition and acknowledgement that of course you know what i mean. If i had to go through the movie over again i'd probably still be freaked out in long term slow motion at how it's all so totally unlike the inner trusting vision of the world i came in with.

So i heartfully encourage you to faithfully continue to walk tall and deliver your soul gift blossoms fruitfully in abundance as is natural for a starseed messenger interplanetary creative Earth loving post~woman in the full confidence and integrity that the 'normal' people, though they may seem to fit into square holes (sort of) are dying of thirst for they may know not what but that you however, carefully carry the keys to, as the likes of us naturally do and are much needed now as the cosmic carpet is being pulled from under their consensus edifice of everyday illusion and amnesiac negligence of our hitherto angelic inheritance , angelically speaking.

I started the day painting the front gate as the sun shone, thinking i held a tin of the remains of varnish to re-weatherproof. But i realized it was the brown paint i'd used for the tops of the cream walls. But it matched perfectly so i carried on and carefully did the whole gate in no time. Heard a neighbour opposite say "What? Working on a Sunday?" I simply mumbled "H-hm" and didn't look up, continuing, thinking, poor man doesn't know there are no Sundays and i don't subscribe to them, it being only a word inherited from the Roman Empire, imagining how i would explain that to him and he still wouldn't cop on that it's always only now and while it morphs and changes it's not going anywhere let alone Moonday, knowing 'normal people' encased from birth in peer pressure could never make that leap into the ever present that no name could pin down but aught to be aware that were he to ask such as i a sincere question then he better be prepared for a broad and deeply researched honest answer that he may not be ready for, ever. Sundays indeed!

It's only Sunday if we agree it is but why call it anything. More importantly we have a job to do, just being as we are or however we happen to be and there are no mistakes only learnings and creative post people, star people, quite often feel bereft of a more benevolent shared haven on Earth. A most mysterious mist for the grill and part of the course. What if i were to tell him, take care now we're in the fourth dimension heading for the fifth and that's why people are confused.  Thank haven there are folks i could say such a thing to and unknown to him it's already viral mainstream and on course for getting better moment by so called moment till it just is but despite the lie of the lands we already know that from the start.

So, as i simply meant to say, "hello. More power to ye. Thou art not alone." (WoofWoof)  Or to quote the last para of an article i wrote today... "May you never get totally wrecked, or linger long in languish in the doldrums. May a steady breeze blow, billowing in your sails.  Stay aimed and on course for those calm warm waters and pleasant shores.  Speaking as an optimysticist."  

~  Love from me