IN THE WAY OF JOY.

On Tuesday, April 8 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

IN THE WAY OF JOY.

"The way that can be defined

is not the true way itself."

~Lao Tzu.

In the way of joy, now there's a title to contemplate. If you only get as far as the title,there's plenty there for the mind to play with all day.

'In the way of joy', can be read in two opposing ways. Which is the right way? It's a paradox, befitting a planet still snared in duality.

The quote above is from Lao Tzu, who is generally regarded as a kind of Chinese sage, and as you know, sage is a spirit cleansing and purifying plant. It's the opening line from his text, the Tao Teh Ching, (The Way and its Power.)

In the original Chinese there is a play on words; ' The way that can be 'wei(ghed') is not the way.' Wei, as in 'Wu-Wei.' Literally, non-forced, or occurring spontaneously, without superfluous deliberation. Often superficially translated as 'doing nothing.'

Which is not quite the same as unforced spontaneity or happening naturally by itself, by contrast with un-naturally, whereby the focus is on oneself as being the presumed source of action. I can only do what i happen to do. I can't do what doesn't happen. Trying is not doing.

Children are naturally spontaneous until repeatedly told "control yourself" or "why did you do that?" When you didn't. It occurred naturally. The resulting adult form of 'self control' is more akin to self inhibition, the insistence that doing or not doing requires a mythical self to oversee it. Being unaware or outrageous doesn't count.

Spontaneity in infancy is the natural precursor to mature naturalness, whereby the illusion of separation from what happens naturally is clearly seen for what it is; an imaginary division, resulting in a sense of strain we wrongly identify with as being a self.

Rather like a low volume manifestation of stage fright or 'self' consciousness on an ongoing daily basis. The internalized command to control a self as if it wasn't you, the one trying to control, is a vicious circle, like a snake trying to swallow its tail. Or, as they say, "like putting legs on a snake," that is to say, totally unnecessary and disastrous.

In the way of joy, interpreted one way it can be read in the sense of 'living in the way of joy.' A healthy and natural way to live.

It can just as easily be read as, 'there is something in the way of joy.' Which is self evident when you look at what goes on in the human world, relative to your zoom and focus.

So it's a paradox and also a potential catalyst if you ponder it long or deeply enough. Which you most likely will, now you've read it. It may repeat itself like an echo as mind tries to resolve a contradiction. A semantic, rather than an optical illusion.

As you know, catalysts turn into butterflies, which are universally symbolic of a liberated soul, and flitter spontaneously from flower to flower, doing what they do naturally without needless effort (Wu Wei). Though it's quite natural to use effort till it's seen to be no longer necessary.

Who is living in the way of joy? Being of the way in joy. Or otherwise, who is in the way of living in joy? By contrast with all other forms of life, human creatures struggle with this. The ones who don't appear to, just think they're in control.

Is this a naturally joyful world? Or is it just a testing ground for enjoying 'in spite of' being part of an accutely contradictory system which regards living as being so familiarly mundane that they have lost the plot.

In that regard, the most obviously psychopathic might more honestly be termed 'kill-joys.' Because that's the job description they most enjoy embodying, and executing, so to speak.

While otherwise, in the way of joy, the rest of creation, regardless of who's in the way, recreates itself perennially in eternity in perfectly spontaneous beauty.

Lillies, for example. They don't sweat or pass the buck. Any more than a buck sweats the pass.

There must be a lesson in all this. Like, 'you can't judge a buck by its overcoat.' Or, "Get out of the new one if you can't lend a hand", as the songline goes.

Last but not finally, you have to get out of your own way to get into your own way. Despite what anybody says, me included. I won't stand in the way of joy.

"I bless this space in lightness and pure joy,timelessness, beauty, and peace."

(13 word sign above my mantlepiece. See photo, in blog archive, February.2014. Titled 'Responsible response.')

~]~] ~]~] ~]~] ~ Makes Rainbows.

Photos: IN THE WAY OF JOY. martin law, 2014

Happy Birthday!

 

Another vibed solar cycle cycled,
Happy Birthday Martin Rainbowmaker!

LOVERS OF STONE.

On Saturday, April 5 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

The world is full of an interminable turnover of

megamonumental drama, or so we're led to believe. So much so, that i'm often at a loss to know what to write about.

However, when any emergent trend totally predominates, it by definition becomes the background for its antithesis to emerge out of. So take heart, endings are never final.

When every last tree has been counted and computerized (earth forbid) to monitor that they are growing as they should, something unprecedented will emerge out of the wood,

(the wood which couldn't be seen because trees were in the way). Who knows, it might even have hooves and horns.

Since 'The News', tells us what's important to think about for a day or two, i'll focus therefore on something of no importance whatsoever, something trivial, of no apparent consequence.

Then the question arises by itself; 'what is trivial?' Are small things more trivial than big ones? Like, is an ant trivial? The short answer would have to be, NO.

There would be no big things if not for an infinity of little ones. A nuclear explosion for example. The seamless fabric of life. I'd leave it alone, might get something bigger than you bargained for, oops, too late!

Perhaps the only really trivial thing is a mind that regards anything as trivial. Except of course for 'The News', but that's just boring background.

With regard to 'the stuff of life itself', of no major significance whatsoever and apropos of nothing, on a fine market day a couple of years ago, a friend said to me, "I've got a megalith for you, it's in the back of the car. Do you want to have a look?"

He said, "It sort of fell off a cliff." I suppose they do that sometimes, i mused inwardly.

I mean, it wasn't particularly big. A sort of mini-megalith. Longer in length than wide in width but heavy enough for me not to carry it uphill with the shopping. So he delivered it for me.

Interesting shape though. It leaned beside my fireplace for some time. Another friend took a fancy to it and suggested i carve symbols into it for her. But i decided to keep it, and it leaned around in various corners of my garden for a long time.

After the sapling, dead in the centre of the circle mounded lawn 'lived' up to its description and was removed, having failed to get a grip or nourishment from compacted clay. I tended the small circle of earth, "in homage to soil."

(See 'Six Womandalas'- Martin Rainbowmaker, blog archive, October 2013.)

Simple signs created in the sacred sense of,

' i give thanks to everything, without which, nothing would be.' You know, 'trivial things of no consequence.'

Between rain showers subsequently deciding the centre was the place for the stone. Between further showers, going out again to turn it around, preferring one side to the other, (as if two sides of a rock were ever separate except in dualistic thought) and secured it firmly in place as a heavy shower gave it the seal of approval.

The mini-megalith, a focal feature in view from kitchen sink perspective in muse moments turning the tap and standing to sip tea. Gazing contemplative from the kitchen window. As you do, if you have a garden, a window, tea, and timelessness in which to gaze. The stone, slowly by imperceptible increment revealing the salient subjective image within rough surface contours.

But see for yourself, or see what you will. I see a female and a male, robed and wrapped in rapt embrace. Symbolic sentinel union of complementaries. Though you too will see just as you wish. Other images emerge with the changing light.

Subjectively the emergent symbol bodes well for inner union, balance, non-dual harmony of hemispheres. Especially observed lightly in right brain intuition, a receptive mind free of subvocal chatter and verbiage.

Then comes Spring! First, daisies, along with dandelions, then buttercups. Illuminating, enlivening the long lush green.

Never mind 'the news'

this stone stands firm

in the timeless

the centre will hold

even stone has a story.~

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

Makes Rainbows.

Photos:
       LOVERS OF STONE, martin law, 2014

THE AXIL OF EVIS.

On Monday, March 24, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Huh ? What sort of title is that ?!

Sounds pretty ominous.

For those of us who may still be 'spell bound' by order of the alphabet, and wondering how to turn this thing around, well, i just did.

I mean, considering the amount of all too predictable knee jerk fear talk, about 'a third word war', and given that, 'politically correct' use of words would only make matters worse, i felt a new word order might be more appropriate.

But it is correct to say i'm anything but political and won't mention 'the nude world aura' again. Since we are self evidently in a backward world where everything is downside up and it's only right to speak the appropriate language.

So what is 'the axil of evis' and where is evis to be located? Apart from the fact that it's everywhere, that is, everywhere it goes unchecked, it's most directly traceable to all the nexus points where it's most vehemently proclaimed to be somewhere else.

That should clarify things. You could say, it's a simple case of the cot balling the pettle klack.

Well maybe you couldn't, but i've had a bit of practice. Lest you presume i'm totally lesdyxic or, Earth forbid, of unsound mind solely due to having my own word order. Don't believe a word of it.

After all, unlike the Chinese, we only have twenty six letters to play with, and in any numbers game it's healthy and necessary to shuffle the cards. Otherwise you inevitably fall into the trap of mistaking the word order for the thing itself.

That's a dangerous mistake to make. Millions of people have killed one another already in the previous century alone, provoking such insanity through the misuse of words. The war of words continues to this day. The unseen battle is at its peak as we speak and most are unaware of it, many are unwilling to conceive of it and many still don't care.

In that regard you could say, we're still going through the nong lark sight of the dole. Well you could try. It might help to release your synapses from the death grip of taking language literally. Instead of not being able to even discern the difference between propaganda and impropaganda.

You'd have to be a moron to not know that 'politically correct' is an oxymoron. Like 'military intelligence.' Since when was war intelligent?

But as i've said before,"you don't have to be a rocket scientist." What a relief. That's one less thing to worry about.

If i was to give advice regarding the axil of evis i might indicate that, while it will present itself as being 'out there', always remain vigilant that it doesn't self replicate 'in here.'

Evis lives and thinks quite delusively that it's king. When in fact it's nothing but a parasite that needs a negative response in order to survive, even as a delusion. Otherwise it's nothing but an envious absence.

As for axils, they're a cross between an octopus and a black hole. A whirlpool as opposed to a self regenerating radiance. An implosion when the light bulb blows. Lost, alone in the dark, void of a spark. Proclaiming,"all must come to me," a total lack cloaked in false glamour.

Avoid such a void. Yet shrink not, but radiate in abundance and plenitude exposing emptiness.

In calling for transparency, naked Emperors are fully exposed as see-through leaders, only leading to believe, which is not knowing. Hence magically denounced as examples of incorrect 'spelling.' Two can play that game.

For example, they're obviously aded by invaliens, impostrated by infiltrers, and weep in clolves shothing. Exponentially exposed in a nude world aura (which i said i'd never mention again).

But i rest my case it's heavy and lightness is the only order of the day. The axils are squeaking for want of oil and evis is being eviscerated (look it up).

In the beginning was the word and the word became the virus instrument, though it was sound to begin with and ever remains so as the sacred source of all.

While true 'power' is not control, which is merely repression. The greatest, is everything, which does everything everywhere forever. Being everywhere it has no outside and so can't be named. Names are only words for otherwise indivisible fragments we call 'things' and not to be taken literally or even seriously.

The unimaginable cosmic everything without boundaries is infinite creation/destruction/

recreation, and we are that.

As for the axil of evis, the avil of exis, or even the avis of exil ; May you never be able to pronounce such a thing again !~

PEACE ON TERRA~

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ Makes Rainbows~



Photos:
   "kabuki theatre, the mask behind the mask"
        THE AXIL OF EVIS, martin law, 2014

AIM OF THIS BLOG.

On Thursday, February 27, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Just to reassure everybody, you're free to go back to sleep.

With the only added caveat being, i'm not in any position to offer a guarantee you'll wake up, as alarm clocks are entirely your business and it's not my aim to alarm.

Furthermore, i'm not genetically predisposed to taking even the notion of pleasure that some people on the planet evidently derive, from frightening people who are already so misled by fake propaganda, that they're needlessly paralyzed with fear anyway.

So i've no aspirations to be a whistleblower. I'm better suited to being a pianist than a key player, and it's self evident i already have a voice whenever i'm moved to use it.

So i wish to dispel any remaining anxiety that i might decide to wake you from your dream.

After all, it's your chosen reality and i respect that you feel you were never encouraged to question all that was laid on you by family, education, church, media, and society as a whole.

So have no fear i'll ever be posting graphic images of what still goes on everywhere since before officially recorded history. Though i realize you might have seen fictionalized versions of it on 'The News.'

The aim of this blog (unlike most of the others) is not to remind you that the sickest and most selfishly deluded on the planet are running everything, and have only their own worst interest at heart, because i know i'd be wasting my energy.

As instinct will tell you, if you have one, any form of persuasion, no matter how seemingly plausible, rational, respectable, or even invisible, is the surest sign of basic disrespect.

So rest assured, i won't be posting any paintings of the most talked about kind, depicting sordid grotesque distortion, or 'angst', (that's a German word but it's in the dictionary).

Or even a hint of the needless suffering and deprivation most of humanity (and not only humanity) endures every day till they don't.

Which we are continuously instructed was something else entirely. While screening choice snippets of it every hour, on the hour with ineptly chosen subtitles.

I'd gently recommend don't watch it at all. It won't aid restful sleep.

If you do find you're having disturbed dreams or undisturbed nightmares, it doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you. It could just be some electromagnetic phenomena you need to be aware of, your cellphone perhaps, (a hot waterbottle might be more appropriate). Or it could be an allergy to food or satellites, or an infinity of other unpublicized projects.

It's widely understood that a lot of people exhibit chronic signs of allergy to water or the lack of it. So unless you have a well or an effective filtration system, or have always lived under a rock, you'd be marginally better off drinking from a cow pond or recycling your emissions.

 

>>> NEWS FLASH.> "Black Mica Extract purifies water of ALL toxins and heavy metals while simultaneously remineralizing." Transforming poison water into healing water.

>>> Website: 'Waterliberty' ~~~

~~~ To continue the flow, the predominant focus of this blog being on natural beauty, is however, not intended to encourage or entice to apathetic daydreams, or pillow cushion against the undeniable stark realities of these "exciting times" ( that horrible cynical phrase).

Peace is far more exciting than war, though i wouldn't suggest getting overexcited.

But it (the blog) may serve as an oasis of sanity to help recall that Mother Earth herself already is an oasis in space. Just needs a wee bit of tidying up and disinfecting.

Patriarchs please note: Anything that gives birth and nurture to everything everywhere forever (touch ...wood) , i mean, 'HAS TO BE A MOTHER !"

So, what males particularly need most to restrain themselves from doing, is, displaying a jealous and innapropriate exhibition of adolescent inferiority when competing as to who can build the tallest highrise and come up with the most lethal projectile.

Whereas when i use the word 'aim' i'm not referring to targets.

Intention might be a better word but that was already too long. It's 'how' you're aimed as much as what you're aimed 'at.' Gnostics and zen archers would put the point closer to the mark.

Talking of which, i have similar feelings for this blog as i do for the garden. They both have a lot of groundwork in common. 

 

 

Nutrition and beauty is, and always remains, something to be universally shared among the community.

Regarding 'community,' it doesn't make complete sense to be only independently self sufficient whether you're alone in a desert or in a concrete jungle.

Uniqueness means, one person won't necessarily excel at everything. One community's expertise and speciality will complement and correlate with that of another and it always was.

Unity in diversity as with a jigsaw puzzle picture. Forget monoculture. Recipe for disaster. Predator takes all.

My natural predilection predisposes me to cultivate creativity. Seamlessly so, it seems, from an early age.

Art forms, whether, painting, writing, poetry, music, all spring together from the same source. Much like horticulture. Though that's more than just an analogy. It's the same plot.

I approach the garden as i would a painting. Fertile imagination, groundwork, cultivation, seed ideas, cross pollination, compost and composition, weeding out anomalies, right amount of water, and sow on...

Roots, leaves, flowers, fruit, blossoms, flourishes, thrives. Watch this patch. Otherwise, pleasant dreams. ****

**** **** *

Makes Rainbows~ RBM.

Photos:

AIM OF THIS BLOG 1-5, martin law, 2014

LIVING COLOURS.

On Wed, February 26, 2014, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Aah !...(sigh). Colour ! What a relief, a nice apolitical subject.

Though a lot of people still don't think so. But never mind, Nero, while Rome burns i'm fiddling with living colours.

The fiddler in this case is not on a roof, but only on a palette. A palette is any bit of cardboard i can find in the house without destroying the function of a box. Milk cartons unboxed make good palettes though. Waterproof too.

Living colours. That's my answer to the question; "Lifetime's usual occupation?"

Funny how palettes are ignored and not valued, as being of insignificance in contrast to the finished artwork. I've never heard of an exhibition of famous palettes.

(After completing this article i went to the internet and typed, 'famous artists' palettes' and found that not to be the case. There's photos of lots of them. They give a sense of how each artist typically applied the brush to a surface.)

Imagine a prized collection including for example, the palette of Van Gogh's 'Sunflowers', or 'Wheatfield with crows'. He probably lit the fire with them in the autumn, i don't think it was his last painting.

Or the palette of La Gioconda / Mona Lisa. He might have used it to block up a mouse hole, who knows? Though traditional palettes already had a hole for the thumb, and they used to clean them after use, like you'd clean a plate.

People assume palettes to be relatively irrelevant or secondary. Like floor cloths or pot scrubbers, just because you throw them away. When really you'd be lost without them.

Like not having a plate to eat off.

As for 'secondary', they're obviously primary, secondary, and tertiary, and all shades, tones, hues, and tints in between.

As for irrelevant, on the contrary. They're fascinating. After all, that's where a primary part of the concentrated focus goes on. It's a very precise business mixing a colour.

Of equal importance, the 'tone' has to be exact, and i mean exact to the finest possible degree. Like fine-tuning an instrument to concert pitch.

Unless of course, you're a masochist who feels more at home with disharmony and discomfort in dystopia.

But palettes can be beautiful in themselves, due to the focus of discernment that's gone into them. Combined with the absence of concern for conscious imagery. Which allows subconscious imagery to emerge by itself.

It's good for the creative imagination to be able to read into such amorphous clues.

A blob is not 'just a blob.' Even if it fell on the floor. It's no less of an interesting natural phenomenon just because you curse it for being in the wrong place and call it a fracking mess. That's just apartheid, the right colour in the wrong place.

The significance of 'art' is not that you just faked an illusion of appearance. It's that you didn't fake or contrive anything, but somehow managed to allow the natural beauty of the substance itself, to manifest without mangling it in the process.

Pigment is magical stuff, with the potential to embody the lowest and the highest expression of what we may feel or aspire to. The palette is the micro arena of primal alchemy.

No matter if it's cardboard, a mysteriously versatile and useful material in itself. You'd wonder how it came from a tree. I suppose they scrunch it up a bit and turn it into a pancake.

Van Gogh painted on cardboard too. He wasn't on a pension or even in one, so you'd hardly judge him. A lot of people live in cardboard boxes, usually without space for a partner. A housing crisis causes a lot of people to flip their lid.

But the point is, living colour. You have to live it for the joy of life to come alive in it and enliven it. Breathe the breath of life into it. It's a kind and generous thing to be doing. It's also therapeutic for emotional and spiritual welbeing, refinement of the evolution of perception.

When you take more than just an extended chronological moment to look into it, you may even be amazed by what appears. You can see images in clouds but why stop there? You can see whatever you wish, anywhere. In trees, earth, water, walls, dirt, especially random arrangements of paint.

Precisely because what's there is uncontrived.

It's a matter of connecting the dots, and dashes, in 'the mind's eye.' So together they constitute the image of your imagined focus, and ignore what doesn't fit.

Artists do that. Leonardo did that. Children do that, and we're all children, and artists if we do that. So we can afford to be innocent, you don't lose anything. Shamans and medicine people do it and call it 'second attention.'

Attention being the only thing you have to pay. The rest is free.

That amazing, ever curious, pianist, writer and innovative wise scientist, Ervin Laszlo, founder of 'The Budapest Institute', has revealed and demonstrated that this faculty is the larger part of our being. Not officially recognized until now. Our deeper self which transcends time and space.

So what's to be said about colour? Nothing.

Because anything that's not already apparent is beyond words anyway. Simply looking saves a lot of unnecessary breathing. The slower you breathe, the brighter and clearer the colours, and you feel them more. Colour meditation.

It does help though, to know exactly which colours complement one another on the colour wheel. It's a circular rainbow with complementary colours opposite one another like numbers on a clock. Precise harmonies compliment each other, they're setting us a good example.

The primaries, red, yellow, and blue,

any pairs of which, when mixed make

secondaries (so called), orange, green, and purple.

When you mix pairs of them,

you get tertiaries, earth tones and colour greys, and so on into neutrality. Amazing !

A principle i picked up in art school, (not the Principal); If you take any pair of complementaries, say, red and green. Make them the same TONE (as in lighter and darker).

Such that if you took a black and white photo they'd look identical. Put them side by side so they contact. What you'd call intimate relationship.

The closer in tone, the more they flash and flicker. Understandably. Probably because the optics can't decide if they're equal or opposite.

Equally amazing !

And you hear people say, "Oh no, those colours clash, i don't know why !"

Another lesson right there. Maybe they just don't genuinely (and sincerely) complement one another enough to sustain a harmonious relationship.~

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Makes Rainbows / a.k.a Martin



Art:
   martin rainbowmaker's palettes

Rainbow Embryo

Rainbow Embryo, martin law, Nov 2007

METAMORPHOSIS.

Met a morpho sis',

shape shifting sister on the shoreline.

Silted salt streaked strands

of raven hair, surrendered to sky.

As ripples softly swish,

shallow wavelets ebb and flow,

sand cloud washes of crabweed sediment,

in seeming sleep to the singing sea.

Sister to silica salt soaked sand,

morphs through voluptuous blushes,

a strand above surf surge rushes,

rings, wrinkling spiralled wormcast washes.

Timelessness in the shell's inner ear,

pearlescence of colours that appear

molecular through jellyfish flesh,

a light transformation from within,

to the lulling hum of love toned waves.

Full rainbow bodied radiance

rose through indigo to violet crown.

Uplifted by lilt of iodine caress,

one with water worlds in metamorphosis.~

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Rainbowmaker.

Feb. 17. 2014.

Rainbow Bodies video, martin rainbowmaker

METAMORPHOSIS, martin law, Feb 2014

THE PAGAN WORLD.

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

While i am for the moment without a functioning computer, or camera, both having succumbed to a technological glitch, my friend suggested writing about "how does that feel?"

Well, considering i went for more than sixty years without ever having such things as, for example, a car, a television, a phone. Never have had or ever will have the first two of those.

Through many situations i lived quite well without a toilet or even a bathroom or a fridge. Never owned a washing machine, or dishwasher, vacuum cleaner, and last wore a wristwatch around 1962, (instead of round my wrist.) So all things considered i'm doing fine.

In the meantime, taking what must be a natural and necessary break from minimal gadgetry, ( i threw the radio/CD player in the bin long ago), that particular article being a unique combination of unenlightened and disfunctional.

I continue smoothly, painting, writing, singing and playing guitar and piano. Reading, non-fiction, and refining a pearlescent and gold painted female nude, which spontaneously emerged while carving a gnarled chunk of driftwood from the tideline, with a penknife.

Which subsequently having evolved considerably, i suitably titled, Sophianic Seed.

(One guess how many letters).

The resulting figure may well be a subject of photographic studies when i get a new camera any day now. Perhaps along with my friend's shots of repair in progress on the computer and camera. All of which will fit with this present writing and morph into a new blog post. "Fingers crossed" as they say, but not while creating as that could be hazardous.

BACK TO THE PAGAN WORLD, (now there's a loaded statement).

I am presently delving, imaginatively, intuitively, inspirationally, into the Pagan world.

For those who attach arbitrary meanings to common words, what does the word,'Pagan' conjour up i wonder.

It's a question to ask yourself, but i'm curious.

I wonder, do you have vague mental images of, let's say, scantilly clad heathens, orgiastically disporting and cavorting on the heath?

Or even Wiccans sacrificing slaves in a blaze of gigantic man-shaped wicker baskets?

What else? Immoral, unkempt, and uncivilized Godless semi-savages doing battle for a bit of roast pork? Or even, covens of screaming tattooed velvet-cloaked Gothic witches, circle dancing in a firelit clearing deep in spooky primeval 'Keltic' forests?

Well, if so my friend, YOU'VE BEEN HAD, AND BAD.

 

Maybe you should stop overconsuming sensational movies as being in any way a reliable source of information. Take a long break from 'Heavy Metal', 'Goth', and 'Techno' etc. Chill out and do a bit of non-academic study and get deprogrammed.

Listen. To start with, the word PAGAN simply means 'country dweller.' From the Latin, 'Paganus,' and Greek, 'Paiganos'.

By contrast with 'civitas' which relates to 'city' and 'civilization', civil servants et-cetera.

Though if cities are what you call civilized you'd be a lot saner and healthier being a Pagan. In direct contact with all of nature instead of cut off at your roots, and insulated with concrete and rubber.

TACK THIS ON YOUR FRIDGE DOOR...

Of major importance, and contrary to possibly two thousand and more years of false propaganda, and for the record: 'The Pagan tribes of Europa and The Celtic Isles, DID NOT PRACTICE HUMAN SACRIFICE.' They had better things to do with wicker baskets.

But their accusers on the other hand obviously did practice, well, genocide is a more accurate word. Unrelentingly, and without an inkling that to utterly decimate the diverse and longstanding tribal cultures of Europa and beyond, would be the loss of the rich cultural heritage of the whole continent and our continued evolution. We call that culture 'The Celts', from 'celtae' and 'Keltoi', (the word itself meaning approximately,'strangers').

Well, they obviously didn't call themselves that, but had a multitude of bioregional tribal names, in the same way as the 555 tribes of what we currently call 'America'. Or is it US ?

The all too common assumption that Europan Celtic Pagans practiced human sacrifice, stems directly from an unfounded and casually disparaging remark made by Pliny the Elder.

While it's essential to be aware of that fact, and a good thing to know and share, it more than serves to illustrate how hugely deviating error can be when uncorrected and exacerbated by power politics.

Reverse side of 'unfinished figure'- SOPHIANIC SEED

On the other hand, earth based cultures (Pagans), are universally noted for decorum within their social interactions. The 'native american' cultures for example had a very integrated code of etiquette as a wisdom tradition. Manners might be the word. Such as when it is appropriate to speak or not speak, silence being a mark of mutual respect. A young boy, rather than look his mother in the eye and demand a new pair of mocassins, would let his sister deliver the request, and you don't walk between two people in conversation or block the warmth of the fire.

I am not a historian, i am an artist. However i do thank John Lamb Lash for that clarification about 'sacrifice' and Pliny the Elder.

Also for his lifelong, current and ongoing most thorough research.

If you wish to verify that and much more, then i highly recommend his most recent (?) book,

'Not In HIS Image.' My quote is from the chapter 'The Conquest of Europa', on page 49 where he elaborates further.

SO WHAT EMERGES FROM ALL THIS ?

In plain language then, we have been cruelly and deceitfully led to believe, that the globally widespread and long evolving earth-based cultures preceding Christianity were inferior in wisdom, truth , and integrity. The truth is quite the reverse. Ignorance of that revealed fact goes with the absence of unbiased study and hence self-evident violent prejudice. I mean, you only have to watch 'the news'. Though i don't recommend it, there's nothing 'new' about it.

The Library of Alexandria housing the full flowering of thousands of years of our evolved and mature Nature Wisdom Heritage, was burned many times on separate occasions

and even today the world is full of smoke.

The Gnostic Wisdom, the Sophianic Mystery Tradition, the culmination of enlightened reverence for Mother Earth, was hacked off at the stem by repeated waves of misguided sociopaths.

Sociopaths called Caesars, Emperors, and Pontiffs, self-glorifying tyrants continuously genocided the indigenous tribes of Europa in the name of an off-planet God they never knew on Earth or elsewhere but only claimed to fear, and sharing that fear, pretended to quote, in the mode of 'My Dad is bigger than your mother.' The glory that was Rome, 'gory' would be an equally applicable word.

The traumatised descendants of victims went on to export "the European Dissociation" (to quote Alan Watts) to 'the Americas'. Same blind psychopathic wound (the urge to share must run deep) proliferating fractally.

It's not 'history'. It's real, living children, women, and men in their 'now', just like you and me in our own minimal diversities which don't divide us. We all have difference in common.

Along with animals, trees, gardens, communities, trust, love, honesty, honour, mutual aid, harmony with nature her generous habitat, the Earth, giver of life, unified continuum of consciousness.

I'm delving, as i say, artistically, inspirationally, in the imaginative realm, for creatable catalysts. To see what morphs out of the stream of imagining. 'Her' imagining. Open to promptings, whispers, discerning, selective.

Evolving by subtle increment.

Amazing what you can do with nothing. Or just a pencil. Marks made in the soil. Fingertip on steamy window glass.

When these gadgets are sorted we'll be well on our way.~

Makes Rainbows~

(A 13 letter version of my name.

Closer in spirit to the Lakotah verb,

'wah-KAH-gah-pe'= making).

Artwork:

'unfinished figure'- SOPHIANIC SEED

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Computer Photos: Mootech doing his thing

Linking back to . . .

A Nappy You Hear.