Ostara ’05

Welcome North, the colour black, the season of winter and the element of Earth.

I don’t want to start a contest, but I’ve noticed that earth is heavier than air, which is good because if it weren’t we’d all be ants.

I’ve noticed that earth is not flammable, which is good, because if it were we’d be toast.

Earth absorbs water, which is good because if it didn’t we’d all be fish.

As for earth, well, it’s earthy, which is good because if it weren’t where would the green plants grow?

what are you gonna do

what are you gonna do
when people put up yard sale signs
but won’t sell you their yards?

what are you gonna do
if lovers lips are so sweet
they pucker when they kiss?

people don’t mean what they say
and don’t say what they mean
and people are mean when they say

what are you gonna do?

Brigid ’04

One of the old traditions for this time of year was to place a candle in the window. This was to act as a beacon for the Goddess. This is the time of year when the Goddess starts her journey of return from the Underworld. She is bringing something with her.

The Goddess went to the Underworld to be with the old sun one last time. She goes into the dark to rescue the light. At Samhain she, queen of cups, joins with the dead god, the sun at the end of the cycle, the hierophant. From this union, is born the new year at winter solstice, the new star, the spark of fire in the earth. This promise of coming nobility from the earth is the rising summer sun, a knight of disks.

This is a call to remember the cycle, the wheel of the year. In the new year, she begins at Imbolc a journey from the Underworld that takes her until Ostara to complete. With her, she brings the promise of a new summer, a time of light and growth. We put a candle in the window to light her way home.

Put a candle in the window, she is coming home … (Thoughts, head)
Put a candle in the window, she is coming home … (Words, mouth)
Put a candle in the window, she is coming home … (Hearts, chest)

Just like the Irish saved western civilization from the dark ages, Brigid saves the light from the darkness. Goddess is mother of the new year. Brigid is foster-mother of our hopes and the midwife to our renewal.

We are each other’s allies in an intentional community of compassion in which we participate with each other. We participate in this community by each being the foster-mothers to our own spark of life; each of us a keeper of that flame. We are a community of lights, and together we are the light on the horizon that signals the dawn of the new year, the new God, and the return of Goddess.

Samhain – Spiral Dance ’03

Hail to the Guardians of the Watchtowers of the WEST
It is on bended knee, I pray
at the edge of your holy well
with lips and tongue partake
of your sacred water of life.
It is from the west I began
my journey to the light,
and in the 100 trillion sacred wells
of my body I carry your message
of peace and power,
of compassion and community.
It is is a morning dew of awe
that I thank you for my life.
It is in a tidal wave of joy
that I thank you for family,
friends and love.
Welcome WEST.
Blessed Be!

By the grace of you go I.
May I always taste you on my lips
and feel you in my heart.
Go if you must,
Stay if you will.
Hail and farewell.
Blessed Be!

this is where

This is where my passion has gone
From a deathly fear of doing wrong
it has mellowed and aged as I have
litterally living in this hermit cave
I have no real remaining passion
except an addiction to masturbation
That is the true full circle I have travelled
from cherry brandy, from vagrant hotel
to wood finish wiskey and spider cave

Not a heroic Bruce, not a hero at all
Now I have an alienated clan and no right to rule

children’s crusade

an ablative shield of suffering
wave after wave of the sensitive
throwing themselves on swords of injustice

a children’s crusade

the shock and horror of disillusion
acting like a beacon in the dark
for those too jaded to see
how real the injustice is

and the sacrifice of the sensitive
creates the new need for new sufferers
as a reminder of how they used to be

mental monkey dance

he’s very good at doing that mental monkey dance
within the lengths of the chains of self
but he’s turned a dance of freedom
into the pale pantomime of a prisoner
fancy dance doesn’t replace emancipation
the self can spend so much time entertaining
that it forgets the struggle to be free
that the dance is to shake off the shackles of self
not to amuse the other prisoners or to wallow
in the self-stimulation and mental masturbation

compassionate listening does not mean
he can get his mental rocks off at my expense
perhaps he’ll accidentally stumble out of those chains
I did but I doubt it


The promise

Don’t mythologize me. Remember that I am human. I accept myself, good and bad, success and failure. I believe in myself and my ability to succeed and overcome failures. I know that your mistakes are not you and that I love you in part because of your ability to make mistakes but remain on the path of personal progress without getting disturbed by disappointment for too long. More than anyone else, you are the person I would choose to play, mourn and live with. I want to constantly learn with and from you as you develop constantly into the person you are becoming. As I become the person I will be, I wish your company also. With you, I am not ashamed of my failures, but still wish to be my best, becoming self.

I trust you implicitly and have perfect love and trust in you that you will make the best choices you can make. I implicitly trust you to make choices and decisions when necessary. I accept your leadership and your guidance and expertise without the need to compete with you when it is my turn to act as leader. I have unshakable care and respect for you even when that means discomfort or pain for myself.

I desire to be part of a great team with you more than with anyone else or alone. I feel that together we are more than each of us individually or would be in combination with anyone else. I am a better, stronger, more connected person because you are in my life. I am a complete person on my own, but you complement me in ways that no one else ever has before. I wish to be with you, without hesitation and together accomplish what I could not have alone. Together we are more than the sum of ourselves because we are always becoming more that who we were. I am committed to being ready, being and constantly becoming my best and fullest self. I promise to be led by my mind and heart to stand for what is true and right. I promise to live fully and participate boldly in the constant process of transforming my world into a more peaceful, compassionate and loving place.

(Heavily influenced and inspired by “Boldly Live As You’ve Never Lived Before” by Richard Raben and Hiyaguha Cohen)


I’m glad you told me you want me
to be and what not to be in order to be
what you could, should, would wish.

I don’t care what you want or don’t.
I want what I want and don’t want
what you think I should be.

If I can be and not give up myself
I’ll be what I am with you while you
be all that you can be.

Now that you know what you want
maybe you will spend some time
finding out who and what you are

What you want is far from what I want
because I am far more than what you want.
Be careful what you care about is more
than that you don’t care.

(a response to The Invitation by Oriah Mountain-Dreamer)

signs will show

signs show the sun casts no solstice shadow
what the cold cape of winter now reveals
a love bed of rose like stars glimmer through
hidden in folds of threadbare velvet night
the contrails from her solar chariot
drawn by lions to the hazy horizon
like looking at floating feathers dancing
riddles me sleepy memories full of dreams
we are both angels in love with the sky
she soars high but I am bound to the ground
while watching her enter heaven flying
to that lingering look back in my mind
inceasantly whisper “I love you”

the wait for her return is so very long
though I know she has only barely gone

her hair like silent stars too far from here
I miss her kisses and arms around me
the mist after midnight slides in to hide
trees snap fingers wiggle to the rhythm
rain weaving a tapestry of echo
as the wind throws pine cones hailing down
the first snowfall filters through nearby trees
she spreads her silken rainbow faerie wings
to the station of the sun in the south
I climb steep trails to the highest peak
to the tower of winter in the north
just to get a last chance distant glimpse of her
better a chance than all the warmth at all

the sun is shining through the trees and snow
with longer days I’ll see her soon I know

homepage and the dialectic between honesty vs truth

Last night, I watched “homepage” which is an interesting documentary about the early culture that surrounded the web, the revolutionary fanaticism, and a bit about its demise.

However, there was a part that had me thinking about some stuff from my own past, actually previous to all the events of the movie.

honesty vs. truthfulness is an interesting topic. If one accepts that they are not identical, one wonders how much truth is necessary for complete honesty, and if it’s possible to have truth without honesty. Is truth communicated by the non-present presenter still honesty, when not professed? As the better part of valour is restraint, is that also the better part of honesty in regards to the truth?

I’ve suspected that moderation in all things is a guiding principle. Not that it means moderation in _all_ things, but rather _moderation_ in all things. The difference being that it’s not necessary to partake of everything in moderation, but rather to be moderate in all things in which one partakes.

I had written a bit on this topic.

Strong Drink, 1993 (c) j g bell

it is a strong drink
to drown adultery in drunkenness
it is a stronger drink
to face my lover’s face with honesty
stronger than fidelity
it is an even stronger drink
to drink to my own weakness

it is a great grief to me
to weakly write myself
into my father part
it is a greater grief to me
to strongly write my lover
into my mother part
it is the greatest grief to me
to wholly write my past
into my future past

there is no art in drink
there is no salvation in sorrow
there is no love in lies
there is no love in lies
there is no love in lies

I’ve learned my sorrow from my father
I’ve learned myself from my sorrow
I’ve learned to lie from myself
I’ve learned myself from my lie

there is no love in lies
but honesty ruins love with revealed lies
there is no love in lies
but justice ruins love with concealed lies
there is no love in lies

there is no salvation in sorrow
but somehow sorrow saves lovers from future pain
there is no salvation in sorrow
but somehow suffering saves me from future pain
there is no salvation in sorrow

there is no art to drink
but drink can remind me to forget
there is no art to drink
but drink can force me to sleep
there is no art to drink

it is a strong drink
to drown adultery in drunkenness
it is a stronger drink
to face my lover’s face with honesty
stronger than fidelity
it is an even stronger drink
to drink to my own weakness
my honesty stronger than the lie
will ruin my love and with this in mind
I will tell the truth in time

The Sense of Pleasure

In this age we have created a senseless pleasure with no quality other than a one dimensional quanity. We’ve created an age that has no sense of a quality in pleasure other than dissatisfaction with intensity. This dissatisfaction is gained from the ever increasing need for more from a one dimensional pleasure that is a scalar of intensity. There’s no aesthetic of pleasure, rather merely a quantity.

A simple transposition of quality for quantity will not be enough to return an aesthetic to pleasure. This culture needs to touch the texture of a new aestheic pleasure. As a culture we need to re-connect with the taste, smell, sound and sight of pleasures. Rather than a focus on the greater pleasures, we can focus on the moderation of pleasure with the purpose of maximal experience of qualities.

Pleasure should be an art, not a commodity. Rather than a shallow pleasureless pursuit, we would have a rich pursuit of pleasures.