Moving to Refurbished Abbey

The lights will be dimming here as we all move to the newly refurbished Abbey. If you are not able to post at the WordPress based Abbey please let me know and I will sign you in. The Abbess is very excited about the prospect of filling up those new monastic cells with fascinating people from all walks of life.

Happy Birthday Heather!

Medieval scholars were amazed to find that, when roughly translated, this richly adorned manuscript read:

"In centuries to come, there will be a woman who inspires many and brings forth their creativity from within. She will use her unique talent on a marvelous invention called the Internet so she might reach out to those far from her as if she were in the same room. Her name will be Heather and this is a birthday greeting to her in the future."


Happy Birthday Heather and thank you for all your inspiration!

Happy Birthday, Heather

Happy Birthday, Heather.
With all best wishes and love from Carol

Happy Birthday From Duwamish Bay!

TO HEATHER,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FROM DUWAMISH BAY
AND FROM ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS AT
THE CHAMBER OF HORRORS
OWL CREEK BRIDGE
AND
DEADWOOD HALL

NONE OF US WOULD BE HERE WITHOUT YOU HEATHER!
LOVE FROM
ANITA MARIE

Raven At The Tea Party

"Happy Birthday Enchanteur!"

copyright Imogen Crest 2006.

Enchanteur's Afternoon Tea for my Birthday

le Enchanteur has been cooking up a storm and has made a cake and afternoon tea for my birthday. Since she has been working her fingers to the bone she told me that I better make sure to invite everyone to come to tea.

Why?

Would it seem weird to the human race if the trees started growing sideways just because we’ve only ever previously seen them grow towards the heavens?

Is that why, when we see someone who hates life we look down on them, like they’re pathetic? Like they have a problem? Like it’s their fault that they don’t fit in the world? Just because they hate life, we look at them with disrespect and disgust?

Why isn’t it the people who like life with the problem? Why aren’t the people who hate life looking down on those who love it with disrespect, disgust, anger? Life cannot exist without death, and death cannot exist without life. Without death, there would be nothing to inspire anyone to live. Without life, there could be no death.

Why don’t we view those that hate life with respect? Respect that they have different views from those we deem normal? We are just getting over racism and sexism, though we still have a long way to go, why cant we stop stereotyping those who have no emotion in their eyes? Those who wish there was another world for them to escape to? Those who do not belong? Those who were born wishing for another world just for them?

Why will someone always think they’re better then anyone else? Why will they make everyone suffer just for them? Why can someone be broken down so many times by someone, and have no one else care? Why, then, do we hate them and look down upon them when we didn’t bother to help them back up after we have watched them fall so many times, watch them scream in anguish as their very souls cry out? Why will when someone is so in need of help turn away from them, in their hour of need, and walk away whistling along the street?

Why then will that person who walked away one day cry out like those they had walked away from, with no care but to helped, thinking they are deserving. Why will a person who beat someone periodically cry out against someone beating them, or a family member or their child? When they had beaten someone’s family member? Someone’s child? Why will a rapist plead for mercy from the death sentence or jail, when they are guilty? When they have no reason to be receiving mercy from any.

Why will a country, a world cry out against terrorism when people die everyday from people? In car accidents? Where drunken fiends get away with murder, simple because of human folly, when we would all condemn those terrorists in less than a second? And why don’t we all cry out about war? All the wars that have past have claimed millions of lives that wanted nothing more than to settle with their families to live a life. A life that didn’t include having to go to war for some sick leader. Are those who condemn others to war really justified? What right do they have to murder thousands for an insult to themselves? If war was nothing more than politicians fighting, there would be no wars. For all politicians do is sit and plot, moving humans like chess pieces in their sick games.

And yet why when faced with a simple answer and a complicated one will humans opt generally for the simpler one? Why will we lie and cheat, deceive and plot all to ease our own suffering? Why in doing so will we not bother to notice the effects it has on those around us? Why when asked a simple question will we lie so that the other person doesn’t think us stupid? Or irresponsible? Or disgusting? Or shameful? Are we so vain and shallow that we will risk destruction for everyone around us just for our own selves? And when we hear of those that are hero’s and martyrs that we automatically put them on a pedestal above ourselves, when all they have done is redeem themselves for themselves? When they have made at least one persons life a little worse than it was? Why do we think they haven’t sinned? Why are politicians so quick on the uptake to say they were brave and almighty, though they mentioned not how the situations could have been avoided, or how at the time they were doing nothing more than bickering over nothing?

Yet there is and isn’t a simple answer. For me it seems that we are doomed to forever misuse the gifts we have. For we will use the brain we were gifted with to plot and commit crimes, with no thought to killing or hurting others. Men will misuse their bodies, and instead of protecting women with their physical superiority, abuse us, though we have born them through the ages. People will misuse power, and the gift to lead, all for the sake of their own greed. It is sickening and yet it goes unpunished. As I write, or speak, and others listen or read a thousand people are crying out for help. Half of those will never find it. Half of those will die. Half of those will wish for something more. Maybe those spat on, being disrespected, disregarded, shamed will ask themselves one day, maybe the trees should grow sideways. Maybe then the world will change.
Dancing on the edge of the blade of consistent life.

Dark Fool
Emily-Rae Temple
“Show me someone who hasn’t sinned, nor committed a crime against any, or spoken out against any, or hurt any by word or any other means, show me this person and I will show you the heavens.”

for Jan

Abbey Talismans - Soul Food Hermitage Store

http://www.cafepress.com/createart/1566897 - store link

image copyright Heather Blakey 2006.

An Exchange

Almost a year since Em and I were wed and we found ourselves caught in 'routine'. I went to bed at nine from exhaustion over building a new bathroom in the basment, and Em much later, frustrated a bit from her latch-hook rug (difficult for a blink). She woke me to get a 'nightime kiss' (nothing more) to which I apparently did not respond well.

The next day I sent her a poem, and received a reply ...

He mused --

In human draw and folly,
our perceptions of energy is measured (judged?)
by the discordance in our live,
of light where darkness is natural,
or sound where silence is a gift.

Can this be true of Currents?
even love?
Where we forget to embrace
the hidden flow –
and focus instead on actions
like kisses, hugs and trivial gifts?

Or is attention to these things
(to be nurtured and close held),
a part of humanity’s balance
and essential to sought spirit dance,
and I but confuse the two?

Her Response –

no gift is trivial
when gifted to and received from a love
a slip of paper with written thought,
a feather found in the so called weeds,
a beautiful leaf of vibrance,
a bit of dustkitty fluff from under the bed----

it is the hand outstretched
that is the truest gift
the heart extended
the mind embraced
the touch of love in all things
the mended hem
the leak fixed
the broken hinge replaced

it is in all things you do
and all things you are
and lo I know this
but my frail female self
loves your kiss and your touch
and loves to do so to you

and perhaps i ask too much of thee
in this way

i will revel in whatever is
and enjoy the mist
of your energy blest
within my Soul and Spirit
forever.....

Prompted by Flow

Related to the current theme, perhaps,
this piece was also prompted by a news story --

It was written for students at a 'wizard school'
as part of a series on defining wizardry,
as opposed to the Hollywood corruptions.


WIZARD WISH

It could have been at Solstice -- or Beltane -- or. The season has no reason when it comes to terror, so I will not relate the time or place.

" Who you are transcends
that and all --
and it must be so --
as one be wizard!"

So listen close, my children -- this is a test -- a knowing beyond believing:

The crowd was small, but large enough for his purpose. The old stone walls protected from the ranging storm, but also trapped those within. The thin, iron bound windows let in little light -- but enough for them all to see. His drooping raincoat fell open and away. No! Strapped to the scrawny man's chests were rows on rows of dun colored sticks -- wires trailing to a box above his heart -- a single coax cable extending to a button in his hand -- duct-tape. No one there had ever seen such a rigging before -- but all knew, and understood. The Angel of Death breathed on each neck -- silence. Then a baby cried.
"No children! There were to be no children here!" The voice was reedy -- shrill -- but carried no hint of panic. Despair? Resignation?

"All right then -- you have a chance. Spare this child -- though none of you deserve it!" The dread hand lowered a bit as the looming figure spun about -- eyes probing each victim's soul. "I will let fate decide -- or whatever God you now pray to. One of you will come forth and stand for all. This person will flip a coin. If it comes up 'heads' I will leave and meet whatever destiny awaits outside -- the child will be free -- and all of you as well. If you do not win this challenge I will count to five -- an eternity perhaps -- for you all to gather and nurture you spirits"

Silence -- each person looking furtively about -- hoping -- seeking.

"Choose! Have you no champion? Choose, or I shall start counting anyway!" One person walked forward -- alone.


Now, my students, consider your choices.

A) You have the courage and presence to step forth, or to stand silently by and pray that another will shoulder this burden. Perhaps it is a ruse, or the bomb will fail, or…

B) You do step forth, let us say. Is it because:

1) You believe your powers are such that you can control the coin?
2) You know that your faith is such that the coin will be biased in some way?
3) You just want this ordeal over?
4) You don't know why -- are just called to do it?

C) For whatever reason, you are there-- coin in hand. What are the options?

1) You win, and the maniac leaves as he says. How will this affect your life?
Are you strong enough to bear this burden for the rest of your life?

2) You lose, but are saved anyway -- intervention or failure of his resolve -- whatever.
Are you strong enough to bear this burden for the rest of your life?

3) You lose. You all die! In whatever manifestation you imagine …
Are you strong enough to bear this burden for the rest of your life?

4) You win! But you all die anyway -- there never was a chance -- or you didn't create one by your will.
Are you strong enough to bear this burden for the rest of your life?


Success or failure here can be measured in many ways -- and perhaps some untold here. The real question is -- are you a wizard?

For a wizard would not hesitate -- would act …

For the measure of 'who you are' will already have been asked and considered.
"To be willing" is a matter of accountability -- balance -- a sense of being.

Who are you -- right now??

More Bugs!

I made two more new bugs the following day. I was able to post this just now.


Princess Antela is my favorite. I think I won't put her up for adoption.

This is Prinsipe Talahib (Prince Reed). He's a blue praying mantis, sort of. All these are of course high breeds and are only loosely based on the real thing. The beads dictate what form the bugs will turn out to be.



Prinsipe Talahib (Prince Reed)

This is the Blue Ant. I made it with wings and took a picture of it and then later decided to take out the wings. Here's a picture of both versions, the final of which is the one without wings.


This batch has either japanese crystal bead (Princess Antela & White Ant) or a fresh water pearl (Mookie G, Prince Reed, & bantfly) for a head.

I've ran out of the oval bead I use for the thighs of these bugs so I've stopped making them today. I'll make some more when I get new supplies. They're fun to make and very fulfilling to look at. Everytime I make them I end up feeling like I want to keep them all to myself but I'm willing to let them go when people ask to adopt them. LOL!

Stabilising Women - Soul Food Hermitage Store

Heroine's Journey

Stable Women

Ferry Women

Supportive Talismans

Art by Heather Blakey

(copyright 2006.)

http://www.cafepress.com/createart/1680596 - direct link

Somewhere

I have a need to post this somewhere,
might as well be here in the quiet shadows.
................................................................

TERROR

Terror, terror on the wall,
what's the closest of them all --
atrocities done unto man,
or that no one seems to care?

See the stranger -- kill him, kill her;
Uncle Pat says its Christian --
Papa George will tell you who
lacketh faith and deserves to die.

Terror, terror burning bright
in the forest of the night --
'cause my power bill's outa sight,
while good ol' boys stack diamonds high.

Average, average -- do not try,
shun education and self-worth --
cramp the bell curve down to nothing,
preach only bigotry and selfish pride.

Food chain -- food chain, join in dance;
let them starve who dare to dream
of simple justice, blind and free --
as long as I am not one right now.

Whisper, whisper to your child,
suckled by a virtual tit --
forced to squalor by 'right to live',
becoming fodder for their greed.

Terror, terror -- 'tis my right,
'cause my neighbors say 'tis so --
get yours now and rape the earth;
but leave me alone to die in shame.