Happy New Years! : Samhain, October 31

Samhain is a time for contemplation. The dead live in the memory of the tribe and are to be honoured at the Feast of the Dead, which took place on Samhain Eve.

This is the most magical time of the year; Samhain is the day which does not exist. During the night the barriers between the worlds fade and the forces of chaos to invade the realms of order, the material world conjoining with the world of the dead.

At this time the spirits of the dead and those yet to be born walk amongst the living. The dead could return to the places where they had lived and food and entertainment were provided in their honour. In this way the tribes were at one with its past, present and future.

In the three days preceding the Samhain month the Sun God, Lugh, maimed at Lughnassadh, dies. Lugh traverses the boundaries of the worlds on the first day of Samhain.  In this may be discerned the ageless battle between the light and dark and the cyclic nature of life and the seasons.

In Mexico, it is Día de los Muertos (day of the dead), an ancient Aztec celebration of the memory of deceased ancestors that is celebrated on November 1 (All Saints' Day) and November 2 (All Souls' Day).  The traditional mood is much brighter with emphasis on celebrating and honoring the lives of the deceased, and celebrating the continuation of life; the belief is not that death is the end, but rather the beginning of a new stage in life.

So.... greetings and blessing to all new life, and the Ancestors that have given it.

much love
+dark.laine+

i have found what you are like

i have found what you are like
the rain,

     (Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light

with thinned

new fragile yellows

lurch and.press

-in the woods

which

stutter

and

sing

And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,

your kiss

_________________________

i like my body when it is with your

   i like my body when it is with your
   body. It is so quite a new thing.
   Muscles better and nerves more.
   i like your body. i like what it does,
   i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
   of your body and its bones, and the trembling
   -firm-smooth ness and which i will
   again and again and again
   kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
   i like,, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
   of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
   over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs,

   and possibly i like the thrill

   of under me you quite so new

_________________________

if strangers meet 

   if strangers meet
   life begins-
   not poor not rich
   (only aware)
   kind neither
   nor cruel
   (only complete)
   i not not you
   not possible;
   only truthful
   -truthfully,once
   if strangers(who
   deep our most are
   selves)touch:
   forever

   (and so to dark)

E.E. Cummings

Edward Estlin Cummings (October 14, 1894 – September 3, 1962), abbreviated E. E. Cummings, was an American poet, painter, essayist, and playwright.

Cummings is probably best known for his poems and their unorthodox usage of capitalization, layout, punctuation and syntax. There is extensive use of lower case; word gaps, line breaks and gaps appear in unexpected places; punctuation marks are omitted or misplaced, interrupting sentences and even individual words; grammar and word order are sometimes strange. Many of his poems are best understood when read on the page. When read in the correct fashion, his poems often paint a syntactical picture as vital to the understanding of the poem as the words themselves.

Despite Cummings' affinity for avant-garde styles and for unusual typography, much of his work is traditional. Many of his poems are sonnets, and he occasionally made use of the blues form and acrostics as well. Cummings' poetry often deals with themes of love and nature, as well as the relationship of the individual to the masses and to the world. His poems are often satirical as well.

During his lifetime, he published more than 900 poems, along with two novels, several plays and essays, as well as numerous drawings, sketches, and paintings. He is remembered as one of the preeminent voices of 20th century poetry. :source:

1
     Real orgies are never so exciting as pornographic books. In a volume by Pierre Louys all the girls are young and their figures perfect; there's no hiccoughing or bad breath, no fatigue or boredom, no sudden recollections of unpaid bills or business letters unanswered, to interrupt the raptures. Art gives you the sensation, the thought, the feeling quite pure—chemically pure, I mean,... not morally.
 

2 : nb : one of Huxley's principal themes:  the evasion of reality through shallow intellectualism

   The rush to books and universities is like the rush to the public house. People want to drown their realization of the difficulties of living properly in this grotesque contemporary world, they want to forget their own deplorable inefficiency as artists in life. 

5
   Drill and uniforms impose an architecture on the crowd. An army's beautiful. But that's not all; it panders to lower instincts than the aesthetic. The spectacle of human beings reduced to automatism satisfies the lust for power. Looking at mechanized slaves, one fancies oneself a master. 

9
   Morality is always the product of terror; its chains and strait-waistcoats are fashioned by those who dare not trust others, because they dare not trust themselves, to walk in liberty.

11  
   Single-mindedness is all very well in cows or baboons; in an animal claiming to belong to the same species as Shakespeare it is simply disgraceful.  

14 
   At this very moment,... the most frightful horrors are taking place in every corner of the world. People are being crushed, slashed, disembowelled, mangled; their dead bodies rot and their eyes decay with the rest. Screams of pain and fear go pulsing through the air at the rate of eleven hundred feet per second. After travelling for three seconds they are perfectly inaudible. These are distressing facts; but do we enjoy life any the less because of them? Most certainly we do not.
 
16 
   I have discovered the most exciting, the most arduous literary form of all, the most difficult to master, the most pregnant in curious possibilities. I mean the advertisement.... It is far easier to write ten passably effective Sonnets, good enough to take in the not too inquiring critic, than one effective advertisement that will take in a few thousand of the uncritical buying public. 

21 
   What drivel it all is!... A string of words called religion. Another string of words called philosophy. Half a dozen other strings called political ideals. And all the words either ambiguous or meaningless. And people getting so excited about them they'll murder their neighbours for using a word they don't happen to like. A word that probably doesn't mean as much as a good belch. Just a noise without even the excuse of gas on the stomach. 

29 
   Man is an intelligence, not served by, but in servitude to his organs. 

32 
   A democracy which makes or even effectively prepares for modern, scientific war must necessarily cease to be democratic. No country can be really well prepared for modern war unless it is governed by a tyrant, at the head of a highly trained and perfectly obedient bureaucracy. 

36 
   Nobody who has any kind of creative imagination can possibly be anything but disappointed with real life.... Of course, you could always argue that you live more intensely in your mental world-substitute than we who only wallow in the real thing.... But the trouble is that you can't be content to stick to your beautiful ersatz. You have to descend into evening clothes and Ciro's and chorus girls—and perhaps even politics ... with lamentable results. Because you're not at home with these lumpy bits of matter. They depress you, they bewilder you, they shock you and sicken you and make a fool of you. 

48 
   I can sympathise with people's pains, but not with their pleasures. There is something curiously boring about somebody else's happiness.
 
59 
   A child-like man is not a man whose development has been arrested; on the contrary, he is a man who has given himself a chance of continuing to develop long after most adults have muffled themselves in the cocoon of middle-aged habit and convention. 

Aldous Huxley
 
Aldous Leonard Huxley  (1894 – 1963) was a British writer who emigrated to the United States. He was the son of the writer and professional herbalist Leonard Huxley by his first wife, Julia Arnold; and grandson of Thomas Henry Huxley, one of the most prominent naturalists of the 19th Century, a man known as "Darwin's Bulldog." Best known for his novels, such as Brave New World and Crome Yellow, and wide-ranging output of essays, like The Doors of Perception, he also published short stories, poetry, travel writing, and film stories and scripts.

Through his novels and essays Huxley functioned as an examiner and sometimes critic of social mores, societal norms and ideals. While his earlier concerns might be called humanist, ultimately, he became quite interested in spiritual subjects like parapsychology and philosophical mysticism, about which he also wrote.

Huxley warned of psychological totalitarianism (1959): "And it seems to me perfectly in the cards that there will be within the next generation or so a pharmacological method of making people love their servitude, and producing … a kind of painless concentration camp for entire societies, so that people will in fact have their liberties taken away from them but will rather enjoy it, because they will be distracted from any desire to rebel by propaganda, brainwashing, or brainwashing enhanced by pharmacological methods."

Huxley died November 22, 1963. Media coverage of his death was overshadowed by news of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, which occurred on the same day, as did the death of the Irish author C. S. Lewis. Amongst humanists, Huxley was considered an intellectual's intellectual. By the end of his life, Huxley was considered, in certain circles, a 'leader of modern thought'.

[ .touching. ] N.

your mouth corners and caters
to your every whim
like we all would
succumbing in your echoing light
that is shifting against
your warming surfaces
in your aching palms
that rest against my cold chest
in the middle of the night

© Bryan McLean June 21 2006