our greatest blessings come to us by way of madness Phaedr. 244a


You, if you were sensible,
When I tell you the stars flash signals, each one dreadful,
You would not turn and answer me
"The night is wonderful."

Even you, if you knew
How this darkness soaks me through and through, and infuses
Unholy fear in my vapour, you would pause to distinguish
What hurts, from what amuses.

For I tell you
Beneath this powerful tree, my whole soul's fluid
Oozes away from me as a sacrifice steam
At the knife of a Druid.

Again I tell you, I bleed, I am bound with withies,
My life runs out.
I tell you my blood runs out on the floor of this oak,
Gout upon gout.

Above me springs the blood-born mistletoe
In the shady smoke.
But who are you, twittering to and fro
Beneath the oak?

What thing better are you, what worse?
What have you to do with the mysteries
Of this ancient place, of my ancient curse?
What place have you in my histories?

bound with withies

history's so strong ...

I know this with every breath I take: Please use your time and energy for the work. Make the future bright. We lighten the darkness of the creator.
World needs that now as it ever has.
This is how to love

I look at all the academic arguing going on about alt. history, herstory, all the many isms. What is ignored is how very hard it has been to evolve and simply exists as humans. The intellectual corpus, the foundation that universities have taught -- the "of the school" -- carries great work with it, and the idea that it's just for men and of men is so short-sighted. Yes, uncover the alt stories, what it was like for the voices left only in graffiti, but teach the foundation. So much anger and hate, and we fall divided. The loss is not just ours, but of all the future.

Reading Chesterton on thom Aquinas. Inkling.

from Chesterton, G. K.. St. Thomas Aquinas (p. 2). Dover Publications. Kindle Edition.

It would be futile to make a sketch of St. Thomas and conceal the fact that he fought with heretics; and yet the fact itself may embarrass the very purpose for which it is employed. I can only express the hope, and indeed the confidence, that those who regard me as the heretic will hardly blame me for expressing my own convictions, and certainly not for expressing my hero’s convictions. There is only one point upon which such a question concerns this very simple narrative. It is the conviction, which I have expressed once or twice in the course of it, that the sixteenth-century schism was really a belated revolt of the thirteenth-century pessimists. It was a backwash of the old Augustinian Puritanism against the Aristotelian liberality. Without that, I could not place my historical figure in history.


Had interesting conversation at the Darjeeling Café last week. Was a sort of grilling by a stranger, really. “What’s wrong with making a profit?” he kept repeating. I’d mentioned that multinational companies like Exxon Mobil’s XTO are selling U.S. liquid natural gas overseas, reaping five to six times the domestic price doing it.
What’s wrong with that? Well, it’s not a “free market” or even real “profit” when they aren’t paying the true cost of production. The product they sell is obtained by fracking, and the whole process has the logic system of a cancer, taking public resources by stealth and leaving behind irreparable damage to land and water. But the stranger seemed more intent on protecting his premise that “human nature” is violence, and “Nature” bound in blood. “Red tooth and claw” he liked repeating. The past century, all history is violence and war, he says, human nature saved only by the gentling force of “civilization.”
So then — “civilization” came falling on violent-natured man, fell from sky, was found under rock? Brought by angels and magic djinns? Or could it not also be “human nature”? What’s in your frontal cortex? Hmm?
Lioness chases wildebeest, kills and drags it back to her cubs. Then all settle down beside the lake, sated. But no, she doesn’t take out her rifle and shoot the whole damn herd. And accidents happen. No, we don’t live forever; no creatures do. Should we blame a god for this? Blame nature? What has blame to do with it? “All things flow.” Minor chords enrich the piece. Torque: Imbalance is simply needed to make the gradients necessary for movement. For life. Even for time. Nothing happens without it.
Life is Mystery.  Are you game? Will you make yourself, body, heart, soul from it?
What I know is that I celebrate all the wars we didn’t have. Like peace and civilization, wars don’t “happen” to us either. I posit that it was good food, clean air, balance, and love that carried me and you here. An absence of violence. Brought about by? Thank you, ancestors. Thank you for your efforts to cooperate.
And now? Please don’t let us be cut off at the knees. The Mad Men of winner-take-all, like the robber-barons of any gilt-age, have silenced our thinking with … anything that works, just silence the human brain and all it has learned in its long journey through nature. Which is this: symbiosis is the principle of what endures. All else is like a cancer, a seed-eating flash-in-the-pan that will ultimately burn itself out, taking all it touches with it.
The environment shapes us all at every moment, even down to our genes. In cultures that live behind glass — windshields, TV, computer screens – who do we become? How do we communicate, touch, know one another? What community is this?
An anonymity created by the more-equal sunders the life-sustaining web of planetary life. Cut into factions, we lose the harmonic relationships where we (above all, children) experience the wisdom of thoughtful balance, the sacred sphere of learning one another and thus self, understanding that even in our diversity, we are our oneness.

 Deborah Conner



Without my dark

Without my dark, 
you would have no desires. 
No strengths in your urges, ambitions, or achievements.

I cross the rivers of Hades
in sleep:


an interstitial aside

elvis costello says you have to learn to write in the dark so you won't forget what comes to you there. my legal pad this a.m. said:


The Ascent / Eros Psychopompos

For one who looks at Beauty in the only way that Beauty can 
be seen—only then will it become possible for him to give birth 
(tiktein) not to images of virtue—because he’s in touch with no 
images—but to true virtue—because he is in touch with true 
Beauty. And being theophiles (god-loved/god-loving) belongs 
to anyone who has given birth to true virtue and nourished it, 
and if any human being could become immortal, it would be 
this one.  ~Diotima in The Symposium

Evans, Nancy in Hypatia, Volume 21, Number 2, Spring 2006, pp. 1-27


"we are all broken images of that which is seen when the mind stands still" ~Joseph Campbell
Masks of Oriental Gods: Symbolism of Kundalini Yoga


as far as longing can reach

The common view of the pre-Socratic philosophers is that they stand at the beginning of Greek (and therefore Western) rationalism and science.