Illuminare

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The Oxford English Dictionary gives several definitions of Illuminate:

“Light up something”

“Help to clarify or explain something”

“Decorate a page or initial letter in a manuscript with gold, silver, or coloured designs”

The origin of the word is from the Latin Illuminare (Illuminate), from Lumen (Light).

I think all of the above are relevant for the purposes of this post, after all this blog consists of “musings of a wandering mystic” as I like to call myself, in addition to being a “non-poet” of course!

I’m aware that some of my posts may appear a little incomprehensible in their subject matter. Apologies for that. They take their place on the (virtual) page when my inner world deems that a little enlightenment is due. More for my benefit than anyone else’s. Perhaps I’m hoping to “light up” the shadowed places my feet take me on this life journey. There are many challenges being faced in the inner and outer worlds, some harder than others to overcome. It isn’t as bleak as it sounds. These things occur in cycles, differing in energies, much like those of the natural world and the greater Cosmos.

Our burdens can at times feel like those of the Titan Prometheus, although perhaps not to such an extreme extent. Prometheus sacrificed himself essentially to bring divine fire to humanity to help them survive and lighten the darkness of their existence (in more ways than one). Zeus punished the Titan by having him chained to a rock and an eagle eat his liver, which regenerated daily. The gods were rather imaginative and cruel in their choice of punishment dear readers.

Darkness gives us a time to recollect, rest and regenerate ourselves. On the negative side we have a tendency to view it as a home for all the terrible things of our nightmares. What did early humans do in the absence of fire? What did they fear lurking in the darkness of their environment? It’s not a mystery why the coming of light, sunrise, was celebrated so joyfully by all cultures. Although the idea of perpetual darkness and light is not a comforting one. Balance in all things is what we should aspire to, if only for sanity’s sake.

What of this mysterious thing “Iluminare”? Have I been successful in lighting up the hidden places in life and within myself? Have there been moments when I’ve shouted eureka and the scales have fallen from my (inner) sight? Yes and yes. Also No and no. My feet have walked from the shadowed places at the sight of light emerging in the distance and it has been a wonderful sight! At other times the torch lighting my way through the darkness has gone out and a sense of heaviness has descended. It can be described as a sense of desolation. The infamous “Dark Night of the Soul” then envelops us, revisiting our lives many, many times. That’s not to say we’re on our own at such times, we’re never alone. I recall one occasion years ago when I’d reached a very low point in life, my spirit felt utterly crushed. I asked, no one in particular why this was happening to me. No audible answer was forthcoming, except for a gentle and compassionate touch on my shoulder. There wasn’t anyone there, not visible to my sight anyway. I was quite upset at the time and brushed it away.  A strange incident but whoever you were, thank you from the depths of my heart.

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Image: Pixabay

Moments like this are when we add further embellishments in a page in the Book of Life, our life. They act as gifts from our Higher Selves or Guardian Angels, bringing beauty and light for us to use. We use them to illuminate our lives to best reflect the wonder and splendour of both sorrow and joy. The contents of our Book of Life can be read on so many levels, nothing is what it first appears to be. Words become unnecessary at the moment light strikes at the very heart of our being.

Filaments of Light

Image: Pixabay

Serenity ushers in thoughts of sun soaked dreams and filaments of light. The Night passes into Day, Introspection into Action.

Their nightly vigils fade, embraced by song and homage. Thoughts deconstruct and Speech Assembles.

Warrior monks rise, forsaking doubt and tribute. They look into Void, seeking answers, finding only paradox.

Priest and Knight seek silence, so solitude beckons. Communion embraces spirit. Wisdom releases, humility receives, illumination encapsulates. Duty capitulates.

Filaments of light cascade, breath captures in awe. Silence profound unveils, mysteries quicken. From Introspection comes forth Action.

Here end these perplexing words from this non-poet as I style myself. All has not been well in my world lately. The past few weeks have been filled with mishaps, people misreading my communications, me misreading my communications. Plans have been scuppered and in hindsight probably a good thing. Much the same has been happening to many people around me, some experiences being worse than others.

Additionally, my brain is stubbornly refusing to behave. Like a recalcitrant teenager it moans about being asked to do things, “I hate you!” it’ll mutter in a surly manner. What do you do but send it to its room to cool down. Give me strength! Now for some ‘Me’ time.

I take a seat in the Shed and look at my little creation.  What am I trying to say? Sorry for being indelicate but I’ve been suffering a little mental constipation lately. There, said it. The build up of psychic and physical toxicity in the system creates strange back-eddies, leaving you feeling uncomfortable and tired. Accordingly the words are backed up, desperate for release. How to best express the inner agonies and sense of unrest? Where else could I go back seek advice of the mysterious band of priestly knights I call brethren. I am of course being deliberately coy, leaving crumbs, perhaps hoping you’d follow. I usually have a picture in my mind of what’s waiting to be written and these priestly knights were waiting in infinite patience. It has been a long time since we last met up. I’ve been avoiding the silence, perhaps for fear of what’s waiting in there. They speak and I’m trying to digest what’s been brought to the table.

My thoughts are interrupted by loud music emanating from the teen’s room. Sigh, the little attention seeker needs to be taught a lesson. I unplug the music system. Peace. Time for a long chat with her upstairs.

 

Work in Progress: How Am I Doing?

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Image: Pixabay

This blog has reached over 200 posts now, 205 including this to be precise. WordPress helpfully messages you to advise of such milestones(!). What an achievement considering I had doubts regarding its longevity. The decision to start blogging was a risk. What if my efforts turned out to be an embarrassment and NO ONE read the posts? Initial offerings were safe and inoffensive, due to a lack of confidence and identifiable voice.

Valuable advice from another blogger helped to focus my mind and I soon rewrote the About page and plan of action. Having perused the wealth and quality of writing in the blogsphere my heart sank a little in the early days. Apparently these sorcerers of the ether were privy to magical secrets. Something to mull over whilst I delved into my bag of magical ingredients. WordPress offered support to the newbie blogger but the plethora of information on hand scrambled my brains a little. Was it going to be easier to free jump into the blogsphere? I’d taken risks before, not all of them worked but life is one big rusk, risk I mean. Although the similarities are somewhat spooky. Continue reading

Master of Ceremonies

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Image: Pixabay

I came across this suave gentleman whilst looking for an image for another blog. He intrigued me and I wanted to know more of his story. Who, what and where, raced through my mind. At one point I thought he looked a little like the late Argentinian jazz saxophonist Gato Barbieri. Hm, maybe not. Perhaps I want this man to have a history filled with all manner of adventure, loss, love and creativity. Magic even.

Writers have spun concoctions from the meerest scrap of an idea, why shouldn’t I from an image found out of thousands? People interest me, I love observing them, at rest, work and play. Human nature repels me (and many others) when it manifests in ugly hatred,  malice and selfishness. On the other hand, It enriches my spirit when the true beauty and poetry of the soul shine through. I digress. What of my mysterious stranger? I named him the Master of Ceremonies for a good reason, which will be explained later. His demeanour and roguish good looks hint at, a life infused with spiciness and whiskey flavoured jazz melodies. A little overstated? I can’t help myself.

Continue reading

The Storyteller Returns

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Image: Pixabay

The Storyteller and I parted ways some time ago; amicably it has to be said. Only a temporary situation you understand. We both relish our personal space and the time apart reinvigorates the spirit. We share the same corporeal form but encapsulate twin creative souls. Some writers adopt a pen name to create works in a different genre to their main output. It seems I’ve gained another Muse to perform that function. Her true name is yet to be revealed. This is deliberate, for a name is a thing of power and more so one’s true name. Only the Jackal God and the Storyteller are privy to such a secret. Her journey is my journey; we seek each other and meaning in the trials and tribulations of our chosen goal and path. We also seek them in the moments of stillness and joy. I invite her to partake of tea and conversation.  Continue reading

Writer under Construction

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Image: Pixabay

Normal service will be resumed soon, well, normal as it can be in the Shed. My offerings have been sparing of late, due to health and other issues taking up much time. If I had to describe my present state of being it would be rather difficult. Let’s just say this delicate little flower (!) is lying on a chaise longue in the Shed, damp cloth laid on a fevered brow and being fed delicate little morsels by a solicitous White Rabbit. That’s the official or ‘fake news’ version. The reality? Come this way.

His Nibs (aka Anpu/Anubis), the White Rabbit and Storyteller are back from their travels, laden with mysterious packages. Gifts from the heart of regions remembered only in dreams and spoken of in hushed tones. They bring change and endings, although all isn’t as bleak as it sounds. Things, including the physical are unravelling, threads are being rewound and ready for weaving.

I’m thinking, creating and disposing of the crap,  ready to get on that train to new adventures. The builders are working hard to finish the job to schedule. It better be good, see you soon.

Hail Thrice Great Tahuti!

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Image: Pixabay

An ambitious title I think to myself dear reader, but a note to the ‘Lord of Holy Words’ (as inventor of writing and the arts) is rather appropriate at this time. Being endowed with complete knowledge and wisdom he is kept rather busy with all manner of business. Here’s hoping he answers. Tahuti (ancient Egyptian) has gone under the guise of many names throughout the ages, the most familiar being Thoth and Hermes. Totally different pantheons and cultures admittedly. I have great affection for both entities whose energies have been present in my life for a long time. The pursuit of knowledge has been a driving force since childhood and much that’s been gathered over the years has been filed away in (mental) drawers. Now and again I get a nudge reminding me to check in said drawers. Such a time has approached and I’m feeling a little nervous, who knows what’s lurking in there! The mind feels much like a library that’s been neglected for years, its contents shrouded by dust and in need of renovation. A terrible state of affairs because I love books and libraries, my first job in fact was working in a large public library in London. Continue reading

The Best Seat in the House

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Copyright Jan Malique

This is the view from the best seat in the house, otherwise known as the kitchen. A place which has seen me toil over a laptop over the years, feverishly at times to weave magic with words. Did I ever succeed? Yes and No. The view changes with each season. The rose bushes, sage, rugosa, aubrieta and bay grace us with their beauty year after year. The elementals and Fey have perhaps blessed this little part of North Wales. I hope so. Obviously we’ve had a part in looking after the garden, including landscaping and planting over a six year period. When we bought the house the garden was overgrown and consisted of what seemed like a multitude of walls in need of repointing. We’re now reaping the benefits but it was damn hard work. Still is. The plants in the garden are allowed to grow without much interference apart from spraying the roses (sorry!) to deal with greenfly infestations. Don’t laugh, I tend to wander round the garden like an anxious parent checking all is well, telling the plants how much I care about them. Nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t see myself as being separate from the natural world. It sustains and heals me.  Continue reading