Understanding Rimbaud

This isn't part of Star Water...but it's a poem I wrote recently.  Hope you like it!

I lament for this Earth,
A dirge is sung in low tones
Far beneath the crust
And I slink through each day
Sorry for my little voice
Unheard among factory machinery
Drowned out by traffic, motors,
Noise pollution,
Air breathed in
Full of carbon monoxide,
Give me your huddled masses
Of animals on the way to slaughter
And tell me all about the meat
How to cook it, what fermented
Rotten grapes to drink with it
So everyone believes alcohol
Is not the world's big problem
But dulled senses,
Like brain damage
Is the solution.
Tell me that I can live
Healthy and strong
Good and pure
While we ruin Earth every minute
In this age of rapid communication.
Tell me Rimbaud was crazy
When he felt too much,
Saw the truth
And couldn't bear to stay.
I'll stay
Because I love you, Earth
And my angels hover
Wondering what I'll do.
They've had their hands full with me.

Remember the Desiderata

Here's something from a different era...inspirational but not part of Star Water...remember the desiderata.  In the 70's it was famous - I think we should be reminded again...

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

by Max Ehrmann

Dancing

Hello all - a trailer from my book 'Star Water'....part of a chapter called "Dancing"

“Okay let’s rock!” Trish got up and I reluctantly walked behind her.  This was so new to me.  The whole scene was scarier than anything on Las Vegas Blvd.  Everything seemed too casual and almost disorganized.  No doormen in uniforms, no signs with directions, no glittering neon.  It was bare bones, wild west.  Soft dusty earth beneath my feet, old steps up to a big barn door. 

Teenagers were already rocking and swaying to the sounds while they danced their way inside…and the increasingly louder tribal sounds of StoneHinge pounded.  Their music pumped through me, pulsing like a massive heartbeat.

Looking at the dark interior and wanting to see the stage, I gave my ten dollars to a lady collecting tickets at a makeshift desk.  She looked like a biker chick.  On the other side of her was a burly man wearing a short sleeved t-shirt.  Maybe he was her husband.  He had a tattoo on his forearm and he wasn’t letting anyone pass until biker lady’s female assistant stamped hands with a florescent pink logo.

Finally we were inside and there he was.  With stage lights all around him, Owen stood, legs slightly apart, shaking his head in time to the music.  His halo of abundant long hair was golden.  He wore very faded awesome blue jeans and he was playing a black gleaming guitar worn low.  His hips were slung forward.  So hot looking!  I was magnetically drawn to him. 

Suddenly brave, I yelled in Trish’s ear “Let’s move up.” 

She grinned.  I took off my jacket and tied the sleeves around my waist. We meandered and wove our way through a small crowd until we were standing in the second row off to the side.  Trish wanted to keep moving to get a better look at Jimmy James on drums.  

We were close to Owen’s side of the stage.  Waving her on, I stayed in my spot.  He hadn’t seen me yet or worse, maybe he didn’t care.  I had to know if he would acknowledge my presence.  A panic washed over, oppressive and thick.  It would be awful if after our closeness on the beach he simply ignored me now.  What if he gave pendants to all the girls.  My heart said to trust him.

Music was thrilling.  Adrenaline and so many emotions were all one.  I closed my eyes and felt my body start to sway to the beat.  I was moving my arms, dancing on the spot absorbed in this total moment.  

I slowly opened my eyes as I danced and with a jolt realized Owen was staring at me from his spot onstage.  He pointed with his forefinger and winked so sexily. I moved up to the front row, melting in my half dance half stroll. 

He was amazing.  He was addicting.  At that moment I knew…Owen Mycroft wasn’t just a male.  This music was of another world, his fluid movements were unlike any human on Earth and sparks flew from his eyes.  Couldn’t anyone else in the room see those fireworks?  Was I the only one?  I didn’t care what he was.  I was in his world now.

Happy New Age !!

The time has come - three Mayan wheels have come together full circle ending the long calendar and a 26,000 year cycle has been completed.

Happy New Age !

The end of shock lit, copycats, boring repetitive unimaginative inside the box stories.  The beginning of true science, searching, creativity, kindness, beauty, true art....and truth.  Why?  We are doomed together unless we start on the path we know is right and good.  Earth is in crisis and we can turn it around...but we have to use the highest creativity of every single person - each purpose in life should be attuned to the world around us because we are all individuals with something unique and powerful to contribute.

What can you do?  I don't mean standing on a soapbox with more outrageous attention seeking crap than the last person on that soapbox.  I want art.  I want us to ride the breeze like eagles with all seeing eyes and dive like dolphins with sonar perception.  It's all so possible right now. 

STAR WATER  - the beginning of new age supernatural art in books.  Seriously...and truthfully.
  

Sorcery of astrology - the eclipse

Hey all, here's some info from me to share with apprentice sorcerers.  Not saying I have an agreement with the dark forces or anything but it's a lot of research I've done, much thinking outside the box, and linking one thing to another - using imagination, dreams and all the info I can lay my hands on for a long time.

The solar eclipse is November 13th.  Sun and moon are in Scorpio.  This is a very powerful combination.  The premiere of  "Breaking Dawn 2" happens to fall at this time.  Was an astrologer consulted I wonder?  Why is this placement of planets a powerful influence in the cosmos?  The energy of Scorpio is dark and Plutonian, meaning ruled by Pluto. It's an 8th house matter - this house rules sex, regeneration, business, legacies, crises, things hidden.  Perfect for a premiere movie about vampires.

This solar eclipse should be life altering in a positive way for me - as my birthchart Scorpio is on the ascendant, which means at sunrise on the day of my birth, this house ruler was breaking dawn.  Since the moon blocks the sun in an eclipse, the sun will not break dawn for me.  My moon will block the sun and rule with Scorpio.  My birthchart moon is in Aries, in the 5th house of creativity.

Brings to mind a famous line in "Romeo and Juliet"

But soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! -
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already pale and sick with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:

Enough about me...I just want to describe a bit of this occult info... but for more mysteries my book "Star Water" will have to be represented by a very imaginative and curious publisher, one who will see this next big book series on our horizon!

The Runes and Samhain

In case you think I may be just a person trying to promote a book, that this book is not different from others, allow me to share a lesson in "Supernature 101".  Something I've observed and found to be helpful in trying to understand what everyone wants to understand - that is 'the big picture'.

The alphabet is based on runes.  These runic symbols hold keys to archaic magic.  Words now are not what they were ages ago.  Words were magical, each and every letter, symbol had profound meaning into infinity. Now we punch the keyboard, maybe 6 or 10 letters each second, depending on how fast we type them.  Ages ago each symbol was carefully drawn, then later each letter was carefully drawn and much thought went into every one.  The AlphaBet...Alpha...Beta...the letters had a hierarchy - literally 'a high arc', an order, an insight into origins of existence, clues to our imagery.

We have great responsibility with words.  They have caused much trouble on Earth, or they can do much good.  Their meaning originally was not just to communicate what we thought, or what we saw.  The meaning of words is not even to communicate in that way.  Words, letters illustrate a picture in ways that are forgotten now, we have lost the meanings.  There are hints.

Musicians, some of them, are closer to the meaning of speech, reading, and writing.  They grasp a lofty concept of a chorus, of repetition, because repetition and chorus is in nature...but we don't understand the chords.  Sometimes music strikes a chord within us.  We recognize something obscure...a popular song may song silly but it's popular for a reason.  The creator has struck a chord.

With authors, we've lost a lot of meaning.  Words.  Be careful how we use them, for really we know not what they mean and there is a huge effect on society by using words.

Samhain, or Halloween.  It has become a mockery, really.  It's worse now than the old days because we just dress up or try to act like we have some knowledge of what's going on during that ancient sacred time.  Samhain is a window to the soul, a clue to death and the beyond.  Why have we made this a time for scaring people?  There's enough in everyday life to scare everyone without dressing in costumes we have no clue about...and I'm not excluding myself.  I'd love to know more about this window to the soul, the Samhain...but like everything, people try to pursue something like copycats!  I'll light a candle my way.

Almost October book trailer

My book begins 'Almost April' and now here we are heading into the Autumn.  My creation in prose 'Star Water' is the next noteworthy thing, I know it because we're looking for reasons and answers in this crucial time on Earth - not that I have the answers but the secret is to ask the right questions.  In fact - in Arthurian times that was the secret of the Holy Grail, to ask the right questions.  I had it up to here with fake magic and people who don't have a clue about what supernature is lol!  If the books in Alexandria hadn't been burned centuries ago we would have understood our world and environment a lot better!  Here is an another trailer from Chapter 8 - "Rides" -

Owen was absorbing this family history.  I could tell by his alert expression he was interested.
           “Cool,” he simply stated while Paul seemed lost in youthful memories.  “You’re still living off the land, Paul.”

            Paul broke out in a brief laugh, wrinkles creasing his face and lifting it.  “You got that right, bro!”

            “Are you ready to ride, Leena?” The warlock moved toward the bridles.

            “Yeah!  But I’m not very experienced, really.  I can’t sit a trot without a lot of air between me and the saddle.  I’m putting in a request for your gentlest horse, please Paul.”

            “Okay, that would be Chief.  He is sweet as sugar, aren’t you babe?  Sweet as sugar,” he repeated in a babyish voice as he gently touched the white blaze on his chestnut horse’s forehead.

            I was glad these animals were obviously so well loved and cared for by this eccentric and unusual hippie horse whisperer.  The animals’ coats shone with good health.

            “Chief is tall,” I noted. “That’s a long ways down.  Are you sure?  What about the smaller one?” I pointed at the coffee colored bay mare.

            “Koko?  She may be small but she can be skittish, and it’s Springtime.  All the horses are feeling fresh.  If you’re partial to KoKo I’ll saddle her for you.  But the black isn’t an option.  I woudn’t let you on him – he’s very touchy.  That’s Mandrake and he’s mine, not easy for anyone except me.  And the grey is Sir Galahad – Owen always rides him.”

            “Let’s draw a straw for Koko and Chief,” I suggested.  “No favoritism.  Let the fates decide.”

            “Alright, I’ll be the straw bearer.  Ha!  straw bearer, not strawberry!” My boyfriend joked as he turned his back to us and plucked blades of long grass from beside the fence post.  He came back and faced me.  “Longer straw is Chief.  Pick one”

            I studied two equal lengths of tufted grass in his closed fist and chose one on the left side.  He turned his palm upward and revealed my choice.  Long straw.

            “Chief!” The leggy chestnut horse acknowledged my voice.  His ears went forward.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Owen give thumbs up to Paul.

     “What’s that for?” I asked.                                            
            “What?” The warlock’s expression was innocent.

            “Nothing.  Let’s get the saddles.  This is going to be awesome!” I was excited to ride.  I followed the guys into the dim old barn.  Zeke ran ahead of us, his heavy shining sable coat shimmering with every step.  A pleasant mixed scent of hay, horses and leather filled my nostrils.  My gents each hoisted ornate stitched saddles over their shoulders and we went back outside to the pasture gate.  I helped by holding the bridles and handed them over to the guys.

            They easily placed bridles on Chief and the muscular thick necked, white maned dapple grey that seemed happy to be with Owen.  The horse nudged him and whinnied softly.

            “Sir Galahad, are you ready?” the sweet sorcerer murmured.

            “Hey Owen – sorry for not having one of those pancakes you English guys put on a horse’s back,” Paul stated as he winked at me.

            “If you’re referring to our English saddles, Paul, I’ll have you know it’s pretty darn hard to jump with these Western things.  If the horse clears the obstacle you have the saddlehorn knock the air out of your stomach.”

            “Well, we ain’t doing any jumping today, pardner,” I said in my best cowgirl accent.

            Owen turned to me and pursed his lips as he tightened a cinch belt under the grey’s belly.  “Hey pardner, we ain’t doin’ any little thang you don’t want.”

            He sounded hilarious trying to mimic a cowboy voice.  I burst out laughing.  Paul just grinned and shook his head.

            There were butterflies fluttering inside of me as we got ready to ride.

            “Wait – something for the saddlebags.” Owen quickly jogged to his Jeep and came back with a canvas package.  “A picnic.” He smiled and packed the satchel behind his horse’s saddle.

            “Sweet!” I was rather nervous about getting on the horse but there was no way I wanted to show it…something about animals sensing fear.  With my left foot lifted up high to meet a stirrup, I waved off help from my boyfriend.  In a somewhat awkward maneuver I was sitting in my saddle, looking down at what seemed to be a great distance to grassy ground.

            “Way to go!  You’ll be fine, Leena.” The warlock sat astride Sir Galahad in one easy movement.          

            “Enjoy the ride!” Paul swung the gate open partially.

            “Thanks,” we echoed as we ambled past him, aiming for a path among huge ponderosa pine trees at the end of his yard.

            I was beginning to feel comfortable at this slow pace.  Sir Galahad’s wavy white tail was a few feet in front of Chief.  We almost reached the end of the yard when a sound like a motor’s distant rumbling came from the sky.  The steady thumping drone grew louder and closer with each step our horses took.  Zeke began to bark menacingly above the steadily increasing hum.

            I peered over my shoulder at Paul and Zeke standing where we had left them near the gate.  Paul was waving at us – a pushing motion, like he was telling us to get into the forest right away.

            Quickly I turned my head around to see a concerned expression cloud my sorcerer’s handsome face.  Confused, I stared back in the direction of the gate as my horse continued stepping lightly forward into a secluded grove.

            “Come on, Leena,” Owen urged.

            Unable to tear my eyes away from the scene, I still looked at Paul as trees became a canopy above us. 

            “What is that noise?” I almost yelled, alarmed and rather scared.  Chief didn’t seem to be nervous.  He still followed Sir Galahad and soon we would be out of range of the view behind us.  But just before our path turned I pulled on my reins. There was no way this disturbance was going to be ignored by me, no matter what the warlock wanted me to do.

            “Stop.  I see a helicopter!” I yelled. 

            In a far corner of Paul’s fenced meadow a whirlwind was playing havoc with tall grass below, tossing and flattening the slender stalks in all directions.  Staying close their guardian, his two remaining horses were agitated, trotting back and forth along the fence, tossing their heads.  Zeke stood close by.

            Descending from above the violently waving grass, a black helicopter was landing like a giant bumblebee onto a nest.  Chief suddenly moved ahead.  I swiveled my head to see why we were moving and was startled by the resolute expression hardening my sorcerer’s angular features.  His eyes flashed as he gripped the rein close to my horse’s mouth and he pulled us forward to follow him and Galahad.

            “Leena, follow me.  We have to get out of view…now!” 

            Stunned by his demand and confused by the unfolding scene behind us I didn’t resist.

            “I don’t want them to see us.” He turned in his saddle and stared, his sage colored eyes shooting several sparks right through me.  “Let’s ride, babe!  Hurry!”

            These metallic fireworks were a signal of his intensity and there was no arguing.  It was like being struck by needles and a surge of hot energy rushed through me.

            He let go of my rein and lightly thumped his heels a couple of times against Galahad’s body.  They were off at a fast trot.  Owen was obviously a very experienced rider, easy and smooth.  Chief followed without my urging and I was trying hard not to bounce off the saddle.  Meanwhile I held onto the reins and the saddlehorn and kept my heels down.  Thankfully the boot heels kept my feet from sliding through the stirrups.

            Within a few paces there was a sort of rhythm to my horse’s movement but I couldn’t quite find a way to time the steps, to lessen the jolt.  We reached a straight stretch on the forest path cushioned with last year’s fallen pine needles.  At least if I fell, the ground wouldn’t be like cement.

            Owen’s horse started to gallop and within a pace or two, I felt Chief change stride.  A memory flashed in front of me…my sister, Crystal and me ….a flat desert at sunset with a pink red horizon and pink sand below us….Crystal and I on mustangs from the ranch…galloping back to their barn before our father had to pay for an extra hour.  Those were the early days…when we were brave.

            Courage flooded through my veins and pumped into my heart.  Galloping was easier than trotting.  I could do it.  The feeling of freedom was thrilling as I closely followed my leader.  I crouched down low, wind whipping my hair back.

            Our horses’ hooves broke up clumps of dirt, leaving tracks and making a heavy thudding sound with every stride while we crossed a clearing beside a small indigo pond.  Mallard ducks splashed up out of the water in a flock, honking as they rose in the noon hour sun directly above us.