Here, Have Some Beck

I know I haven't been posting, or commenting, all that much lately but you're just gonna have to cut me some slack. It's hot as hell and I've got some (hopefully minor) health concerns to deal with right now. So, here, have some Beck. He mentions pagans in this song but, as with most Beck tunes, I have no idea what the fuck he's talking about. Feel free to cuss and discuss. This is a live version of Jack Ass. The original, from Odelay, is much more mellow and trippy but this is great too. Enjoy.



I been drifting along
In the same stale shoes
Loose ends tying a noose
In the back of my mind
If you thought that you were making your way
To where the puzzles and pagans lay
I'll put it together:
It's a strange invitation
When I wake up
Someone will sweep up my lazy bones
And we will rise in the cool of the evening
I remember the way that you smiled
When the gravity shackles were wild
And something is vacant
When I think it's all beginning

I been drifting along
In the same stale shoes
Loose ends tying the noose
In the back of my mind
If you thought that you were making your way
To where the puzzles and pagans lay
I'll put it together:
It's a strange invitation

Weather Weirdness

Have you ever had a moment, or moments, when something outside or otherwise nature-related that normally brought you joy not only gave you the willies but maybe scared the holy shit out of you? I had a moment like that last week during one of several storms systems that passed through our area. I call our little spot of land Windy Hill for obvious reasons. And we take full advantage of our often blustery weather i.e. we have zillions of wind chimes. Okay, maybe not zillions but dozens.

Almost every corner of all four buildings has a set of chimes hanging from it and the big covered back porch has at least a dozen of its own chimes. So, even when it's just a bit breezy we have the blessed, joyful, uplifting song of wind chimes filtering through the air and the trees. At any point on the property one can always hear wind chimes. The rare occasions when the air is completely still usually occur in the dead of winter. There's also a weird thing that happens just before, sometimes during, or after a thunderstorm hits: sometimes the wind abruptly dies. This is most likely to happen at the freaky time when cigar clouds are trying to stir up tornadoes.

This is what happened one evening last week. I was back by the barn, the front end, not the back end that our last tornado ripped up, and I was joyfully taking pictures of all the freaky, gorgeous and frightening clouds moving past. Say what you will about thunderstorms and tornadoes, and I have, but they make for great photography. Anyway, the wind had been picking up and the clouds were spiraling and turning and churning like they do sometimes before a tornado drops down when everything went dead.

Our near-constant breeze suddenly stopped. It was as if the local spirits, or fairies or Those Who Are in Charge of Air got a punch in the gut and lost their breath. For a few minutes the atmosphere stopped breathing. And just before everything went still and got stuffy the wind chime right behind me gave a small and sad little tinkling of sound as if trying to defy the danger of the storm. It was chilling. You ever have a moment like that?

Stars and Lights

Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are
Up above the world so high
like a diamond in the sky

I had a weird moment tonight. It was one of those moments when I wasn't quite sure what I was seeing. I was out in the backyard with the dogs, enjoying the crystal clear night sky. The moon wasn't quite visible yet so there were only stars as far as the eye could see. I live out in the country, or the suburbs of a very small town if I wanna get cheeky about it, so light pollution isn't much of an issue. Anyway, the weird moment came when I made it to the back of the yard and gazed at the brightest of the stars. And, I swear to the gods, it was blinking. And not just blinking bright, then dull, then bright again. It flashed white, white, blue, red. White, white, blue, red. Over and over in exactly the same order and rhythm.

I have never seen this before and I don't know why.

It was so startlingly different that the phrase "UFO" actually crossed my mind before passing away just as quickly as it arose. Then I wondered if all the fireplace smoke in the air could be playing tricks on my eyes. Then I came in and checked out a couple of my most favorite spacey websites thinking there must be some grand scientific explanation. And I couldn't find anything of the sort regarding the current space weather. So, I went back outside to see if I was hallucinating. And there it was again. The brightest, lowest star blinking at me; it may be Venus for all I know. But it appears like just any bright star, except it's blinking and flashing. White, white, blue, red. White, white, blue, red. So, I said to myself, "Self, you must be hallucinating". Then I got the idea to check out the other stars. And all of the bigger, brighter stars were blinking at me! The smaller, fainter stars just glimmered with their usual sparkle. But each and every one of the larger stars blinked in vividly different colors.

The only plausible idea I can come up with is that I have been in front of the computer, on and off, for about 4 hours now and my eyes are playing tricks on themselves. But that doesn't really fit the situation either. I've been a hardcore internet junkie since 1995 and never have I seen the stars like this. And I've been a dedicated moon and stargazer for most of my life. Why did I never see this before? Was I not looking close enough? Was I not looking long enough? Did the gods just now decide to reveal this to me? Or did someone spike my 2% milk when I was looking the other way?

Even as I write this a thought occurs: maybe I'm just getting old. Perhaps now that my eyes are a little weaker I am only seeing these flashes of colors as my eyes can't handle the overall brightness of the stars. Is that possible? I wish I knew. No, that's not entirely correct. I'd like to know the answer. But, mostly, I hope, and wish for it to continue.

Starlight, starbright
First star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have this wish I wish tonight

From the Holy Shit Files

Vatican accepts Darwin

and

Man appears free of HIV after stem cell transplant

Seems I looked away for just a moment and all kinds of wild things occurred. It's funny how that works out sometimes. I can read, read, read news obsessively for weeks and come across few items of interest and none that amaze me and then, poof! I take a week or two off to sink to the depths and two near unimaginable things happen in my absence.

And yet, while I've been too wrapped up in myself to pay much attention to the wider world the spirits of nature have not gone unnoticed by me. I've seen a hawk swoop in for the kill (something I'd never seen before) which was an amazing sight, to say the least. And just today we nearly hit a hawk flying low over our truck and spied a deer. A few days ago the bright yellow crocus started peeking out of the ground. Yesterday while I basked in the glory of a beautiful sunset I heard geese. And while we're still burning wood in both fireplaces I can feel spring tiptoeing closer. I can't wait for my winter to end.

The Spirit of the Walnut

Shamana Flora has a wonderful, inspirational post over at her blog, Gaia's Gifts about her love of the Walnut. And it really got me thinking about something I've been mulling for several years now. Once upon a time, while I was under the influence of Sacred Datura, I saw an old wizened little man in the trunk of our walnut tree. And ever since then I've wondered about it. I've considered making offerings, feeding the tree with fertilizer, decorating the tree, etc. But, for some reason, I've never made a move to do any of these things. I just wasn't ready to acknowledge something I could only see during a journey. Now, thanks to Shamana, I'm considering making use of the walnut's medicinal properties. But more than that, I'm finally ready to take my vision of the walnut tree spirit seriously. I'm accepting that I really did see him and he really is there. And it's time I honored him. Karya is the Greek name for a nut tree spirit but that sounds very feminine so I think I'll try to commune with the tree spirit and learn his name on my own.

I don't know whether or not to consider him a genius loci, a Roman spirit who safeguards the land, or a hamadryad. I'm leaning toward hamadryad as a genius loci isn't necessarily tied to a specific thing whereas a hamadryad is bonded to its tree for life. The more I think about him the more I think he is a hamadryad as he looked like he really belonged to the tree. This little man was old, still healthy like the tree, but definitely not a childlike figure. I can't help but wonder why he is such a small figure, almost like a wrinkled old dwarf. Perhaps I'll learn more as I get to know him and his tree better. And I think he might need some help as he seemed a little sad. So, I'm going to do what I can to honor him. During this Sacred Datura experience (my only journey) I saw a barely remembered figure in another tree. So I think I'll start making offerings to more than one tree. I feel like I'm finally learning and grokking the lessons Sacred Datura was trying to teach me.

P.S. Lest you wonder, dear reader, I'll tell you straight up. Yes, I am a little crazy.

Ancient Cave Art & Echolocation

I've always been fascinated by ancient cave paintings. Be they animals, human figures or more abstract images like spirals or odd-shaped symbols there's just something amazing about them. They are the proof that, even in prehistory, our very distant ancestors were not only capable of abstract thought but also capable of expressing themselves.

There are many theories attached to these ancient paintings. The animal images could have been painted to help hunters attract/become/honor the spirits of the animals they would have to kill to survive. The images of vulvae could have been ancient pornography or, more likely to my mind, meant to promote fertility and the perpetuation of offspring. The symbols and other abstract images could mean just about anything. Considering that what we call shamanism today was the norm back then there were most likely hallucinogenics used that not only opened eyes and minds but inspired the art of the day. But some of the art could have a more down to earth reason behind it.

A new study suggests that certain images were painted in certain areas where the acoustics were best. And the only way to test acoustics is to make music. According to a LiveScience article:

Ancient hunters painted the sections of their cave dwellings where singing, humming and music sounded best, a new study suggests.

Analyzing the famous, ochre-splashed cave walls of France, the most densely painted areas were also those with the best acoustics, the scientists found. Humming into some bends in the wall even produced sounds mimicking the animals painted there.

On the one hand it could be they tested the acoustics and painted as a way of making a guide to cave systems. Singing or humming to test the space of a pitch black unexplored cave is one very useful way of mapping out a space. Perhaps certain images were used like road signs: "curve ahead" and the like. But it's also quite likely that the music and paintings were aspects of ritual. Or both. It makes me wonder: which came first? The music or the paintings? And how did these two activities come together? It's the beginning of religion and the beginning of ritual that fascinates me most. What we call witchcraft and paganism today has its roots in these ancient ways; without them we wouldn't be doing what we do today.