Beauty roams the wilderness of life
determined to show the possibilities of harmony
in a chaotic world.
She reminds us
that the heart of our soul
beats to the rhythm of life.
“A little beauty can cause great happiness.”
Dartwill Aquila
She defies the hard conditions.
She defies the conventions.
She leaves no doubt
that she’s prepared
to explode passion
to promote the well-being
of her delicate flowers.
“When They talk about Us as We they mean Them because You and I are another We.”
Dartwill Aquila
“Grow together in reverence for life.
Don’t stop joining together until the body of humanity
is a thing of beauty among the wonders of the earth.”
Dartwill Aquila
Death was a common theme on graves during the Middle Ages. A reminder of the conditions of life. Here a time-glass has wings. Your deeds in life live on in time. How did you use your time on earth. Did you fly around in darkness (the bat wing) or do you fly on high close to the light (the eagle wing)?
“Death is the diploma declaring the job of life is complete.”
Dartwill Aquila
The American military informs us that no effects of radioactivity from DU-weapons* can be observed among Iraqis.
(Since the USA invasion, cancer, particularly leukemia, has spiked to make Iraq the cancer capital of the world. The amount of babies born deformed exceeds any figures anywhere on earth ever.)
*DU = depleted uranium, from atomic energy waste, is used on missile and bullet tips to extend their penetrating power. Call them micro atomic weapons. The tiny explosions from DU-weapons doesn’t cause mushroom clouds but the dust from this dirty uranium is as deadly as the fallout from the big bombs. Under USA pressure the UN has refused to publish its report about the effects DU-weaponry in Iraq.
“You cause a fear to bring children into the world.
Not even Jesus would forgive what you do.”
Bob Dylan
A rose,
wild, bold, provocative, harmonious and mild.
The queen of flowers
a symbol of passion
a metaphor of love
beauty’s naked secret.
A rose
sings a gift to the heart
in praise of life.
“Beauty need not speak to say everything.”
Dartwill Aquila
You speak pigeons when I speak bears.
I count petals when you count hairs.
I dance the dirty while you do a waltz.
You sing hymns, I do country false.
We do everything together, but nothing the same.
Time to be going, taking nothing, leaving a name.
“Sometimes we must walk away to get ahead.”
Dartwill Aquila
Saturated mirrored bark
THE TOTEM OF DESTINY
The three-headed Totem of Destiny
is trustworthy and consistent.
If you can talk with the totem
you will learn what you need to know.
The totem says,
”Make me an offer that makes you happy
and doesn’t insult me.”
It pays to talk to the Totem of Destiny.
The three sisters of destiny,
who Shakespeare called the Wirde Systers,
and people called The Wierd Witches,
were the past, the present and the future
as represented by the Nordic Norns
Urd, Verdandi and Skuld.
Urd gathered the fibers of the past
Verdandi weaved the fibers into the thread of life
in the present
Skuld clipped off a length of the thread
sometimes long, sometimes short
no consistincy, just life,
the future is not yet shaped.
”Skuld” also means debt,
what we owe the future.
None of us get too far into the future
but all of us influence the shape of the future.
Unite on life!
What do you need more than life?
All these labels, titles and names that keep people apart:
nations, religions, races, sexes, teams, whatever…
are keeping people divided and weak
are hiding the common ties to life that give strength.
If the Totem of Destiny could say one thing:
”On the road to respect, like and love each other
we must learn from our differences
convinced
that our common survival requires a common strategy.
Either we learn to work together to create
a garden of peace and health on the earth
or we will all die out in the rubble of an unsustainable future.
Forever!”
It pays to talk to the Totem of Destiny.
Throughout the world street entertainers spice the experience of tourists. Years ago troups of entertainers traveled from town to town in wagons loaded with props to amuse people with burlesque theater and supplementary tricks and attactions. Today, mostly single musicians compete in the tough battle to entice a little money from the pockets of pedestrians. I call them microtainers (micro + entertainer).
Here we see Isa and Adam (not their real names) performing an act of illusion. A Disney store forms the backdrop. This store is a tiny piece in the Disney entertainment empire. Isa and Adam are also part of the entertainment industry. The sign above the Disney store costs more than these two microtainers earn together in a year.
A man looks carefully to convince himself that there’s nothing between Isa floating in the air and Adam’s head.
This spectacular act of illusion can be considered instant theater. Look at it when you want as long as you want. No beginning or end to make demands on your time. No complicated themes or story. You can see the entire performance in under a minute. Or you can linger a long time amusing yourself (as you try to figure out how it’s down) with the reactions of the people walking by.
Don’t however underestimate the quality of the actors in this show. Particularly Isa. She moves her left hand almost constantly. The majestic, elegant and harmonious slow movements are hypnotical. Her hand is a snake charming the observers. Her finger points to the collection box occassionly, reminding the audience to give something for the amusement and fascination they receive.
Isa’s look along with her mysterious little smile (a cousin to Mona Lisa’s) gives the illusion its power. She moves her head more slowly than her hand. Her eyes are mostly humble closed. Without warning they open, capture a pair of eyes in the crowd and fire off, from her giga-powerful stare, a 1000-word story before the receiver can blink. The little smile broadens ever so slightly as she recognizes another believer.
Such calm and confidence wrapped with golden hue over obvious strength. Could she have some of Ghengis Kahn’s genes in her biological treasure chest? Sitting in mid air seems to be a piece of cake for her. What else can she do? I asked (telepathically) and she answered (telepathically), ”I can do whatever I want, with whoever I want, whenever I want, however I want, as long as it is what I want. I’m not obligated to do what other people want.”
(continued from yesterday)
But the sickness spread through the village and no one
who bathed in their holy well was cured.
Once again I escaped from my home
where I had been kept locked up.
I went into the village when darkness had fallen
and when I met young people I said to them:
“Don’t believe the elders! Their wisdom has dried up
like the water in their well.
Their well is full of disease. Their well is poisoned.”
But my words were turned against me and became a snake
on people’s tongues that hissed evil
as it crawled from house to house and mouth to mouth.
Two of my neighbours, two armed men,
captured me on the village road and brought me before the council:
“You have poisoned the well in our village.
You have killed half the people in our village.
The council shall sentence you.”
I torn myself out of their grip and ran away.
But they cried: “Poisoner! Stop the witch!
She has poisoned the well in our village and admitted it herself.”
The people in the village who had not yet become sick
went wild when they heard the cry
because fear had darken their minds.
Their fear of death and will to live
were turned into hate against me.
Men dropped what they were doing and joined the pack.
Women put their sick children aside
and lifted their skirt hems to run after me.
The air above the village echoed the cries of the children:
Poisoner! Poisoner!
And those who had no sword or knife or any other weapon
grabbed poles and gathered stones –
everyone wanted to kill me.
***
I ran away from them through the narrow alleys of my village.
I ran away through the village where I was born and grew up
among my friends. No one had hated me.
I ran along the road
where I had scrubbed my knees as a child
and where I had recently walked as a maiden beside my beloved.
Some of their stones hit me but I kept running.
I ran to my home to seek protection in my mother’s arms.
But I saw my mother come out of the house
with a scream on her lips and she threw a curse at me.
I saw my brother reach for a spear and join my murderers.
I still had a sister who was dearer to me than anyone else,
who I had shared my childhood bed with
and the dreams of my youth.
But she came at me from the doorstep of her home
carrying a stick which she raised to strike
and her words poured down on me like stones.
Then my feet grew heavy with sorrow and I stumbled.
The frenzy of the pack turned to triumph:
“The witch can no longer run. The devil has abandoned her.”
***
I begged wings of the wind for the sake of my innocence,
to no avail.
I wished for a solar eclipse so that the night
could throw its dark cloak between me and my executioners,
to no avail.
I heard their panting on my neck as they caught up to me
and when I fell down on this place
a spear,
from the hand of the boy
who filled my innocent dreams,
bored through me.
But the knives and stones from the others
gave me no pain
because as I lay riveted to the earth
my dying ears heard only the murmur of running water.
***
In order to further ridicule my impudence
the began to bury my body on this very place
where I had brought their well diggers.
But hardly had they broken the surface of the earth
– oh the victory of my innocence,
oh the triumph of my death –
when clear, singing water burst forth.
And when they pulled the spear from my body
my young blood united with the song of the water.
The stones which they had thrown at me
were used to build this well.
*************
(This poem is one of the last poems in the book The Virgin’s Well that came out in 1956 in Finland. Elvi was 44 years od.
System Humanity 