Just as Perceval left the forest in search of the Grail he knew little about, there are new adventures at hand for you and for me that we can’t at this time perceive… new worlds to embrace and old ones to conquer. But it’s all for naught if you never enter the world. I have done my best to teach and guide you… to keep you on the road to the secret knowledge which rjjjreturn again.
So my final advise on this day of reckoning is to breath deep and fly the middle way through the Southern Cross as you touch them
. Beware of flying too close to the sun, as well as deep oceans, and keep firm in the face of adversity. For it is the manager who was going through it was just so he could be the same and I cannot it would have a lot to say that never speaks out who walks about as though he were already in the grave.
As many of you know I struggle with Parkinson’s disease. In the years since my diagnoses so much has changed either because of me or in spite of me… work, moving, kids, meeting new friends and renewing old ones. Never was I one to try and deny my circumstances for it was cathartic just to know this is what ails me, now what can I do. Sure I tried to conceal my tremors and the way I walked but time has a way of liberating all secrets. In the guise of this generative, physical and cognitive condition I do battle with the dragon time and time again for time comes to the aid of every decision under heaven, be it an angel in heaven or devil in hell. There is much truth in this as Perceval and the ailing Fisher King, seeking the question, “what ails you, Sir, what ails you”? Compassion flowering the good earth. Perhaps it is also a bit like Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote, “man must not distance his brotherhood even with the worse of men.” For sometimes your the dragon and sometimes not.
I awoke one morning to the sun rising over the horizon where the tree line whispers secrets to the sky. With the aroma of coffee brewing in the air, I was thinking of this day and all it could bring. The possibilities were endless on such a morning. With a cup in hand, I went outside on the deck for my meditation. A gentle breeze brushed my face and I could hear a symphony of birds seducing my ears as streaks of the newborn sun lite the sky like a kaleidoscope.Continue reading A Noble Heart
Gahmuret and the Lady Herzeloyde are the parents of Parzival, who will one day find the Grail and ask the ‘noble question’ of the Fisher King. Upon the death of Gahmuret in battle, Herzeloyde abandons her kingdom, taking her son to a deep wood and raises him under nature’s cathedral in hopes that Parzival will never know the word ‘Knight’ or hears of this exclusive group out of fear that he’ll suffer the same fate as his father. But strange things happen in the dark woods especially when we find out that Merlin is lurking about.Continue reading Sir Gahmuret and the Lady Herzeloyde
Find something, anything, which is so encompassing that in a given block of time it enthralls you to get lost together in unconsciousness. Such things are beyond space and time, it is bliss and one only questions the indignities of why when not doing this transcendent work.Continue reading Bliss
“The right-hand path is living in the context of the mask of one’s village. The left-hand way is of the individual quest. So the mask of the individual’s own life pulls against the mask held up by society”. -Joseph Campbell
“As we drive toward the apex of a six-lane span over the St.Johns river, the wind picks up in gust and the bridge suddenly divides. One turn is a slight turn to the right. The other turn is to the left, a very sharp turn through the yellow cables, as yellow as the morning sun. -JC
Such is life, two sides of an interchangeable cultural coin as symbols and meaning constantly trade places. What’s in vogue today is out tomorrow as each turns to the other for its’ title. This is a dance and society is leading the orchestra to a beat that holds everyone under its pulsating rhythm of fear. So the music doesn’t change as though someone requests the same song in repetitious frustration because he can’t hear the real song in his soul.
When the flip of a coin is realized and understood one is left somewhere off to the side of the road, disheveled and seeking. The empyrean of pure fire and light at the farthest boundaries of the heavenly sphere await your question; for the gods reveal themselves only when summoned, waiting for you to turn the key and open the inner door to a mythic adventure where demons, dragons, and fairies encountered in the regions of the soul. This is the path beyond the border of societies misinterpretations, the inner life or mythically speaking “the left-hand way.
Our newfound wisdom comes from the inner vision the mystics speak of. It is a lonely path in so far as the mask one longs for from the past. But loneliness soon turns to solitude in this darkness of the soul’s flight and in our emptying out we become filled with the spirit. This is Perceval quest and was only satisfied when he went against the social sanction of not asking questions, as expected of a Knight of the Roundtable and asks the Fisher King a left-handed question, “what ails you, my king”.
Society is a disguise for something deeper that can’t be held overtly for all to see. For many are indifferent and without the subsistence to keep from falling asunder. The older man has discerning eyes and by the light of a full moon whose light is derived from the sun ask the hard questions from which descends the wisdom to see life’s exceptions, discarding all that we cleave to that subsequently blinds us to who we really are. Heaven and earth, left hand in right hand will reveal their bounty as society opens to serve the individual quest. The goal must be a noble undertaking, a pursuit exalted before the heavens to begin at the point where it arcs across the earth. Many cultural layers, many situations, many lessons uncovered and either embrace or abandoned as we ascertain the left side of the self.
“The fire is lit, a sacred long pipe is passed around connecting us to our forebearers, while the flickering light of the campfire creates shadows that dance onto the trees and stars.” -JC
We happen upon a cabin from antiquity next to a pond, nestled deep within a thicket made to specifications out of fallen trees. Sitting upon its rustic porch at night amidst the visual of fireflies, we listen intently to all it has witnessed, as this rustic castle dispels all thoughts of the mundane with stories of fairy circles, dryads (tree spirits) and haunted groves, awakening our imaginations.Continue reading Thoreau’s Ghost