Aos Si

calling forth the spirits of my people

people of the mounds

crying out

keening for connection

fluttering through the realms

finding a place

limbo

liminal

metamorphasis

purging

awakening

fire

ashes

Bring on the winter

A fulfilling day of chopping wood and carrying water. 

                A slow and serene morning as I ate some handsifted local spelt flour pancakes with some local grits (both of which I ground this past Thursday) all the while sipping some Darjeeling tea. Waiting for my housemates to awaken and help me transport fresh spring water. After dashing out with Geehoff, whisked past the hockhocking, bubbling by the incapable White's Mill. As the coal filtered spring water trickled into our glass vessels, we duck under boughs and limbs to find fungi worth dancing with. The day goes quick with homestead projects of jalepeno hotsauce and brewing liquid bread, a tiresome yet soulfilling task. The sun's set is capped off with a little exploring, discovering, and firewood procurement. The leaves are fading as they begin to coat the soil's surface, prepping it's bed for winter's chilly embrace.

Fresh expiry for an ancient life force. 

A few photos I found from within last winter's envelope.

Amazing dessert

Half popped Amaranth flour (may not be to easy to find, but since I work at a mill that pops amaranth we have alot)
Black walnuts (thank you Badger)
Maple Syrup (thank you sticky pete's)
Almond milk (or any other milk, preferebly raw milk)
a dash of Angostura bitters
and some ground flax seed for binding

I will get back to you all on pictures and the possibility of baking these into something delicious!

When teas taste best

When one's heart and hands are idle
when one's thoughts are disturbed
when shut up in one's home all day
when charming friends visit
in a quiet secluded room with old
photos, antiques, paintings, mementos,
and sweet memories
(chinese recipe)

Mabon/Athenian Mysteries

Put your mind, body, and soul at ease, Mabon is here. Become one with the trees, adorned in their leaves. Feel the sway of the wind in their capricious canopy. Casting the sacred circle we call forth the gaurdians to protect and guid us. As we eminate and offer a resonance of gratitude and libations, we recieve our own cosmic energy rebounding back. The frenzied baying of the canines and screech of the owls mirrors the indecorous cries of the sacred neophytes in town. The stillness of the lake pierces the calamity of our fast paced urban induced souls, so I relish in the serene ambiance. The ground is aglow like the stars in the sky as the glowworms light our terrestrial paths. 

As above so below

Blessed be

American Autumn

A revolution is happening in our country and we aren't even hearing about it. This type of protest should be reported on news reports, magazines, radio broadcasts, newspapers, but it isn't just handed to us like it should be. We have to actively seek it out to even find information about it. They are trying to keep it underwraps so it doesn't turn into a full blown gathering. If anyone has the time make it to wall street even for just a day.
www.occupywallst.org

Use the crosswalk when you aren't going to look.

These need to be put on every college campus. Sheesh.

Dryad dreams

Mabon is nearly here. Just a few more moons and she will be upon us. By the time Mabon is upon myself I better have my electric bill payed, but that is only apart of the world in which one foot resides. I've seemed to neglect my spiritual path that I was once traversing, or not so much neglected as paused to take in the beauty of where I was. It seems that with the wintery wind coming from the west I must continue on that path. The tarot has awakened this desire for me and while I don't ascribe to one practice per se, it's by following nature's cycles that I feel most connected or as my partner would say "aligned."
The autumnal equinox that I speak of is Mabon and with it we can celebrate the bountiful harvests we've had this past season and start preparing for the reflective and hibernating winter that is ever so slightly wispering his arrival. It is time for my cernunnos to intertwine with the princess of the pentacles.
yaho

Oh Samuel

How big is our island?

St. Matthew Island reindeer before their surmise
1960

Do you live the days you go through?

not close enough

Rhizosphere

I feel a separation
separation from some of those I once knew
is it a prerequisite of transitions?
I feel some pain from this separation,
but simultaneously I don't associate myself with such activities
so I don't feel pain from exclusion.
Maybe it's my cynic-like attitude toward some perspectives
or that I'm not living the 4th anymore.
My community is more like the rhizosphere of an oak,
deep and taprooted into the parent material
so then it's harder to relate to these adventitious rooters
even though we get along so well in this rhizoecosystem.

Tallest man on earth - These Days (Nico Cover) - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

These days i seem to think a lot, about all the things that I forgot to do

Rain rain

The Diggers

It's not about fighting against, but living for

Ea malama ea kahe au

Beltane is upon us and spring is finally here.
Can't really pull myself out of the garden or the peduncle of flowers,
I just want to stay in this beautiful reality and stroll away from academia
into the forest. The feral foliage is calling...."Follow me to the source of all, I am eternal fire."

Meditation of evil

Behold the finite set of thirteen convex figures
The irrational sine versus tangent 45

And we genuflect before pure abstraction
1.05946, twelfth root of two, amen

To begin again

To whom we venerate seven pieces,
endlessly manifold, self-contained revealed, replete

With all respect, we beseech the books of figures
Make us your analog, to begin again



(To get the next note in the (chromatic) scale, you multiply the frequency of the root note by the twelfth root of two (1.05946….). The harmony of the universe. )

Not participating in anything we believe is evil

The Seven Blunders of the world

• Wealth without work
• Pleasure without conscience
• Knowledge without character
• Commerce without morality
• Science without humanity
• Worship without sacrifice
• Politics without principle

-acts of passive violence, written on a scrap of paper that Gandhi gave to his grandson shortly before his death

Life must be lived forwards, however, it can only be understood backwards.
-Soren Kierkegaard

Fritz Müller

A natural observer of life

Mate de coca

Chuck Chuck

Pseudacris crucifers emerge quickly in this first spring rain
sloshing in the ankle deep water, I search out the cries in the dark,
Cries of bravado and longing,
your nimble feet clutching the rush reed
as you herald your voice into the chorus all around us
the x on your back signifying your place in the pond world
while your round vocal sac expands with fervor
soon, your sonorous voice will reach the concrete denizens

Colocasia esculenta- Kalo

May we wish you many many joyous rebirths

"If we can't laugh at our great religious discoveries where are we?" T. Leary

October 17, 1840
...I love spring water and wild air, and not the manufacture of the chemist's shop. I see in a moment, on looking into our new Dial, which is the wild poetry, and which the tame, and see that one wild line out of a private heart saves the whole book.
-R. Waldo E.

“Follow your bliss and don’t be afraid, and doors will open where you didn’t know they were going to be.” - *Joseph Campbell*

Cryptobranchus allaganiensis

My wish is to find one of these delicate hellbenders, but my dream is to find it in the Hocking...

Root system of a 6-year-old asparagus plant. Not all of the very numerous main roots are shown. (10 ft deep)

Puzzle pieces in the ground

No one ever seems to be digging.

Instead they’re looking up towards the heavens, with their eyes on the heavens,

their shadows on the way to the heavens.

It’s enough to make me cry,

but that don’t seem like it will make it feel better.

The answers could be found,

we could learn from digging down,

but no one ever seems to be digging

I feel like there are only a select few of us that have spades in hand

We know more about the surface of the moon than we do about the soil beneath our feet

Our ancestors,

before the artists in the caves,

before the caecilians burrowed their thick skulls into the loam

the ones that have tender hairs on their undersides, responsible for their nutrient uptake

Their first thought was to dig deep, they knew there was a lot to learn from going down.

Humans, and I myself, have been caught by the allure of going up, up, up. That the prize was near the top, the enlightenment of reaching our crown chakra or the pride of building the tower of Babel…. at what expense? Forgetting the importance of our roots and everything we’re soaking up through them.

I feel the urge to sink down deep into this loam, down to the warmth that keeps the earth alive. Maybe I’ll find the secrets of the universe or maybe just find a little more of myself, but down is where I’m headed after college.

My sweet mayapple

Can't wait to see the vernal flours popping out of that sweet loam

Student life 1930's

Thank you stumble upon