The Eighth Sermon to the Dead

The farm is quiet. We'd found new homes for the rabbits, and new homes for the chickens. The same people bought both sets of livestock. When they came to help us catch the chickens, we got most of them, but one hen decided she was going to hide in the blackberry brambles. So, they left that one with us. After they left, the hen started walking around, and calling for the rest of the flock. It made me sad to listen to it. I actually stopped my cleaning and packing and chores to write a short poem. We sold the chickens today, 18 barnyard hens and a rooster  captured in a frenzied rodeo Of fishing nets and copious swearing. We miscounted. In the fading light of a summer day Over wind blowing through trees Blighted by drought, and the scrubbing My wife is giving a set of shelves I hear forlorn clucking  And the dejected scratching of one hen Left behind when the reckoning came. She enters a coop devoid of companions  No squawk or squabble, no feathered furor, Only the wind in...

Parting with friends is a sadness. A place is only a place . -Thufir Hawat Our first Garage sale is accomplished. I hope there will never be another.  It's a heck of a process, selling and haggling and interacting with many people. I think it went swimmingly, but I don't want to do it again.  We sold a huge number of items that we've held onto for one reason or another. However, when we arrive in Virginia, the first thing we're doing once we recover from the Journey is having some sort of moving sale.  We met all our neighbors during the sale we had before leaving, people we'd lived around for 6 years, but never met for one reason or another.  We've sold our whole rabbitry, and have a possible buyer for the chickens. The goats have new homes, but the horses, sheep, and llamas will be coming with us. Monday was the day for the photographer to take pictures for the real estate listing. The whole day was a whirlwind of cleaning and hiding everything we hadn't b...

Today is Paddy and I's fourth wedding anniversary. We were married in the back yard of our Oregon property. The lead up to the wedding was very busy: trying to get the venue ready, trying to finish last minute fixes, cleaning, arrangements.  At some point, the time ran out to get things done, and there was a relaxation as we realized that, whatever wasn't finished, wasn't going to get finished, and didn't matter. We had family, friends, food, an officiant, a bride, a groom. The beauty of the day was exceptional, and we had animals and children running, a beautiful ceremony, and an excellent party. This year, we're in the midst of preparing to move across the country. We'll be leaving the venue behind, for other people to make memories. Today it hits hard, the fact of that move. So much has happened here, and while the memories will remain, the physical reminders will be left behind. There is much to do, but much like the wedding, whatever doesn't get finishe...

Many of you will have heard, but this will be the official record that we are planning on moving to Virginia sometime this fall.  As I know details, I'll publish them here, but here's what I know so far. Paddy, Bridget our daughter, and I are into farming, and we have 5 acres of steep clay in Oregon. We've been looking for more, flatter land in Oregon, but it's way, WAY outside our price range.  Since the Oregon market is such a seller's market at the moment, we thought we could sell and get a good property elsewhere. So we started casting further afield. We came across a property in Clarksville, VA that was in our price range, and started talking to the community. They embraced Paddy very quickly, and we made an offer on the property. However, our process was just starting, and theirs was advanced, and we missed out on that one.   After that, we took a step back, thought we'd get our ducks in a row, and try again next year sometime.  Then the sister of the owne...

A reader asks:  What is Abraxas? He always asks the best questions. My first encounter with Abraxas was in Jung's Seven Sermons to the dead. God and devil are distinguished by the qualities fullness and emptiness, generation and destruction.  Effectiveness  is common to both. Effectiveness joineth them. Effectiveness, therefore, standeth above both; is a god above god, since in its effect it uniteth fullness and emptiness. This is a god whom ye knew not, for mankind forgot it. We name it by its name  Abraxas . It is more indefinite still than god and devil. That god may be distinguished from it, we name god  Helios  or Sun. Abraxas is effect. Nothing standeth opposed to it but the ineffective; hence its effective nature freely unfoldeth itself. The ineffective is not, therefore resisteth not. Abraxas standeth above the sun and above the devil. It is improbable probability, unreal reality. Had the pleroma a being, Abraxas would be its manifestation. It is th...

I went down a bit of a linguistic rabbit hole today. One of the FB groups I’m on posted “Why do we say Holy Ghost? Is it a ghost?” After the first minute of smacking my head, I started really looking into the question. Ghost is an English word of Germanic origin, which is used to translate spiritus from latin into old English. It’s first used in Old English as such: sē hālga gāst is Old English for “The Holy Ghost”. Spirit didn’t enter English as a translation for spiritus until the Middle English Period (after the Norman Conquest, when the Normans brought more French and Latinate words into English). Ghost and geist are direct cognates, from English and German respectively. Geist has a meaning of spirit in the supernatural sense, as well as the meaning of apparition and of something having a frightening appearance. It also has a sense of furor or agitation, a sort of ecstasy. Thus, a sense of being filled ‘with the Holy Ghost’ carries a sense of ecstatic experience....

For the past few weeks, the Sacred Flame has been reignited in me to re-address my Friary Work. I've been writing a lot of material and emails and general musings, all about the Friary Work. And as I've been doing that, I've been thinking a lot about the language I use. As a magician, the words have meaning, and choosing them carefully affects the outcome of the process in which I'm engaged. That got me thinking about the word 'Work'. In English, the word work can have some bad connotations: Something you are doing that you must do, something that takes a great deal of effort, labor, something you do in exchange for payment or gain. And we know language shapes the way we think. The following video gives examples of that. Perhaps my efforts in the Friary realm should not be considered work, but perhaps the Latin source for the term, Opus.  We are engaged in the Magnum Opus, the Great Work, after all. And Opus has totally different connotations in ...

Logos is a fantastically complicated word. It is derived from a Greek word meaning "ground", "plea", "opinion", “law”, "expectation", "word", "speech", "account", "reason", "proportion", "discourse". To me, as we use it in the AJC, it has all of those meanings and more. It is the Ground of all being, the Word spoken when God at creation said “Let there be light” יְהִי אוֹר It is the plea of the Divine to remember from whence we came. It is the opinion of the Gnostics, that they know the unknowable, and approach the unapproachable; that they make effable the ineffable. It is the Law laid out for the conduct of morality, whether to be observed or broken. It is the expectation that although now we see through a glass darkly, then we shall see clear. It is the Word of God: Written, spoken, experienced, living. It is the Speech of God: The great Metatron and all of continual creation formed t...

"And going on from there he saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee and John his brother, in the boat with Zebedee their father, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him." -Matthew 4:21-22 As the Director of Communications for the Apostolic Johannite Church, I am the first point of contact for many people seeking a spiritual home that can accept eccentric ideas, yet has a strong tradition. I tend to encounter people who've been wandering from tradition to tradition. These people, their first experience is generally a very narrow version of Christianity, where if you don't toe the line, you are ostracized. So they reject Christianity altogether, and they look at Buddhism, or paganism, or nothing. Then, when they begin to heal, the Church calls them back, but they cannot accept the narrowness of the version of which they were raises. And so they find us. For some people, they've studied a l...

I am reading a ridiculous amount of books at the moment. I should really pick one and finish it. The Three Body Problem by Liu Cixin Complicity by Iain Banks Driftless Spirits by Dennis Boyer Northern Frights by Dennis Boyer Sword of the Legion by Jason Anspach, Nick Cole Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer  I really should finish one or more of these.

I am a fan of all of Holst's planet series, but nothing speaks to me like Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity. Anyone who's read my blog for any period of time knows I like Jupiter in all his aspects: King, Bringer of Jollity and plenty, Expander of boundaries and limits. The music is so upbeat! It fills one with joy, with granduer, with expansion, at least in the first movement. Then it quiets, but even it's quiet is joyous, and then it comes back in grand and sweeping, like a mountain vista in New Zealand. One can almost see a procession of gifts and brightly colored courtiers coming to pay homage to the king on the day of his coronation, or the day of his victory. A stately procession follows a flurry of preparation. Just when you think the grandeur of the second movement will come to it's end, the small trilling notes of fairies and servants and swirling dance comes back in, and then Jupiter is there, proclaiming his good will and beneficence to all. It makes me hap...

There is nothing quite like wearing a good tailored suit. The cut simply falls correctly on the body, and the figure you cut, with a neatly tied tie and a pressed shirt, makes you think you can take on the world. A set of shiny dress shoes and some socks that speak to my personality, and I feel like a man about town, a captain of industry, a go-getter ready to take on the world. I can dream in a suit. That style of dress is out of place on the farm. On the farm, I like my Romeo boots with no laces that just slip on. A pair of old jeans, a flannel shirt if it's cold, a t-shirt if it's warm. A ball cap to keep the sun from my eyes. It's relaxed, it allows for work, and it makes me feel, well, like a man of the land. Someone who works hard to accomplish their goals. It grounds me. Even more removed is the vestments of the priest. Designed at the height of the Roman empire, the alb, stole, chausible, and cincture put me in a sacred role, a role that is outside of my ev...

Great balls of fire, I am feeling ill. Grievous wails of despair come from my mouth Groaning, sweating, swearing, failing of will. Gone down a bad path, my health has gone south. Give me release, succor, a cooling cloth Growing is my unease that this illness Growls and rolls in my belly, ceaseless froth. Green mucus, bane color of un-wellness Government healthcare does not cover me Great witch doctors have no elixir cure Good faith healers' prayers do not set me free. Gross fluids flowing to make body pure. Greeting the morning of my discontent Going to find where my superb health went Writing Prompt: October 1 Fearful symmetry Pick a letter, any letter. Now, write a story, poem, or post in which every line starts with that letter.

I'd forgotten how wonderful and easy meditation is. I just finished a 5 minute meditation at my chair, and feel refreshed and wonderful. I also identified some bad habits I have programmed in from working. We're gonna fix that shit right now.  What bad habits, you ask? Well, soda, for one. Eating while reading, as well. It makes both experiences sort of throw-away. Not meditating. :) As I'm writing this, I'm like "I should save this for tomorrrow, so I don't overpost". Then, I wonder if anyone reads this besides me. Then I realize I don't care. I'm posting it anyway.  If you read it, enjoy. If you don't, well, there's nothing really I can do about that.

As used to be the case, I was talking with someone and it sparked a blog post. My friend is worried about the volume of criticism he receives for his writing, and I tried to encourage him a bit with scripture about pearls and swine, and milk for babies, meat for adults. He replied with I honestly think that is being too generous. It implies I have pearls and meat to give. I really don't think I do anymore. And I realized the last time I'd tried to cast any pearls was April. And that was about poetry. There's a blogger I've been reading since 2003. He posts at least once and usually multiple times a day. Every day. Holidays. Sundays. He posts about football, politics, economics, writing, online arguments, his kids, soccer. The main point is he posts what's going on in his head, and he does not care what others think. He may not always (or ever) be right, but he's always there. Posting. I don't post a lot of what goes on in my head. I do care wha...

Right before my wedding, we went to the dump. Riverbend Landfill in McMinnville is a pretty nice place, all things considered. Sure, there's a smell. There's always a smell around garbage. However, there's also fairly clean recycling bins and a nice delivery system. It allows us to get rid of all our garbage, and being on a farm, we generally have quite a bit. As I'm sorting the recycling and throwing out the rusty, bent chicken wire, rotten wood, and oodles of  wine bottles, I'm thinking about the things in my life that I hold. Some of it I keep because it's valuable, like the grams of gold.  Some of it I keep because it  has memories, like my great-grandfather's railroad pocket watch, or my terribly beat up Snoopy doll. Some of it I keep because it's shoved in a corner and not in sight, but not bothering me: like the extra coffee grinder or the pile of memorabilia from College. Some of it I keep because I'm too angry to get rid of it.  Like p...

[Note, this is fiction.  Note the date.] The sun has passed it's equilibrium point, and as the month of September winds to a close and the nights get longer, I'd like to take a moment to reflect on the various things that have happened. In May, we had a wonderful Conclave in Calgary, Alberta, hosted by our Patriarch Shaun McCann, and saw the ordination of Rev. Ms. Fisk to the Diaconate.  We also had the first official Friary Day on the Thursday before Conclave, doing initiations and workshops on the more esoteric wing of the AJC. Our theme of Johannite Identity was a great success, and Elaine Pagels drew an interested crowd with her lecture on the Gnostic Exegesis of the Johannite Gospel (updated). The capital funding for Our Lady of the Woods chapel is coming along, although I feel I'm always fundraising. We've had the building for over a year, so now we're working on walking paths and meditation areas, changing gardens to be a little more food forest, a litt...

This time, I had my lovely wife Paddy pick 7 words, and I rhymed them and made this: Sometimes we are called to do our duty, Although it can be quite challenging. Events may lead us to find some booty, Or Good Fortune can leave us and take wing. And as it is written in the Good Book Thy skin's as fair as Tawny Antelope's. African stories, comfortable nook, Long bubble baths with soft silky soap, The rain beats on window pane in rhythm, The longing to travel no books can staunch. Remembered airport announcement hymn, Adventurous desire soon to launch. Seeking new horizons I advocate, The airplane is here, I'm at my gate. The exercise has been wonderful. I'm enjoying the creative flow of being timed, forced, and restricted. I must admit though, that this one took longer, about 18 minutes. 1) I didn't have a rhyming dictionary, which I did for the first one. 2) I was interrupted by a cat demanding people time.

Andrew Watt of  Wanderings in the Labyrinth  issued a Poetry challenge for April. It went like this: Exercise One: Master a form In medieval and Renaissance Ireland, historical sources indicate that the surviving bardic schools would wrap a student in a blanket after giving the student a theme and a form. The theme would be a figure from Ireland’s myth or history; the form would be one of the traditional formats of Irish poetry. We can deduce three elements from this — subject matter (theme), limitation of distractions (blanket), and structure (form). For this exercise, we’re going to use the Sonnet as our form. There are others — ballades, odes (one of my favorites), sestinas, haiku, and more. Sonnets are good for this, though because they’re longer than haiku and they’re governed by three core rules: 1. They have fourteen lines; 2. The last words of each line rhyme, in a specific pattern: ABABCDCDEFEFGG 3. Each line has ten syllables and a gentle ...

It's been a while since I've written. This is a personal post, not a lot of deep gnostic thought here. Yet, the gnosticism is there, if you dig for it. 1) Anger: I knew something was wrong, as my manager had presented me with a 90 day plan to improve my skills. It was a panic inducing plan. Stuff I'd never heard of. Tools I hadn't used. I'm a developer, and a number of these tools seemed to be more on the engineering realm. 15 days into the plan, I'm let go.  It's not fair. I was working the plan. 2) Conflict: This is not the first time I've been let go because my skills were not where the employer needed to be. I'm angry, I feel upset that my professional skills have been disregarded, but at the same time I'm relieved. Relieved. I've never really liked programming. I like problem solving, I like helping folks and making their job easier, and I like building something. But programming was always just a tool, a means to an end. There a...