Dehumanization, Despair, Divine, Female empowerment, Heroism, Hope, Humanity, Leon, Plutonia, Posts in English, Prayer, Seelengeschwister, Soul siblings, Translations, Twin Flames, Universal Love, WWII
Plutonia and I watched an interesting post-apocalyptic film yesterday, which wonderfully combines with the following prose poem dearest Heidrun Regina shared today in the German original. The film, an image from which I use towards the end of this post, may be too noisy and brutal for some, but these lines will be gratefully appreciated by all dear ones.
Wolfgang Borchert was a German author and playwright who served in the Wehrmacht during the Second World War, and who in his works never compromises in questions of humanity and humanism. He wrote Dann gibt es nur eins! a few days before he died at the age of 26, in 1947.
We still need this spirit today, and it seems that even the gentler souls among us, often especially these precious ones, will be called to be brave, each in our own unique ways, never alone, never getting lost in this world, all of us together joining hands and keeping the connection between Heaven and Earth, the awareness of our Love essence.
Thank you, Heidrun. Thank you, everyone. 💜 🙏 Leon
* * *
Translated by Ryan Wilcox
Then There’s Only One Thing To Do!
You. Man at the machine and man in the workshop. If they order you tomorrow to stop making water pipes and cook pots and start making helmets and machine guns, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Girl behind the counter and girl at the office. If they order you tomorrow to fill hand grenades and mount scopes on sniper rifles, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Factory owner. If they order you tomorrow, to sell gun powder instead of talcum powder and cocoa, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Researcher in the laboratory. If they order you tomorrow, to invent a new death to do away with old life, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Poet in your room. If they order you tomorrow not to sing love songs, but songs of hate, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Doctor at the sick bed. If they order you tomorrow to certify men as fit for war, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Minister in the pulpit. If they order you tomorrow to bless murder and praise war as holy, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Captain on the steamer. If they order you tomorrow not to transport wheat but cannons and tanks, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Pilot at the airfield. If they order you tomorrow to carry bombs and incineraries over cities, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Tailor at your table. If they order you tomorrow to start sewing uniforms, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Judge in your robe. If they order you tomorrow to report to the military court, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Man at the train station. If tomorrow they order you to give the signal for the ammunition and the troop trains to depart, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Man in the village and man in the city. If they come for you tomorrow and with your induction papers, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Mother in Normandy and mother in the Ukraine, you, mother in Frisco and London, you, on the banks of the Huang Ho and the Mississippi, you, mother in Nepal and Hamburg and Cairo and Oslo – mothers in all regions on earth, mothers all over the world, if they order you tomorrow to bear children – nurses for military hospitals and new soldiers for new battles, mothers all over the world, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO! Mothers, say NO!
Because if you don’t say NO,
if YOU don’t say no, mothers, then;
In the noisy port cities, hazy with steam, the large groaning ships will grow silent, and like titanic, mammoth corpses, filled with water, they will lethargically totter against the lifeless, lonely, algae-, seaweed-, and shell-covered walls of the docks, the body that previously appeared so gleaming and threatening now reaking like a foul fish cemetery, rotten, sickly and dead –
the streetcars will be senselessly bent and dented like dull, glass-eyed birdcages and lie like petals beside the confused, steel skeletons of the wires and tracks, behind rotten sheds with holes in their roofs, in lost, crater-strewn streets –
a mud-gray, heavy, leaden silence will roll in, voracious and growing in size, will establish itself in the schools and universities and theaters, on sport fields and children’s playgrounds, horrible and greedy and unstoppable –
the sunny, juicy grapes will spoil on the neglected slopes, the rice will dry up in the desolate earth, the potatoes will freeze in the plowed fields and the cows will stretch their dead, rigid legs into the sky like upturned milking stools –
in the institutions, the ingenious inventions of the great physicians will become sour, rot, mold into fungus –
the last sacks of flour, the last jars of strawberries, the pumpkins and the cherry juice will spoil in the kitchens, chambers and cellars, in the cold storage lockers and storage areas – the bread under the upturned tables and on splintered plates will become green and the melted butter will smell like soft soap, the grain on the fields will have bent down to the earth alongside rusty plows like a defeated army, and the smoking, brick chimneys, the food and smokestacks of the stamping factories, covered by eternal grass, will crumble, crumble, crumble –
then the last human being, clueless with slashed intestines and polluted lungs, will wander alone under the poisonous, glowing sun and vacillating constellations, wander lonely among immense mass graves and cold idols of the gigantic, concrete-block, deserted cities, the last human being, scrawny, mad, blasphemous, complaining – and his terrible complaint: WHY? will trickle away unheard into the steppe, waft through the burst ruins and die out in the rubble of churches, slap against inpenetratable bunkers, fall into pools of blood, unheard, answerless, the last animal-like cry of the last animal human being –
all of this will come about, tomorrow, tomorrow perhaps, perhaps already tonight, if – if – if – you don’t
* * *
Our YES to Peace
keeps the connection
between Heaven and Earth,
the awareness of our Love essence.
S I L E N C E
* * *
“There was a pastor in Ohio who had a heart surgeon that went to his church, and one of the things that this pastor wanted to do, is he wanted to see a heart surgery take place.
And when the day of the surgery came, they roll the patient in, and they begin to cut her chest cavity open, they took her heart out, and they begin to repair it.
One of the things they do, is they have to restart the heart again before they close the chest cavity. And, as they begin to do the procedures to restart the heart, the heart wouldn’t start.
Finally, the doctor did something so… out of textbook… and not written down… it’s just something that… you really don’t do…
And he got down on his knees and he said:
‘Mrs. Johnson? This is your doctor.‘ He said, ‘We have fixed your heart. We have repaired… there’s Nothing wrong with your heart. Mrs. Johnson, if you can hear me, I need YOU to tell your heart to beat again.‘
And her heart began to beat.
And why do I share this story with you? Because the Great Physician has fixed your heart and my heart. But I find it interesting that sometimes we allow the voice of the enemy to whisper louder than the voice of our Father. It seems like some of these voices tell us that ‘You know what? That situation, we’ll never recover from,’ or ‘What that person did, we can never forgive again.’ But I’m here to let you know that you can forgive again, you can get back up again, you can move forward with your life, and you don’t have to walk with a limp. It’s simply like this doctor said to this lady. This lady had to come to an agreement. The heart was repaired. God has fixed your problem. Your heart is fixed. But you have to come to an agreement with God.
You now look at my story, now look how I went through loss [Danny is referring to the loss of his wife] and how to get myself back up. When I look at the pain of my past, it doesn’t sting like it used to. But I look back and I see… ‘Look what the Lord has done…‘ and I know God wants to do the same for you.
I want you to begin to hope again. He wants you to believe again, He wants you to trust again. The Great Physician, our Father, through Jesus, wants You to tell your heart to beat again.”
BLAME THE SUFFERER
by Becky, https://thoughtsongriefandgod.blogspot.com/2013/12/blame-sufferer.html
That God is
During the times
We need him most
During the times
We would much prefer
That he make himself
I really don’t know
Why God is silent
I don’t believe
That protection and healing
Prays hard enough
With the right people
In the right way
I really don’t know
How prayer works
I don’t know a lot of things
But I try
Not to make up
Or blame the sufferer
Blame the sufferer
For God’s absence
Say it’s a lack of faith
An unwillingness to be refined
Blame the sufferer
For the circumstance
Say it’s the consequence of something
The life God planned for this person
Blame the sufferer
Demand peaceful acceptance
Of the pain
Makes the suffering sacred
And the person holy
Blame the sufferer
From the sufferer
Push the sufferer
Holds the sufferer
Shows love to
Possibly even suffers
With the sufferer
Blame the sufferer
For the suffering
We do not struggle for ourselves, nor for our race, not even for humanity.
We do not struggle for Earth, nor for ideas. All these are the precious yet provisional stairs of our ascending God, and they crumble away as soon as he steps upon them in his ascent.
In the smallest lightning flash of our lives, we feel all of God treading upon us, and suddenly we understand: if we all desire it intensely, if we organize all the visible and invisible powers of Earth and fling them upward, if we all battle together like fellow combatants eternally vigilant – then the Universe might possibly be saved.
It is not God who will save us – it is we who will save God, by battling, by creating, and by transmuting matter into spirit.
– Nikos Kazantzakis
through Leon of SolitaryThinkers
Complementary post: T O I M M O R T A L I T Y
∞ blessings beloveds
Saint Francis of Assisi Taming the Wolf, by Steve Simon.
About this wonderful true story and this artist’s depiction of it, enjoy the video after the following Franciscan benediction, beloveds.
The most important step in regaining these skills of ours is believing in their naturalness and in the always available higher assistance for our remembrance, so that we trustingly ask our angels to help us navigate through the times ahead as one divinely responsible human family.
Gratitude for your own prayers,
Love and Courage always
through Leon and Plutonia
A Franciscan Benediction
May God bless us with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that we may live from deep within our hearts.
May God bless us with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of God’s creations
So that we may work for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless us with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war,
So that we may reach out our hands to comfort them and
To turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless us with just enough foolishness
To believe that we can make a difference in the world,
So that we can do what others claim cannot be done:
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and all our neighbors who are poor.
The Mirror Principle
There once was a canine, a bitter lone small dog who roamed through the beauty of India. He reaches a palace, so awesome it sparkles, seems empty, let’s see what this place hides. He’s never seen mirrors, all walls here are mirrors, his selves gather, eyes fixed on him. What are all these strangers, oh boy, I hate strangers, they couldn’t care less about me. They piss me off, I see red, I’m barking my lungs out, I know they will fear, they’ll surrender. It’s me or it’s them now, just watch who’s the toughest, I’ll bark, I’ll go mad, they should stop soon. He barks and he froths and he fights, shows his worth, they still hate him, the eyes do tell all. What more can I do now, they look so distraught, but I don’t think they’ll ever give in. He went on and on, till his breath lost all strength, till his soul’s light so dim left this world.
Years later a new dog, a sweet lonely doggy, found his way to this same old palace. Astounded, so happy, like crazy he whimpers, Friends FRIENDS friends! Friends FRIENDS friends! Friends FRIENDS friends! Look at them! They love me like I do, tails wagging, jumps, rolling, what more can you ask for to stay strong! I feel like a puppy, so free to live life now, spread joy, make this WHOLE world shine bright!
Leon From Hades to Light, April 2016
Herzlichen Dank für die Inspiration an liebe Heidrun.
Ψυχή μου, σάρκα πάλι εμπνέεις.
Αγάπη Ιερή! Θυμήσου:
Όσο το Φως σου απλόχερο
Αιώνια η δύναμή σου
Πάνω απ’ αυτό που οι πολλοί ζουν
σιγά ειρήνη απλώνεις
Βλέπεις καθάριες τις ψυχές
κι ό,τι αγαπάς το σώνεις
Βαριά ώρα όταν έρχεται
Άγγελοι σε επιστρέφουν
Πρώτα όμως, γλύκα απ’ την καρδιά!
Δώσε όλα όσα τρέφουν
Λέων εκ του Άδη προς το Φως, Πρωτοχρονιά 2016
* * *
My soul, you’re incarnate again
Don’t stray from Love. Remember
The brighter you offer Light Divine
the stronger your Forever
Above what most will analyze
is peace you spread out freely
thus seeing clear essence of souls
your lovelight saves all deeply
When it’s your time, the angels come
carry you back, so tired
Now share your sweet life through your heart
You won’t leave unexpired
Leon from Hades to Light, New Year’s Day 2016
When the best days of your life
feel over too soon
Look over the horizon,
behind the crescent moon
Out in the forever,
beyond Jupiter and Mars
There’s far more to the universe
than the brightest shining stars
Lyrics from David Garrett’s and Nicole Scherzinger’s Serenity
Beloved David of Vancouver Visions honored me with a nomination for a wonderful challenge I cannot pass on due to our circumstances (on top of everything else, we are targets of the most horrible blackmail by a cousin who has set his sights on taking advantage of us), but David uplifted me so much on Day 2, that he inspired me to create and offer you a threefold sequence of image quotes.
Let your soul listen beyond the words, see beyond the images, ride beyond the waves of this music, and you will feel the following extracts from three different works of the same transcendentalist harmonizing into the One majestic cycle of our divine incarnations and light connections, awakening your higher consciousness, healing you.
Thank you, David, and all Dear Ones with whom I have lost external contact. I cannot even be reading anymore, but I see you in my heart, and our meaningfully struggling life here is a constant prayer for you all.
Showers of blessings
from and through
your grateful Leon
* * * *
* * *
The outcry is deafening, even if it’s only the eyes doing the screaming. Stoic eyes, angry eyes, fearful eyes, defiant eyes. You see them everywhere. You see them in the endless queues in front of the ATMs, where people, patiently and anxiously at the same time, are waiting to withdraw those few precious banknotes that will ensure basic survival for themselves and their loved ones for one more day. You see them in the supermarkets, where those precious banknotes are exchanged, often with slightly trembling hands, for groceries, maybe even at a gas station that still has some fuel to offer, cash only of course, filling up their cars.
And this is about it. Then you see them no more. Empty streets and silence. Only that haunting whisper remains: What is to become of us?
Summer of 2015. Welcome to Greece, the perfect holiday resort. Great weather, beautiful beaches, glorious mountains. But where did all the Greeks go? To the pits of Hell.
Ever since last Sunday, the storm clouds that had been gathering for so long now, finally broke out into one perfect storm. Financial lockdown. The final strangulation of an entire nation that is being brought to its knees.
I will not concern myself here with the reasons for all of this, the debate would be endless and pointless. Sure, pointing the finger is easy, but do you really believe that you know the entire truth, when you feel compelled to put the blame on someone?
I can only describe what I see, and try very hard not to lose heart.
Old people, old, frail and often sick people are being driven like cattle under close police watch into a few selected bank branches to collect all in all 120 Euros from their pensions or savings for the entire week, just because they don’t possess an ATM card out of fear or mistrust for the use of ATMs. In some cases their pensions have not even been paid yet into their accounts and they return home empty-handed. The rest of us are allowed to withdraw 60 Euros per day, oops, I’m sorry, I meant 50 Euros, as 20 Euro bills have already become a rare sight in most ATMs. If, of course, we have any savings left, if our employer has been able to pay us our salary, if we even have a job.
Money transfers to and from other countries have ceased completely, leaving thousands of Greeks, students, travellers, patients undergoing treatment in foreign hospitals stranded abroad without any access to cash or even the use of credit and debit cards issued by Greek banks. Those in Greece who are totally dependent on money transfers from relatives living and working abroad or foreign pension funds are also left to fend for themselves, as Greek banks don’t have enough cash reserves to satisfy demand, even with those tight withdrawal limits. According to various statements off the record, cash flow from the ATMs will most probably stop by Monday, sending even more shockwaves to the system. Money is just being recycled within the borders of our country, creating a false sense of normality, while banks announced on Thursday that they will be now accepting cash deposits for tax payments and the like only! Sure, we all are supposed to be hiding billions of cash under our mattresses, our personal “Stroma Bank” which Greeks are bitterly joking about, “stroma” being the Greek word for mattress.
Commercial and financial activity has broken down to a total deadlock. Greater and smaller business are unable to keep up their work cycles without access to their bank accounts and with their materials running out fast, employees are asked to stay at home without any pay, suppliers cannot be paid anymore, imports and exports have stopped and it is only a matter of days before shortages in food and other commodities starts getting more noticeable with subsequent price increases. Pharmacies have already begun rationing pharmaceutical drugs, life-saving treatments are being broken off, the national healthcare system that has been crumbling for so long, is now collapsing. Remote regions of the country are facing serious fuel shortage as gas stations just cannot refill their tanks. A supplementary economy such as that of Greece cannot survive in a globalized environment without the necessary imports for almost every aspect of everyday life, as the productive basis of the country was destroyed decades ago, and even food production, in an otherwise blessed-with-an-almost-perfect-climate-and-rich-soil-to-grow-literally-anything country cannot cover the needs of the entire population. Hellas, the country of eternal light, is in immediate danger of going hungry on a large scale.
And today, on July 5th, we are being asked to choose. The referendum is underway, and millions of seriously traumatised and disturbed people are asked to act rationally, to demonstrate sound judgment, when all the while a divisive wedge has been driven deeply into the very core of an innately peaceful nation. For five years now, the Greeks have been collectively bashed, ridiculed, insulted, humiliated. This has resulted in mutual feelings of being exploited and threatened with the rest of Europe. We are being perceived as crooks and blackmailers, they are being perceived as cold-blooded assassins. No common ground anymore. In certain parts of Greek society the initial sense of despair and indignation has mutated into an all-devouring rage and the tormented ones are about to turn into tormentors. All this has been witnessed again before, with devastating results, when another nation, another people, to whom I am also deeply connected by blood, was pushed over the edge, bringing forth from its ranks a dictator that drenched the entire world in blood. Size and military strength don’t always play such a crucial role, sometimes all it takes is just a tiny spark.
In times such as these, when everyone feels darkness and madness prevailing, I am greatly blessed to be engulfed in my very own ray of hope.
Leon, light of my life, song of my soul, you are the one reason that I do not falter, that I keep on fighting, that I keep on believing. The warm embrace of your arms, the tender touch of your lips, the loving blaze in your eyes, those very same eyes that so powerfully compelled me to call you my Brighteyes when our young hearts connected for the first time, the whole of you sustains me, warms me, empowers me. We have been through so much together, side by side we have fought and won uncountable wars and still the sensation of my hand inside yours thrills me like the very first time. So many times they tried to break us up. They failed. So many times the world came tumbling down on us. We managed to go on. With you on my side, I know that we will also weather this storm out. We will prevail. In this lifetime or the next. You have my love, purely, absolutely. Always and forever.
Plutonia of SolitaryThinkers, July 2015
When a wizard leaves
His magic remains undying
No one’s ever gone
Leon of SolitaryThinkers, June 2015
The legendary actor, singer and author Christopher Lee who passed away a week ago, had always been deeply passionate about the character of Don Quixote, the romantic knight errant of Cervantes’ seventeenth-century classic novel. A year ago, on the eve of his 92nd (yes, ninety second!) birthday, his last symphonic power metal album Metal Knight was released, wherefrom the following song (after the lyrics and images), whose message I strongly identify with.
Why do you do these things?
These ridiculous… the things you do!
I hope to add some measure of grace to the world.
The world’s a dung heap, and we are maggots that crawl on it!
My lady knows better in her heart.
What’s in my heart will get me halfway to hell. And you, Señor Don Quixote, you’re going to take such a beating!
Whether I win or lose does not matter.
Only that I follow the Quest.
(Spits) That for your quest! What does that mean? Quest?!
It is the mission of each true knight! His duty; nay… his privilege!
To dream … the impossible dream …
To fight … the unbeatable foe …
To bear … with unbearable sorrow …
To run … where the brave dare not go …
To right … the unrightable wrong …
To love … pure and chaste from afar …
To try … when your arms are too weary …
To reach … the unreachable star …
This is my quest, to follow that star …
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far …
To fight for the right, without question or pause …
To be willing to march into Hell, for a Heavenly cause …
And I know, if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm,
When I’m laid to my rest…
And the world will be better for this:
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,
To reach … the unreachable star …
Farewell Sir Christopher Lee.
My undying admiration and gratitude to you, beloved souls,
who dare to dream the Impossible Dream
and strive to heal in Light with me.
* * * *
* * *
* * *
* * * *
Awake on our bed she mourns your non-life,
my treasure, your only child whose light you’ve been stifling.
She prays your soul sees it is time to let go.
You’re four years bedridden now, you think it’s just months,
the rest disappeared in your chemical gloom,
disaster you’ve chosen to bring on yourself
by keeping your husband an instrument of doom.
He made his exit a year ago, and nothing has changed.
If you follow him now, no more scraps for us. Still…
I wish you could hear about these souls I have found again
and feel our secret, essence ethereal that helps us not wither,
but no dearie, I cannot make any Moneten out of that either
or secure me a nice pension for over half of my life
and just be a human puppet or puppeteer alike.
Your decay is maddening, girl, your wounds never heal,
but being served is your heaven, your trick to feel real.
Unbearable emptiness is all you have known.
You’ve drifted too far from your heavenly home
and pain is all you have given us. But you know it; I do.
Of course I do, baby girl. You do feel my love.
I cannot withhold it, despite all you’ve done.
Just know there’s no way you can go on using it
against your abused daughter as your proof of self-worth.
I never offered you excuses; won’t do it henceforth.
If you still think she can make you feel good in this world,
think again. There’s nothing of her to be drained any more.
Love is shared freely; cannot be obtained by ruthless control.
Your child’s only maternal love provider was your own Mutti.
You kept her away, fading in pain, deprived of her sacred duty,
which she handed over to me, because she saw me and knew.
I’m too small, though, you know, to undo all this chaos you disown.
You’ll meet your Mom soon; she’ll help you see clearly.
She’ll show you what we felt as we silently walked hand in hand, she and I,
a loving old lady and a hopeful young lad on that fragrant spring day by the Rhine.
Through you she will see that her torch still burns strong in this agelessly bright heart of mine.
You’ve done all you could. There’s no turning back.
Nothing to gain from more traumas and ruin.
You had to create your own hell of resentment
to finally feel you are loved for who you are.
Forgiveness is all you deserve for my part.
Feel safe to fade from here; bless us from afar.
A windfall and off we must. We’re done here. Enough.
Leon of SolitaryThinkers, May 2015
Now so much depends on this devouring mother, mother-in-law, sister and aunt realizing that she has really done all she could this time around, that she has received everything that she deserved and more from three generations in two countries, that she is finally not only accepted for who she is and had to become, but totally forgiven and unconditionally embraced beyond all illusions.
This summer we will be largely away with her in her small town and haunted apartment. Her accomplice-in-abuse-against-Plutonia-their-own-and-only-common-child husband had ended up so utterly disgusted, he had been drugging and neglecting her for so long, that she had been rendered practically non-existent for the system, which left us confronted with a ton of obligations to fulfill in order to satisfy both the Greek and the German authorities. But no legality-restoring actions and no sacrifices on anyone’s part can grant this woman a real presence in this world.
Our job there will not be just empty paperwork, but mainly timelessly hard soul work. Her soul will have to lovingly recognize that her lingering in this toxically oblivious existence is worse than getting lost in the very realm of Hades; for herself and for the two of us and for quite a few more members of all our soul groups. A divinely-guided decision on her part to depart peacefully in her sleep before this summer is over, is crucial for the reverent honoring of many contracts on both sides of the veil.
”One Last Goodbye” and ”Back In Time’
are the culminating tracks
of Seventh Wonder’s
concept album Mercy Falls.
* * *
* * * *
In the sacred mountain of Latmos, in a cave near the peak,
blond Endymion has been wakelessly slumbering forever.
How he found himself under Selene’s eternal spell
is a story of passion beyond the deepest poet’s heart.
Returning from his pastures one day too ancient to place in time,
this boy whose gentle eyes were always overcast by a shadow,
as if he had been born with the sign of his obsessive love-to-be,
got carried away by his hunt of an animal, and stayed out until dark.
Tired as he was, this cave entrance was the ideal retreat for the night.
It was there through the dark leafage that she noticed him,
Selene, the goddess of the Moon, who saw eternity in his beauty
and could not help but decide to keep him for herself forever.
She leaned above Endymion and smiled her divine smile
so bright into his eyes, hypnotizing him, binding him to her charm.
He fell asleep hearing, as if in a dream, the jingling of his flock’s bells
growing more and more distant as his sheep went their way without him.
Seductively smooth light engulfed the young hunter’s sleep
as lovely Selene sat beside him and gazed at him entranced.
The freshness of her hair and sweetness of breath flooded his dreams with bliss.
She touched his eyelids with ethereal fingers and whispered:
“You shall never see the light of day again, my sweet boy. So beautifully you sleep…
I will be with you again tomorrow night, and every night from now on.
The most wonderful destiny I weave for you, a life you never dreamed of.
You shall never leave this sleep; immortally young you will remain in our eternal dream.”
So each morning Selene withdraws into the sky, giving her place to Eos,
the goddess of Dawn, who breaks her Sister’s spell, waking up all Creation,
painting golden all mountains, seas, meadows, rooftops sheltering the sleep of men,
restoring the brightness and glory of diurnal life for all beings.
Only enchanted Endymion will never escape his magical sleep.
Warm blood runs forever in his veins for his lover’s nightly visits,
but he remains still, forsaken, dead to the world, a faint smile on his half-opened lips
revealing his innocent yearning to roam again free with a flock of white-fleeced sheep.
Leon of SolitaryThinkers, April 2015
My inspiration for this poem is the Ancient Greek myth of Endymion and Selene. The name of the unbelievably handsome young mortal shepherd and hunter prince Ενδυμίων is etymologized to the verb ενδημώ and means “The one who resides within”, whereas Σελήνη is connected to noun σέλας and it means literally “The one who sheds smooth light”. Selene, the Titan goddess of the Moon, fell so madly in love with Endymion, that she convinced the great Zeus to grant the boy eternal youth and immortality so that he would never lose his beauty. Endymion was placed in a state of eternal slumber in a cave near the peak of Lydian Mount Latmos, where his heavenly bride descended to consort with him in the night.
“Myths are first and foremost psychic phenomena that reveal the nature of the soul”, said Carl Jung. Decoding the story of Selene and Endymion, we could say that love can never be possessively restricted or restrictive in any sort of relationship, or its very meaning as the driving force of the universe is lost.
This myth has been fascinating me for months now, but I could not realize its full relevance to my life until a week ago, when I met my bedridden mother-in-law after thirteen years of separation. We held each other tight again and again, me leaning over her side-railed bed and scratching her face and neck with my mostly white beard, she trying to hug me with arthritis-crooked fingers and to kiss me with horribly drawn-in lips of a toothless mouth, both of us transcending all struggles and destruction, our souls naturally agreeing to leave all differences behind. We do not share a karmic past as heavy as she does with her daughter, her lover and enemy of old, whom she insists on punishing with her selective dementia when pressured to recognize the evil she had been doing in this lifetime together with her abusive late husband. Plutonia has been residing deeper within the underworld, probably a hunter-become-hunted like Endymion who has been unable to leave this cave for too long now.
I do feel the change in the air, though. I believe. I always have, no matter what, even if I have stood an inch off the cliff countless times in this battlefield of a life. And the reason I believe, is because I Feel things. “The Tarot deck is not all about Cups, you know”, my way-above-average-cerebral better half told me recently. Of course. Each life includes the energies of the whole deck of cards, but, how should I put it; it seems that it is more through the suit of Cups that I view the whole deck, more through the warmth of emotion that even my mental faculties function at their optimal level. So I feel that the time for release is drawing near, especially if we abandon ourselves with trust to the workings of the universe. We will be traveling again to my mother-in-law’s town a few more times, fighting to sort out the chaos her husband left behind him, and I will be feeling very safe. Our deepest gratitude goes out to our friends here who have been with us in unbelievably heartfelt ways. I include you all in my upcoming post, which is also my embrace of the smallest, most beautiful poetry challenge I had the honor of being nominated for.
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Hellenic mythology meets Finnish lyricism in My Selene, a wonderful composition of the amazing Jani Liimatainen’s who plays the guitar in both of the following versions, first in the acoustic one with Pisces Sun singer Timo Kotipelto, and then with Taurus Sun Toni Kakko and their band Sonata Arctica. Absolutely amazing, both versions.