A flock of birds…
A herd of cattle…
A school of fish…
A clump of monkeys!
A flock of birds…
A herd of cattle…
A school of fish…
A clump of monkeys!
Never fails to awe me!
Grand Monsoon Lightning Storm, Grand Canyon
Beautiful animal in a beautiful setting.
Here´s one I thought up yesterday(My very first self-made joke!):
There was a rich man, who had a beautiful wife and who loved his garden, but didn´t have all the time he would have liked to spend caring for it and therefore employed a gardener. The gardener was young and handsome and fancied the Misses, who didn´t mind a bit of flirting, but would never think of taking it any further. However, the husband thought the two were having an affair, which they were definitely not.
One day the handsome gardener went too far and the Lady of the house fired him. As luck would have it, the same day an old and gnarled gardener came to ask if there was a vacancy. The Lady took pity on him and offered him the job. She even told him he could sleep in the shed, should he wish. He did and the woman came to visit him every so often to inquire after his health.
The husband, unaware of all the developments, had seen her enter and thought to himself: “Hahah, so that is their love-nest. I shall confront them one of these days!”(He was working up the courage, for his wife was a rather formidable lady.)
Totally unrelated to this, one day the rich man had a brilliant idea about making his garden even more beautiful. Having green fingers himself, he set to and when he´d finished the job, he admired it for it really did look magnificent. He conceived even bigger plans for his garden and the next day he told a female colleague about them. She immediately responded with: “But George, don´t you have a gardener to do all this work?” He replied: “But of course I do!” and thought to himself to let the gardener do all the heavy work and thus keep him away from his Missus.
When he came home, he immediately went to look for him, but on his way over he saw his wife enter the shed and thought: “Right, I am going to confront these two right now!”, not wanting to catch them in flagrante, for he was a gentleman. He stormed into the shed, pointed at his wife and shouted: “YOU!” He then turned towards the gardener, with another: “And YOU!” and then spotted the old man, whom he´d set eyes on before.
He immediately turned to his wife again and went: “Oh my God, Margaret, what have you done to the man? Just look at the poor wretch!”
I was telling this joke to Wolf, while we were both sitting on a park bench yesterday and when I came to the end, he did not laugh. I rather peevishly asked him: “I´m not boring you, am I?” He turned to me with a straight face and simply said: “No.” Then it dawned on me and I asked him: “You weren´t listening, were you?” And the cretin admitted it and smiled! And then we both laughed. Toodeloo from the both of us!
An Apis Laboriosa, the largest social bee in the world, gathers pollen on a rhododendron flower.
A gathering bee approaches a tree in bloom. The Apis Laboriosa is the main pollinnatot for the mountain flora. She has been spotted at an altitude of 4100 meters.
The Apis Laboriosa, the giant bee of the Himalayas, builds its nests on rocky outcrops of mountain sides, in proximity of a stream of water. The rates can grow to a diameter of one meter fifty.
On April 30 into May 1st we Pagan types celebrate Beltane. Beltane is a fire festival honoring the return of the earth’s fertile phase. Beltane is most usually celebrated around the fiery fingers of a robust merry bon fire and dancing beneath a colorful maypole. I have read that “back in the day” the fertility celebrations depending on one’s personal tradition could be rather lascivious, but I will leave all of that to the reader’s imagination. Solitaries like me don’t often have the appropriate spot or space for such an event so this last evening, I held my own modest solitary ritual as I walked across the rolling hills and into the dimmed forest with my little dog. This is the joy of being a solitary witch; one does things one’s own way and that is that. Some of us are… shall we say… independent thinkers?
There was a golden country sunset last evening; the green carpet of plush grass was soaked in the last soft amber hues of what was a perfect spring day. With the exception of my loyal little fur kid, I found myself all alone wandering across gentle green hills and leafy woods. Where I go to walk is a magical place of rolling hills, a lively frog pond, and a leafy forest that could have been plucked from a fairy tale.
The land is set on a green expanse of hill highs that lord over our little community. It’s free to go walk there, and I am often in awe that no one but me seems to go there with any regularity. I call this place “My Church.”
I did not light any bonfires; I did not even light a candle for I had the warm glow of the setting sun on my shoulder. As I walked, I thought of the earth, and I thought of the gifts she gives, I thought of the seasons, the planting time that is upon us, and I looked ahead to the harvest time, the time to gather, I mused over the divinity of it all. I reminded myself that my very life source comes from the dear earth, my one true mother.
I stopped and lay down for a time and ran my fingers over the carpet of grass and pressing my heart nearer to the heart of my Mother. I rolled over then to watch the cotton candy clouds drifting above me. I was very moved, very grateful, very aware of the life forces that was were coursing above and below my body.
I stood up then, planting my feet flat on the earth and raising my hands to the sky. I felt the spirit of May wash through me, sunshine, fertile earth, colorful blossoms, leafy trees, moon glow, I felt it all! I felt everything so intensely that I was what the Christians call “slain in the spirit” for a moment…rapt, joyful, and grateful beyond words. So mote it ever be.
I was being driven along through the African countryside early one evening, which gave me time to enjoy the view. When dusk started to tumble from her perch, my artist’s eyes became enamored with the peculiar light of the dusk, which is decidedly different on this continent, than anywhere else I have ever been. Could the reason be that this is the place, which purportedly saw the dawn of mankind and that the Africa‘s light therefore seems older and truer to these tired eyes of mine? Or is this just another of my romantic notions?
Although I dearly love the mountains, hills and valleys in Spain, I could not in all honesty say that they I find them beautiful, in that the light(always the light!) over there is too harsh and blinding to differentiate between the myriad shades of colours that Nature provides. Not so here! I was thrilled to the core by the tones of burnt Sienna and green Umber that melded into each other in exquisite harmony. Would that I had my easel and paints with me and time to depict it for your pleasure.
I had noticed these shades and tones in certain paintings by wonderful masters of their art, but had written them off as fanciful dreaming and wishful thinking by the authors. I am ever so glad to be caught out and can finally admire this beauty for myself, in the flesh of Mother Earth’s skin. I’ve had an epiphany of sorts, concerning the greys, which I had hitherto despised as being untrue to the spectrum. Again, I have to admit that I was gravely mistaken and that they are indeed needed, as glue to hold the complete picture together.
If only the esteemed Mister Monet could have visited these hallowed grounds and been at liberty to regale us with a symphony of his own unique palette for a rendition of this African peacock, which stuns us with his magnificence. The mountains here seem to look down upon us, mere mortals, with an ancient wisdom and a sadness at the loss of their collective virginity. Ugly monotonous buildings are like scars on the faces of these holy surfaces of the planet’s shroud. Man and his infernal progress has arrived and has defaced the original canvas with his infantile attempts at improving that which needed no change whatsoever.
My heart bleeds in sympathy and my artist’s psyche is revolted at the spectacle of monstrously bland concrete highrises, for the new lords of mediocrity and the tourists to dwell in, at the same time despoiling the authenticity of the maker’s creation. Where once cranes flew in circles that were in harmony with their surroundings, now other cranes stand still and force ever higher eyesores upon our irises. What a crying shame!
At a first glance this picture almost seems like a fantasy painting by some extraordinarily gifted artist, but it is actually the real thing: Tianzi Mountain Nature Reserve, China.
There is comfort in age, in time, in wisdom. I have heard all of my life the saying “If I only knew then, what I know now” and, “Beauty is wasted upon the young” now, I “get” it, now I get it.
Nature is a pure genius. Everything works out as it should. Some things cannot be taught, some things must be learned. Some lessons must be carved upon ones very face and hands, the most obvious places. I wish that there were short cuts. Ways to avoid the heart aches of youth and beauty.
No, the dew of womanhood remains on the pink bud, as it should.
Time sweetens the brew and the berry. Let me drink, dance, and be merry.
Words are capricious little sprites. When I say to another soul, “I am a witch” there are any number of impressions one might embrace depending upon your background, your present and past realities, your geographic location, and, your personal emotional response to the word “witch” based on your educational exposure and perhaps your religious teachings.
Here is what I am not, I am not an angry, ugly being that stirs up herbs and lights fires in order to send out wicked hexes and spells that are born to cause harm and chaos. I believe that what I do and say comes directly back to me, magnified and growing claws that will serve only to scratch my own eyes out when I least expect it. You cannot play with the fires of negative energy and not get burned, there is such a thing as the three-fold law, I embrace that concept with profound respect. I am not a worshiper of Satan, for me Satan is an entity that is created in the minds and hearts of bitter souls that choose to take the dark path of greed and selfishness. Satan is your self-created evil “baby” if you know him, and “rock” him, he will be yours forever. “He” will rob you of your light and your dance on this planet will be an ugly, lonely dance, fit only for sad angry fools that cannot be forgiven because they know not how to forgive. It is said that witches do not believe in Satan, well, I do believe in the dark embrace of evil which has more to do with an attitude of hopelessness and rueful anger than a man in a red suit with a pitchfork in his hand. I don’t sacrifice babies or animals, in fact, I am a child advocate volunteer and an animal rights activist, so, that would be impossible for me. I love and nurture all creatures, even the crawling pesky bugs that most people think nothing of squashing under their shoes.
I am me, for this I came. I am carnal in that I celebrate the fleshy pleasures of this life, I make no apologies for my love of pleasure, of sex and of eroticism. I know these things as gifts, not as sins. I treasure romance and passion, sex is poetry, art, music, and drama in motion between two souls. What is so tender, and yet so powerful and moving as making love with someone worthy of your focus, your adoration and your naked trust? Creative lust has been the juice behind many works that move the souls of man. Sex is the life force, it makes us happy and centered and gives us hope to soar above the mundane tasks of daily living. We are like hungry children without sex, needing, wanting, and empty. Sex is such a perfect gift in fact, that there is not a requirement that we have a partner, we can sexually satisfy ourselves.
Now, isn’t that a wonder and a well thought out gift for us trembling and needful human beings dwelling in a sometimes lonely world? It’s as if the creator thought of everything when the gift of pleasurable sex was given to us simple-minded human beings.
Of course, where you have humanity, you will have meanness and power struggles, so, sex has been perverted, like every other good thing. We had to go and make all of these rules about what is a sin and what is acceptable, because we enjoy playing like we know the heart and mind of the creator. Give a human something perfect and natural and he/she will make up rules that are designed to drain the joy and promote guilt and shame. The witch knows sex is a perfect thing when used as it was designed, with tenderness and respect for a partners heart and mind. We honor one another with our sexual skills, we give pleasure without shame or regret, we take pleasure with an attitude of grace and gratitude. We embrace intimacy with respect and awe. We get a body while here on earth, a body in which to give and receive pleasure, a body in which to heal others through tenderness and touch. Witches know secrets about sex, and they are not afraid to use those secrets to heal what is sick or broken in a lover.
The witch is familiar with plants and animals. She or he knows that every being, every plant, every animal has a purpose that is elegant and perfect in its natural state. That is worthy of awe and wonder. That is worthy of tenderness and care. The witch takes responsibility for passing out kisses and hugs, for looking the other way when those she loves prove themselves to be achingly human, for there is grace in not noticing weaknesses, especially in the strongest of souls. The witch dances alone and in her dance, she heals, she inspires, and, she moves mountains. The witch grieves in ways that others can only dream of, for she knows life and death are closer than most think. She knows the worlds of the living and the dead are ever entwined. The stopping of the heart beat only means the flesh is no longer sustainable, but, the spirit can soar and dance forever. She is comforted by the knowledge that her loved ones can be closer in death than in life. The witch knows that time is the only true gift that is given to anyone that we care about. All other things will pass away, but, the time we spend actively loving those we care about is living energy between two souls that never ceases to pulse with life and vitality. Energy cannot die, it is only released to eternal celebration.
Witches know that love binds all things, prayers and spells are the same things, kindness counts, pleasure is good, the earth is our beautiful and sacred Mother. Witches know that time makes one more beautiful inside and that wrinkles and gray hair are in realty quite earnestly beautiful because they are the creators way of pointing out the wise ones.
So yes, I am a witch, I love well, I seek to heal, I seek to bless, I seek to encourage, I seek to find balance in loving myself and in loving others. I seek to inspire, I seek to liberate, I seek to bow in respect and awe of the elements, of the animals, of all creatures of the land, of the air, and of the seas, I seek to honor human nature, and the creators nature. I seek to honor my ancestors, I seek to dance in the spirit of creativity and I seek to become an elegant, loving, contented, and happy soul. I seek to make this journey that is my life one of celebration and wonder. Above all, I seek to be kind. “So mote it be!”
Click the above link to read a marvelous article(with beautiful pictures)!
I “pressed” this because, first of all I am a dog lover and secondly, I have always loved to listen to wolves howling. In my opinion they are wonderful animals, the only ones by the way that will ever raise a human child as their own. Go and have a look, it is worth it!
Look at him, isn´t he magnificent?