Month: August 2006

Trancereizen


De meest eenvoudige vorm van trance-reis?

Stel je voor, een kampvuur met een verhalenverteller…

Je begint tijdens het verhaal weg te dromen, en wordt zo in het verhaal meegezogen alsof je het zelf meemaakt.

Lewis Caroll beschrijft in Alice in Wonderland, en in Through the Looking-Glass in feite ook een trance-reis.

Een trance kan varieren van licht naar diep; in de lichte vorm ben je grotendeels nog bewust van je omgeving en je rationele processen, in de diepste vormen ben je helemaal in ‘de andere werkelijkheid’ en kan het gebeuren dat iemand anders je moet helpen om weer terug te komen in ‘de normale werkelijkheid’

Amergin’s song


I am a Stag: of seven tines
I am a Flood: across a plain
I am a Wind: upon the waves
I am a Tear: the sun lets fall
I am a Hawk: above the cliff
I am a Thorn: beneath the nail
I am a Wonder: among flowers
I am a Wizard: who but I
sets the cool head aflame?

I am a Spear: that roars for blood
I am a Salmon: in a pool
I am a Lure: from Paradise
I am a Hill: where poets walk
I am a Boar: ruthless and red
I am a Breaker: threatening doom
I am a Tide: that drags to death
I am an Infant: who but I
peeps from the unhewn dolman arch?

I am the Womb: of every holt
I am the Blaze: on every hill
I am the Queen: of every hive
I am the Shield: for every head
I am the tomb: of every hope

John Barleycorn: A Ballad


There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and plough’d him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show’rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris’d them all.

The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong;
His head weel arm’d wi’ pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.

The sober Autumn enter’d mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show’d he began to fail.

His colour sicken’d more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.

They’ve taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell’d him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turned him o’er and o’er.

They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.

They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear’d,
They toss’d him to and fro.

They wasted, o’er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us’d him worst of all,
For he crush’d him between two stones.

And they hae taen his very heart’s blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
‘Twill make your courage rise.

‘Twill make a man forget his woe;
‘Twill heighten all his joy;
‘Twill make the widow’s heart to sing,
Tho’ the tear were in her eye.

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne’er fail in old Scotland!

Robert Burns, 1782

Nomen est Omen


Het numerologische systeem gaat uit van de volgende vooronderstellingen:

1. Je naam wordt op eenduidige manier gespeld in het (latijnse) alfabet.
2. Elk letter van het alfabet heeft een getalswaarde, elke getalwaarde heeft betekenis.

Als je een bijbels-hebreeuwse naam hebt, kan je volgens mij beter alles omzetten naar het qabbalistische aleph-beth, want dat systeem past dan beter.

Heb je een naam dat afkomstig is uit een beeldschrift zoals Chinees dan zijn er vele varianten in dialecten en mogelijke omzettingen naar het alfabet.
In dat geval zou ik eerder kijken naar de symboliek van het plaatje.

The Battle of the Trees


I have been in many shapes,
Before I attained a congenial form.
I have been a narrow blade of a sword.
(I will believe it when it appears.)
I have been a drop in the air.
I have been a shining Star.
I have been a word in a book.
I have been a book originally.
I have been a light in a lantern.
A year and a half.
I have been a bridge for passing over
Three-score rivers.
I have journeyed as an eagle.
I have been a boat on the sea.
I have been a director in battle.
I have been the string of a child’s swaddling clout.
I have been a sword in the hand.
I have been a shield in the fight.
I have been the string of a harp,
Enchanted for a year
In the foam of water.
I have been a poker in the fire.
I have been a tree in a covert.
There is nothing in which I have not been.
I have fought, though small,
In the Battle of Goddeu Brig,
Before the Ruler of Britain,
Abounding in fleets.
Indifferent bards pretend,
They pretend a monstrous beast,
With a hundred heads,
And a grievous combat
At the root of the tongue.
And another fight there is
At the back of the head.
A toad having on his thighs
A hundred claws,
A spotted crested snake,
For punishing in their flesh
A hundred souls on account of their sins.
I was in Caer efynedd,
Thither were hastening grasses and trees.
Wayfarers perceive them,
Warriors are astonished
At a renewal of the conflicts
Such as Gwydion made.
There is calling on Heaven,
And on Christ that he would effect
Their deliverance,
The all-powerful Lord.
If the Lord had answered,
Through charms and magic skill,
Assume the forms of the principal trees,
With you in array
Restrain the people
Inexperienced in battle.
When the trees were enchanted
There was hope for the trees,
That they should frustrate the intention
Of the surrounding fires….
Better are three in unison,
And enjoying themselves in, a circle,
And one of them relating
The story of the deluge,
And of the cross of Christ,
And of the Day of judgement near at hand.
The alder-trees in the first line,
They made the commencement.
Willow and quicken tree,
They were slow in their array.
The plum is a tree
Not beloved of men;
The medlar of a like nature,
Over coming severe toil.
The bean bearing in its shade
And army of phantoms.
The raspberry makes
Not the best of food.
In shelter live,
The privet and the woodbine,
And the ivy in its season.
Great is the gorse in battle.
The cherry-tree had been reproached.
The birch, though very magnanimous,
Was late in arraying himself;
It was not through cowardice,
But on account of his great size.
The appearance of the …
Is that of a foreigner and a savage.
The pine-tree in the court,
Strong in battle,
By me greatly exalted
In the presence of kings,
The elm-trees are his subjects.
He turns not aside the measure of a foot,
But strikes right in the middle,
And at the farthest end.
The hazel is the judge,
His berries are thy dowry.
The privet is blessed.
Strong chiefs in war
And the … and the mulberry.
Prosperous the beech-tree.
The holly dark green,
He was very courageous:
Defended with spikes on every side,
Wounding the hands.
The long-enduring poplars
Very much broken in fight.
The plundered fern;
The brooms with their offspring:
The furze was not well behaved
Until he was tamed
The heath was giving consolation,
Comforting the people –
The black cherry-tree was pursuing.
The oak-tree swiftly moving,
Before him tremble heaven and earth,
Stout doorkeeper against the foe
Is his name in all lands.
The corn-cockle bound together,
Was given to be burnt.
Others were rejected
On account of the holes made
By great violence
In the field of battle.
Very wrathful the …
Cruel the gloomy ash.
Bashful the chestnut-tree,
Retreating from happiness.
There shall be a black darkness,
There shall be a shaking of the mountain,
There shall be a purifying furnace,
There shall first be a great wave,
And when the shout shall be heard,
Putting forth new leaves are the tops of the beech,
Changing form and being renewed from a withered state;
Entangled are the tops of the oak.
From the Gorchan of Maelderw.
Smiling at the side of the rock
(Was) the pear-tree not of an ardent nature.
Neither of mother or father,
When I was made,
Was my blood or body;
Of nine kinds of faculties,
Of fruit of fruits,
Of fruit God made me,
Of the blossom of the mountain primrose,
Of the buds of trees and shrubs,
Of earth of earthly kind.
When I was made
Of the blossoms of the nettle,
Of the water of the ninth wave,
I was spell-bound by Math
Before I became immortal.
I was spell-bound by Gwydion,
Great enchanter of the Britons,
Of Eurys, of Eurwn,
Of Euron, of Medron,
In myriads of secrets,
I am as learned as Math….
I know about the Emperor
When he was half burnt.
I know the star-knowledge
Of stars before the earth (was made),
Whence I was born,
How many worlds there are.
It is the custom of accomplished bards
To recite the praise of their country.
I have played in Lloughor,
I have slept in purple.
Was I not in the enclosure
With Dylan Ail Mor,
On a couch in the centre
Between the two knees of the prince
Upon two blunt spears?
When from heaven came
The torrents into the deep,
Rushing with violent impulse.
(I know) four-score songs,
For administering to their pleasure.
There is neither old nor young,
Except me as to their poems,
Any other singer who knows the whole of the nine hundred
Which are known to me,
Concerning the blood-spotted sword.
Honour is my guide.
Profitable learning is from the Lord.
(I know) of the slaying of the boar,
Its appearing, its disappearing,
Its knowledge of languages.
(I know) the light whose name is Splendour,
And the number of the ruling lights
That scatter rays of fire
High above the deep.
I have been a spotted snake upon a hill;
I have been a viper in a lake;
I have been an evil star formerly.
I have been a weight in a mill.
My cassock is red all over.
I prophesy no evil.
Four score puffs of smoke
To every one l who will carry them away:
And a million of angels,
On the point of my knife.
Handsome is the yellow horse,
But a hundred times better
Is my cream-coloured one,
Swift as the sea-mew,
Which cannot pass me
Between the sea and the shore.
Am I not pre-eminent in the field of blood?
I have a hundred shares of the spoil.
My wreath is of red jewels,
Of gold is the border of my shield.
There has not been born one so good as I,
Or ever known,
Except Goronwy,
From the dales of Edrywy.
Long and white are my fingers,
It is long since I was a herdsman.
I travelled over the earth
Before I became a learned person.
I have travelled, I have made a circuit,
I have slept in a hundred islands;
I have dwelt in a hundred cities.
Learned Druids,
Prophesy ye of Arthur?
Or is it me they celebrate,
And the Crucfixion of Christ,
And the Day of Judgement near at hand,
And one relating
The history of the Deluge ?
With a golden jewel set in gold
I am enriched;
And I am indulging in pleasure
Out of the oppressive toil of the goldsmith.

Whitecrane magick


The paper crane has become an international symbol of peace in recent years as a result of it’s connection to the story of a young Japanese girl named Sadako Sasaki born in 1943.
Sadako was two years old when the atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Japan on August 6, 1945.
As she grew up, Sadako was a strong, courageous and athletic girl. In 1955, at age 11, while practicing for a big race, she became dizzy and fell to the ground.
Sadako was diagnosed with Leukemia, "the atom bomb" disease.
Sadako’s best friend told her of an old Japanese legend which said that anyone who folds a thousand paper cranes would be granted a wish. Sadako hoped that the gods would grant her a wish to get well so that she could run again. She started to work on the paper cranes and completed over 1000 before dying on October 25, 1955 at the age of twelve.

The point is that she never gave up.
She continued to make paper cranes until she died.
Inspired by her courage and strength,
Sadako’s friends and classmates put together a book of her letters and published it.
They began to dream of building a monument to Sadako and all of the children killed by the atom bomb.
Young people all over Japan helped collect money for the project.

In 1958, a statue of Sadako holding a golden crane was unveiled in Hiroshima Peace Park. The children also made a wish which is inscribed at the bottom of the statue and reads:

"This is our cry, This is our prayer, Peace in the world".

Today, people all over the world fold paper cranes and send them to Sadako’s monument in Hiroshima.

http://www.sadako.org/