ночной

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

It's been a long time since I had contact with another human being. Most of my life has been like that but even a small touch feels noticeably different now. I am reminded of what it is like to be close with another human-being. And yet even at times my heart beats a bit faster when near beauty, I just go on my way with a firm "nope". I still want to be by myself. It has been more than enough.

Now that my first summer-vacation is over, I am feeling exhausted again. Too much so, that I can't get a lot done.
And since I didn't get to college, as I probably forgot to mention here, I am planning to raise up money for couple short trips. Perhaps I should start with Paris and London. I work a demeaning job, with minimal-wage so my future-plans on-hold cannot stop me from living my life. And since I've invested on my home I should start to invest on my spirit; see the world even just a little bit. I've never had the money and although I'm not really a traveling-type, I do acknowledge the spirituality and the wisdom, the experience and the beauty that exists in many corners of this blue orb of ours. And thus I make it my goal.

It seems that the summer is over even before it started. About two months of summer is horrifyingly little. June and July are usually warm and sunny unless the global warming turns them into rainy and cold. And August is mostly sunny but it is cold in the mornings and evenings. And then there's a radical change from a bit sunny to rainy and grey and cold. Until the snow comes. Unless the global warming makes the snow into rain and you have to look at this damp, black and rainy scenery from October to January. But if we are lucky enough to get the snow and frost, it lightens up the scenery enough to make it bearable from November till March. Usually in April there are more signs of spring but the spring lasts/ends in May.
And then the cycle begins anew.

The Dark Woods lure you in

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

"The claw will slash, the tooth will rend - There cannot be a happy end."

I have no words to share at this time. Just a fragment of mood:

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”

My fake-fireplace is almost ready. I used all the wood-pieces I've gathered over the years from trash-sites. I first gathered wood-boards for painting; pieces of shelves, cabinet doors and whatever bigger pieces I happened to come across. I find re-using things the smart thing to do since just keep buying wood from the stores is quite pointless when people throw away so much of them. You can't even use them as firewood if they are painted or if the population doesn't have fireplaces or don't want to gather discarded boards to burn. There are of course cheap wood-boards for sale, like the hardboard, and it is quite good for painting. Not as easy to hang on the wall for being so thin, but it is light and cheap.
Anyway, I ran out of fitting pieces for my fireplace, but it doesn't matter since it is almost done. I shared a website-link - or two - in one of my previous posts, but there are a lot of instructions for building one. All you need to do is look.

And the painting for the roof is still underway. It's going to be a lot of work, since there are so many small details. I probably have to work on it for a long time.

I've also been planning to make my own tarot-cards. For that I think I could find a cheap, probably used, plain card-pack, paint it white and then use ink to draw the pictures I want. And of course I will plan the pictures myself.

I find the cards to be beautiful works of art. And also the original mysticism around them fascinates me. I'd like to read more about them, like how they became to be, and how they managed to survive in the world of Christianity. After all, the Christians tried to destroy every last thing that had anything to do with mysticism, witch-craft and anything not-christian-god-related. Also why are the cards what they are; why is there a Tower-card or a Hermit-card. They interest me.

"Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night."

(Copyrights belong to me)

To see a world in a grain of sand

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage

Puts all heaven in a rage.

A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons

Shudders hell thro' all its regions.

A dog starv'd at his master's gate

Predicts the ruin of the state.

A horse misused upon the road

Calls to heaven for human blood.

Each outcry of the hunted hare

A fibre from the brain does tear.

A skylark wounded in the wing,

A cherubim does cease to sing.

The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight

Does the rising sun affright.

Every wolf's and lion's howl

Raises from hell a human soul.

The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,

Keeps the human soul from care.

The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,

And yet forgives the butcher's knife.

The bat that flits at close of eve

Has left the brain that won't believe.

The owl that calls upon the night

Speaks the unbeliever's fright.

He who shall hurt the little wren

Shall never be belov'd by men.

He who the ox to wrath has mov'd

Shall never be by woman lov'd.

The wanton boy that kills the fly

Shall feel the spider's enmity.

He who torments the chafer's sprite

Weaves a bower in endless night.

The caterpillar on the leaf

Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.

Kill not the moth nor butterfly,

For the last judgement draweth nigh.

He who shall train the horse to war

Shall never pass the polar bar.

The beggar's dog and widow's cat,

Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.

The gnat that sings his summer's song

Poison gets from slander's tongue.

The poison of the snake and newt

Is the sweat of envy's foot.

The poison of the honey bee

Is the artist's jealousy.

The prince's robes and beggar's rags

Are toadstools on the miser's bags.

A truth that's told with bad intent

Beats all the lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;

Man was made for joy and woe;

And when this we rightly know,

Thro' the world we safely go.

Joy and woe are woven fine,

A clothing for the soul divine.

Under every grief and pine

Runs a joy with silken twine.

The babe is more than swaddling bands;

Throughout all these human lands;

Tools were made and born were hands,

Every farmer understands.

Every tear from every eye

Becomes a babe in eternity;

This is caught by females bright,

And return'd to its own delight.

The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,

Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.

The babe that weeps the rod beneath

Writes revenge in realms of death.

The beggar's rags, fluttering in air,

Does to rags the heavens tear.

The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun,

Palsied strikes the summer's sun.

The poor man's farthing is worth more

Than all the gold on Afric's shore.

One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands

Shall buy and sell the miser's lands;

Or, if protected from on high,

Does that whole nation sell and buy.

He who mocks the infant's faith

Shall be mock'd in age and death.

He who shall teach the child to doubt

The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.

He who respects the infant's faith

Triumphs over hell and death.

The child's toys and the old man's reasons

Are the fruits of the two seasons.

The questioner, who sits so sly,

Shall never know how to reply.

He who replies to words of doubt

Doth put the light of knowledge out.

The strongest poison ever known

Came from Caesar's laurel crown.

Nought can deform the human race

Like to the armour's iron brace.

When gold and gems adorn the plow,

To peaceful arts shall envy bow.

A riddle, or the cricket's cry,

Is to doubt a fit reply.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile

Make lame philosophy to smile.

He who doubts from what he sees

Will ne'er believe, do what you please.

If the sun and moon should doubt,

They'd immediately go out.

To be in a passion you good may do,

But no good if a passion is in you.

The whore and gambler, by the state

Licensed, build that nation's fate.

The harlot's cry from street to street

Shall weave old England's winding-sheet.

The winner's shout, the loser's curse,

Dance before dead England's hearse.

Every night and every morn

Some to misery are born,

Every morn and every night

Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,

Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie

When we see not thro' the eye,

Which was born in a night to perish in a night,

When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light,

To those poor souls who dwell in night;

But does a human form display

To those who dwell in realms of day.

- Auguries of Innocence, William Blake -

There's Order in Chaos

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

My Mother; The Mother Nature

(Copyrights belong to me)

The roots of our people, "our" meaning any culture on this Earth, is in respecting and worshiping nature. Usually those roots and the knowledge of them have been destroyed, but there still exists some knowledge. A pathway very familiar to some. I haven't yet dipped my feet into the dirt but I still feel more attracted to the old ways than just the scientific view of the world. I can't trick myself into believing anything that goes against science and common sense, but I still feel more close to the forests and rivers than to any gods or science. Science is the ultimate truth, but the nature is our home, our protector and we are its shepherds. Nature sparks our compassion when science has no place in our hearts. It only makes us ignore it. Ignore the nature, ignore our roots and give an excuse for destruction.

At least that is how it seems to me and I feel about it.

(Copyrights belong to me)

"The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun."

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

I am finally on a vacation. Things get done but I also have time to just relax. Wish I had some pictures to share about the projects I am doing, but it is way too early to share.

But here's a link to a project I intend to start. Perhaps there are others who might find this do-it-yourself-project (DIY) interesting and useful.

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

Foliorum Viridium

Oh, Lovecraft, my friend in time.

—To the Old Pagan Religion

Olympian gods! How can I let ye go

And pin my faith to this new Christian creed?

Can I resign the deities I know

For him who on a cross for man did bleed?

How in my weakness can my hopes depend

On one lone God, though mighty be his pow’r?

Why can Jove’s host no more assistance lend,

To soothe my pain, and cheer my troubled hour?

Are there no Dryads on these wooded mounts

O’er which I oft in desolation roam?

Are there no Naiads in these crystal founts?

Nor Nereids upon the Ocean foam?

Fast spreads the new; the older faith declines.

The name of Christ resounds upon the air.

But my wrack’d soul in solitude repines

And gives the Gods their last-receivèd pray’r.

- H.P. Lovecraft

"Aures habent et non audient"

Poor man's do-it-yourself: 
a found bottle and the remains of my window-paint from the earlier post "The Full Circle".

I apologize for the blurry photo, but I wasn't sure if I would even put this picture here so I took only one quick shot. I wanted to share this if there are anyone who can't afford to buy actual artistic occult-bottles - which was my inspiration on this one - and who, like me,  like to do stuff for themselves just to get things for themselves as quickly as the first inspiration comes to mind. Things, that are not perfect, but still they please me. Which is the main reason for doing anything. All the books I've been painting all the paintings and what-not's have always been just for me. And yet I think I might not be the only one. So if anyone gets an idea from this technique I used, I hope I could help somehow.

If I weren't so lazy as I am, this un-perfectionist, I could take a better picture. But enough about explaining my lack of carefulness! I had mostly red window-paint left so I used that although I would have preferred to use black paint instead. Although I do like the colour red, I still don't like to use it much. Mostly in paintings but otherwise my home hasn't got many red things.

At some other time I could show the books I've been painting. I think I wrote some other posts about finding free used books to decorate, so to speak, so that's an interesting project which I recommend to anyone out there, who might like to make some artistic-books for themselves. No reason to throw old books away when you can give them a new life.

"Beware The woods at night, Beware The Lunar light - Come cast your spell on me."

Unfinished painting. My summer-vacation project. Or - one of the projects. I intend to do some fast oil-paintings from my photographs. I've wanted to organize an art-exhibition for quite some time, for years actually, and I still want that. The difference being is that now I feel like myself and have the energy to try to do that.

I shouldn't share unfinished paintings (and blurry pictures) yet I felt this one portraits the latest things in my life and mind. I'm also running short on new pictures to add here. And since I am more visual with my expressions it would be kinda foolish to communicate without pictures.