Currently reading

With Fulcanelli popping up twice for me in the last week - once while listening to this podcast episode, and then a few days later behind glass in a locked bookcase in a used book shop, the first American edition, with a hefty price tag - I figured it was finally time to delve into that mystery. This ought to be fun.

"The secret of alchemy is this: there is a way of manipulating matter and energy so as to produce what modern scientists call 'a field of force.' The field acts on the observer and puts him in a privileged position vis-à-vis the universe. From this position he has access to the realities which are ordinarily hidden from us by time and space, matter and energy. This is what we call 'The Great Work'."

"...the vital thing is not the transmutation of metals but that of the experimenter himself."

Riding the Tiger - a new embroidery

Whilst snowed in last week, I was finally able to complete the embroidery I've been working on.

 

Beauty in etiquette, demeanor, mind

Star of Peace, by Michael Whelan

The women I find most beautiful and intriguing are not necessarily possessing of the most perfect faces or bodies. Rather, it is a more subtle quality that attracts and inspires me, which is what beauty must do, yes? A side note: When I speak of finding a female beautiful or attractive, as a woman myself, I mean this in a very nonsexual way. I've been told more than once in my life that I'm the "straightest woman X has ever met" and this is very true. That said, though, I am very drawn to, appreciative of, and inspired by beauty, in its myriad forms. 

All this said, I do find myself drawn to certain females, and I find a feminine attraction to be very distinct from the male kind that I'm so familiar with. So this is a different field of beauty and the potential for inspiration- there is architectural inspiration, there is literary inspiration, that is- beauty in the structuring of words and thoughts, beauty in the natural world, beauty in the relationship with man as a woman, and beauty in observing the female nature as another woman. And in embodying that which I find beautiful and inspiring and good. 

In observing other women that I find something of the divine in, something beautiful, something that inspires me, certainly there is an aspect of physical beauty present but I have come to realize that the women I enjoy observing most are the ones that might go unnoticed in crowds. The standard woman of America who has perfected her fitness and mastered the cheekbone contour with makeup - not to dismiss either of those things - is, to me, just another expensive house in a depressing upper middle class suburb. By this I mean- boring, a quality of sameness, and a certain predictability. I don't find it inspiring, which is to say I don't find it beautiful either. 

Sunrise, by Leopold Schmutzler

After giving this more thought, over time, I've come to realize that the beauty and inspiration (I do seem to use these words synonymously, which I hope isn't confusing or in error) I derive from observing certain women stems primarily from the way they are, far and above how they look. It just so follows that the inner quality of the females I find so beautiful and intriguing seems to also inform their outer qualities. So they do tend to carry an outer beauty as well, though different from the norm, as its informed by, graced by, this inner nature which is the root.

It was whilst watching a documentary about the secret world of the geishas, who value beauty in mannerism over mere physical beauty, that I began noticing it is the etiquette of women that first intrigues me, grabs my attention, makes me observe from afar. During which time I'm waiting, watching for those modern tones to surface, to show themselves and make a bore of it all, wash away the magic of maybe possibly possessing... Something Other. 

I love Traditional women the most, not to be confused with a 1950's housewife stereotype of simple submission and flowery dresses, but those who have somehow managed to shed the heavy cultural cloak of feminism, who have interesting and developed minds outside the predictable and stale downloads of academia, who can touch on a variety of unusual and sophisticated histories, philosophies, arts, and sciences far beyond the public school bookshelves of Marx and Kant. 

I adore females who are quiet, even soft-spoken- oh to hear a soft and soothing female voice in these times of deepened women's voices, in these times of the feminine run wild which has ironically enough made women more masculine as there is no grounding force- a dire lack of Shiva, the lightning rod to ground the chaos of Shakti. This soft-spokenness I don't want to confuse with lacking confidence or maturity, but rather a possessing of grace and elegance so as to be in control of oneself enough to be able to hold ones tongue well- in this multitude of words we exist in, how valuable the one who can refrain, then, when speaking, do so as to strike, to make an impact, even gently. 

And beyond all this, I love women who are quietly happy, clearly contented in a way that reflects a disciplined and developed interior world. 

This form of beauty, this rare combining of ways of being, is very needed in these times. I can count on one hand the female figures who have inspired me in this way, and if I use both hands then I could include some fictional characters I've seen on film or met online who seem to uphold the virtues.

Koyuki in the Last Samurai

If I think about what makes these traits and behaviors so attractive, I believe it comes down to that they seem to point to a level of detachment from the world, an inner serenity and calm, which are all qualities, at least precursors, of forging a path to the transcendent.

The Longing to Seclude Oneself

Getting snowed in--though admittedly purposefully-- in a small, creekside, tree-canopied cottage, and getting to live out the most refreshing series of days in remembrance, will give one pause to ponder why being alone feels so good. [It's worth noting here that I'm not truly alone, being a married woman, though in time we have worked out how to be two existing solitudes when we wish, so I'll go on to refer to being alone as such.] Not just alone, but removed. There is a difference, since one can be "alone" in their apartment in a city. But to be alone and removed, outside the sphere even of mental influence of other minds for days on end, no longer feeling as a character on the anxious stage of the ever-unfolding human drama. 

I've loved, been accustomed to, solitude for most of my life- growing up as an only child who spent a great deal of her time alone in a blue-carpeted, blue-walled bedroom listening to Tool and watching the ceiling fan rotate to pass the afternoon, or gallivanting around the countryside hills and corn fields an entire Saturday, fixating on shapes of rocks and how red clay straight from the ground could be molded into bricks. This later morphed into seeking to live in far out, rural and secluded places, which finally took form early in my 20's and has continued since, now reaching a pinnacle of residing in a county twice the size of Rhode Island with not a single traffic light, in the rugged mountains of America's Inland Northwest, with only 3 people per square mile. Were it not for my family ties, I would go farther.

There is something very sacred in living one's life quietly, without calling attention, without being so easily accessible, and likewise unable to access the lives of others. In withdrawing, being alone, out away from the noise of human maneuverings, I find a connection with the transcendent, that is, with God and higher experiences, to be more easily within reach, more consistent, nearly tangible. One can fall into this current without any thought of being interrupted and, oh, the "places" that can be reached! The shedding of the vanity of daily life can be felt as a deep cleanse and purification. 

"The urge to withdraw has always been stronger in me than the urge to take part in the world in any way. People would often come, with what I deemed, vulgar and profane suggestions, that seemed not to address the core sentiment behind the urge to withdraw - and that is the sentiment that everything is vanity. Children, jobs, marriage, lovers - all a noise, a comfortable attachment to help one pass through existence." - Orphic Inscendence, Urge to Withdraw

 

In this life of mine, at this stage of it, I certainly don't feel bored, but I do feel a sense of... as Naida puts it, being aged. 

"I felt aged - like I've already seen it all, had hundreds of children and husbands and wives, like I've been a criminal, a priest, a queen, a prostitute, and there was nothing left for me to be anymore. All the roles seemed too familiar and already explored and lived. It wasn't nihilism that was behind the urge to withdraw - it was inability to see any evidence of my belief that there had to be more to life than dying with a stomach more full than you started with." - Orphic Inscendence, Urge to Withdraw

This feeling of familiarity, of having done it all already, reduces many of the human concerns and dramas into mediocrities, cultivating an indifference to participation. Feeling simply uninterested in it all, what is one to do but to retire to their own devices, far away, and to devote their life to that upward path, which is to God. Though I can't help feeling I've done that before too, still it feels right.

Agafia Lykov's existence is one I've long found inspiration in. Her family were one of many Old Believers who fled Russia in 1936, believing their religion to be under attack. They trekked deep into the wilds of Siberia, and this is where Agafia was born, in a hollowed out pine washtub. The family of six spent over forty years in isolation until they were discovered by a team of geologists in 1978, though at that point only a family of five as the mother, Akulina, had perished from starvation in 1961, sacrificing herself so the children might live. (You can learn more about this story as I did in the book Lost in the Taiga.) To this day, Agafia resides alone in the taiga, now age 77. All her life is an ascetic feat. 

The 2012 Austrian-German film The Wall (or- Die Wand) gives me pause for thought. In it, a woman visits friends at a hunting lodge in the Austrian Alps. Later, as her friends head into a nearby village leaving her alone with the dog, she soon finds that she's been cut off from the rest of the world by an invisible wall. Years of hardship, depression, and despair portray seclusion as a terror, but is her experience closer to the marrow of what this life is for? Certainly the comforts and social expectations of daily life were removed, but must this be so jarring? Is there not an opportunity there? Surely there is, and we catch glimpses of this throughout the film, such as in her second summer when she writes that her "newer self" seemed to be getting "absorbed into a greater whole."

But what I observe in life is that most people are not interested in solitude or silence or going inward much at all. I think this is because there is a noise to life- both external and internal, which we are very accustomed to hearing, and when those sounds dim, the void brings an anxiety. So solitude and asceticism go hand in hand, much like someone in a mode of crisis should not be told to meditate- the state of their mind at current is not a healthy place to linger. Maybe to enjoy solitude and to yearn for a far away natural setting as the canvas for ones life, certain preparations must first be made, of an internal kind. 

If we believe in the transmigration of souls, then it also follows that not every soul is ready for this approach to life, or is even in need of it yet. With this in mind, it's unrealistic for us to expect others to understand our longings for this worldly detachment and unconcern and for wanting to be far away, just as we cannot exist for long in their chosen environments without fatigue and dullness setting in. 

"Constant and unalloyed devotion to Me; aspiring to live in a solitary place; detachment from the general mass of people; … [ – all these I declare to be knowledge]." -- Bhagavad Gita, 13.11

 

In order for our inner territory to be interesting, introspective practices should be performed regularly- reading, seeking wisdom, yoga, meditation, writing, contemplation, and prayer, to name a few. And if you are reading this and feel similarly but have yet to make sense of it, might I suggest one place to begin is in watching this series, and taking time to reflect on the teachings therein, which might help you understand why you feel the way you do, longing to seclude from the world. There are good reasons for feeling this way, especially here in the Kali yuga.

Philosophical principles to live one's life by

1.) Discernment     2.) Prayer    3.) Intrinsic morality     4.) Conducting oneself and one's life beautifully

"Discernment between the Absolute and the relative-- Atma and Maya. Reality and illusion and so on. And then prayer. Because if you believe, if you understand what is Essential and what is Absolute, you want to assimilate it. Otherwise one is a hypocrite. And in order to assimilate the truth of the Absolute, you must pray. There are three kinds of prayer: First, canonical prayer. In Christianity, it's the Lord's Prayer. And then, free personal prayer, like the Psalms in the Bible. David's Psalms, is personal prayer. Talk to God. And third is prayer of the heart. Essential prayer, which is an act of contemplation in the innermost Self. And this is esoterism. And I'm interested in this, and I say to people, "You must pray. Always pray." You must have at least one canonical prayer every day, and then you must talk to God. But you must always pray like St. Paul said in an Epistle, always pray. And this is prayer of the heart. And the Eastern church knows this practice very well -- the Jesus prayer. Japa yoga in Hinduism. This is the second thing. And the third thing is intrinsic morality. Beauty of the soul. Nobility. Humility, which means objectivity towards oneself/ Charity, which is objectivity towards the neighbor. Domination of oneself. Generosity, this is the beauty of the soul. This is intrinsic morality. And then, the fourth dimension is beauty of forms, of surroundings, of dress, of comportment. That's all."

The spirit of the American West

This painters command of light feels so true to those Western evenings I've grown to know so well. Long live the American West, that rugged spirit, that real sense of freedom.