Bordered to the west by the vast Pacific ocean, and nestled right into the wild and remote edge of the western Olympic Mountains, in an enchanted valley that is home to several of the world's largest trees, is Quinault.
The very definition of verdant, if there is such a place that could sustain you by environment alone, it is Quinault. The dewy wet air, the lush tree-covered mountains, the glacial rivers ripe with fish, the pristine lake, the mammalian mossy forests, herds of wild elk, the sweet earth fragrance so palpable...
If breathing is our umbilical cord to God, to the unified field, I've never felt it so potently as I do in Quinault.
Each time we've gone there, it does feel like entering a portal, and the entire outside world feels very far away, if it exists anymore at all. Eric and I both feel held, nourished, and begin to think crazy thoughts like how we could just stay there and never have to leave for anything... couldn't we though?
We would buy real estate there and disappear into it, certainly, but... in the two years I've been checking, I've never seen a single property go up for sale. Not that there are many homes out there to begin with. In fact, there's only one road. I'll never stop keeping an eye out, though....
Can you imagine calling such a place home!?
Somehow, without plan, we found ourselves in Quinault again last weekend. Which is odd, considering it's about 4 hours away and we had no real intention of going to begin with... but you know how things can turn out when love and longing are involved.
Tonight a wind has blown in off the north Pacific with a vengeful force to it. In the two years we've been here, I've grown to love these winter winds that pummel the house some evenings, and it is almost always at nighttime these storms blow in, but tonight is a little different. Tonight the door over there is creaking like it really could blow open, busting the lock and chain. We've put a chair and a 7-gallon jug of water against it to help bolster our defenses. The little bit of lamplight I have going is flickering and we've filled a thermos of hot water just in case we lose power, there can still be tea.
The wind isn't howling or whistling through the windows, it's stampeding right into them, like in Lord of the Rings when Arwen summons the flood brigade at the Ford of Bruinen. And I am sitting here enjoying my nightly cuppa cocoa, and reading, as ever. When really intense gales hit, I glance sideways over my right shoulder toward the window, as though avoiding direct eye contact will maintain fortification.
As terrible as it is, I do love it. I love the wild chaos outside, and the warm coziness inside. I love imagining the tumultuous sea just down the hill, and how it must be turbulently churning right now, while I sit here only a few hundred yards away, safe and snug by the fire.
I already miss the unpredictable moodiness of the weather here, for the days soon coming when we'll have moved on. One day I'll have to write about these nights, and how they often transported me into some other [mari]time, when I was a lighthousekeeper in the 1700's on some cold and brutal remote northerly coastline, or weathering the storm down in the cabin of my old wooden boat in the 1850's, praying to God and sipping whiskey, with only one golden beeswax candle for a companion.
I knew we were in for it tonight, as the weather all day was strange and unstable. In the span of a few hours, we saw hail, sleet, gray skies, new snow on the foothills across the bay, then golden sunshine and blue skies. The sea went from dark blue to Caribbean turquoise, calm to white-capping, and everything in between.
Here are some of the pictures from just before sunset...
This knitting hobby of mine is beginning to stack up. It seems I almost have a small knitwares shop on my hands, kept neatly tucked away in a brown paper bag in my crafts closet. Though it'd have to be a shop offering only hats, cowls, and ear warmers.
I even designed a logo and had it printed onto suede tags to give things a more professional and finished look.
Maybe when Autumn comes 'round again, I'll open a real shop.
A new embroidery to add to the collection. This one contains some symbolism that I won't go into too much detail on, other than to say it was inspired by the Vedic-Celtic connection I've been learning about.
A Celtic Druid rides a chariot with 8-spoked Dharmachakra wheels, pulled by a pair of winged horses, one mortal, the other immortal, which speaks something to the daily work of navigating this material impermanent human life, alongside the journey of the eternal soul that lives within, which is certainly the most important of all in my view- that devotion to and connection with God, requiring much more [especially inwardly] of us, than most modern people understand or are willing to give. The committed dedicate daily to piloting this team as harmoniously as possible; if one horse becomes weakened, the whole effort is in vain. And some of us, certainly myself, are seeking to understand these ancient ways our ancestors communed with the Divine [because I do feel they were closer to original truths than we are today.]
When studying such things, and you come across interesting overlaps, it can feel like a magical secret has the tiniest brief beam of light shining on it, just for you to see. I've been fortunate to have such moments over the past several months, hence the inspiration for this Vedic-Celtic inspired stitching.
And here's a fitting photo I took a couple of years ago near Taos, New Mexico.
Something that happens to me every so often is I get stricken by an intense desire and nostalgia for what I simply refer to as "The Old World." The sight of modern anything--cars, wires, sports shirts, tennis shoes, neon signs, tupperware, styles and lingo of the day, memes, speech patterns, all of it--dulls my mind even moreso than usual and I long for somewhere or somewhen that I really have a hard time putting my finger on, or putting words around. But the essence of it is captured here, here, here, here, here, and on a more philosophical level here and here. As quick examples.
When this whirlwind comes over me, I fall quiet and inward, and all I know to do is to make my own world resemble this imaginative place as much as possible. I mind my thoughts, my words, my quickness and try to sink into the headspace of that time (though I still don't know if linear time is the right way of thinking about it).
So this morning, we woke, he a little before I, and the former meditated and the latter showered. Then I told him how I'm feeling- and wondered out loud if maybe going to the Scottish Highlands for a few months would be feasible. I think you can stay for 6 months at a time, maybe then heading up to the north of Sweden or over to the west of Ireland... then switching back again when the 6 month visa ran out. Repeat. Just to be immersed in that world where the tales, rituals, and mythologies of my own kin and blood are buried in the soil and carved into stone. Would I feel a familiarity? Would I experience deja vu unexpectedly like the Barra boy? I idealize a life there, assuming, perhaps quite unrealistically, constant enchantment, where the doors of my creativity are swung open and a convocation of eagles thunders out, relieved to be released, their spirits soaring across that landscape, brushing shoulders with the ghosts of my forefathers who still require bread and water offerings.
When I feel this way, the best thing I know to do is either go out to some mythical and inspiring landscape and to meander and sit there, or to stay home with my teas and coffees and steep my mind in appropriate documentaries, books, or my own creative projects. If honed correctly, I've learned that this terrible longing, like a lost love, can be a source of inspiration.
Anywho- this morning after our talk, we decided to meander into town, grab some hot breakfast from the local market to-go, refill our thermos' with hot coffee, and go sit by the lighthouse with it all. On the way, we listened to Dylan Thomas' Under Milkwood, the 1954 radio drama of the innermost thoughts and feelings of the inhabitants of a small Welsh fishing village. It helped kindle and hold onto this atmosphere I was hoping to sink into for the day.
As we wound through the streets of our own seaside town, headed for the lighthouse, the air smelled of seaweed and breakfast, and the pedestrians began turning into characters themselves, just like in the story we were listening to. Amazing what a shift in perspective can do.
We perched on a large rock and sat quietly as the churning sea tide rolled in, actually out, a few feet beneath us. I chewed the buttermilk biscuit dipped in gravy, and let my gaze free to do as it pleased out across the sea, sometimes focused, sometimes blurred and wide and dreaming. A speckled body broke the milky blue surface, her deep black eyes looking into ours, and we gasped- a harbor seal, or maybe a Selkie woman. Who knows in this time when we've made everything mundane with our categorized folders of so-called facts, which we all feel we have an authority over, a monopoly on truth. But maybe the harbor seal was a Selkie. Let's live in the question.
Back home now, I'm curled at my desk with the heater on, about to start on a new embroidery, and through the wall I can tell that Eric is singing songs I've never heard before, of his own making I do believe, and strumming guitar. I'm glad the creative feeling is permeating and we have, for a bit, gotten our minds off the ol' to-do list which can distract you for a lifetime if you don't watch it.
I'm going to go fill the coffee cup and thread the needle, with a picture in my mind involving a dharmachakra-wheeled chariot, a druid charioteer, with a black and white horse pulling them both. In the druids hand will be either a torch or the branch of a Holly tree. Do you know the ancient relationship with druids and modern rulers (who program the masses) with Holly wood?
There exists a state of illusion, known as Maya in the Sanskrit language, and a percentage of our experience exists in this state. As human individuals, we experience Maya mostly as ignorance of our real nature, which is the true self, the non-linear and infinite Atman that inhabits our temporary vessel. All other illusions seem to branch out from this one primary misunderstanding or forgetting. This ignorance of who we really are, as you might imagine, can be seen playing out in hundreds of ways throughout daily life. Think of all the ego-driven behaviors, which compose 98% of our lives, of any given day and you will understand what I mean.
This morning, as I was getting ready, the question came to me: Just how much illusion are we under? Of course, the nature of being in illusion implies that it would be really hard, if not impossible, to answer this. So my thought meanderings here aren't meant to be taken too seriously, since I assume, or rather- I know, I also exist largely in illusion. It seems though that each individual probably contains varying degrees of illusion, just as each individual contains varying degrees of health, self-awareness, and so on. In some ways, I feel I can even see the illusions over me almost like a grand to-do list, aware of and working to shed them as I go, but also understanding this is a lifetime of work so incorporating gentleness and acceptance of some illusions, too. Letting the illusions stay there and be. For now at least.
But what I was wondering about this morning is just how much illusion we live under now, especially in the Kali Yuga--an age of spiritual depletion with primary focus being on material existence--compared to, for example, beings of the Satya Yuga or Golden Ages of the past. (For me, it is evident even in more modern history that humanity has undergone and is undergoing a process of devolution moreso than evolution).
We have lost the understanding of genuine rites, rituals, and offerings. If we are able to learn about and understand them in an original way, it seems to come from a purely action-oriented pathway, which leaves out the spirit or essence that should be held around the action, and is probably the most important purpose of the whole act anyway.
We live in an age dominated by Rajas-- busy, frenetic without depth of purpose other than material gain and fleeting pleasures, endless doing and activity. How do we break through the illusions that layer themselves over and within us, without merely trading one illusion for another? Cultivating Sattva in daily life is vital, but I also believe a detachment from the flow of modernity must happen in order to brush up against and maybe just grasp the bone-deep Truths and ways of being in a more pure state.
The dark season here by the sea means not only short foggy days, but frequent 60mph winds too. Gales stampede in off the north Pacific and thrash against the house, so much so that our musical instruments sometimes make sounds from the vibration alone.
Power outages are common a few times a month from mid-Fall until mid-Spring.
And I love it!
Blue skies sort of carry an extroverted feeling with them, almost demanding of busy-ness and doing. The misty moody days suit me best.
So last week after the winds had settled a bit and I felt brave enough to venture outside again, I found--to my delight--many downed branches scattered all around. On the drive to town to grab some milk and stop by the post office, I pulled over several times, put the car in park, and stuffed the back of my vehicle with large fallen Douglas Fir branches.
They've been lying on the little stoop outside the back door and a few mornings ago I even noticed bobcat prints beside them! I s'pose they do make good habitat for creatures looking to get some shelter from the winds and rains.
Then this morning I finally carried out what I had planned for them-- a Christmas tree!
I sawed off the bottoms a little, positioned them inside a 5-gallon bucket, put handfuls of rock in to help hold them steady, and used a few lengths of string to tie them together into a tree-like bundle.
I dug around and found a strand of battery-operated lights not being used, strung those, then found an old skirt I don't wear anymore to hide the bucket.
And now we have ourselves a fine little Yuletide tree, completely free and "eco-friendly." It does need ornaments and I'll try to get around to making a few soon. But I'm quite pleased with the simplicity and handmade-ness of it as-is. Now off to clean up my mess and see what else the afternoon holds...
Years ago, I started embroidering. I'm not sure why I was drawn to it, but it's evolved to the point that I now always have an embroidery sitting around I'm working on. Just like a book you're currently reading. Little by little, you finally complete it.
I'd call myself an outsider or folk artist because I'm not trained, and in fact I'm not even sure if what I do is technically embroidering or something else altogether.
Despite, I really enjoy it.
Last night I finished one and I thought I'd share it here. It's a black hollyhock, my favorite flower alongside poppies, wearing a crown. Or does the crown wear the hollyhock? I can't say for sure just yet...
And here are some others I've completed in the last year...
"The mandrake is a plant; its roots grow in human form, male and female, and shriek when torn from the ground. It is of great use in medicine, but anyone who hears the plant's cry dies or goes mad. It was therefore a custom to tie a hungry dog to the plant by a cord and place a piece of meat beyond its reach. To get at the meat the dog tugged at the cord and dragged up the plant, while its master remained safely out of hearing." (-The Medieval Bestiary)
In this chapter, Evola discusses how kingship was viewed in the pre-historic world of Tradition. He also provides various descriptions of what constituted a good leader, and what still constitutes a good leader if you believe these principles to be axiomatic and enduring.
This chapter can be difficult, or triggering, for the modern mind which touts democracy as the most superior form of governance. We are accustomed to living in an age that worships the common man, where decisions are made by the whims of the masses.
But hierarchy is dharma; it follows the natural way of the universe.
But in pre-historic societies, kings were loved and revered and viewed as a source of true inspiration and as a link between the physical and metaphysical. It was essential the king have a strong connection to the Transcendent in order to be a respected ruler that the people could trust to act as a bridge, or pontifex, between the material and spiritual realms.
I've selected some passages from this chapter (in italics), paired with my own notes (non-italics), to help illuminate the ways in which regality was viewed in Traditional societies.
___________
________
_____
"Every traditional civilization is characterized by the presence of beings who, by virtue of their innate or acquired superiority over the human condition, embody within the temporal order the living and efficacious presence of a power that comes from above."
In understanding the nature of a true King, it's of paramount importance to grasp that it was the inner nature of a man which brought about his regality. We aren't speaking of a kingship that is simply handed down through a bloodline. The position was very much earned.
A king could not expect to achieve victory in the external world without first having achieved it internally.
"Pontifex means 'builder of bridges,' or of 'paths' connecting the natural and supernatural dimensions. The pontifex was traditionally identified with the king. Servius, a late fourth-century commentator on Virgil's works, reports: 'The custom of our ancestors was that the king should also be pontifex and priest.' A saying of the Nordic tradition reads: 'May our leader be our bridge.'" "Thus, real monarchs were the steadfast personification of life 'beyond ordinary life.' ... These influences [of the monarch] permeated people's thoughts, intentions, and actions, ordering every aspect of their lives and constituting a fit foundation for luminous, spiritual realizations." "Traditional civilization, unlike those of decadent and later times, completely ignored the merely political dimension of supreme authority as well as the idea that the roots of authority lay in mere strength, violence, or natural and secular qualities such as intelligence, wisdom, physical courage, and a minute concern for the collective material well-being. The roots of authority, on the contrary, always had a metaphysical character." "In an ancient Indo-Aryan text it is written: 'The dignity a god enjoys on earth is splendid, but hard to achieve for the weak. Only he who sets his soul on this objective, is worthy to become a king.'"
In a sense, the King was the idyll- an ultimate role model, a motivation for people. It didn't matter a person's place in society, they devised a noble path for their own role, rather than aspiring to be something else or something more. This is a side tangent, but I do think it's worth thinking on- that is, the notion of desire. Today, we desire to climb the ladder and to become something more, always looking to some future point when we will be more, have more. Hindus value the caste system, and this was a system common in pre-historic cultures too. This sort of system, knowing one's place in society, helped rid the mind of desire, and individuals were free to pursue a path of transcendence whether they were king, butcher, priest, milkmaid, monk, or blacksmith. Contrast this with the striving for material gain so common now in the modern world.
"The ultimate aim [of a Traditional community] would be to achieve a society in which every individual was living in a state of high vibration." (source)
"The common assumption was that the fortunes or misfortunes of the kingdom, as well as the moral qualities of his subjects (it is the virtue in relation to the being of the monarch, and not his actions, that carries positive or negative influences on them), secretly depended on the monarch's behavior. The central role exercised by the king presupposed that the king maintained the aforesaid triumphal inner way of being."
The power of the king was only given to him so long as he maintained his inner equilibrium and transcendent nature. If he failed to do this, the force would be transferred to someone more worthy.
Contrast this to modern times when we feel rulers should be help accountable by the people. In Traditional times, it was thought that the King was held accountable by God (note that by using this term I'm not referring to a Christian God, but God as the divine foundation from which all physical and metaphysical spring. I'll be able to elaborate on this in the future after I've spent more time studying the Vedas).
"The king, empowered with a non-terrestrial force, with its roots in something that is 'more than life,' naturally appeared as one who could eminently actualize the power of the rites and open the way leading to the superior world. Thus, in those traditional forms of civilization in which there was a separate priestly class, the king, because of his original dignity and function, belonged to this class and was its true leader."
Mere physical force is nothing compared to spiritual might, this is why the ultimate king is not of the warrior caste, but the priestly caste.
________________
"We yearn to live in harmony with the natural order, to be connected to the great source once again, and we long for a divine leader. When he holds steady the center of the wheel of Dharma, society is imbued with grounding force."
"wheel of Dharma" images were found on Google and are not owned by me
The unified field discussed in this insightful lecture can be experienced in meditation. And if felt in meditation enough, can be connected to throughout daily life.
Tesla, who was highly influenced by Vedic philosophy, [re]discovered the unified field theory shortly before his death.
