Original Works

Discussion of Joseph Campbell's work with an emphasis on the personal creative impulse as well as the sociological role of the artist in today's global community.

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JamesN.
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Post by JamesN. »

Dear Evinnra; You really care!

And I like so many others get enthusiastic. I don't think there is a person on this sight that does not. ( At least if they have an opinion they feel strongly about. ) These are very frustrating times; and some of these topics are right at the heart of; or at least in some way related to the causes.

I know I am very guilty of being caught up in the moment and wish I expressed myself as well as you do when I am. We all do this!

It is always lovely to hear your considered voice.

I know for me I must always try to remember that there are others whom may be listening as well as the ones I am addressing who are silently in these discussions. And if I am right; or at least have something worth saying; the logic or import will hopefully get the message across and accomplish the desired result.

All of you inspire me so much! I constantly learn from each and every one of you. And if we are to teach each other like we are so very capable of doing and in fact do all the time; we absolutely must be aware of this. Otherwise our tone becomes just like the media we are so fond of criticising. :wink: And if we help each other and support each other; and dare I say care for each other in this way the moderators and every one here will benefit. Not just quietly disengage because of the heat in the room and slip away.

Passion is important! It is at the very center of our DNA. It is one of the ways we bond as human beings. It adds meaning, worth, and validity to what we do and who we are. Without it so much of living is; ( shall we say ) lifeless.

You add so much here in your wise and thoughtful imput. I am constantly in awe of the things that you and the others are bringing to my unenlightened awareness. And I am sure some of my own oblivious gifts of self-absorbed presumption have provided much amusement. :lol: But I adore the playful banter, exchanges, and repartee that take place here and hope I have not dampended in any way the warm and bright light that you bring. 8) My very best. :)
What do I know? - Michael de Montaigne

Evinnra
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Post by Evinnra »

Thanks James, you are too kind. :)
'A fish popped out of the water only to be recaptured again. It is as I, a slave to all yet free of everything.'
http://evinnra-evinnra.blogspot.com

ALOberhoulser
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Post by ALOberhoulser »

Go find the ravens.
Yes, the huge, black birds.
They should not be
too difficult to find.
They fly into your yard,
where you put out death
from your house.

You think that outside,
it is, somehow, safe
to keep death.
Death creeps in,
with the wind.
Outside is space,
just like within.
Science cannot solve the ultimate mystery of nature. And that is because, in the last analysis, we ourselves are a part of the mystery that we are trying to solve.
~Max Planck

JamesN.
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Post by JamesN. »

So eloquent. Really nice Al.

( Here is my rather humble attempt as a " work in progress ". )


Though I be but a tiny grain of sand
tossed by the winds of time across endless shores of a universe so vast.

What wonder should the beauty of night hold for me
in it's infinite contemplation to be a part of that from which I come and will return;

but that I should be;
that I should even be,
here,
now.
What do I know? - Michael de Montaigne

ALOberhoulser
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Post by ALOberhoulser »

I read an NPR article on this guy - Brian Skerry - underwater photography that's just amazing.

JamesN.
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Post by JamesN. »

Hey Al;

What can I say? Wow! 8)
What do I know? - Michael de Montaigne

Cindy B.
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Post by Cindy B. »

Queen of Cups (Hearts)

A beautiful Queen, her realm the human psyche, rests on her throne at the edge of a tranquil, blue sea. Her crown is gold, her gown is silk and moon white, and her robe, held fast with a red scallop brooch, reflects a delicate shimmering of shared light with the water. Carved in relief on top her throne is an immense scallop shell, both an ancient symbol of the mind’s primal source, the unconscious, and of all that is feminine within the psyche. A pair of tiny twins embraces the shell, beings half-human, half-fish, of conscious reason and unconscious instinct, while depicted low on her throne is a piscene being at play with a slippery fish, or psychic contents, amid the shallow waters of preconsciousness. The Queen is musing over an ornate cup of gold with opposing handles shaped as praying angels. It sits balanced on the palm of her right hand, and is the cup of her passions and imagination. The cup is covered, however, a suggestion that the Queen’s ruling emotions and ideas rise from the depths of unconsciousness.

The Queen is loving and honest, both practical and fanciful, artistic and intelligent. Yet should her passions or imagination storm within the bounds of her golden cup, then the Queen can be hateful and dishonest, impulsive and unpredictable, even untrustworthy and amoral. She is the Queen of the Thrones of the Waters.

--From The Waite Tarot and Jung




I have four others for now. Who knows, maybe someday I'll do the entire deck. Well, that's a big "maybe." :)

Cindy
If the path before you is clear, you’re probably on someone else’s. --Jung

Poncho
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Post by Poncho »

The Day She Died

During last summer, the mornings were warm and bright. I would sit outside Subway, which is an American franchise sandwich bar, in Emmanuel Street watching the girls wafting by in their summer dresses, and very nice they were too. They did not seem to mind me looking as long as I did so in a respectful way. Naturally, being a Cambridge tour
guide, I did, I did.

I would listen to Subway’s prerecorded music, including 'The Day I Died'. which was sung by Just Jack in his London Estuary accent (hip hop and Received Pronounciation would make uneasy bedfellows).

For some reason, it was a song that was played a lot. Despite the title, the tune is pleasant and bouncy, and gradually over time, it caught my interest and I found myself drawn in as the story unfolded: caught the bus on time; the children on the top deck were unusually quiet; no delays caused by roadworks; smile from his secretary; the ‘in’ tray was almost empty; news that his hated supervisor had been sacked for fraud ... and so it goes on.

Sadly, this happy chain of events is broken when, heading home, he misses the bus. He crosses the road and enters a shop. As he crosses back over, he does not see the taxi that hits and kills him ... but the day he died had been the best day of his life.

I was sitting in the local history section of the library in Lion Yard. Unusually, I was the only reader there. The door opened, and an elderly man shuffled in. He must have been in his 80s and he had problems with his sight and hearing.

One of the library assistants appeared and he explained to her that he had last been in Cambridge in 1944 for a 3-month summer school. He had met a young lady, who was a student at Newnham College, and they had become friends. He had left Cambridge at the end of the summer and spent much of his life since then abroad. They had written to each other, but then the correspondence had stopped. Subsequently, he had heard that his friend had been killed in a tragic road accident in Cambridge. She had been run over by a tank. Bizarre!

The only information that he had was her name and that she had been a student at Newnham College. He did not know the date of the accident, but he assumed that it must have been reported in the local newspaper. I should say at this point that I had not been actively listening, but had been reading a book. Gradually, however, their conversation had caught my interest, and I had found myself drawn in as the story had unfolded.

The library assistant disappeared and returned with the Register of Newnham students. This confirmed that his friend had been killed in a road accident on 22nd October 1945 (the day after her 19th birthday). No further details were given.

She went to one of the cabinets, pulled out a roll of film for the Cambridge Evening News in 1945, slotted it into the machine and found the news report of the accident without too much difficulty. This confirmed that the student had indeed been killed by a tank.

She printed a copy of the report and handed it to the man. The whole exercise had been completed in less than 10 minutes and had cost him 10p, the price of the photocopy.

The man pulled out his magnifying glass so that he could read the report. I could hear him saying sadly to himself: ‘And she was such a beautiful girl.’ I sensed, however, that he felt relieved that some 65 years later he had finally discovered what had
happened.

The next day, when I was in the local history section again, I complimented the library assistant on how quickly she had found the newspaper record. At my request, she found the report again and gave me a copy. It said:

‘The junction at Newnham Road and Queen’s Road was the scene of a terrible fatality
yesterday afternoon, when a Newnham College student was killed when becoming involved with an Army tank.

'She was Miss Joan Evelyn Kletts, a third year student. Miss Kletts was cycling at the time, and the tank concerned was one of a convoy. Her injuries were such that she succumbed almost immediately, and when she arrived at Addenbrooke’s Hospital in
the Borough Ambulance, life was found to be extinct. The Cambridge Borough Police appealed to witnesses of the fatality to contact them as soon as possible.’

Over the following week I found myself wondering how she had spent that last day. Had she been in high spirits, because she had celebrated her 19th birthday only the day before? Had she been wafting around town in an attractive dress drawing admiring glances from the local men? Perhaps she had wanted to do her bit to brighten up the drabness of post-war Cambridge. No tour guides with respectful eyes in those days of course, and little in the way of traffic.

Had something broken this happy chain of events? If so, had it been on her mind as she had crossed the road, and so did not see the tank that hit and killed her? I could only hope that the day she died had been the best day of her life.

Strangely, although I still visit Subway on a regular basis and listen to their music, I have not heard Just Jack singing his song. Bizarre!


------------------------------------------


One of the great things about youtube is that people can record their own cover versions of their favourite songs. For one of the best video versions of 'The Day I Died':


Click HERE



Thank you for reading this piece.
Image
Greetings from over the Silver Sea

Clemsy
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Post by Clemsy »

The Webworm

The green, barely muted,
The webworm weaves its shroud.
“Too soon,” you say. “Too soon.
Summer is still.

Too soon.”

We are birds,
And this our song:
“Too soon, too soon.
Summer is still.

Too soon.”
Give me stories before I go mad! ~Andreas

ALOberhoulser
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Post by ALOberhoulser »


JamesN.
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Post by JamesN. »

Wow; awesome Al. :)
What do I know? - Michael de Montaigne

Cindy B.
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Post by Cindy B. »

Yes, cool, Al. When the board's new platform is set up, I'm going to start a thread on mandalas for folks to share and discuss their favorites. The only reason that I've put it off is because we'll lose direct access to all the beautiful works that will be posted until then. 8)
If the path before you is clear, you’re probably on someone else’s. --Jung

CarmelaBear
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Post by CarmelaBear »

AL, the website appears to solve the drafting problems that most of us run into attempting to create a mandala. Can't wait to try out the software and make something that speaks to me.

Thank you.

CB~
Once in a while a door opens, and let's in the future. --- Graham Greene

ALOberhoulser
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Post by ALOberhoulser »

I saw the website and posted the link here because I knew it would be of interest - I've been busy so haven't had the chance to do much more than a basic design. I'm glad y'all like it & hope to see some of our associates' creations :)

CarmelaBear
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Post by CarmelaBear »

I'm big on collecting ideas for future things to do. I hope that there will be time to attempt a good one at some point.

I do not know if I will ever come up for air, but hope springs eternal.
Once in a while a door opens, and let's in the future. --- Graham Greene

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