Messages Given and Received

8:51:00 AM




DUAN AN DAOIL
Little beetle, little beetle,
Rememberest thou yesterday?
Little beetle, little beetle,
Rememberest thou yesterday?
Little beetle, little beetle,
Rememberest thou yesterday
The Son of God went by?

The seeds split, their shiny polished sacks cracked and then gnawed.  They've lived in the dark for so long, with the other curios and friends.  They've been fed on secret words and the warm and the quiet.  They emerge, ushered into the world among thorns and nightshade. Slick and black, they unfurl their wings and stretch their legs and with all my blessings they go off into the world, carrying with them the word I send out into the world, to those distant places, on air and in darkness.

The red poppy seeds (right) will attend the red sandalwood, dragonsblood and cinnamon; her dreams bring messages of lust; dreams that are warm and wet and wonderful.  The blue belongs with storax and blonde sandalwood, the orris and opium oil; it helps the mind cope with the wonders of the otherworldly messages our nightmares bring us (strangely, when burned on coals this batch smelled like baked honey). The brown and black and ash colored bottle repels dreams when they become inconvenient, especially when accompanied by wormwood,  fresh keif and a dose of clove (they smell cold and musky when burned, they've been aged 11 years), but the brown and gold, they draw dreams with wildness and wealth in the company of cedar, ground rose buds and a drop of olibanum. 
Pendell wrote in the correspondences of the poppy that her discipline was that of the "leechdom and perfumery", her element is air and her metaphor is dreams.  The seeds are my favorite part to use personally, for my own dream incense.  They produce odd scents and unexpected flavors, and in the art of ritual incense making, I've had a fair deal of luck with adding small quantities of poppy seeds processed in a number of ways; from tinctures to fine powders to fermented grounds and simple oils.
  

  I've been in a flurry ever since I started having these dreams of the poppies and dry fields and crackling leaves, and with the dreams came the inspiration to start sculpting again. Putting my hands back into the clay and giving birth to ideas was so cathartic.  I don't think I'll accept commissions again any time soon, but I do like making and trading whatever comes to me in my thoughts, in my dreams.  Soon, I'll share them, but for now, I'm just following the messages and trust in my messengers.


referenced...

Dale Pendell's Phamako Gnosis
Carmina Gadelica Vol 1 &2 by Alexander Carmicheal

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