Wednesday, March 31, 2010

By the Hermit's Light: a tale of the Dragon's Line





By the Hermit's Light: a tale of Nic and Marc




I'd been rebuilding from the bottom, which for me wasn't too bad a place, really, despite the stakes of my sanity.
 The mind of the one I'd trusted gravitated to fear and denial, taking the incredible plane in which we'd stood and plunging it to Hell. From there, we'd glimpsed the dome of the stars, the opening passages into higher dimensions, and felt the touch of the Creating energy, rushing from the light beyond to suffuse the universe with life and love.  How strange to have that protected space betrayed.

While sailing the oceans south from the Norse lands, Abril, disguised as the Marc Kane, and I, Nicola (also, in my way, disguised) encountered the first island to present the new coming spring. We knew the island from before; there lay the temple of the hero, Inguz, a place where people prayed for fertility in the pagan times now passing. We presented a beautiful girl there a flower, as she had greeted us eagerly and knew quick words to win our trust, though she gave us no name more meaningful than the one she adopted from us, Loose Flower. Even wise Marc Kane seemed to recognize in her, Aife, Abril's sister.  She was lost before she was hardly known.  The Marc Kane will seek always the spirits of those who have traveled beside us.

We'd followed the temple priestess of Inguz (or so we'd assumed; anyone can pose before the entrance of a place considered sacred to its believers) into the observatory built there, unlike any glimpsed in our dark age, and from its pools that reflected the stars, together we unexpectedly found ourselves in the splendorous outer reaches of the human perception of the cosmos. Apparently we activated her dormant powers, and the great snake of Being rose within her, and together we then found ourselves astrally projected into the rim of Creating.

But there proved a fatal flaw.
As we returned to earth, touched by the air and sea, seeming to flow through them with expanded awareness, we found our companion began to spread her power with abandon. While we radiated, maintaining a circuit, she took of our circuit and began using its force.

At first, we meditated to recover, to ground ourselves after the amazement in which we'd played part.  We had made friends there, before, and so had a place to rest.  But in the following days, Loose Flower revealed, bit by bit, her unlocked potential.  She used her bewitchment to make hapless men fall in love with her at every turn, but this enchantment seemed subtle, and not beyond her natural allure, despite the discord that arose in the jealousy of her wake.   Ray---The Marc Kane's brother, and the captain of our expedition--personally broke up a fight twice in one day, once with his sheer intimidating presence, and another, by humbling both men with the force of their own attacks.  They were fortunate Ray of Awen had no desire to harm them, though his temper was sorely pressed.  Only after talking could he clarify the "she" of whom they spoke...that beguiling one, who had presented herself as the priestess.  We'd made note of evolving customs as we made our way south; we presumed some new cult arose in place of the traditional loyalty to Inguz, perhaps the Christ spoken of in Danish lands we'd crossed two years before.

But was her magic weaved so well as to quake the earth itself?  We consulted among ourselves.  We had encountered this before, what ancient scholars might term "a phenomenon."  Ray had theorized -to borrow his Greek word for supposing---the forces beneath the Earth experienced pressure from its mixed layers, perhaps broken below in some way permitting movement.  This fearsome rumbling seemed only incidental to her emergence as a sorceress.  After all, many shamans, priests, had been told to claim power in such omens.  Ray was as ever, the skeptic---he had found many phenomenon carried some explanation unbeknownst to ignorant men.  The Marc Kane, herself, in disguise, had availed herself of such knowledge to broker truces and save lives as she exploited the superstitions we encountered as the Dragon's Line.

Yet the consequence, when we could ignore it no longer the next night, was that our energetic life threads, connecting us ever and pulling us forward through human existence, were being ripped from our bellies. Her misguided use of the power cosmic brought us to our knees. We retreated, unused to being so humbled, our hearts heavy---yet with great fear and rage did she pursue us through the forest, with little respite. Indeed, by our unwillingness to battle with her, peril grew for all.

 Screaming, she took all three of us again onto that plane, with our conscious minds connected to the visionary heights, while our bodies tumbled into the shattering earth, and we three knew by the anxiety that possessed her mind, we were soon for some faceless nether realm.

When I began to understand the betrayal of that one's self-- the habits of a lifetime, filling the air with claustrophobic forms created from the half-shadows and half-truths of a past that was not my own-- I turned to the advice of the Scarlett Dragon No. 9, calling for her intuitive powers.  I had encoded my call to her as "advice at the end of a project."  Knowing our wayward hearts as she did, she saw the truth, unvarnished---just as she had ascertained years before that I was the crown prince of the house Dragonvayne, who some spoke of, in rumors and allusions, as "the wandering royal"  who had discarded the palace to walk among the people of all lands.

 "What have you rushed into?" she asked. With her psychic senses discern the actual danger the Marc Kane and I faced. Our great danger lay in the heights our senses had achieved; yet if we did not find a lantern to reveal our place, our bodies would be lost, and our minds, in between forevers.

Scarlett Dragon number 9's foreboding came by the light of the Hermit, who then took us aside, to gaze upon her glow. The warning was sincere, dire: "abandon all hope, ye who enter her." She advised us a spell, for in our state, we could not think clearly on how to effect our escape and stop this destruction.




That spell, to leave a flower behind in nature and so, to leave behind regret worked furiously in the space of seven days, seven nights. It might have worked better if it had been a rose, but this was the flower that had been meant to symbolize affections, taken in a picture, shown from afar...

It might have worked even better had it been buried, yet that seemed out of place; looking back, it may have been the time spent digging that would allow the love past its time of reflection, without reaching out to the recalcitrant mind that held captive that nobler heart...not bad for a fool in love...two...sometimes three...but we had to acknowledge death, of which we'd long since learned not to fear, though the reach of its specters, the finite nature of her remaining life, tormented the Loose Flower so.

Sure enough, a week after we cast it, I was realizing the powerful Nature imagery, the Sophia or Sakti energy if you will, the powerful vision I'd seen after our mystic experience together across the distance: the woman, goddess or angel or more, who spoke words beyond words, walking towards us all in vision, in the violet light (opening chakra again?) when I focused...
the same power that had surged in me that next morning, the same force that had made me sigh with contentment as I felt myself flowing far away over the ocean, approaching again the coast that is my home...

The elements speak to me again in the night...I feel beautiful, a beautiful man again, I am...when I stopped making it about the Loose Flower and fell in love with the magic, that reassurance and energy that will bring us all we need, reveal all we are...bliss, again. And all I need to do is right about it and I know it was never really gone...just got linked personally to someone in a lot of doubt and fear and anxiety...and when you believe as we do, you know you don't have to be there...even if you have to leave someone there to find their own way out...yes, had to read one last sign, of her fear of us, of her desire for separation, to deal with this power, or have it, on her own. I recall Marc Kane's reply, without sugar coating the hurt and calling her selfishness for its true nature. As she stood stunned before the grid of light that carried our message, we recited the spell to put things at an end.

Three times, we chanted:

We sever our ties to you
Though never would we want to do
So, but we must let you go
It's with pain, constraint, and necessity you know

For our own good
Sorry to be misunderstood
The energy level all wrong
to let things keep moving along

In such an unhealthy way
you'll drain us dry, what we offer, if we stay
So we give the energy to our arts
and in doing so, take back our stolen hearts.

Later this morning, I asked to make amends with her spirit, leaving her mind out of this...and suddenly my imagination and connection to my stories came back on, and I realized, "psychic vampire..."

All I missed about me, and all I gained from opening the senses that first night with her, all merged without need of her participation...and I'm whole again, another change, bursting with light and love once more, and gratified by first your advice, Scarlett (stubborn, forgiving man: sometimes you can not ask a mind to forgive what it cannot understand) and then by the wonderful, telepathic presence, which really truly seemed to be as much your son's idea as your own...and Marc saw the sun in the trees, and I, the Dragon and her child, the hero Inguz..and we felt your love.

I'm better than I was before these things...and now, with peace towards all, it's a world of awareness, after Loose Flower...humbling...exciting...full of gratitude with everyone's mind that touches me, powered by the Hermit's light, at last again upon the path, as we pass outside Time through Mysti Hazel's Garden.


The End... (or the completion of the beginning!)





story Lue Lyron
art, Eric Joy / Dawn Bird

Thanks to Angela for drawing the inspiration for me...and never failing me as my friend...and helping me envision and share this strange story, of magic and the confused mortals that encounter its power, shaped by their intentions.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Play what you feel




I can't say enough about playing what you feel...A minor chord reflects that decades-gone melancholy, and suddenly one finds himself basking in the joys of how song lifts a spirit and, when remembered, remains with you as a commemoration of your time that you can share with others.


I'd been waiting to finish a story arc for longer than I care to admit (I really must buy an ergonomic chair, you wouldn't believe what I sit on) and leaving my guitar out of reach mostly until I finished. But sometimes your focus fails you, as you call upon the wrong side of your intuitions, while another cries out to be expressed.

Well, the first thing I start trying to remember is a song my father-in-law wrote when he was 19, away from home the first time in the Air Force, missing his young family and his sweetheart. I work it out fairly well; I consider calling him but realizing I can't be on the phone and play at the same time.

One medley of some favorite Integr8d Soul tunes later, I feel the urge to pull together guitar and harmonica and see where it leads me. So, I say, allow yourself mistakes. It all works together to become your life. Play what you feel.


Can't Pretend & Another Sky Remembered (4:20) :

video

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

gypsy cave







Welcome to Gypsy Cave;

It’s all that you are, meeting all here you see;
if you’ll only be free, here, truly, you’ll be.

Yourself--- you’ll be, so beautifully written
Don’t worry now, just know that you’ll fit in.
You’ve something your own, to teach, to share,
And you’ll leave not wanting for time or care.
Here, we’re all new; a forever first visit
The door to yourself is always implicit.

You'll love my thoughtful hang out spot
For all it is, and all it’s not
where people come and visit me
on my Kudzu Mountain sanctuary.

The energy here is super charged, and positivity clicks;
Friends visit for tarot readings and chinese fortune sticks...

Here I smoke my cloves, and drink sweet takara
to fill timeless air with the words known tomorrow
in scents of temples, India; of Happenings, patchouli;
Together, with swirling soy candles, like a record store, truly
of days gone by, innocence, where we meet
where the dog and cat lounge at our feet
by the thousands of songs, and the sounds of chimes,
and we make ourselves new, from the oldest of times.

Now there’s nothing inside you that here you can’t fix
as you drift to your zen through the meditation mix,
or any other tune that shuffles its way
up thousands of songs, while kindness holds sway.
Play, though never you’ve touched a guitar;
Sing, living dust of the life-giving star.




Explore curiosities all through the night
here be a soul, be an open delight;
for we’ve gathered all churches, there need be no steeple;
we need only gather some genuine people.

Here, they’re received without grave pretention;
Here, there’s no slave; uncovered intention.
Laugh, for there’s graves enough for those gone;
Life’s grave enough, when you’ve never got on
Nor savored the pictures, or never knew song
Nor travelled through image, just found yourself wrong.


Never join in to the sleep of this fashion;
Sleep is for dream; see dreams for passion!
Passion for music and art and living---
Passion for all, in all that you’re giving.


The tables are littered with Hemingway’s works;
Kerouac, Palahniuk, many Beat quirks
And their rhythms, uncorked, like a wine to flow through us;
Faith over tea with C.S. Lewis.


Sex, conscience, humor, devotion
Are part of our speech; explore here the notion:
Solutions might aid you, whatever your strife
where all odd curiousities of life
are openly pondered, endlessly
for days to come, until we see---
until we see together the dawn
to waken these senses, long after you’re gone






For you must make of this world your friend
And fear not its turning, and fear not its end
For timeless, where travels meet incense and clove
Forever you’ve visited this gypsy cove.

Getting to know what in friends we hold true---
The new one you meet, I hope, will be you.



Welcome to Gypsy Cave.


C. Lue and Angela Dawn Disharoon, lyrics, art.

We have a number of posters available for sale now; just ask! We're putting together everything for a website as soon as possible.



But hey, ask! Full color, 11"x14" $5.00 plus $2.50 shipping and handling. Any image you see in Be Chill, Cease ill can be processed or is already in stock.


We also tone our original drawings in single colors, as well as multiple. Requests can be sent to luelyron@gmail.com!







Sunday, March 21, 2010

Beautiful!





















Space Traveller Ulysses Disharoon



Some time ago, my son,
we named you again
as you had not come along
in twelve or so years of calling you.

Perhaps, it's somethin in a name
and as Disharoons go
Somehow, Space Traveler Ulysses
seems most with the flow
you could be,
you S.T.U.D.

not long after we were asked
by a friend who described us as a miracle
"are they aliens?"

well, who isn't? Empirical


we remembered your name, and I, how a son
might be a better me, might be a lot of fun

and yes we laugh, for any of it's true
Space Traveler Ulysses

we'll just call you S.T.U.







"Homer"

Burgundy Red Sea
anything but free
frame the face, the face of love
so somewhere I might sail.

So beautiful, to sea
on winds we might be free
frame the face, the face of love
and seek beyond our scale.












video
video

"Beautiful, revisited"

soft the song, drift near to dream
where someone's love will stitch the seam
to mend, to heal, to weave the cloth
with everything but my mind, off.




watch you breathe, so long a day
i carry needs to need away
and joyful, tasks, for tasking's sake
my love's for you, for asking's wake. video

Friday, March 19, 2010

The miracle of the shining new person



Gee, what can I say? Wasn't too long ago that we sat down and wrote a pretty cogent account of us getting together...though it wasn't nearly as detailed as what I really remember. And I could write about us getting together our Future, as that has been a romance where we both understand exactly how one another feels, and are reminded of how it is we fell for one another and continue to do so, and how we explore the defintion of our own love..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfwWKCRth_A Summer 78 Jann Tiersen



I mean, I'd normally be in a pretty shitty mood waking up at such a time, but we have had so much good and really only a brief rough patch...maybe one really good day more and the effects of that memory will vanish. All we learned from it was, there are lots of reasons to be afraid to continue, and we just kinda spelled them all out and said, "well, that is a chance I have to take...and I have this feeling inside that seems to make everything right...and it is so good to share this happiness." And of course, to see the Future lift your heart so has been nothing less than a renewal of our own love, which seems capable everyday of doing so. One good thing about this is, we can touch another with that same power now, every day.


Oh, with our sex, it's not necessarily "romance" every time, it's a lot of animal magnetism, too, but it was certainly born of such things...ours is the kind of romance based on tackling life together, ideas together---not just the wooing, which we so enjoy, but also the partnership, the bright light of creativity, that bonds us together through our dearest concepts.

It says a lot that whenever I want to send a picture of a lovely girl to anyone, I reach for one of you...I have so many lovely pictures of you...you know, we really built our time around spending all our time together. We never knew, and while we hypothesize intuitively and emphatically, can not know if what we do will give us the economic success and freedom we crave. The goal behind it remains: to bring us together. We work on it together; I don't think any idea gets developed around this Apartment of Ideas without our consensus. It's funny how, fifteen years in, we still make every effort to spend our time together we can! yet I can't imagine fifteen years more changing that.

Really: think about it. How many moments now? I think they are every single day: we pause, and I say not a word, or tell you how beautiful you are, like I'm about to kiss you for the first time. have you seen how I sigh over a picture of you still, or grab your attention, enraptured, to tell you: "look! Look baby, see how beautiful she is!" even though it's in fact a girl you see in the mirror every day. But somehow, in a picture, I hope you have grown to see her as I do: attractive, graceful, somehow distilling qualities beyond this world.

It's funny how casual we have become with one another, how blunt we can be in our communication; yet it always occurs to us, when we are being particularly silly, that somehow, this is against "the rules" for how you treat someone you are trying to woo, and that becomes one more thing to make us laugh. And we have been quite beyond breath laughing, thousands of times, now.

You know what I like? How you answer the phone.
you know what else I like? the way you share food together with me. The way we share everything with such a casual sense, an effortless perception, of personal boundaries, through which we move and flow like water.


The nicest feeling---and one I look forward to us sharing with our sweet Future---is that moment that comes, seemingly all the time, when we are inside our shared inner peace, as though all else in life is there to contrast it and so, to cast it in deep relief...

Fifteen years in, we still gaze at one another with longing...we still care about one another's feelings...we still seek to cheer one another when necessary, and we share all our loved ones together, a seemless celebration of their lives...we give power to one another without thought, as though from instinct, still wishing to help one another in whatever goals we choose...that is the lasting thing...that is the heart palpitating time that evaporates so soon from so many married lives...it is this simple, really: essentially, we are people in love with life. We treat our days as an adventure...and however things turn out, we continue developing skills, swallowing disappointments.

WE explore all life's imponderables, together; we explore what would be secrets between others; we evaluate our impressions of everything together. i sincerely hope, and realize, there will be lots of attractive people to come in our lives, with the direction we've chosen, and all its magnetic qualities; yet nothing else we want with "the rest of our life" will matter without this best friend quality. So I hope for you, wish you luck in this: that you retain the miracle of the shining new person, as well as the lasting friendship that endures all, with this future we secretly share. After all, that is the quality that's brought us this far, that paradoxical mixture that makes us so glad to see one another each and every single time we are reintroduced into the very room!

Alas the Future we want, for reasons unforseeable, might not be; but we've already learned, we can't just withdraw and go back to life as it was before these recent changes, because to the universe, that is a lie; we really have something together that can be fresh and romantic, while attaining maturity and the qualities of duty and work built across a lifetime of collaboration. Therefore I believe in the Future without hesitation or reserve, for that Future loves us already now.


The way we've chosen has not rendered us many of the material signs of success; yet those things, when pictured, would not do much more than inspire envy, whereas the things we make uplift the spirits of people, which we value as one heart. Individuals, yet extensions of somethin greater, we need each other to have someone else to care for, somethin to motivate us to be selfless and kind, someone to help, someone to laugh with, hell, even someone to convince us to try things we would not, on our own.

Well, it would defeat the purpose to make it too long, I suppose, and in a way, everythin we've made is one long love letter to one another. I would still say sharing inspiration and enthusiasm and amazing each other with ideas has been the product of our relationship, and there are no words for the amount of hope and relief from tedium we have provided to others. we are really doing something scary as hell, all the time, like it's casual! But one must be bold, and one must be thoughtful; one must take risks, and one must know how to carry and share a sense of security. I wonder sometimes how very emotionally indulgent I have been, openly sharing my feelings all on a sleeve, when I am disgusted or disappointed, when I have chosen to shrug those things off, when I am aroused, when I am inspired, when I need help you can offer, when I need to give of myself in ways that make you all you can be. That has not excluded a lot of hard won personal growth, as I wanted you, if you are so devoted, to have the best man possible.

One thing you can say, though: not one day goes by that leaves us with any doubt whatsoever that we care for each other. There have even been days when inspiration was a distant longing, across a gulf of bitterness and shattered dreams, yet we have been emphatic in our choice to live like people fresh for life, undeterred, imminently devoted to art and kindness and expansion. If any thing, our ease with one another's companionship may have made it easier not to strive in all ways yet to share ourselves with the world, even though our jobs have always been the price we pay for not learning to exploit those talents professionally. And yet, in all things, we have made the most of rather spartan conditions, as well as appreciating deeply the care lavished upon us by those wish us well; I find it remarkable how all who have wished us ill fade into embracing shadows that shrink before the light that makes visible those we empower, and those whose connection enriches us.

I also adore the unpredicatability we share, yet in a very good way: the metatextural richness allows us a very unconventional script, full of things that would surprise, even shock others, out of context. yet we guard the truth and honesty beneath it with all due concern and care for one another's feelings, so there need be no doubts.

If there's one thing we do superbly, it's enjoy things together. I really appreciate how much you love a good story, a good intellectual challenge, a poignant moment, a hidden meaning.

I see you quick sketching me, and there is something whimsical about your perception of me, yet it is undeniably adorable and very much me.

Meanwhile, there is something so heart felt about your expressions that has always moved my own heart, made me feel loved, special. From the start, I set about trying to get you to explore yourself, assert yourself, all in an effort to also refine my own self, to keep myself true to the ideals that uplift me, ones that have shown me real and sacred power. The actual rewards of what we've made together have touched many people, made them believers of their own dreams, and maybe in coming days, they will resonate with the world in the ways our intentions shaped them from the start; we make something together that is classic, that is meant to be an effort shared almost effortlessly, something people will want to keep in their lives.

One thing about it: I cannot get involved with a situation that is not right for me, with such an advisor; things must be right for our lives in totum.

i know I've been critical, sometimes in ways less than helpful, and may well have become a more cynical person without your eternally shining optimism; I know some of my critique, though, has inspired you to work harder, to reveal yourself, to forgive yourself, to be nurturing to yourself, to speak up for what you want, and to consider deeply the value of your own happiness, without which I find little room for peace.
I've learned a lot about differences in what is actually right and what kindness pervades that actual rightness; I am certainly less fearful than ever of the impressions of others, however sensitive a person I might be. I've certainly learned that one must nurture as well as instruct; you've certainly absorbed that from me, and illustrated it for me again in your own idiom, of your own inspiration.



We really do revel in each other's joy...we really do enjoy one another's explorations, though the depth of your embrace of things that would be madness to some has brought a kind of shamanistic wisdom, an absolute magical quality, to my life, which many see now in me, when all I did was love the right woman and strive to keep an open mind. It is truly a wonder that i have achieved the Aquarianism of my ideals to this point. I could've just as well given up my troubadour dreams and become some smarmy hypocrite, but instead here I am, constantly getting letters from dreamers about their admiration for our dream, which is as much a construction of their perceptions as it is a review of our actual productions.

I still love to touch your head, to hold your hand, to kiss your cheek, to make you laugh, to make you sigh. Sign me on for another fifteen years...it's a choice I would make, one day, one Now, at a time video

Friday, March 12, 2010

Let's draw, just for fun!





Hope you enjoy our informal video; you'll find your own individual style and what works for you, but if you want to see and hear how I do it here at the Apartment of Ideas, come along.


Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Comics artist poses a Gothic tableau





Ian Sokoliwski colors comics professionally, but his gothic art photography's really taken off!

I'll have some of his colored comics pieces up next, too, as a segueway into TRANZ-RUPTURE: The Avengerz


Lot on my mind I can't share openly yet.


One of the most amazing things in my life, a flashpoint in how I live it...but to make it as rich as it should be, I will have to find another way to say it.

Have been planning retrospective of Ian's work after I finished "The Defenders", but i had Leslie Scott's lovely film on hand. From Ian's Guitar Gun series...and a lifelong obsession we share, Iron Man As artists go, he is a cool exec with a heart of steel




I've included some of Ian's pencils...this is all you need to get started:http://www.ianthecomicartist.com/

Let me be clear: Ian makes you realize YOU can do it, too. And you should!!!





You can always visit ianthecomicbookartist.blogspot.com



I have an introduction to his work and all my collaborations, TRANZ - RUPTURE stories and song lyrics up on integr8dfix.blogspot.com


Namaste, Be chill, Cease ill.