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"Coqueliquot is an Efeblum. An Efeblum is a fairy-like creature who is employed by the Efeneties (loving spirits) to place bells inside people's hearts. When a person has a bell in their heart they are able to create works of art, fall in love and feel at peace with the world." Coquelicot, during one of her trips to Earth, decides to discard her bells and experience life as a human. Instead of living in "reality" she decides to experience life in a sleeping unconscious/conscious state. It is in this subconscious world that she meets Claude and Lecithin the inventor.
They do all sorts of crazy stuff together like having incredible battles with evergreens and satellites, getting chased by psychotic zombies, playing with Lecithin's inventions and eventually moving away together to a deserted frozen island. In time, Coquelicot feels remorseful about neglecting her responsibilities as an Efeblum and decides to return to her work. She can't bear the thought of leaving her two new best friends so she invites them to come along with her. They happily [accept] and join her as honorary Efeblums."
Kevin Barnes (Interview American Zine ZUM)
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| Efeblums in a field on the way to Aubeterre-sur-dronne |
Coqueliquot is also the French vernacular name for the "corn poppy" -- the flower associated with Remembrance Day.
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| Corn Poppies near Villebois-Lavalette |
POPPIES
The poppies send up their
orange flares; swaying
in the wind, their congregations
are a levitation
of bright dust, of thin
and lacy leaves.
There isn't a place
in this world that doesn't
sooner or later drown
in the indigos of darkness,
but now, for a while,
the roughage
shines like a miracle
as it floats above everything
with its yellow hair.
Of course nothing stops the cold,
black, curved blade
from hooking forward—
of course
loss is the great lesson.
But I also say this: that light
is an invitation
to happiness,
and that happiness,
when it's done right,
is a kind of holiness,
palpable and redemptive.
Inside the bright fields,
touched by their rough and spongy gold,
I am washed and washed
in the river
of earthly delight—
and what are you going to do—
what can you do
about it—
deep, blue night?
in the wind, their congregations
are a levitation
of bright dust, of thin
and lacy leaves.
There isn't a place
in this world that doesn't
sooner or later drown
in the indigos of darkness,
but now, for a while,
the roughage
shines like a miracle
as it floats above everything
with its yellow hair.
Of course nothing stops the cold,
black, curved blade
from hooking forward—
of course
loss is the great lesson.
But I also say this: that light
is an invitation
to happiness,
and that happiness,
when it's done right,
is a kind of holiness,
palpable and redemptive.
Inside the bright fields,
touched by their rough and spongy gold,
I am washed and washed
in the river
of earthly delight—
and what are you going to do—
what can you do
about it—
deep, blue night?
Mary Oliver
An invitation from Mary Oliver to enjoy life before "the indigos of darkness", in other words, Death.
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| Discover the Cosmos - Alessandro Faleseidi |
Paracelsus, as Manly Hall has said, gained his knowledge "not from long-coated pedagogues but from dervishes in Constantinople, witches, gypsies, and sorcerers, who invoked spirits and captured the rays of the celestial bodies in dew; of whom it is said that he cured the incurable, gave sight to the blind, cleansed the leper, and even raised the dead, and whose memory could turn aside the plague."
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"We must learn to move freely in the spaces between the stars. We can only know who we are if we know who we are not, if we experience our boundaries by experiencing where they touch those of the Others. We must learn to live among the stars, against a backdrop of the night. We must descend and welcome the figures that crowd around us. We can move down and in, and so out, to find ancient roots branching into the heavens." Tom Cheetham - Green Man, Earth Angel
Indulge me in a few more SUPER MOONS:
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| Angel Moroni - Kansas City, Missouri |
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| Super Moon - Baltimore |
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| Gibbous Moon, N.J. - Enlightenment Giving Power |
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| Strawberry Moon, Snow on Council Mountain, Idaho - Kim Mott |
Poppies in July
Little poppies, little hell flames,
Do you do no harm?
You flicker. I cannot touch you.
I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns
And it exhausts me to watch you
Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.
A mouth just bloodied.
Little bloody skirts!
There are fumes I cannot touch.
Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?
If I could bleed, or sleep! -
If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!
Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
Dulling and stilling.
But colorless. Colorless.
Do you do no harm?
You flicker. I cannot touch you.
I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns
And it exhausts me to watch you
Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.
A mouth just bloodied.
Little bloody skirts!
There are fumes I cannot touch.
Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?
If I could bleed, or sleep! -
If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!
Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
Dulling and stilling.
But colorless. Colorless.
Sylvia Plath
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| Poppy - Field in St. Aulaye |
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| Poppy - Field in Charras |
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| Coqueliquot Asleep in the Poppies - Aubeterre-sur-Dronne |
We could turn on the gas like Sylvia Plath and go into the "deep blue night", or make a crop circle by falling asleep in a field like this tractor did.
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| Feuillade |
Better yet, we could stop & smell the night roses, blooming in our dreams...
Roses blooming in our window the night of the Super Moon - the sky looking like the sea breaking upon the shore. Let us all become honorary Efeblums.
July 3rd I will be reading Tarot at Harmony Health & Beauty in Varaignes. Malheureusement, I am fully booked for the afternoon. If you would like to be placed on a mailing list for the next event, please contact me at ramartin8@gmail.com.
Just finished reading an excellent new biography about Sylvia Plath called "American Isis" by Rollyson.
ReplyDeleteThanks for passing on this reference re "American Isis" biography; fascinating that Sylvia identified with Isis. Another interesting view of Plath is Andrew Wilson's "Mad Girl's Love Song.."
ReplyDeleteI can still picture us in Tuscany at the villa reading that wonderful survivalist memoir, though I've forgotten the name of it now! xxx
Beekeeping (or apiculture) is the maintenance of bee colonies, commonly in man-made hives, by humans. Most such bees are honey bee hive in the genus Apis, but other honey-producing bees such as Melipona stingless bees are also kept.
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