The Original Meaning of Apocalypse

Apocalypse is originally from the Greek apocálypsis meaning "a disclosure of knowledge, hidden from humanity in an era dominated by falsehood and misconception, i.e., a lifting of the veil or revelation" (source). Let today be a reminder that there is only one present, and all dreams, fantasies, prophecies and revelations ultimately bring us back to where we are in the here and now. Let us remember that today is always the first and last day. May the renewal of the seasons awaken our senses to the natural light of continuity and the breath of the living voice saying, "it's never too late to live for today." 

________

There he is. I introduce him. Aboriginal poet of the year they say, and the reception is warm. Mythologists and Dreamers convene for the day, to listen to his heart beat to the rhythm of all present to listen. His words ring true, clean and sound through the temple of the mind.

Homage to a poet by Giorgione

I cavort through the crowd. Childhood friends move like Romany artists, musicians, gamblers and comics in their smiling delight. The air is communal and warm. Friendships seep through our pores with a nourishing embrace of eyes.

_________

No broken gourd of misinformation,
            Cracked on the headless spine of an open carcass
                        Breeding divine fungi in the tawny mist,
                                    A tempting kiss stolen across the breath
Of a warring ocean disengaged from its godly host

...
Anger in the tempest of religious man,
                        A cork-bottled nightmare
Emerging suddenly from the abyss,
Encouraging the lion’s stare
            To recede from tropical gore
                        And inculcate the masses
                                    Into a final tour
...

 Impressing the abstract wonder of the fearless
                                    And preparing a light
                                                For here

excerpts from "find Inspiration!"

When IT'S AHHH-LIVE, IT'S AHHH-SCRIBED to our Dreams

"Epcor Centre for the Performing Arts yycARTS CoLAB is a free program that provides an opportunity for the public and artists of different disciplines to collaborate in real-time and be inspired to interact and explore in a welcoming and inclusive environment, embarking on a journey of artistic discovery."


Source

As Vi An Diep artist facilitator of the event, writes:

"the action, the movement, the expression, the animation of thoughts and feelings, the conversation, the interaction, sharing, common need to continue thriving and dreaming!!!"

More Media: Calgary Herald & Avenue Magazine & Lonesome Cosmonaut

________

In the starkly lit, opaque backdrop of darkness behind the closed curtains at Jack Singer Concert Hall, I sit at a piano bench with a local classical percussionist in Calgary named Malcolm Lim. He offers me tickets for free for my wife and me to see an upcoming show. When I return home, my wife tells me she can’t make it that day, so I leave the tickets with my parents. Curiously, I am in my mother’s house, where, with my stepfather, they endeavor to take the tickets and see the show. That night, at my childhood home alone, I am visited by Allen Ginsberg. I am exceedingly enthusiastic to receive him in my presence. He tells me that he is in some kind of rush, though we speak about my writing only in passing and continues on about his needs, he seems as a spiritual vagabond of wandering ghosts. He sits at a computer, where he tells me to fish out some of my writings. Excited as ever, I return back down, where he is in the exact same position. I give him my writings and proceed to tell him that William Burroughs appeared to me in a dream not too long ago. Ginsberg emits a refreshing glow as he announces quietly that he must leave. With flighty humor, he asks me for twenty dollars. I am so distracted by the fact that he is reading my work that I can't seem to get his joke, referring to a recent Egyptian official I had to deal with in New York for my immigration to Canada. Without a word more, he saunters off into the edgeless yonder. A few moments later, my parents return. I let them know the true origin of the tickets, at which time they seem exhausted, and apologetic.   

_______

Community Arts Manifesto

écrit par anonyMO’us

All People of the One, and Only Earth:

Clear your names in the sky!

Listen to others. Hear dreams in the subtle nuance of each letter voiced by our fellow artists, visionaries and seers of creation. Come to know the role of the artist. They hold many keys to our creational origin and our final undoing. In brotherhood and sisterhood, through respectful listening to our fellow artists, we may understand the cyclical flow of sacred continuity and the mysteries of Life.

- Opening Paragraph of "Community Arts Manifesto", the first contribution to "IT'S AHHH-SCRIBED" an Impromptu Weekly Community Arts Literary Journal (to later appear on online in full)

Shared Dreaming

" - They say we only use a fraction of our brain's true potential. Now, that's when we are awake. When we're asleep, our mind can do almost anything.

- Such as?

- Well, imagine you are designing a building, you consciously create each aspect. Sometimes it feels like it's almost creating itself if you know what I mean.

- Like I'm discovering it.

- Genuine inspiration...Now in a dream our mind continuously does this. We create and perceive our world simultaneously, and our mind does this so well that we don't even know it's happening."  

from the film, "Inception" by Christopher Nolan

_________________________________________________________
 
Experience...
our One, Shared
Dream

Uniting All Dreamers
through
Myriad Human Forms

to the Point.

Caedmon and Dream

Caedmon is the father of English song. The first poet known in written English.

According to an 8th century monk, Bede, "...he was originally ignorant of "the art of song" but learned to compose one night in the course of a dream..." (quote found here.)


In a recent dialogue/discussion on the source of Caedmon's impact in our collective psyche the following has been written:

The first English poetry is directly intertwined with a fascinating way of exploring and/or identifying "dream"
             as inspiration or even a muse
That is so wildly intoxicating its subject

They under the spell found in the likes of Caedmon's song
             need no other medium
             through which to express their musing,
                          not even themselves

When the muse overtakes,
              all that's left is pure inspired expression
                          cast into history from a seed of dream.

How does the original source of written English "dream-speak" if you will, impart to us the wisdom of written poetic expression in the English language?

How do we reunite our written English poetry with that initial spark of dream which so moved Caedmon to inspire the entire forthcoming history of poetic expression in our written language, in our writing, and finally, in writing our dreams?


In an imaginative revisioning of a response by William A. Sigler

The bifurcation of the dream into experience and meaning is one aspect of the fall of man.


(this image is in the public domain, more info can be found here.)

Joseph, the great dream wizard of the Old Testament,
             whose powers got him both sold into slavery and the most trusted advisor of the pharaoh,

             did not distinguish between dream and interpretation.

But dreams have become,
              as Holderlin put it,

             “the all-perceiving abyss”
                      of this “destitute time.”

I sense this wonderful blog idea of yours to be more than a “waking life” journal
              that urges “dreamers unite” to “ease and relieve the burden of dreams”

              but a Holderlin-like journey
                      to the abyss,
                      the spaces between
                                 where the one is concealed and perhaps retrievable

                                 with the purest of poetic word.

Heidegger,
in his remarkable series of essays on Holderlin,

stresses that this dream space is the only trace left of our enlightened state,

the longing in dreams is the only true longing remaining to us
              now that the gods have left,
 and it is the poet’s singular task to recover these traces
              by journeying into the dream abyss with eyes open.

I’m feeling inspired
to take on a translation of Andenken
in honor of your own
transitional and open-ended state.



End Note:

Let's all continue this breathtaking and uniquely inspired dialogue!

What better place to imagine Holderlin's "abyss" than our own shrinking core of internet communications technology as it challenges us to further our reaches into our most hidden of corners in the home of our minds and most loosely tied knots on the docks of our realism.

Free Dream from Thought and Language...so we may enter Dream's innocent purity preceding its existence beside Ego and begin to imagine its refreshingly catastrophic gorgeous mastery over the human intellect!


(link to the source of this inspired dialoge/discussion)

Intentions for this space (3)

Dreams are interesting convergence points for inspiration from cultural and artistic perspectives, I will perchance draw on the values I have been honored to receive on behalf of those peoples and traditions in our world that respect dreams as such.

Finally, the dream journal blog gives me an open creative space to free associate my current life experiences within my own holistic insights into mind.