Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Whart Suibhne sees...

What Suibhne sees...

Well, on the tube is a National Geographic show Secret Yosemite, so this post is a special Ekphrasis.

It's all about Souvenirs....

But back to Suibhne.

Buile Shuibhne



I found these sites, ansewers.com, and a 1910 text, trying to source Patricia Monaghan's version of a scene:


I was on a small hill in the center of the storm. Men fell around me like rain. I
heard something like thunder. I looked up.
Five heads flew out of the sky at me. Faces twisted in anger and death. Mouths
open in the small circle of death. Blood streaming from their severed
necks, streaming like clouds at sunset.

Soldier's Heart: The Book Of Sweeney by Patricia Monaghan


Now, these heads could be comets, or a vision of modern weaponery, and here’s another curio from yesterday…


The theory of Uriel's Machine is postulated in a book of the same name by Christopher Knight and Robert Lomas.[1]

The book supposes that ancient (pre-historic) European (and by extension British) astronomers developed a stellar calendar. The author then suggests that the Book of Enoch records that an archangel by the name of Uriel warned Enoch about the impending flood and gave him instructions for building a form of calendar so that crops could be re-planted. This is then compared with the early roots of religion and archaeoastronomy in Britain and suggests that Uriel was in fact a mortal 'astronomer priest' from Britain who sought to spread his knowledge.
In masonic mythology there are many references to seven, which could refer to seven cometary fragments, although it is not clear why masons should have any relevance to supposed events in prehistory, apart from the fact the Freemasonry claims a mythical history which began before the Biblical Flood. These seven cometary fragements are described in the book as hitting the earth in prehistory causing tsunamis.



Seven sleepers, seven comets…the number seven is a favorite…the senses have seven holes in our heads…hence sleepers could mean senses asleep.

a poem


I’ve yet to figure out what to do in the High Country
When the thunder clouds move in…
I awake in my tent and hope the aluminum stays don’t attract a bolt,
Or cuddel in my poncho deep in the forest listening to the raindrops,
Or hurry to come down from a peak watching the clouds materialize and marching towards me.
A souvenir: A bolt striking Cathedral
Seen from where I camped by the lake in ignorance of the no camping sign!!

Tree in the Door
May 22, 2007


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