David Ian's Home

Such are epiphanies - nurture and sustain this one, faithfully breathe in the life force they now offer, stoke and support these embers before it dies out again…

 

Here it is love - fragile, fleeting - the two there are fully entranced, yet still likely to return to their norm - but they have the key, they harbor the full range of skills, ultimately the most fierce and brave, possessing the infinite viewpoint…

 

Yes, indeed - and this small band that has found this spot with them - natural leaders, they have all the accomplished experience of getting things done, all the toughness - they can mix with the brutes and extract sound accomplishments - but they have instinctively moved to the most sacred higher ground just as the two - same primeval impulse - feel their hesitation - on edge between turning their practiced talents towards the mob all around and the the two further within - they sense the next level, they have benefited before - remind them…

 

We must help them to unlock the key - the model we eternally seek - blind them, shock them with the surety of the outcome - yes they can deliberate and balance, but then what - same old - that gives them pause - they sense the opportunity of these two…

 

True warriors of the elevated realm they are, each of them holding firm here against the onslaught - each with their own vital role to play…

 

Flood this lil sphere within it all with the sprights and vixens already filling the two - the others are touch, but not enough - they must trigger together - help them all to recall better times - they will listen and learn - and, we pray, act…

 

They must know that together it is worth it - to strike back with their own model - only they can create it - hold up strongly enough the sure promise and the madness with ebb…

 

Only a bit at first - only the very next level will hesitate within the mob - give them the display before the moment evaporates - the nexus, the power center, the elevated trust fellowship…

 

Such are epiphanies - nurture and sustain this one, faithfully breathe in the life force they now offer, stoke and support these embers before it dies out again…

all of these others, Ghosts, Visions, here go, unbound, from right here, our life, our love, our Epiphany…”

 

yet another comes into view - “exhilarating isn’t it - we are finally here, together, again”

 

“rarified air”  who is talking?  no sound at all - oh yes, this spot - been here - but who else is singing?

 

“hey there - joyous, terrifying, and oh so grand this place - but yes, who else?  such a rare and visit to this, what, state, feeling - a host of voices singing now - but some new ones are here”

 

see my loves, these ones have reached us - we must move, reward - such a mix of extremes of extremes and lovelies of lovelies - but these two, centered among the center of this nexus - they are so close right now - we must join in, further their emergence - so ultimately fragile and tenuous - purity of infinite possibilities - our own trigger and theirs as one - opportunity and peril at extreme - our moment…

 

she leans in, raises up, feelings filling her - awarenesses, epiphany of epiphanies,  must seize on the extreme of extreme - him, them…

 

he leans back, they raise together, into another realm they are, this is it, they look away from it all - realm within realms…

 

… of rocks and grounds and soaring and pure faith - yes, this is our purpose - epiphany and on and on we go from right here… 

 

trembling, terror, frozen and torn open - “oh my love, so sorry” “so empty, must give up” “but no, better, back into it, just me, but no, you, too, and these others in close - all of these others, Ghosts, Visions, here go, unbound, from right here, our life, our love, our Epiphany…”

every Epiphany must begin so, with an awakening of souls at all points...

They, the master elsprights, they also all take in the jarring notes of pure madness concentrating in this otherwise sacred and most serene of converging places - a microcosm of the sphere of happenings of this age, an asylum inner voices raging ever further to extremes, digging ever deeper into their own viewpoints and logic systems - and also an opportunity to perhaps stoke and nurture a countering emergence of benevolent triggers - every Epiphany must begin so, with an awakening of souls at all points.

 

And so stoke the spirits arising they do, launching their ethereal spiders and enlisting their fellows among the mob to finally commit their elevated selves upon their sure calling, to share their true purpose, to brave the certain onslaught of madness - to illuminate and awaken and lead the ready along the only sure path of limitless serenity - these warriors of the infinite realm.

On this most magical gift of Christmastide, this Twelve Night, this day of Epiphany, this ultimate evening of lost spirits recalled - here and now they find their holy place of safety, of intimate release, of the ultimate counter of love.

Carols of Ghosts…

 

They, the most spiritual of the spirits, the most magical and mysterious, these masters of the elsphere, they absorb, they take in all times of all Christmastides - they are infinite - even they take note of the shocks emanating on this especially lovely early winter evening in one of the most gentle of places - they take in all the melodious notes of their emissaries and other missives - they give comfort and life itself and send them flurrying on their way to share - the very substance of the ether that sustains the base -  even to them these eruptions of light and concussive waves are out of the realm of this most holy of times.

 

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For still holy these days and nights are to many - not so quickly forgotten is the magic of Christmas - thankfully gone is the hype and the frenzy, but burning on within the most spiritual of folk is yet the loving touch of elevated selves, of elsprights, of true faeries and ghosts of deepest love, of eternally carolers of inner children of our most sacred purpose - the spark and sparkle and ember within all, or certainly all elfolk - this the warriors of common purpose still harbor and savor, still sustained and buoyed in their relentless counter to the extremes of the sphere of happenings.

 

On this most magical gift of Christmastide, this Twelve Night, this day of Epiphany, this ultimate evening of lost spirits recalled - here and now they find their holy place of safety, of intimate release, of the ultimate counter of love.

 

They settled a bit more, felt another wave of, what? more than sleepiness - more like a transition, traveling again on this Christmas Eve, traveling in place…

 

Together they regained just enough consciousness to recognize their new strange companions as they had moved as one to this enclosure - - and surety of their sharing…

 

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“Sorry I growled - not awake - and quite sore… I remember now - we found our way to this bench in all of the mayhem.”

 

“No worries - as I recall, I did bark a bit as we raced into this enclosure and to this spot.  Whew, it is dark - what time is it?

 

“Still not midnight, but hey, between the fog and the smoke…. oh, yeah - that’s what started all of the fuss - are we still marooned on this island?”

 

“I think so - marooned on Christmas Eve - but, you know, as we whispered just before we dozed off - I don’t really think anything that bad happened - and after all, this is not a bad place to spend such a great holiday.”

 

“Not bad if you don’t mind being cut off from all contact and travel with the outside world.  But, yes, no body got hurt, and least not in the explosion - but someone almost got killed in that mob.”

 

“Funny how in all of that, this little group of us didn’t participate in that - something inside us made us react differently…”

 

“Especially you and me - hey, Merry Christmas - and yes not a bad way to spend this special day, I mean evening - maybe the whole night.”

 

“Whew the whole night - unreal- actually kind of nice, you know?”

 

“Strangely, I do - I mean, it’s so bizarre - it’s really quite freeing - especially now - an imposed break in our routines.”

 

They sat quiet and still for a bit - the island had really settled down - still no word on when they could get off, but yes strangely, and wonderfully, they both thought, this is perfect for them, and this beautiful spot that they both love was extra serene right now.”

 

He looked at her - “you know - this lil group found its’ way to this enclosure, and it is marvelous with the burner and and all of the sparkles and twinkling lights all around, but you and I wound up here together - I think you appreciate that is this really wonderful in the midst of all everything.”

 

She leaned against him, sighed contentedly, “I know exactly - I was overwhelmed with fears and worries - and right now I feel, finally to share them…”

 

They look at each other, then together out into the Christmas Eve, taking in the surreal mixture of sensations.

 

He whispered “It doesn’t seem real, does it?”

 

“Not at all” she very softly answered “the opposite of empty and lonely, even though it is so very dark and quiet”

 

“I know - a very full feeling, like the air is full of spirits.”

 

“oooh… Bob Cratchet - full of Christmas Ghosts…”

 

“Faeries and sprights and other hidden things…”

 

“Oddly comforting, isn’t it?”

 

“Incredibly - like some kind of soothing tonic - look at us falling asleep with all of this strangeness going on - there is a lot of craziness going on”

 

“I feel so very safe right here - so full of feelings - facing some major league things right now - it’s what lead me to come here…”

 

“I know exactly what you mean - me, too - I think we were just ready to face these big things in our lives - and the trigger of the explosions and reactions drew us together…”

 

They settled a bit more, felt another wave of, what?  more than sleepiness - more like a transition, traveling again on this Christmas Eve, traveling in place…

 

But today, in this most special morning on the eve on the most special morning of Christmas, the aspects swirling in of dimensions beyond comprehension ...

Look in awe upon this scene of pure beauty - unreal, it seems, as the flood of holy sensations and notes of kindly voices of forms beyond our easy recognition - all of the loving touches upon our inner most selves are, indeed from another realm of our world.  With the lights of this holy season sparkling, as we do, in this sacred interlude of pre-dawn - oh how precious is this landscape, already magical, but now with singing and horns and strings touching our hearts - each vessel that is now converging with a bounty of souls full of promise - oh loves, such a breakwater this Christmas surely is…

 

A most spiritual time is Christmastide, with the elsprights in a full ethereal chorus of notes on the Eve of the birth of our Savior.  Ever and again is the vital need for emergence of the elstate in all of it’s appearances, however fleeting - all the more magical and precious for the starkness of it’s instrinsic brevity in  counterbalancing contrast to the eternal continuity of the opposing of the base. 

 

As the watercraft skim and plough through the waves, adding spray and splash to the mist rising off the sea, the everyday routine is wholly transformed, launching apparitions into the ether just as as the travelers are launched upon the shores.

 

Already a mixing place of life across many aspects, as the purposes and bounds vary across the range of humanity embarking upon the great city, together compressed into the quaint isle stepping stone.

 

But today, in this most special morning on the eve on the most special morning of Christmas, the aspects swirling in of dimensions beyond comprehension - even the most duty bound and closest to the ground in their straight line dedication to their understanding norm, even they feel the feelings that can’t missed, of deepest remembrance, so vast and primeval and ancient as to through them off their intense devoted course.

 

Tis one of those moments in the sphere of happenings where all boundaries are crossed, where all paths weave together - each of us must surely feel it, each in our own separate way - this height of the Christmas pause is at hand - look at each of us, each disparate spirit in an infinite collage of forms - and awesome are the voices that are now sharing in chorus… 

 

On this particular Christmas Eve morn, all are touched by these notes of elevated spirits that are being woven - the ethereal spiders are up with the sunrise, darting and weaving, lovingly stinging in a purely holy invasion of all souls - but to be sure, the depth of their welcome varies with the entirety of range of readiness of the elspright in each and every living form.

 

A wondrous march of faeries arriving upon this doorstep to the vast metropolis - a wonder more how many sense the true expanse of Ghosts launching deepest notes of inner voices in a collective Carol as this Eve of Christmas commences… 

 

In the lovely vale that is the subject of our tale, one especially targeted by the masters for it’s critical nexus of threat and opportunity - and therefore impact upon the urgent need of this age at the brink - a marvelous assembly of equally lovely souls have already been joined - mated in the truest sense of extreme oneness of knowing - as one they are in awe that is unfolding before them. 

 

A most spiritual time is Christmastide, with the elsprights in a full ethereal chorus of notes on the Eve of the birth of our Savior...

A most spiritual time is Christmastide, with the elsprights in a full ethereal chorus of notes on the Eve of the birth of our Savior.   Ever and again is the vital need for emergence of the elstate in all of it’s appearances, however fleeting - all the more magical and precious for the starkness of it’s instrinsic brevity in  counterbalancing contrast to the eternal continuity of the opposing of the base.  

 

On this particular Christmas Eve morn, all are touched by these notes of elevated spirits that are being woven - the ethereal spiders are up with the sunrise, darting and weaving, lovingly stinging in a purely holy invasion of all souls - but to be sure, the depth of their welcome varies with the entirety of range of readiness of the elspright in each and every living form.

 

In the lovely vale that is the subject of our tale, one especially targeted by the masters for it’s critical nexus of threat and opportunity - and therefore impact upon the urgent need of this age at the brink - a marvelous assembly of equally lovely souls have already been joined - mated in the truest sense of extreme oneness of knowing - as one they are in awe that is unfolding before them. 

 

Crammed in tight with this host of travelers upon the ancient ferry on this Christmas Eve morn, she actually enjoyed the close warmth of fellow early birds...

Carols of Ghosts…

 

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Crammed in tight with this host of travelers upon the ancient ferry on this Christmas Eve morn, she actually enjoyed the close warmth of fellow early birds - together by habit every day year round as they headed into the big city, but today, the holy day before the holy day, we are somehow joined in spirit, or at least I am, ran her thoughts as they repeated the routine of pressing forward, ready to spring onto the pier the very moment the docking was complete and the gate opened to release them.

 

Not a routine day at all - How lovely - she marveled as she eyed the carolers huddled under the overhang of the Gatehouse that served as the terminal for not just ferries, but also the bridges that connected the island - on side by car to the suburban bank, and on the other, by footbridge to downtown.  

 

On this special day it looked so very precious all decked out in Christmas lights.  Always a hub of activity, usually as a pass thru and meeting point, but on this special day, the center of festivities throughout the beautiful island.  Already could spell the fragrance of the many burners and fireplaces already aflame, mixing with the aromas of extra vendors who had already set up shop to offer early morning coffees and other delights.  Later in the day and eve, there would be roaring bonfires and even fireworks, if tradition held.

 

Jolted as usual as the docking abruptly finished, she focused as was her custom on her balance as the gates opened and the travelers surged, and the popping and cracking sounds that now were added didn’t immediately alarm her - strange sounds and sights were just a part of city life - but in the next heartbeat her senses were flooded with notes that overwhelmed and triggered an inner voice:  something was amiss!

 

Always risky to look anywhere but at her careful footsteps so as to keep her balance in the mob, an impulse forced her to glance up towards the sounds - and there, emanating from the “House” were an amazing collage, to her mind, of bright flames and tremendous sparkles, accompanied by a virtual chorus of these new sounds, now more clearly of explosions.

 

these critical points offer this one vital opportunity - to stir the elsprights within them, the truly benevolent Ghosts, to trigger their timeless emergence in joyful, life-giving Carol…

Carols of Ghosts…

 

In this spiritual season - in these days of carols of ghosts, our eternal ghosts, ancient and youthful at once, our masters within and without, they are fully engaged and in tune with the notes emanating from the sphere of happening - both the same and intrinsic to all ages, yet once again new and fresh, and in this age, of a particularly bountiful nature, both fearful and hopeful, building to critical points at all points - one such is detected:

 

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Heed them right now, my loves - our masterful construct and their improbable Christmas Eve is now crashing upon us all - look, sense, the notes are flying at all points - the mob has finished stoking and validating themselves, the hucksters have succeed at their inevitable end - sending them cascading, bent on harm for its’ own sake - such is the inner voice of those with the pulpit/puppet view - and see, over there, their target - they must have one, always - never enough to let be and let go…

 

…Yes my loves, time to call in all of the els within and without - with this impending horror we and ours, which in ultimate truth is them, must be at our very best - to bring out such in them - eternally and forever our quest and mission - from ancient times to this latest dark one - to seize the moment to coax out the elevated within all of them now that they are moved to face the certain outcome of their path, to demonstrate the infinity of ultimate power of els mobilized and joined…

 

…Yes my pi warriors - and to help them recall their, our, common greater purpose, to make the most of this Christmas Eve emergence - they faced it all in the past and chose different paths - these critical points offer this one vital opportunity - to stir the elsprights within them, the truly benevolent Ghosts, to trigger their timeless emergence in joyful, life-giving Carol…

“to enjoy the very same Carols - theirs, too, we admit - so much feeling - whew - always at odds with these others - but maybe not this Christmas Eve

Bummed and alone once again - who?  where? the forgotten, they’re all through this throng - bypassed and dismissed in a Christmas Eve trance - so many here so gathered, come to respect this most solemn time - even here, now,  forever their fate - victims once again even on this holy night…

 

…“lost and alone again - they so easily, so naturally seem to find each other, their kind, but never us - ok, ok - we are used to this - they wouldn’t notice us, nor our usual tactics, not now, not here - we have come so far with them, survived and thrived but still no respect from these others - they just somehow find each other - we should be a part - we can pretend - yes, that works here, now, on this special eve - plenty of corners and places to keep warm…

 

… “to enjoy the very same Carols - theirs, too, we admit - so much feeling - whew - always at odds with these others - but maybe not this Christmas Eve, as we exhale, as we recall, as we share - so hard - all of our holy time…