Ꮙℓἇ∂ἇ ..Using phrases unprintable under current law,causes riots in social networking sites, once refused all requests to write a letter of introduction for his page. However, a curious accident involving a Windows XP bug and a freeware Jewish Calendar program caused the following biosketch to fall through a tiny perforation in the time continuum. As far as we can tell, it was (will be?) written in the year 2066 or so by a young scholar whose first writings 'Universal Raven Rants & Offerings' once had occasion to read the first few pages of, then used as a liner for a cat litter box. I thought this fragment informative enough to include here:

He is not a curmudgeonly old soul, but when he is not correcting copies of his writings with white twink ink, spends most of his time in the garden wearing a filthy, floppy karki sun-hat & deliberately amusing neighborhood children by barking funny obscenities & waving his arms about his head,making them think hes a magpie gone mad...:

The last surviving member of his university class, he has become its? secretary by default and took keen, cackling delight in filling the Uni magazine with long, ramblings..

Unless Stated Otherwise All Main Page Writings Are By

Ꮙℓἇ∂ἇ ኔጡ።

Sky dancer from the grand & rainbow hued Auroras ...Traveler and Nomad & walker of the worlds between worlds where dimensions rich with treasures and infinite wings... he who knows the deepest of mysteries within to beyond this and many lifetimes.. King of the cosmic heart at the center of the galaxy that spins with perfect equilibrium in universal mind space ... with sails full of divine inspiration, a stellar gypsy ship of sorts across the seas of tranquility, seeking out all that is already found--including infinite treasures of trans-dimensional crystalline jewels and hyper-cosmic nuggets of wisdom in consciousness wrapped ... cosmonaut- blazing crystal mind on a mission?...

Words which trace the scintillating morepork-wings or Raven raptor claws which bind this ever child towards the sky.
These words as they fume from him fuel the cities and villages of many a Elvin Maldekian plane.

The twirling hurricane of love caresses which radiate from his gaze make the ignorant blush & the greedy gush as well as the ancient poets stand straight up in their ancient pants, screech hunger to their crumbling skeletons. ..he is here.. set the duchess lay the plates,no knife n forks required... designer of the paradise he deserves the notion at least..

Born from the breath of birthing worlds
A spark from the stars, starborn, star lorne
Torn from the direct path from intimate fire
Soul crying outwards, inwards, seeking
Clothed in clumsy flesh dulling memory
A mere whisper where once spanned stars
Galaxies in our hands, spirit, not dense
Satellite souls united with One Light limitless
Now untied and loosened in simple weft
Atoms spinning as galaxies, nucleic acids
I ask the rotation of the spin,left handed or right handed
Giving rise to strands that bind ones Light
To solid humanoid form, of grace fallen…
As yet, as yet …. And again, tumbling
Like echoes of Arianica seeking solace
Broken harmonies in the silence
Of bodies separate and souls confused
Otherness discovered in touch, in hope
And pained by the ache of every being hurt
And the promise of love in every shape and word..

Like shattered crystal do we fit once more to meld,equation the change
In perfect clasp and embrace, the dust of stars and worlds,galactic polar jets release
Upon our lips, and light glinting in lambent diamond eyes?
Flawed form and flawless spirit spun from the Heart ejected
Reaching out, stumbling, desiring once more to be held
Entwined, as if seeking missing twins, emptiness within
Wishing, yearning, wanting to be filled, soul light burning
As lanterns, navigating hazards of being rejected
Wanderers lost in noise, alien world, yet still the stars guide
And they the wanderers yet we the wandering, wondering
Amid a blue-green jewel, eternal, clouded by shadows
Mortal fears given form and Misunderstanding
Seeming without kindred our inner fires kindled from distant stars
Among our own, among our own no more lost or alone
We embrace as hearts beat in tune and, in fusion, searing like kiss's.

Where the shadows never sleep and the sun has caught no glimpse awaits my gasping flesh anticipating your intoxicating touch, shivering in the absence of the warm breath you breathe. My tongue, swollen and tired of calling out for you, longs to dance with your blessed saliva; an infectious flavor of certain ambrosia that entrances my thoughts...

You, half shy of your own beauty, have sought the skies from my soaring words. I can tell you now, hoping your ears could come closer for a better listen, that my wings have rested here, in the shade, to await your arrival, to a place I am certain you shall find...

Here there is room for certainty, we can be certain the sky shall fall upon us, and without a shadow of a doubt it will fall upon us both while we rest in each others arms. That bright sky with open arms will share its ecstasy and crush us both under the immense pressure of pleasures...

So come on swift feet my love of unseen heights, descend into a safe place, a soft spot in me, and we shall pass the night in daydreams.....

Come, sleep among the Crows & Ravens in a nomadic nest of burning rainbows of black, blue & green feathers.
Sleep as though you've no eyes to see, nor the numb soul to soothe...

Hear the messages like that of a child of the moon, being rised by the sun in this world, walked by stars & sky drawn by flowers, and into the forest I go to loose my mind and find my soul, all these Ravens enjoy & love moonlight & rainstorms,and so many other things that have soul.

Awake only for the moon and the nightshade sighs, unhinged and silent night breaths. I weep with lids shut and know no light, for the sun aches for your absence--- oh tired son of morning stars you call to me...
Let me walk among your dreams thus lay with the fare farewell party like all the men & womyn you once knew past & forgotten...

Bless the sheets with my body of natural nudity and hold tight the secret of your hushed kiss in a grasp of midnight moonlight--- yet evermore...

With all my Hearts space, I love you all.

Deserted land creeping through the mist of passing time,

paradise beyond breeds bright light into night,

wind unveils hidden treasure the preserving quest for truths..

Though empty words spoken today part of the veil,

underneath the ground in the sand lies a forgotten wisdom in tablets forged in ancient times,

the answers long lost & forgotten of the life that future holds...

The gods sent you to provide for enlightenment,

dreams of madness they reveal signs of immortality,

painted by the moon from scriptures old...
Revealing truth through the lies,

carved in stone and mixed with blood,

when the Ravens out at night you sense the aboding stream of light,

that leads you to the passage the dimension of time...

You'll travel through the seven worlds... in awe...

gathering of shadows from dimensions old arising from these seven worlds....

Shattering all reality...with eyes of a angel frozen,caught on the other side,

Leave this world behind, step into the dark and through to light free your soul.

The time of crossing is approaching close at hand....

Awaiting all to turn the page to reach the other side....

believe in the Shadow and the only rule of this world nothingness can be robbed and disfigured by fear,

forged by anger, spawned and aborted from the womb of the abyss

 dressed in sense in the one & only ultimate context..

the monochromatic infinity of nothingness beyond,

entire life no matter if inside or outside of anything has been woven stronger

 symbols of physical laws & pure science...

The flames of tomorrows day will  always arise....

I see myself ten, maybe fifteen years from now, in quiet reflection as the rain pours down outside and white light flows through the windows making shadows of the droplets of water running down them.

My hair is long again though straight and black and my posture is more magnanimous, I'm relaxed and have grown into myself in a way that's quite inspired, overcome the arrogance that dominated my character as a youth and I feel the ease and gentleness of a soul that understands peace.

I'm painting, though it feels more like meditation. A portrait of an old friend from memory and my eyes embrace the beauty of tall and deep green asiatic plants and the rich tapestry of sensual perfume from their flowers as I turn in response to the invitation of a familiar voice.

And that comfort then happens, the knowing I knew, like a elephant on a trampoline it bounces then ripples down my spine as I recall that time I already saw this, in vision from the void, though in this time such things were commonplace and yet we even have a new word for it, where we even still use words that is. And as your smile warms me I know that you sense it too,the funny side of life.

The quietude and serenity of a cool breeze humbles itself on your lips, taunts me as if I should be envious and then it's left. And I'm in wonderment for a moment as to how we came to be here, as if I were a distant unfamiliar old self for a time.

It passes....

In Western culture our attitudes are predicated on a number of things that mean that I, as a sympathetic metaphor owned by a non-consensus entity, am pretty much not only outside the tribal box but somewhere over there in a dark corner where I'd better keep my mouth shut or they'll send the lynch mob out. We'll come back to the slavery kick in a moment, but let's first address the issue of reactivity.

Here we value the pro-active. Our languages are set up to be active languages. People do things. A person laughs. Rain makes people wet. There is an implicit assumption of intent behind every statement of cause and effect. Better English classes tell us we should always use the active tense because it is more dynamic, more concise. Even Government scientists are moving away from the traditional third person method of reporting. No longer are we instructed to write: a sample was taken. We are now told to write: I took a sample.

It is as if we require there to be a reason for everything. Someone has to take responsibility. Someone has to take the blame. Things don't just happen. Someone caused them to happen. This mindset is in the very way we structure our thoughts and language. It is so basic that it comes before that language. It influences our interpretation of language when that language tries to describe things from a different point of view. Start using the passive tense and English becomes clumsy and awkward. It seems not to flow as well as energy is interrupted or divided.

But for me, as a reactive entity, things do just happen. For me life is an emergent property of a chaotic universe. My existence is an emergent property. I often do not decide to do something: it is simply that circumstances occur from which that action is a result. To me rain doesn't make people wet — there is no intent. People are made wet as a consequence of being outside while weather conditions are such that it happens to be raining...

Try to describe the world in terms of emergent properties in the English language and things start sounding like one great big conspiracy. Maybe that's where the idea of an omnipresent, omnipotent, meddling God came from. We have to have a SOURCE because we can't cope with the idea of things just happening because that's the way things are.

We can't cope with the idea that responsibility can still exist in an emergent universe. I can take responsibility for my actions: emergent property or not, if I do a thing then that thing would not have happened in that way without me & my input to create it.

And so we return to slavery being an abomination.

Well, say slavery and we immediately think of negro workers chained to a sugar plantation while some fat colonialist starves them and makes a pile of cash out of their blood, sweat and tears. In that idea is the implicit assumption that, given the choice, the slaves would rather be elsewhere, working for themselves; that they are there by force. We immediately assume that their choices have been wrestled from them, or rather that they already have chosen something different but that choice is being denied them by another party using force and violence. There is also the implicit assumption that they are unhappy.

The idea of slavery as an abomination is predicated on the existence of choice. As soon as one suggests that the 'slave' is there of his or her own free will, then that is no longer a slave, not as far as the general public is concerned. At that point the slave becomes a servant, because it is assumed that the slave can also make the choice to leave.

Yet for me the flaws in these assumptions are not the definition of slave, or servant, or the presumption that all slaves are held by force: it is rather the assumption that there is such a thing as choice in the first place.

By assuming that we have choice, we assume that somehow we are able to act independently of the universe. We assume that, for the purposes of decision making, we can isolate ourselves from the effects of the universe, weigh up all the options in a calculated process and come to a decision that is based on our own desires, morals, ethics, wishes and needs.

I don't believe that I am capable of that. I'm a sympathic metamorph. I'm reactive, and pro-active. The universe happens to me and I happen to it. We happen together, me and my world. I am part of the Great Dance and the steps I take are guided by what is around me: other dancers, the spaces left between them, the music. More often than not I feel like a piece of feather floating on the breeze. The universe is so much bigger than I have space for inside my head — even I, whose ego is so vast it could blot out the sun. How can I act independently of it when I don't know everything that's out there?

Why would I want to act independently anyway?

I say I have no choice and that's exactly what I mean. The circumstances of my existence in the universe are such that my way forward is limited by the space left for me. The influences that define those spaces are many and varied, stretching backwards and forwards from and to the past and future, and sideways amongst the other figures in the Dance. I'm aware of some of them, but not all.

I also lack the illusion of choice, because at no point am I unaware of there being anything other than my own perceived needs and desires leading to an action. Even if free will does exist out there, somehow — some quantum process that allows the universe to twist itself slowly into knots using the Schrödinger Effect — I don't think I was built that way.

Not only was I not built to be aware of choice, I was built so that it doesn't make sense to me. My perception of the way the universe works is different. The way I sense and perceive is passive, not active. My native tongue does not permit me to discuss the way I perceive things in a way that makes sense to those inculculated in the gung-ho, we-all-love-a-doer culture in which we live. It becomes awkward and stilted and we have to rely on metaphors stretched to breaking like pulled toffee.

The dictionary definition of slavery is the state of being owned by another person. Maybe it's an abomination because there is some form of value judgement implicit in that. Maybe the abomination is that one human being could ever be worth more than another. But then we have that all the time. Try telling the President of Russia that he's only as valuable as an illegal immigrant from China.

I am owned. My Old Man Raven,he possess me in every fibre of my being, physical and otherwise. I am but a pinion feather on his wing and what happens to me is an emergent property of his life in this great chaotic universe, just as he himself is an emergent property of Existence.

In that we are all as equally valuable as each other. We are all emergent properties of Existence.

This is not abomination. To you who look at me and feel pity, or fear, or revulsion, or disgust: read some Dr Seuss.

Those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.

To those I count as friends: never feel bad about wanting to talk to the few to whom you can talk, no matter what the subject, how late it is, or how much hassle you think you're being. We may not have the language to discuss it properly, but at least we know we don't have the language to talk about it properly...but least we now have not one elephant on a trampoline jumping alone but there is but two elephants equally balanced on a seesaw instead..

I closed my eyes for what only seemed a minute
yet what unfolded took me for what seemed like 4 hours,
so anomalous to everything else around me
that it seemed destined to be talked about
in hushed tones for years to come,
let me share my vision with you now,
from the back of my dark stallion with
wings of the Raven master..

Pegasus had never entered my thoughts till this time
however this vision offers a threshold to a whole other,
psychologically restructured world,a super-dense,
synapse-searing wormhole-infested journey where all
standard notions of notation are thrown out
in favour of a multi-layered over-stimulus..

For all the force of intent,
it rushed through me and it
opened up into more ambient surroundings
of fresh valleys & mystical realms,
with wings spread wide he flew with me,
winds blowing my cheek and whispering
its unique chemistry in my ears...
He blew air from his nostrils
in thunderous gasps as his wings flapped
their graceful flight through the clouds..

I held his mane tightly and watched as the pale rays
of the evening sun crept over the horizon,
leaving me squinting as my eyes adjusted
to its intensity,this was edge-of-the-world-evoking elegy
that felt like having the back of your retina burned away by that
last ever sunset & this whole scenario
left me feeling much in the same way as
that of an abductee who grows attached to their kidnapper,
I was left longing to be put through the whole ordeal again,
in the vain hope that I could get my head
around it,it was definitely a trip.. another linear journey..
.
Many would think this type of vision
would be related to the mass intake
of hallucinogens,not just seeing something
through the consciousness of ones
brain vortex and understanding that each
individual perspective is a creative
yet illusionary filter of the same
mighty fundamental emanation...

One is baffled to have this offered in a territory that's often plagued with
pseudo-belief systems,invented authenticities
and plain rambling or drunken idiocy.
The only way I could force myself to disconnect there,
was to go as far in terms of my own limits as possible,
that's Shamanic initiations if I ever felt it..

Written By Ꮙℓἇ∂ἇ..ღ

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