Symbolism of Lakes

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symbolreader

“And near him stood the Lady of the Lake,
Who knows a subtler magic than his own–
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful.
She gave the King his huge cross-hilted sword,
Whereby to drive the heathen out:  a mist
Of incense curled about her, and her face
Wellnigh was hidden in the minster gloom;
But there was heard among the holy hymns
A voice as of the waters, for she dwells
Down in a deep; calm, whatsoever storms
May shake the world, and when the surface rolls,
Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord.”

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “Idylls of the King”

The Lady of the Lake taking the infant Lancelot, illustration by George Wooliscroft Rhead & Louis Rhead

While my train was approaching Lausanne, suddenly, though certainly not expectedly, which nevertheless did not spoil the effect – Lake Geneva (French Lac Léman) came to view in all its glory…

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Start of the Season Part 2

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South Asasif Conservation Project Blog

South Asasif Conservation Project continues documenting the first days of the new season and celebrating the reunion with our great mission members and beloved activities at the site.

 

Dieter Eigner may look a little lonely on top of the entrance staircase in the tomb of Karabasken but we know that he the enjoyed the peace and quiet of this imposing environment. His documentation of every step is impeccable as always.

 

 

 

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Erhart Graefe returned to his reconstructions of the texts of the Ritual of the Hours of the Day in the First Pillared Hall of the tomb of Karakhamun. We hope that this hard work will result in the reconstruction of the texts of the Seventh and Eighth  Hours in situ by the end of the season.

 

 

Gabriele Schier feels a deep connection with the remains of the superstructure of the tomb…

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my soul is dressed in motley

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Maxada Mandala

Clown akzhana abdali

with blasphemy of thought inside to out
I shall wear motley on my soul to hide fool
there in my brain, where absorbed in vanity
it is a clown…my soul…a jester…marionette
or a mime awareness hiding there…intangible

my soul is acrobat through air caparisoned
in skin-tight diamante…soft leather shoes
to better grip the line…hands limed to grasp
a constant swinging bar

my soul is tissue white…as pierrot pirouette,
its friend the moon, it pines for solitude…or as
marionette attached to life, it mimics amplitude,
though sometimes it fades diaphanous to smoke

my soul is mime…its whiteface mirrors moment me
in living archetype, and I sense poseur mystery in
the knowing there behind its stoic mask

my soul is clown…floppy shoes and baggy pants
as immature it pedals circles on a tiny trike
playing slapstick to the crowd…it is costumed
yellow black orange white…big red nose and
smiling mouth kept simple by…

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The Key to Empowerment

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Through the Peacock's Eyes

Magpie Seven of FeathersAs I mentioned a couple of posts ago, I’ve begun to post Daily Insights Through the Peacock’s Eyes on my YouTube channel. For today’s Daily Insight I used the Animal Wisdom Tarot, and card that came up was Magpie, Seven of Feathers. The message that stuck out for me was the image of the key held by the magpie. As I was doing the reading (see video below), I kept having flashes of dreams I used to have about keys. This dream series probably began around 2005. For several years there were two concurrent themes to my key dream series: 1) I am getting my key back from someone, and 2) I am searching for or finding a keyhole.

With the first theme, though I was getting my key back from someone I had been in a relationship with, the dreams weren’t so much about him as they were about…

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Spring Comes Slowly

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studio-lu

‘Tis a month before the month of May, and the Spring comes slowly up this way. — Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Spring in the marsh is about patience and attention to details. While elsewhere, the crocus, daffodils, tulips, and crabapples are in colorful profusion, spring has a much more austere arrival in the marsh.

Over the last month, I made four treks into the same wetlands I filmed this past fall and winter. I’ve always appreciated the beauty of the marsh, but have never paid as close attention to its chronology of changing seasons until I began this project. Looking for signs of new growth in early April felt like a needle-in-a-haystack search. I was sure that spring would mean the cattails would be bursting forth in green, or at least showing some bare signs of emerging from the ground anew. Silly me. Ironically, I found that this time of year, when everything…

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