Spirit of Open Access and Literary Dialogue: RMcS

The Qadisha valley-spirit of Lubnan Mountain ever lives in inspiration; inspiration’s gateway being the issuer forth of ideas that nourish the needs of the times that be. Subtle she is almost like as if she were making no effort at all. Yet be she is most assuredly. Only those who lend themselves to patiently and reverently standing in dawns and twilights can begin to appreciate her profound generosity. Behold, hereupon is presented the Annunciation of the Qadisha valley-spirit of Lubnan Mountain, concerning Myriam the Beautiful; a fragrant scion from her upland groves. In this scroll herewith, it is written for all to read in refined contemplation, and joyful anticipation, a goodly and timely message. My Myriam my Beloved, who is my dawn and my fulfilment unto her own day, had waited seven years in my city isle of Éirelese for her ship that was to return and bear her back to my Lebanon, my land of her birth. And in my seventh year, on my eight day of September, my month of reap...

¶. 1:1 ̶ In the village of Nazareth in Galilee, having been born and raised, and now in your twenty-seventh year, and having only recently returned there, having spent seven years in wandering contemplation in the Middle Kingdom of Sinai, you will on the first Sunbathian of spring, enter into the temple, where according to custom you will be invited to stand up to read; ¶. 1:2 ̶ And there will be given over to you a roll of Isaiah, and having unfolded it, will find the place where it is written: ¶. 1:3 ̶ 'The Spirit of The God is within me, to live the good news of the reign of The God: to bring about peace and joy; to bring about deliverance from unthinking.' ¶. 1:4 ̶ And having folded the roll; having given it back to the attendant, you will sit down, and the eyes of all in the temple will be gazing on you. ¶. 1:5 ̶ And you will begin to say unto them, 'From this the first Sunbathian of spring, is this word being fulfilled in your hearing;' ¶. 1:6 ̶ And all will ...

One sunny Saturday morning I was sweeping the footpath outside the front door of our house. I was using a fine strong yard brush that I had bought down at Cunningham's the village hardware store. As I was sweeping I was daydreaming. And this is what I was dreaming. "I am the Sun in the sky. Truly I am the Sun and know nothing about any Human. Then by somehow I find myself to be a Human. Truly I am a Human and know nothing about any Sun." With coming out of this daydream, I couldn't rightly say for sure whether I was a Human that had dreamt he was the Sun or the Sun that had dreamt it was a Human. I thought to myself there must be some difference surely between being a Human and being the Sun. Yet, do you know what? I couldn't for the life of me say if I really knew what that difference might be. Verily, I concluded that I am undergoing translations. Now I am the Sun, then here a Human, and there about Something else; continuously translating. And then it came ...

Touching the wall I did call to the off shore of Eden for help. But no one answered my call for all the bells in fabulous China. Strolled through the market gate of the human race to find some lace for the daughter of the winemaker's maid. What if I were to see the Sun disappear in the morning snow and without a show? Who would believe me if the saints of yesterday's morn were all to break free of hell's gates? All in all it was a scary thought that built the front wall of the house of McFrown. Tumble down the autumn showers of golden leaves for the cattle and the sheep. Who be knows besides the early bird of June what it's like to be caged in a basket of three wise kings. Thought I saw a chaffinch on the windowsill. Are we joking when the blue of ivory waters descend upon the king of mustard land? Come all to the wall of bygone days and be gone for none at all doth remain inside the pillowcase for fear of the awful crime that's being committed in the f...

Prologue: Supper is now over in the cosy botháin ósta. Rísteárd Mac Grailt the innkeeper is putting some more turf on the fire; the fire that is never allowed to quench. Each night before retiring, the remaining fire would be raked to cover over the live embers of turf with the ashes. The embers would then be left to repose comfortably there throughout the night until just before aurora when they would be gently breathed into to coincide with the flowering of the daystar. In this manner was impressive continuity been given to the ancient custom of ensuring the perpetual presence of the Inner Sun in the hearth of the home. Outside it is a wet dark night with the wind blowing in from the southwestern Atlantic; the kind of night that one feels thankful for having the right side of the house facing out. Sitting across the hearth from Rísteárd, is his guest, Receptive. The fire glows interesting shadows up the walls to the rafters to join up with those already making sport there from t...

Self: an essence Soul & Body: not applicable Self’s present activity: ‘reclining’ comfortably on the bank of a river in the faraway heavens; way away away beyond the Sloan Great Wall of galaxies, yet, not too far at all beyond the alpines of the Serendipity Nexus. Location orientation from Earth: via the Constellation Corona Borealis Distance from the Solar System: 72 glys (1 gigalight-year = 1 billion light years.) Comparison reference: Sloan Great Wall of galaxies measures approximately 1.4 glys in length, and is located approximately 1 gly from the Solar System. Name of the river: An Abhainn Bheag Álainn (The Small Delightful River) Tributary of: An Abhainn Mhór Álainn (The Big Delightful River) Terrestrial complement: The River Bride ̶ a tributary of the River Blackwater in the province of Munster on the isle of Éire. Specific description of An Abhainn Bheag Álainn: a myriad-galaxy river Overall length: 40 glys Width at this spot: 3 million light years Distance from the...