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...

Ascending from the hazel grove and its nearby well one very soon reaches by way of the small smooth stoned ravine the tranquil Ochtach grove overlooking the meandering Glandhuan River. On this the southern visage of the grove of nine pines is located the astonishingly beautiful Aislinge Rú octagonal wooden pavilion; an exquisite yellow roofed pavilion symbolizing the harmonious matrimony of all directions in one place, which was built and hand-carved by Rísteárd Muirglan Suibhne Mac Grailt as a wedding anniversary gift for his precious wife Aoife Gléslí Brídóir Ní hAimsiri. It took him twenty-seven months to complete. Aoife often comes here to read, reflect and write. It is one of her favourite places in the hill country of Déisi Mumhan. How she delights too to stroll up here in lovely moonlit nights with Rísteárd. It is about the midday hour, and Aoife in sensuous edenwear is happily strolling away back to the pavilion after enjoying swimming in a shimmering warm pool of the Glandhu...

One day, Eve went into a village. It was of a Friday, and she went into the mosque and began to speak. The people were amazed at her wording, for she spoke with real authority; quite unlike the teachers of Sharia Law or in truth of any religious Laws. Suddenly, the imam of the mosque became possessed with a furious troublesome and it began shouting at Eve. “Why are you interfering with me, Eve of the Desert? Have you come to destroy me?” Eve cut it short. “Be quiet! Come out of the man,” she ordered. At that, the angry troublesome screamed, threw the imam into a convulsion, and then came out of him. Amazement gripped the audience, and they began to discuss what had happened. “What sort of fresh wording is this,” they asked excitedly. “It has such authority! Even troublesomes obey her orders!” After Eve left the mosque, she went by request to someone’s house. Now, the man of the house’s mother-in-law was very sick in bed with a high fever. Eve went to her bedside, took her by t...

BAALBECK, BECHARRE, N’ GALILEE my oft times afore lovely home by the sea. What! What in the Name is happening to thee, yet again, yet again, n’ yet again? Are you rising to be free to be free or free to be with ever uprising to be? Fire in the below waiting to explode will show No mercy to angelic pretence Turn; turn away from the Gate of Trouble! Too; too many will be crying in the streets. Where! Where is that one with the rare empty stare; that one who with slippery tongue is playing away with everyone’s naiveté? Stand n’ take a stand to recline on a chaise longue of peace. For so long as length of days be they shorter than nights by far will the orange groves, olive slopes, n’ sand dunes be all frozen o’er in a flash. Ruins anew will be accompany those of old at weeping Baalbek, Becharre, n’ Galilee. Hear ye; hear ye, ye perpetual troublemakers of the ages! How came ye by the right to mix bone with limestone, blood with grape juice, n’ tears with vinegar? ...

Bradawn Yeats the blessed poet, who is an ongoing dawn unto any age, speaks forth according to his inspiration; words of wisdom, love, and beauty, saying, Madman one day long gods born deep sleep masks seven masks seven lives maskless streets thieves thieves thieves men women houses fear marketplace youth standing housetop madman sun face first time first time sun face soul love sun masks trance thieves masks madman freedom safety madness freedom loneliness safety proud safety thief jail safe thief. Ancient days first quiver speech lips holy mountain God master slave hidden will law God answer mighty tempest thousand years holy mountain God creator creation clay God answer thousand swift wings thousand years holy mountain God father son pity love birth love worship kingdom God answer mist distant hills thousand years sacred mountain God God aim fulfillment yesterday tomorrow root earth art flower sky face sun God ears words sweetness sea brook valleys plains God. Friend seeming gar...

Soliloquy 1 7:59-8:08 post meridiem, Lunae, 8 Decembris anno 2014 BRIDGE to the days of our lives making heading in the hills of a thousand to ten thousand years old. Morning crossing river in the light of a generation calling to the front of the insight recovering to long last the beginning of ends coming into view. At last the time has come for a 21st century coming true. Believe, yes believe and it will come to truth contrary to all exaggerations believing. Gentle is the softness that awaits for the holy of hollies coming to the brow of the hill. Church in the valley. See the mercy; hear the compassion coming to the forefront. Bare to the heartache of the time honoured bliss. Stand and see to the armies coming down the valley. Arches covering waters to believe in the Christ of the kingdoms coming to make believe of the peoples reaching to space heaven. Admit the carriage waiting for the spiritual being of essence departing by the near gate coming round ridi...

Now this story, Students is about a Man who was Awakened in the Middle of the Night by a Strange Sound. It was about half three or quarter to four in the night; a wet winter’s night. Everyone was asleep in the village, except for the odd tomcat or two that were always roaming around at that unearthly hour. He was sleeping away contentedly, so he was, next to his wife, and he was dreaming of a summer’s day. At some point during the dream he heard a sound that wasn’t of the dream, but as it were, was coming from outside the dream. He woke up, and he didn’t know where he was for a moment. But then he could hear his wife breathing beside him. As he was lying there looking up at the ceiling and over at the curtains with a little bit of streetlight coming in above them, he again heard the sound. He looked around but couldn’t see anything. It was an unusual sound. What did it sound like, Teacher? It sounded like an oversized wellington boot, Craig flapping against your shin as you ...

The I Be The Me: Jesus of Sepphoris: A Post-Resurrection Testimony

At the time “Ego Patricius” – “Mise Pátraic” – “I Patrick” brought Christianity to Druidic Ireland; that being in the fifth century, there lived in the mountains and valleys and along by the seashore of Éire a renowned sociable recluse; a happy wanderer who greatly delighted in talking about what he had observed, heard or thought or even dreamt while strolling about throughout the length and breath of the island. He was known by all and sundry as: An tÁrd-Fealsamh - The Pre-Eminent Philosopher. It is true to say, there was none like him in profoundness of thought in ancient Ireland or none like him even in his own day or has there ever been anyone since like him; not even Johannes Scotus Eriugena (c.815-c.877), John Toland (1670-1722) nor George Berkeley (1685-1753) can even remotely be said to come near him for the free, easy, lucid and limitless way in which he used his mind. On the world stage of all time, I can only think of possibly one philosopher who could be considered nearing ...