Luzie and the sica... ;-) a Yuletide post

 Those who know me know that I have been growing ever more fond of the Dacian sica. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sica). This is a weapon / knife that dates back to the iron-age geto-Dacians, an Eastern tribe with presumeably Illyrian and Scythian roots, and which was feared and respected by the Roman empire even after their defeat. The Sica came in several sizes, the largest being resemblant of the Greek Makhaira (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Makhaira). Technically a type of sickle, the Sica offers a more pronounced tip and it makes for a very effective cutting motion. 

 This is a Sica I made from a piece of steel I found in the woods. It is stain-resistant and has a hardness of about 63HRC with a selective temper. This steel is frightening me a bit... for it also offers a very fine edge.

 Forging was a bit awkward, though.

 This is another one I made, it´s called Úlenkláwe in Nether German (Húljankrampja in Dhiudha na n Iampárai ;-) ), made from old crucible steel, also from my local woods.

 There´s a legend involved in the making, and for me the Sica always portrayed meaning in itself.

So I asked myself: Might it be that the Sica had a sort of apotropaic meaning in itself, or is it just wishful thinking? The fact that many of the artifacts found were richly decorated, often with circular patterns, raven etc. might hint of a somewhat symbolic meaning. For more contemporary examples read more at : https://www.bladesmithsforum.com/index.php?/topic/34961-thracian-sica-dacian-falx/

At https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c7/47/1e/c7471eb86ac0c940ddbece82760daf6b.jpg I found an image of the insigns of a Saturnic grade of the Mithraic mysteries (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mithraism)



The Saturnalia (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saturnalia) in ancient Rome was a festival taking part from 17th of December to 23rd of December. Gifts were given to the rich and poor alike, and the toga, a symbol of Roman citizendom, was set aside in favor of more colourful festival clothes (or none at all ;-)). During this time, Saturnus or Dith Pater, reigned supreme, one of his attributes being a scythe or a sickle which bore a close resemblance to the Sica or Falx Dacica (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Falx) 

(https://www.google.de/search?q=Falx+Dacica&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwi7rqO92JvYAhULfFAKHQR6Ba4Q_AUICigB&biw=1680&bih=919#imgrc=u8XiKszDJemxxM:)

According to Plinius the elder the Celtic druids cut the mistletoe with a golden sickle. So, in fact the Sica does have a lot to do with Chrismas or Yuletide. The fool king had to die, Uranos was emasculated by his son Kronos (the titan of time), presumeably with a sickle (this is a speculation, of course).

In Germany, there is a Chrismas demon named "Bluadige Luzie" (Bloody Lucy) playing a role in Bavarian Catholic folk customs (http://www.ausflugszielebayerischerwald.de/wo-kann-ich-eine-rauhnachtfeier-live-erleben/). It is a witch cutting open the bellies of naughty kids with a sickle or scythe and filling them with stones. The scythe of Death ends life; and the life of the year is ritually ended with the solstice: With the longest night the year ends to be born anew. The sickle or Sica plays an important role in the harvest / death myths all over Europe. The myth has thusly survived from the iron age on to modern times.

I wish you all a good Yuletide, Chrismas, or whatever it is that you celebrate. The year will die on the darkest night, and in the darkest night it will be born again and hopefully be prosperous and fertile for you all. May a light be with you always, especially in the darkest hours. And may a Sica be by your side to end what is dying.

Sól invictus esse!

All the best to y´all. 

Modern schooling and Armageddon: A Christian addenda to my most recent post

One of my oldest and most-respected readers made a comment to my recent post, and I wrote an answer, until I realized that I had written far to much for my reply form. But he deserves an answer, and this is what I wrote. I used a Christian terminology to make my point clearer, but I want you to keep in mind that I personally believe that words are far inadequate to describe a universal noumenon being.

I am well with you that modern schooling has a big part in turning anyone into sheep (or gold fish, so to say, although if we want to do anything against it (which is a thing we could still do), we have to elaborate this stance.

On the Armageddon part, however, I am decisively critical. As usual, I sincerely hope you are not taking offence by it, but personally I believe, while I know the chance is very great that it might happen these days, that God (to argue along these lines) loves His creation. He has chiselled the tiniest of flowers out meticulously, and he paid equal attention to detail in the creation of the tiniest of beings as well as the greatest of cosmic phenomena. He gave everything its place, and made a universe full of beauty. And let us not forget that Satan (to argue along these lines) was His creation in the first, too. He gave every being the chance to choose, of course. To destroy all of His creation would be either sadistic (which I believe that the First Cause is NOT) or meaning He has lost control over His creation. I do not believe that, too.

The changes we have to face, or even the disaster, I believe, would be exclusively the result of our actions, our choice. Personally I believe that God often intervenes to show us the effects of our behaviour, for it is Him who knows the laws of the universe first hand, to keep us from doing harm to ourselves. It is us who do not understand His language anymore, and it is us who therefore work out an Armageddon for us, for ourselves. We, as I personally believe, should strive to become better beings in the context of creation, not point a finger at our neighbours and rejoice in them being extinguished and burning in a neverending hell. Everyone has a choice, that is true. I am not perfect, and I am very afraid, of course I am. And I have a big part in creating a world that´s hell made earth, that is also true. But I do not believe that God wants us all to burn in hell. He wants us to live in the law and in His creation, and love it, and care for it. He, if we continue to talk along these lines, loves us and doesn´t want to hurt us. But we insist on hurting and doing mischief, as the kids we are. The effects are, as I said, the result of our behaviour, of our egoism and ruthlessness and immorality, but the moral system is not ours, but the law of the universe. We do not have the means to understand the language anymore, after we had built the Babel tower. Only if we allow the Whitsun miracle to happen, can we even understand. We know well what happened during that miracle. Eucharist is well-documented scientifically and psychologically sound, and it is the only feat in every religion and every culture that is shared. If we managed to concentrate what all believers on Earth have in common, if we managed to concentrate on what brings us closer to Him, Armageddon (which is presumeably at hand due to inter-religious conflicts) could still be put at bay (or so I believe). This is the reason I am very reluctant to call Him (or Her? or It?) names. Naming something gives you power, but what power do we have over God? We have nothing but love and the "Holy Spirit". We can feel it, and when we have experienced it, we would shut up, and "pray" (or meditate, chant, sing, dance, exercise penitence, or whatever brings one closer to Him (Her, It), and do the work we are given, and live through our travails.
I personally believe that everyone can experience Eucharist at will. I have done some studies in theology myself and I daresay there is a lot a Christian church keeps away from its disciples. The most grave aspect of this is the fact that priests usually know full well about the fact that the feeling of Eucharist can be experienced at will. But the routines of meditation are kept away from the disciples. Some priests do this as to not confront or burden their fold, actually meaning good, others out of hierarchic sentiments. Armageddon induces fear, for instance, and it is used in some contexts to actively prohibit the "sheep" from being delivered or enlightened by the Holy Spirit. For meditation is not possible in a state of constant fear.

The path of acquiring this knowledge by oneself is extremely dangerous and difficult. The adept can suffer from everything from brain stroke, sexual overactivity or impotence, hallucinations and severe psychic damage. I have lived personally through a lot of these dangers. Some say, that´s obvious ;-). Kidding aside: No one wanted to tutor me, so I tutored myself. I can never know if I am right, and I do not claim to be, but fact is, it was and is a very arduous journey, and I have to admit it might not be for everyone, and I can understand that some Christians were giving up and giving in to the so - called enlightenment movement, which now is the pillar on which Western civilisation is built on. And nothing wrong with that, actually, but many came to a false conclusion. They said "God is dead", because they had no evidence of Him and no possibility of experiencing the feeling that is called Eucharist in Christian belief, and some of them dismissed everything of moral value altogether with that conclusion. And, to shorten up this essay and go full circle, I personally think, "modern schooling" is a product of this mindset.

In days gone by a "good whacking" was an essential part of education, and I am decisively no advocate of this. There is a point when you have to clearly set the borders in education, but, as I said in other contexts, violence is NEVER an option. If you have to whack the shite out of your pupil, you have entirely lost control over the situation, and you set nothing right, but create a time - bomb. I have, when working as a tutor, had a lot of good success even with difficult kids, by explaining and taking a firm and decided stance. The kids did a lot of testing, but I am proud to say that they never questioned my authority.

"Laissez-faire" needs confidence on all sides, but modern-day teachers cannot develop confidence, because they are not allowed room for decisions, and their own betters sabotage their authority. Their education does not involve the development of their personality, and this is due to the lack of confidence, or even fear, in their parents. Many of them do not know who they are themselves, how can they possibly teach kids to agnize  what it is that their personality stands for? And, by the way, this is not even wanted in the first place. Kids are seen just as material to work in industrial slavery jobs. Working for ten years in business promotion has made this abundantly clear to me. Some lucky few get an education along these lines - these are the ones who are the kids of the upper strata of economy, and they will be the ones to enslave the blue - collar ones of the next generation, and so forth, and all this will contribute to spread false paradigms, until, in fact, "Armageddon" will happen. But it will be a self-fulfilling prophesy, not the work of God.

As our teachers lose control or work out of egoistic reasons, as our economy stands for ruthless egoism, and the "ego is the destroyer of reality" (http://www.theosociety.org/pasadena/voice/voice1.htm), we´re in for a "bad moon rising". (Please take note, I am not a theosophist either, and put that link there only because I like the book and have the opinion that it illustrates the matter.)

Our cherished internet is a playground of the ego. Even writing a blog about myself is egomania, but in the internet it is one of the less egomanic things one is confronted with. There are people even sharing their morning turd with the whole world on whatsitcalledbook. But the Ego will not survive, neither Death nor "Armageddon".

Plus, it is not possible to experience "flow", "Eucharist", "Satori", "Wu Wei" etc. when in an egomanic mindset. So, no Whitsun miracle for modern-day-society. Of course I will continue using the internet, for an Ego is a part of one´s personality, and it needs its right in itself. But I am aware that the Ego will not last. Reality is far more complicated than sharing a turd on facebook. But since reality is destroyed, we get ever deeper
into what I´d like to call the "Babel tower" - conflict, for we get at an ever greater distance from reality. Reality is the place where we can get to agnize the "Holy Spirit". And no, the internet is not responsible for "Armageddon". We are.

We are responsible. But there is something we could do: We could at least try to start with ourselves, and we can always hope, and we can love. At least we can try. 

Riding home...

 This is not an altogether joyous post. I had been craving to get outside and do some riding for weeks again, and eventually managed to squeeze some time in. It had snowed a little, and the sun was out illuminating a clear blue sky. I took the lane to the foothills and was encountering breathing problems and the feeling that my body was not working properly. So I shifted down some gears and just put some basic intensity effort in. It was very cold, and in retrospective I have to admit I did not dress up that sensibly and had a cold in my bones. But I was becoming a little bit nostalgic when I thought about ´em days when I used to soar up the inclines and hammer down the hills. Alas, these times are well over now and will not come back. I remember a lot of cool rides with friends with not so much of a single worry, hooting and hollering down impossible terrain just for the bollocks and the fun. But those friends are gone and turned out to be no friends in the first place, and I had spent 25 years in the least living in an illusion.

The trails, however, have nothing to do with this. They are not an illusion. The way I ride has changed altogether. While I still like to do some technical trails and get some airtime in, it is not that important anymore. It is the silence and solitude of the forest that I so dearly need, and in order to get there cheap I use my bike.

 Plus, if anything goes awry with my bike, I will not be able to repair it for lack of money. Mostly my own fault, really, for I could get social allowances maybe to stock up my meagre salary, but I want to live my life according to my own designs. Money that you get from slavers makes you a slave. This I do not want at all. But that way you don´t go full tilt sailing over jumps, for wheels cost at least 150€. It just sucks doing a business job for 300€ less than  the average dole while being constantly at risk of being made responsible, but that´s how it is in the year 2016.

But since my body´s worn out a bit anyway, it´s not something that I should miss that much. But I realized I actually do miss it. I have ridden down the Dalco trail with an almost  rigid bike (there was no suspension other than 35mm of rubber eraser in those days). I have ridden down sheer cliffs in the Alps and I was able to fly. I rode with the gods of mountainbiking and had fun with them. I miss the flying and the carefree shredding, I miss the mountainbiking scene as it was.

Casually floating through the woods is what I need now, but I realize my life has changed a lot, and while a lot of things are really cool and one could not expect that everything always stays the same, I also must admit that I would not want to be the same idiot I once was. So I actually accept that my life is changing and has changed. But as life is generally and all over the world changing for the worst of the worst, and my life´s not THAT crappy to date, I guess I can´t complain.

 Still, I miss what was, and if I look at it realistically, will most certainly never come back again. As is, it felt good to feel the crunching ice and snow under my tyres and riding through the woods round the place where I once lived.

But thoughts occurred to me unbidden, as if in meditation. It feels somewhat weird, and sometimes I ask myself if it really did happen. It was a bit like a fairy tale, and most people look at me as if I was telling tales when I, well, tell the tales of my life. I grew up in a world that can and shall not be real, and the rulers of our world strive to annihilate even the memory of a lifestyle like this. They do not want self-reliant, they want human resources. They do not want you to make your own gear and relish in fruit from your own garden, and most certainly do they not want you to have encounters with real live animals, with fox and hare and deer and wild pig and badger and learn from them how to live wild, to kill and die and not be afraid of growth and passing. This is what teaches me even now and has taught me: All things must die, and I am no better than our cat was then which one day just went into the woods for dying in dignity. I do not want to be less than the cat I loved then as a companion, and the change that has come upon my life is a part of dying. Death is my brother who walks with me, and it is like you walk over the dark grounds of earth, and a booming step goes with you, beneath. I certainly fear death, but I am not afraid of it. I look into the face it has now, and it wears the mask of the change. But the sickle does not hit the twinkling sun that shines through the frost-enchanted branches and twigs of a forest that is, was and will be. The badger does not smile-but neither is he afraid of death or hates. He knows fury, but no hate. When he lives, he lives, when he dies, he dies. Fox hunts hare and the wolf hunts its prey, but this is a natural order. I grew up with it. Many people say I am a dreamer and this growing up of mine is a mere fancy and has never been.

 But they cannot do anything against what I am, because they do not understand. And beneath the sorrow and the sadness there is something adamantine that is not affected by sadness or even joy. It is what I really am. And in the woods, however tame or domesticated, your mask ceases to be, but you put on another, and this reflects what you really are. And it is what you really are, that´s what counts here, not what you say you are or what you want to be. There´s a lot of things I do not like about myself, but the woods don´t care. Life and death don´t care.

 The light is dim and blue, and truth is hard and cold like a sword in winter, but still the trees grow, grow up into the sky. Branches that once grew near the ground now embrace the sky. My self that was does not matter anymore, or matters in a different manner now. It is just like that my self of those years ago is part of the same tree that is my life. It still lives and thrives in that time. I do not believe in the concept of time as linear. I live now in that moment going over the cliff at Dalco as well as in the moment of writing this, and we sit down, have a cuppa and chat about it... and the self of tomorrow comes in casually and has a bit of a sit-down... and it has brought some cookies to add in to the coffee.

 And the forest grows, and the river runs two ways...

 ...and the trail has not yet ended. And that crystal-clear moment when I look at the snow in the sunlight will be there forever, but forever is but a word. I am coming of age, and I feel it in my bones. There is one moment in time, and if you are well aware, you can actually witness it. Let´s say, you sit down in an armchair, and when you get in, you are a youth still, and you sit, and you realize that when you get up, you will be an old man. This moment has come for me. It has come early for me, for I have always been old. But then I am still young, because I have always been. Sounds luna-tic, does it? Trust me, it is, and I am proud of it. But to me it is the truth.

 I rode to the place where I grew up, where I became what I am and will be. There were those tar linings on the dam which I used as a mark to practice my switchback technique as a kid... but the shutters of my home are now nailed shut and the house that meant so much to me now is slowly decaying because of neglect and to write off miscellaneous transfer assets to make even more money.
I rode those figures again... but the feeling was not there. I looked towards the house... but there were no lights lit. I looked into myself... and all was there where I left it.

 

And while all things must come to an end eventually, there is no end to anything.

 

Nequaquam vacui 

Frozen lands

 Ice was gathering up on my window, and the beams cracked with cold; and the woods did call me to give me lessons of life. So I walked away from the hostile world of man into the realm of deadly winter... just some 100 m away from the warmth. A different world is waiting for those who can see it.

 Is this ice or a map of a land unseen? Winter is death, but without death there would be no life. We can witness what happens when people want to neglect and renounce the fact that all things must end... to blossom anew. If this is a map, it is alien to our sight. It shows not a path from here to there but a path of how and then.

This is the dew of winter; precious as the moon in a silvery night.

The stars rise even in the vine that throttles the fern; I quest the fern for the runes of the frost... the ancient Math ap Mathonwy did not know... ahem... too much more than I.;-D.. just a tiny bit maybe..;-D. or a tiny bit more...ANYWAY:-D, what I find there is no speech that can refer.

The trees were swaying in a silent breeze, stone-cold, bone - cold, sawy, toothy, gritty as sand, and yet there was a gentle, silent song echoing in my soul.

Somewhere twilight, twilight falls...

Night is nearing while there is still light.

And yet, besides the holly, the old well springs up warmly from the bosom of the deep and dark soil.

Winding paths I  walked through woods all crooked...

Where does the moon wander when the night is dark?

Where does the river flow, two ways at once?

Twilight falls.

Check. This. Out.

I stumbled across this blog here.

If you do not shy away from thinking, and thinking consequentially and even radically, this might be the cake.

There is also the "dark mountain project". Its manifesto you can read here.

Following the fox-a spiritual bimble to the Hünenpforte (giant´s gate)

 I was feeling a bit queasy*ggg* all day and thought of foxes.... erm, WE thought of foxes all the time*ggg*.

 So I remembered the local legend of the "giant´s gate" (Hünenpforte):


"Ein armer Wanderer war vom Rheine hergekommen und wollte nach Limburg an der Lenne. Ein Stündchen hinter Schwelm, nicht weit von Voerde. fragte er nach dem nächsten Wege. Der Gefragte war ein Zwerg und gab zur Antwort:„Der kürzeste Weg geht durch den Berg. Hier ist der Eingang. Doch damit du nicht irregehst, so nimm diesen Fuchs mit dir! Du brauchst dich nur an seinem Schwanze festzuhalten, so bringt er dich sicher ans Ziel." Unser Wandersmann befolgte den Rat und kam in die Klutert, eine Höhle mit vielen Gängen, die sich stundenweit ins Gebirge erstreckt.
Nicht immer konnte er aufrecht gehen; manchmal musste er auf allen Vieren kriechen; immer hielt er jedoch den Fuchsschwanz fest. So sah er endlich den Ausgang schimmern. Da hörte er plötzlich ein sonderbares Geräusch. Vorsichtig streckte er seinen Kopf heraus. Wie erschrak er, als er dicht vor sich auf dem Rasen einen gewaltigen Riesen sah, der sich im Schlafe geschüttelt hatte!
Rasch versteckte er sich in den Felsspalten der Höhle. doch so, dass er den Riesen immer im Auge behielt. Der erwachte mit großem Geschnarche, richtete sich auf er war wohl sieben Ellen hoch - reckte sich und stöhnte, dass die Felsen widerhallten. Dann schritt er zur nahen Quelle, füllte sein mächtiges Horn und nahm seinen Mittagstrunk. Endlich aber wendete er die Nase nach allen vier Winden. „Es muss ein Mensch in der Nähe sein“, sprach er bei sich, doch so, dass der arme Wicht in der Höhle jedes Wort verstehen konnte.„ „Wie gut sollte er mir schmecken, wenn ich ihn nur hätte! Hungrig bin ich ja noch; die drei Häschen, die ich heute erst gespeist, haben mich noch nicht satt gemacht!“ Er fing an zu fluchen und stöberte zwischen allen Felsen umher; nur dachte nicht daran, in die Höhle zu blicken. Denn dass der Mensch da zu finden sein könne, fiel ihm nicht ein. So entging ihm die Beute. Er wusste sich endlich vor Zorn und Wut nicht mehr zu fassen, riss Bäume aus mit ihren Wurzeln und wälzte sie den Berg hinab; auch mächtige Steinblöcke riss er los und schleuderte sie ins Tal. Bis dahin hatte der arme Hans immer noch seinen Fuchs festgehalten. Als er aber das grässliche Getöse vernahm, erschrak er so, dass er den Fuchsschwanz fahren ließ. Der Fuchs ließ sich`s nicht zweimal sagen, dass er nun frei sein sollte. Voller Freude sprang er aus der Höhle heraus und an dem Riesen vorbei in den Wald. Der Riese lief mit großen Schritten hinter ihm her und erhob sein Jagdgebrüll, das wie Donner rollte. Aber es ward immer schwächer, je mehr sich der Riese von der Höhle entfernte, und unserem Reisenden kam die alte Munterkeit wieder. Er eilte aus seinem Versteck hervor und lief spornstreichs hinunter nach Limburg, das vor ihm im Sonnenstrahl erglänzte. Aber es dauerte noch einige Zeit, bis er sein fröhliches Lied wieder anstimmen konnte. Seit der Zeit wird die Öffnung der Höhle, vor der der Wandersmann den Riesen getroffen hat, das Hünentor genannt." From:http://kudg-holthausen.de/holthausen/interessantes/huenenpforte/sage-huenenpforte.htm


I translate:


"Once upon a time, a poor wanderer, coming from Rheine, wanted to get to Limburg at the Lenne. One hour of travel after Schwelm he met a dwarf in Voerde and asked him of the direction. He replied: The shortest passage is the one through the mountain. Here is the entrance. And unto you should not go amiss, I give this fox to you. he knows well where to go. Cling to his tail, and he will guide you." The wanderer took the advice and came into the Klutert cave, which is a  widespread tunnel system reaching for hours deep into the mountains, and always did he cling to the fox´s tail, until he saw daylight. But how frightened was he when he learned that near the entrance slept a giant, well over ten feet high! With a mighty roar he awoke, shuffled over to the nearby well and filled his giant drinking horn and took his lunchtime drink. Finally he sniffed along the four winds and muttered: "There must be a human  around!How well must he taste, for I have but eaten three little hares today, and they could not satisfy me!" He started to curse under his breath and rummaged around the cave, between the rocks, and by the well, but that the wanderer was in hiding in the cave, he could not think of. So he could not find the poor wanderer, who sat there in hiding, utterly frightened, and he was getting more and more furious.And the wanderer cowered ever lower in his hiding, until he let go of the fox´s tail. The fox ran away, and passed the giant. And the giant let go his hunting roar and pursued the animal, and ever farther away from the cave the fox led him. The wanderer, however, escaped and finally arrived at Limburg, but it was a long time until he found his blissful song again."

 The weather was being fine, and the woods were murky... a very special atmosphere lingers around the place, and I took it in in deep breaths. The saga is old. Could it be that the dwarf and the fox might act as psychopomps? Is there a Shamanic background? The Klutert cave has never had a connection to the Hünenpforte geologically. So why has the saga been told that way? Is it a case of simple analogy? Who is this giant? Local legends often have an older saga as  a predecessor, and you can rely on dwarfs, giants, animals, white women and other figures and personae relating back to pagan times. The older versions were corrupted for several reasons:

-folkloristic trading often leads to many things getting lost in the process
-Christian monasterical recording in most cases corrupted local legends by purpose
-Adaptation of graver topics as child-adequate in the enlightment movement
-Romanticism often went to grave libetries with the subject

If you know how it was being made, you get a grammar as to how the subject might have been changed.

 The path is narrow, though, and truth is hard to find;-) and the trail was narrow and difficult indeed, with a good deal of climbing involved.

 Raspberries were blossoming.

 Evergreen covered the ground, thick as a matress. There was this contrast of light and murk everywhere. I passed by the ruins of an ancient tower. 

 Submerged deep in the green, there lies the arch of the giant´s gateway, all but undisturbed by the roaring traffic on the highway below.

 Into the darkness I ventured, deep into the stronghold of the earth.

 At the entrance, at the side with the well, there was this "rock formation";-). Below it someone had heaped roses and wildflowers, draped systematically. There, I offered my respect to the place and the force of the land, and to the Earth mother, and I sat down and meditated.

 It was happening when I was deep in meditation when a pointed nose and two pointed ears, clad in red fur looked around the corner. In broad daylight, a fox came by the place. It was so unreal, I was asking myself if I was dreaming. Of course, I fumbled my camera. And he seemed to grin as he went on his merry way. I wished him a good journey. I was sitting there, quite amazed, but with a deep peace filling my heart and soul.

I left the place.

 Through the giant´s gate I went, into the enchanted sunlight.

And on my way back, a legend was forming in my mind.

Watch this place;-).

Soulriding into the frosty realms;-)

 Yesterday the woods called out loud, and I answered by bike;-). Had to change my brake pads beforehand, but then it was venturing out into the forest. I love going by bike not only because it takes me places, but for the riding in itself, too, obviously. I had to take the road some kilometres, but then it was a long single- and doubletrack up the hill. Peace. Silence. Solitude. Into the dark spruce woods I ventured, and the higher I got, the more the frost had bitten into the trees´crowns. The ground was frozen solid, and what was formerly mud was rock-hard and dry, making for fun riding where the ground was smooth and hard work where there were swampholes.

 And the woods were dark, and a gentle breeze moved the crowns of old spruce and fir trees. I have loved this song, the song of the wind in the treetops, ever since I was a little boy. It was the first sound I heard consciously, and it will always be a part of my soul. If I could utter one wish, I would like to die my death hearing this song, when it is time. Of course, I hope, it will be some time coming, still, for life is still great!

 I found the scarf underneath those blades in the woods. I have made a sheath for Lugra-Moros, and its poem is also ready. Also, my Nessmuk has a garage, too, now;-). Bit crude, as always, but then I did not draw anything beforehand, DOH!*ggg* And it gets the job done, keeping the blades out of harm´s way. The Nessmuk sheath has an inlay of felted wool, by the way.

 Who was it that said there can be an entire forest in a cup of tea?*ggg* I rode to my favourite place, and had a cuppa tea, and sat on the root of a birch tree, put on extra clothes and a blanket, closed my eyes, and gave in to reverie and meditation.

 I sat there for one good hour. Then I lowered my saddle, put away my stuff, strapped my rucksack on tight, donned gloves and helmet and bested my personal best down that singletrail by 3 seconds. Time stands at 29 seconds now, down the Steinbruch trail.;-). Time to beat, Jandark, Kai and the others!*ggg*

 This is the place, a peaceful, silent place above the lake.

 The trees are slowly awakening!

 And the winter solstice hints that the light is always growing stronger. I want to give to you the hope that night is waning and spring is on the way. These ice crystals I found by the trailside hint of that, too, at least in my book;-). They bear the light in their cold heart as well as the darkness. They will melt, and they dissolve the light into thousand colours.

 No life without death, I thought, no spring without winter, no fire without earth, no earth without fire, no water without air, no air without water. Or fire, or stone.

 This light shines in the darkness. It is the star that is hidden beneath the roots of the mountains.

It is the star that is hidden in the crystal, which in turn is hidden inside my soul. And that crystal will not melt.

Dream mode over and out*ggg*, all in all, a great ride of sic et non, of contrasts and of harmony. 

Perfect for me....;-)