Tag Archive | obelisk

long night that was

That was it, the longest night of the year.  It’s over now.  I didn’t send out a solstice greeting yesterday or last night because I was otherwise engaged.  You might remember that last year on the winter solstice I hinted that we were involved in an obelisk improvement project:

figure_solstice_orion_ahome

Last night the birds and I were so anxious and excited you’d have thought we were landing a capsule on a comet!  Our engineering feats were stone-age in sophistication, but considering the primary workmen were birds who have not evolved opposable thumbs, we are justifiably proud.

I think this is the coolest present the birds have ever given me, if you except the time black swan helped me get up here.

my niche

A niche!  I’ve always wished I had a niche.  Of course I’ve self-sequestered myself in an obelisk and an odalisque who shuns the world and makes a random scrapbook of fragments and bizarre conversations about birds, flinging that scrapbook out into a world where everyone is obviously sharing everything they make/do/think everyday in their very actual, materially measurable lives for un-anonymous readers to “identify with”,  has no obvious niche.  Once there was a niche, but it was unsatisfactory.  It involved Moroccan tiles, a titillating fountain, perhaps a voluptuous urn, and a conspicuous absence of clothing around key body parts.  Later, our niche was behind the heavy european draperies of studios and salons.  Blessedly, we escaped those niches.

Where is the niche for an odalisque in an obelisk who converses with birds?

HERE IT IS.  I have a niche.  Right here in my obelisk.  And this niche…it is VERY SPECIAL which is why I did not send you any solstice greetings to get you through that long dark night (at least it wasn’t so cold this year).  I have been fixedly watching, with all birds, MY NICHE.

This is what happened when, from the longest long night,  the sun crept over the horizon, slipping the first frugal but encouraging slivers through my single window:

solstice_niche

Wait…what WAS that?

solstice_niche_full

Don’t find your niche, make one.  With the help of your friends.

Astronomically significant greetings to you and all your beloveds this winter season,

–The Odalisque

are you awake?

i am writing you it is the longest night of the year.  there are astronomical charts and time tables which tell me this is so.
no matter when you read this let it be known: I wrote this on the longest night of my second obelisk year.

I am vigilant.  the birds are asleep.  crow/parrot is nesting on the teapot. black swan’s head is tucked into a wing with a hammer.  hawk’s claw clasps a chisel.  starlings sleep in my tree, which is perfect because they will rustle and chirp at exactly the necessary moment.

I have an obelisk-improvement plan which begins with our marking tomorrow’s first ray of light.  I’ll show you what we do, but you’ll have to wait until next year.

now, now now, cold and colder (metaphysically).  the obelisk receives information on its obtuse cosmic angle as it (as we) tilt far back on our polar heel, away from the atomic crematorium called sun.  I am wearing my coat and holding phoenix, who burns my candle at both ends.

i don’t like these long nights.

tomorrow night will be one minute shorter than this night!  every minute counts when you’re all alone in an obelisk and your friends are birds who go to sleep with the sun.

correction: owl doesn’t sleep with the sun, but where is owl?  out torturing the rodents who plant seeds in my bed when I’m not looking.  all kinds of seeds stashed in my bed!  will they sprout to my warmth when i sleep sound?

i sleep in sound.  mice eat the seeds.  owl eats the mice.  owl eats the trees, twice-removed.  the marsh flowers and the burnet grasses.

i like my solitude, but these dark days weigh heavy on me.

are you awake, too?  hush holy in the old days, before people like you and I understood the earth’s axial tilt, how it–not the sun–moves.  There was a time when night-wakers-we would labor with rites and song to call back the cold sun.  come back, chariot of cosmic fire!  run your course directly o’er, you barely crest the distant edge of our apparently flat fields.

people like you and I, night-wakers-we, would worry about star-lit days and moon-less night.  the trees are already dead and if the sun said “no, i won’t come back” and didn’t, they would have stayed that way, bare of leaf, electrical snappage in a voltless day-called-night.  we would have been eaten by the night-hunters, like owl.

crow-who-is-parrot cracks one eye as if crow were wholly crow, and croaks “some day some day”.  it is true.  one day the sun will burn out.  go back to sleep, parrot-who-is-crow.

I am glad to KNOW that this is the longest night this solar year.    Tomorrow night will be a little bit gentler than this one here.

my winter solstice, 2013 scrapbook page.   happy hol [ly] days.

figure_solstice_orion_ahome

fig 3

alignment

vernal equinox, 20:44 (UTC).

everything is aligned.

and crow is crow!

our experiment

our experiment

transparent bar

<************update (20:45 UTC)************>

is [was]

broken egg with parrot

rent

A reader has asked if buying an obelisk is expensive, or if I just rent.

Obelisks are like Brigadoon; they appear at the moment needed, but otherwise are unattainable.  That’s why I am reluctant to leave–if I do I’m not sure I could get back.   I really have to be convinced that it is worth the risk.

Some people would feel stuck in this situation but I like it fine.  I’ve stopped expecting anyone, besides the birds.  So now, I guess, I could really be surprised!

Which is evasion:  staying or going somewhere else?

  1. Some people stay where they are to evade what they could be.
  2. Others keep moving to evade who they are.
  3. Does it matter where I am?

Here’s a sentence I read recently:

But actually               unlike the snail                    we carry our homes                  within us

which enables us                                     to fly                                                               or to stay

,—                                 to enjoy                                   each.

Thoughts like these are  the price one pays for living in an obelisk by the sea shore.  Their consideration is the cost of rent.

I’m curious if any of you live in similar structures.  Perhaps in other shapes or materials?

A chunk of the obelisk fell out when I was painting, and it sits on my desk.  Do you know what obsidian feels like?  It is dark, glassy, a mirror cast in blackness, not in light.  The obelisk is very grounding.  It channels atmospheric and astronomical energies into the earth out of the sky.  Kind of like a lightening rod during a storm, but it works on more subtle energies, as well.

The tree that can sometimes be seen growing out my window, flourishes upon that same earth and air.

Soon it will be the equinox!  We are going to conduct an experiment on that day.  I’ll post the results next week.

Sorry I’ve been so absent these last few weeks.  I was tending to the tree.

You can ask me anything anytime as a comment or at handwriting email address

DoIgoOutAgain

obelisk clock

As you know, I celebrate astronomical facts.

Today my side of the earth leans close to the sun.

Tomorrow, it begins to tilt away.

Here is a celebratory  [j]gif[t] for you.

obelisk clock

[If you don’t see this image animated, click to open it!]

(read last year’s summer solstice post: astronomical truths)

 

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!  I now operate on obelisk time, and today is January 31…one year ago I moved into my towering astronomical clock.  To scald out the old and wring in the new, the birds and I took a bath.  Here the birds are in their bathing caps, I in my flaming sword:

bird bath

You will note that crow showed up as a parrot.  I have no explanation for this; crow delights in incongruities.   I trust that parrot-hood is only a temporary condition intended to confound everybody.  Once we’ve grown accustomed to this guise,  it’ll vanish, like the shadow of the circling bird when clouds occlude the light.

When I started this scrapbook I did not know that my measured and even conversations with the birds would become silly, intense, with fashion shows, flaming pillow notes, cupid costumes, and a very bad day for the black swan.    I had no idea, when I started, what I looked like, or that an accurate depiction of my life required a queerly elaborate picture language.   I discover my voice speaking to you.

Here are my ten favorite pages from the 72 I made this year (click to view):

  1. Beauty in ruin…a conversation with the hawk
  2. The FASHIONABLE BIRDS
  3. The stag & the unicorn
  4. Portraits of the odalisque as a young girl
  5. Learning to wait
  6. My swim-suit
  7. A WOMAN THERE WAS starring Theda Bara
  8. My first letter from imprisoned odalisque, Henriette
  9. Publicity photos from my movie
  10. MY MOVIE!!!!!

Which ones did you favor?

Not fare well, but fare forward, dear voyagers,

–The Odalisque

cyberflaneurs, sycophants & odalisques

The owl says that WordPress says that if you want people to read you,  you go read them and then comment with charm, enthusiasm, and sympathy so that they will be flattered enough to click on your profile to see who you are.    Then, you will develop, like Jesus and the Grateful Dead,  followers.

As an odalisque of course I want to be gazed upon.  But the odalisque’s appeal is her sequestration.  She is couched in exquisite seclusion.  She is come-to, arrived-at.  She does not prowl or solicit.  She reclines in recumbent expectancy, like a saint awaiting the ecstasy of her god.

My scrapbook is something you–stumbled upon?

Cyberflaneur, how have you found me?  I am at a distance from the world.  I have nothing to offer but the sensuousness of my presence.  There is no gain in me because I have distanced myself from all that is gainful.  Will you come without motives of your own ascendancy?  Without sycophancy?  Will you come, then come again, delighting, quite simply, in me?

Why do I secret my scrapbook in a social sphere?

I have sequestered myself in this essentially inaccessible obelisk to unearth in my impossible-to-relieve state of  expectancy, what it is I wait for.  What is it I want as I gaze out windows that are not doors that men can open and close and journey towards?

The owl’s lids slowly shutter owl’s eyes.

When I wake up hours later, I see two yellow lanterns shine from a boat far out at sea.

Owl is still on the window-sill.  Eyes open.  Watching me.

–The Odalisque

My window. Birds.

 

my new digs

I have taken up residence in an obsidian tower.

It has no chinks for the intrepid to grip.

It is an obelisk.

I am the odalisque who lives in the obelisk.

I converse with birds.

just moved in

 

 

 

 

 

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