11 September (Mars) Liber VII, 1:1-7
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1. My God, how I love Thee!
2. With the vehement appetite of a beast I hunt Thee through the Universe.
3. Thou art standing as it were upon a pinnacle at the edge of some fortified city. I am a white bird, and perch upon Thee.
4. Thou art My Lover: I see Thee as a nymph with her white limbs stretched by the spring.
5. She lies upon the moss; there is none other but she:
6. Art Thou not Pan?
7. I am He. Speak not, O my God! Let the work be accomplished in silence. -
@Jim Eshelman said
"**1. My God, how I love Thee!
- With the vehement appetite of a beast I hunt Thee through the Universe.
- Thou art standing as it were upon a pinnacle at the edge of some fortified city. I am a white bird, and perch upon Thee.
- Thou art My Lover: I see Thee as a nymph with her white limbs stretched by the spring.
- She lies upon the moss; there is none other but she:
- Art Thou not Pan?
- I am He. Speak not, O my God! Let the work be accomplished in silence.**"
To continue or not to continue?
From the start this text is so different then LXV! If it keeps on like this I'm not even sure what I could add to it. It's not very confusing, so far. Though I am wondering how the text relates to the Mars attribution. It feels a lot like the Treasure House of Images. It's value is in the owning of the words, not in the journey one undergoes in order to connect with or to understand.
Lets try silence.
Still, I come for the daily meditations—lets hope silence does not make into a lazy bastard.Love and Will
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@Jim Eshelman said
"**1. My God, how I love Thee!
- With the vehement appetite of a beast I hunt Thee through the Universe.
- Thou art standing as it were upon a pinnacle at the edge of some fortified city. I am a white bird, and perch upon Thee.
- Thou art My Lover: I see Thee as a nymph with her white limbs stretched by the spring.
- She lies upon the moss; there is none other but she:
- Art Thou not Pan?
- I am He. Speak not, O my God! Let the work be accomplished in silence.**"
Pure, elegant bhakti.
I've stolen from this for several Valentine's cards and other notes, just beginning, "My Gof, how I love Thee!"
But the original is the devotion of passion, burned clean without sentiment. Today it especially strikes me as disclosing how I see Adonai at every turn, in every thing. " I turned me about thrice in every way; and always I came at the last unto Thee," as Liber LXV said. Each time I look up, there is Adonai.
The movie plays silent but for the sound track, zooming on a scene as a spiral from above and staring starkly, nakedly at the disclosure of solitude. In each scene there is desolation - solitude - except for the God and me. (And I'm not so sure about me.)
As I wrote in Liber Amoris, " uplifted in the heart of She who is He that I adore."