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Muse reading - Louvre, Department of Greek, Etruscan
and Roman Antiquities, Sully, 1st floor, Campana Gallery, room 39, case 11
Limited edition, high quality print copies of our magazine on glossy paper are available HERE
or click here to view as an on-line booklet




The Inspired Issue
by David S. Warren

Living is easy: telling the tale is hard.

For that we need … deep inspiration …know what you mean by that?

Artists, musicians, dancers, poets, magazine editors, preachers, you, me, and everybody else seek inspiration, even if it is just to roll out of bed in the morning which some days can be the hardest thing I do .

So with this concern, we made Inspiration the theme for this issue of the Metaphysical Times; not asking our writers to define the word for us, and not necessarily to even use that word, or even to inspire us (would be nice though) but just keeping in mind the universal human need for inspiration. (click to go to beginning and end of article)

This editon of the Metaphysical Times is dedicated to Gurden Brewster, both inspired and inspiring, for more images and information about this man and his work go to: http://www.gurdonbrewster.com/

 


Fish Eye

by Mark Finn


Follow Les Cargo to our newest as well as past Fish Eye cartoons.
 

Four Birds of NOAHS ARKE
a commentary

by Josiah Booknoodle

INSPIRATION — HIGH AND LOW
A Brief Appreciation of
Thomas Dekker, Householder.

Just the other day I was perusing a book that does not often pass through my hands, and which to the greater part of the population remains unknown or unremembered. The book is a 1925 facsimile of “Foure Birds of Noahs Arke, viz: The Dove, the Eagle, the Pelican , the Phoenix” by Thomas Dekker, first published in 1609. (go to article)

 

Nowella and Uncle Threadbear
Chapter 14 Into the Outside
by Oren Pierce
B.A., B.S. , M.S.G.

What in their tiny INnside world could have inspired a trunk full of abandoned Teddy bears and other such Anthropogenic creatures (most of whom had never been outside except in shopping bags) to one day, not only step out into the Great Outdoors , but to proceed down the steps, across the yard, and along the hedge-row, hauling a fleet of pretend boats with no provisions nor any thought of the day after tomorrow, into a dangerous world of which they knew so very little? (go to full chapter 14)

 

 

The can was too big for the electric opener so he had to dig through the kitchen drawers to find an old manual opener. The one he came up with kept loosing its bite on the rim of the can so Charlie had to keep starting over again. Prying the lid up before he had little enough a flap hinge, he cut the web of his hand between his thumb and forefinger, but he never noticed the few drops of blood that fell on the floor and into the can, dispersing in a cloudy liquid in which was curled a sort of Merwoman. This was not a creature with scales like the one on the can label: the fish half of her was smooth like that of a trout, her back plum black, her underbelly white as fog, with spots like eyes up and down her sides, while her actual eyes were closed. The little Troutwoman’s face hadn’t a line of age or character. So vivid were her colors that she seemed not dead, but sleeping, or about to be born.
(click to read the story)



The Muse - Chapter 1
by David Rollow

The writer spoke in his most businesslike voice.
“I don’t have time to take poetry now. I’m too busy with prose. Look. I’m writing a book—a novel. Well, as a matter of fact, it’s only a story at this point, but it has the potential to be a novel. That’s even better, since it might be a novel without the potential to be a story. But I have to get to page sixty by tomorrow. I promised myself. I promised myself I’d take the time, and I’m taking the time. Please let me do it. If I don’t do it now, when will I ever do it? So go away with your poetry and leave me alone.”

The Muse departed, angrily jangling her lyre. She took her poetry with her. (go to story)

 
 


Grandpapa's Story
by Georgia E. Warren

I will tell you a story that my my Grandpapa told me. It is possible I see all these strange nature spirits just because of this particular story: Just once over the centuries industry came to the area in the middle of Oswego county where my family bought the house I grew up in. It was a company that made charcoal. They, cut down solid, healthy, trees that had stood for centuries just to burn into charcoal. The company was large enough that the railroad created a small spur that came onto the back of what would be our land, in order to pick up the finished charcoal. This did not please the nature spirits who lived there, especially the Fairies and the Trolls.
(click here to go to the beginning and the end of the story,
there's owls, crows, trolls, fairies,
and BIG
scary SNAKES)



 



How American
Literature Happens

by Gabrial Orgrease

In the cemetery the tall guy told us he had written a letter to his governor to suggest that he might want to go for a walk in the cemetery. It being a somewhat old and fine cemetery surrounded by highway, a bubbly crick, poison ivy, a cigar bar, and an old house that won’t let anybody in to see it’s basement. Something went on about how his father walked somewhere with the governor’s father. How he knew the governor’s wife likes to go for walks. How his children like to go for walks.
(go to story)


Dear Editor
by Franklin Crawford

Since I don’t really have anything to tell you, let me mention some things that happened on Sunday, August 20, 2017.  I was dropping off a bag of used clothes at The Thrifty Store where even rich people shop for twenty-five cent shirts. Slumming it is big now and everybody loves a bargain.  The place was closed and management prefers folks to not drop off donations on Sunday but people do anyway. Which makes it a good day for poor folks to get something they can afford, namely, something free. (Go to Story)

 


Inspiration at the
Traffic Light

by Georgia E. Warren

I have read poetry, novels, books that have inspired me, and listened to music that makes my breathing uneven.I hae seen art so powerful that I had to put my hand on a wall to keep from being dizzy (page #2 of this magazine). There is, however, only one time I felt something that came from inside of me; an idea so fully formed I could not escape it. A vision that would not fade. (go to article)

 



Reiki: Just The Facts Part XIV:
Bringing Spirit In

by Don Brennan

Inspiration is the process of clearing ourselves and bringing in wisdom, guidance, divine revelation, healing energy, or the sacred breath from Spirit. Call it channeling one’s muse, if you like. It is the process of connecting with the divine, getting our human selves out of the way, and allowing Spirit to move through us. (go to article)

 



POETRY

Our Poetry section includes some of our favorite poets; click on their names to bring yourself to special inspiring poems:

Robert Graves -
To the Muse Goddess (visit)

Dante - ‘’Purgatorio’’,
Canto I, lines 7 to 12 (visit)

Peter Fortunato -
Four Poems (visit)

Mary Gilliland -The Language of Bees (visit)

Nancy Cuto - Madragana Wears Her New Name (visit)

 

In Service to
the Muse

by Robert Graves

Excerpt from:
The Atlantic, June 1961

The original significance of this word has long been blurred by dishonest or facetious usage. The Muse, or Mountain Mother, whom the preclassical Greeks worshiped on Parnassus and other sacred peaks, seems to have inspired the poet in much the same sense as the loa gods of Haiti now “ride” their devotees. And, although by Homer’s time her invocation had become a mere formality, subservice to the Muse has ever since been avowed by counterfeit poets in the service of politics, learning, or the church. True possession has occurred sporadically down the centuries as a phenomenon that can neither be provoked or foreseen. (go to entire article)

 

Foreword to
The Muses

by David Rollow

The nine Muses are the offspring of Zeus and Mnemosyne, the Goddess of Memory. Before the invasion of the Olympian gods, the Muses, goddesses or guardian nymphs of springs and groves, tutelary spirits, belonged to a preliterate, oral culture. The original three are the daughters of Mnemosyne, memory, although they were raised by a wetnurse or foster-mother, Eupheme. Even this biographical snippet must be a late revision, since Mnemosyne is said to be the mother of the Muses with Zeus, so is already a literary corruption, the first euphemism. Mnemosyne is a personification: Memory. (go to article)

 

The Muse - Chapter 1
by David Rollow

The writer spoke in his most businesslike voice.
“I don’t have time to take poetry now. I’m too busy with prose. Look. I’m writing a book—a novel. Well, as a matter of fact, it’s only a story at this point, but it has the potential to be a novel. That’s even better, since it might be a novel without the potential to be a story. But I have to get to page sixty by tomorrow. I promised myself. I promised myself I’d take the time, and I’m taking the time. Please let me do it. If I don’t do it now, when will I ever do it? So go away with your poetry and leave me alone.”

The Muse departed, angrily jangling her lyre. She took her poetry with her. (go to story)




Journey to
the Second Attention
(Emphasizing the Recall)

by Kris Faso

I closed my eyes and immediately recalled the Elders advice.

“Nothing might temper the spirit of a nation as much as the challenge of dealing with impossible people in positions of power.
If you face the uncertainty with impunity, you will acquire the strength to withstand
even the incomprehensible.

And for this, peace will guide your way - then you shall know how to proceed”.
(go to the beginning of article)

 





 

 

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