“How do you sleep, when you ban others from doing the same?”
This is what is written on Belle’s hands.
When I caught Belle, stealing my thorns, I saw there was a great green witch behind her who came forth and forbid me to write words. This poisonous witch thinks she is a master of words, and could control my words. We called the police on each other. They came. They understood this was a battle of words. After asking for my words, Belle and the Jade Witch now forbid me to make words, or I will be destroyed. I am accused of wanting to do shameful things with my penis, and am humiliated in public. There is a call for a public castration, a emasculation because I am an old man, and Belle is a young woman?
Belle had asked me to give more details about my prostate cancer, that I told her at the Wandering Goat had rendered me impotent. She had agreed to model for me, but added “No sex.” Did she make a picture of modeling nude? I didn’t. I was beside myself to take a photograph of her beautiful hands that made me swoon as she waved them, flapped them about my being, like, wings!
“Why won’t you let me take a picture of your hands!”
PLEASE let me take a picture of your hands! I am like a beast, eating out of her hands.
“I’d like to hear more of your personal life story. “When I got sober”, “When I was homeless”, “When I was fighting cancer”……. these are words you drop and then let flit by without much detail or explanation or storytelling. I want those details and stories. Please.”
Here is a essay on the Fisher King I just found this morning. It fits well with the post I started last night, that I will post next, titled ‘Freedom of Expression’. It is about the terrorist attack on the writers and artists in Paris. Islam is a Penis Worship religion that wants the West to worship the Muslim Penis – or else! A comparison to 911 and the Fisher King, is made.
In her poem, Belle compares the homeless that are off the grid to people who have been put to sleep. Grimm give this name to the Sleeping Beauty Princess…..ROSAMOND.
There are people out there
who don’t have state IDs, passports,
social security numbers,
The faeries who put people
to sleep for 100 years must live there
in that West Atlantic Vortex.
I got lost in it,
like Rip Van Winkle*,
to a changed world.
“much detail or explanation or storytelling”
“much detail or explanation or storytelling”
“much detail or explanation or storytelling”
In Arthurian legend, the Fisher King, or the Wounded King, is the latest in a long line charged with keeping the Holy Grail. Versions of his story vary widely, but he is always wounded in the legs or groin and incapable of moving on his own. The location of the wound is of great importance to the legend. In most medieval stories, the mention of a wound in the groin or more commonly the “thigh” (such as the wounding of the ineffective suitor in Lanval from The Lais of Marie de France) is a euphemism for the physical loss of or grave injury to one’s penis. In medieval times, acknowledging the actual type of wound was considered to rob a man of his dignity, thus the use of the substitute terms “groin” or “thigh”, although any good medieval listener or reader would have known exactly the real nature of the wound. Such a wound was considered worse than actual death because it signaled the end of a man’s ability to function in his primary purpose: to propagate his line. In the instance of the Fisher King, the wound negates his ability to honor his sacred charge. In the Fisher King legends, he becomes impotent and unable to perform his task himself, and he also becomes unable to father or support a next generation to carry on after his death. His kingdom suffers as he does, his impotence affecting the fertility of the land and reducing it to a barren wasteland. All he is able to do is fish in the river near his castle, Corbenic, and wait for someone who might be able to heal him. Healing involves the expectation of the use of magic. Knights travel from many lands to heal the Fisher King, but only the chosen can accomplish the feat. This is Percival in earlier stories; in later versions, he is joined by Galahad and Bors.
On Saturday, April 19, 2014 9:34 PM, Belle Burch wrote:
It’s Belle. Still wondering if you’re real. Thank you again for the bike. Let’s set up a time for me to do some modeling. Thurs and Fri are possibilities for me.
By the way, Why “John Ambrose”? Is that your middle name? Nom de plume? Highly synchronistic, as my current partner’s legal first name is Ambrose. I’m very curious about this.
Also, I thought you preferred to spell your name without the “h”?
Here’s the poem I said I’d send you.
Many a long year afterwards there came a King’s son into that
country, and heard an old man tell how there should be a castle
standing behind the hedge of thorns, and that there a beautiful
enchanted Princess named Rosamond had slept for a hundred
years, and with her the King and Queen, and the whole court. The
old man had been told by his grandfather that many Kings’ sons
had sought to pass the thorn-hedge, but had been caught and
pierced by the thorns, and had died a miserable death. Then said
the young man, “Nevertheless, I do not fear to try; I shall win
through and see the lovely Rosamond.” The good old man tried to
dissuade him, but he would not listen to his words.
For now the hundred years were at an end, and the day had come
when Rosamond should be awakened. When the Prince drew near
the hedge of thorns, it was changed into a hedge of beautiful large
flowers, which parted and bent aside to let him pass, and then
closed behind him in a thick hedge. When he reached the castleyard,
he saw the horses and brindled hunting-dogs lying asleep,
and on the roof the pigeons were sitting with their heads under
their wings. And when he came indoors, the flies on the wall were
asleep, the cook in the kitchen had his hand uplifted to strike the
scullion, and the kitchenmaid had the black fowl on her lap ready
to pluck. Then he mounted higher, and saw in the hall the whole
court lying asleep, and above them, on their thrones, slept the King
and the Queen. And still he went farther, and all was so quiet that
he could hear his own breathing, and at last he came to the tower,
and went up the winding stair, and opened the door of the little
room where Rosamond lay.
And when he saw her looking so lovely in her sleep, he could not
turn away his eyes; and presently he stooped and kissed her, and
she awaked, and opened her eyes, and looked very kindly on him.
And she rose, and they went forth together, the King and the
Queen and whole court waked up, and gazed on each other with
great eyes of wonderment. And the horses in the yard got up and
shook themselves, the hounds sprang up and wagged their tails,
the pigeons on the roof drew their heads from under their wings,
looked round, and flew into the field, the flies on the wall crept on
a little farther, the kitchen fire leapt up and blazed, and cooked the
meat, the joint on the spit began to roast, the cook gave the scullion
such a box on the ear that he roared out, and the maid went on
plucking the fowl.
Then the wedding of the Prince and Rosamond was held with all
splendor, and they lived very happily together until their lives’
Parsifal and The Fisher King Wound There is a particular soul need in western minds for good to triumph over evil in our external world. Seldom do we internalize this soul need in terms of our own daily actions, thoughts and feelings. The mythic underpinnings of today’s western world can be found in legends and myths of the 12th century. The medieval knights, their chivalry and heroic duty was to find out evil doers and run them through with their sword of righteousness. “Good” versus “Evil”, no less! Dragons and particularly the “infidel” (unbaptized men) were specifically targeted as the foe as they were usually holding a land or castle under tyranny. This sounds so familiar in light of the “Manhattan terrorist attack”, September 11, 2001. The task of this work is to take the current suffering of man as an interior event (as something all men have in common) and not to blame someone outside for this or that. Without looking first at ourselves as men, there is little chance of enhancing man’s consciousness and ability to relate wholly to one another.A retelling of the most famous and effective myth of “Parsifal and the Fisher King” is the backdrop for this intended healing work. Original medieval versions of “Parsifal” by Chretien de Troyes and Wolfram von Eschenbach have echoed down through time and many versions have been written such is its attraction. The myth perennially enlivens mans consciousness, fuels his desire to be whole and is called a “living myth”. In the retelling I have not found it necessary to look at each incident and adventure of Parsifal, but to choose those aspects pertaining to healing man’s masculinity. I undertook this work as part of my ongoing healing journey and out of disappointment that there are so few healthy models for boys and men to emulate!A contemporary man’s whole sense of self-worth and potency in this world is often based on his own and others perception of his masculinity-sexuality. James Wyly (1987) discusses that the central core to most men is “his phallus, his libido, his sense of potency and ability to potentiate his own destiny, to create himself in accord with his inner image”. The Parsifal myth is a medieval “man’s story” of restoring unity to misaligned masculinity and for men to start filling the emptiness that results from adherence to collective sexual values. The myth is a tale so worth retelling and reading for today’s modern man. Women will go “ah ha”!The quest, or striving to merge with the fountain of one’s life, is our innate desire to be wholesome and happy. In this sense we are all on the same quest as our hero Parsifal. Men are indeed modern heroes as each day we set off on this quest to be happy.The main players in the myth:The main players are Parsifal, a young man from Wales. The Fisher King the king of the Grail Castle. Kundry, the queenly, mysterious, mystic woman (a female counterpart of Merlin). Parsifal’s mother Herzeleide, who carries the sorrow of Parsifal’s father’s actions. Parsifal’s father, Gamuret, a man equally wounded and absent in Parsifal’s life. The Holy Grail (a unity with God), that bestows life and love upon the kingdom. The Grail Castle, a castle and kingdom “hidden” amidst the mists from all whom cannot see. Lastly, the forces of destruction “the dark side”, that strives to pervert the flowing of The Holy Grail.