"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain." ~ Litany against fear, Dune, Frank Herbert 
"In finding my animal nature, I see what it is to be human. In being more human, I find my true nature. One day I shall die, but not this day. When that day does come, these words will be my final testament to what I have done, and left undone. For a long time I was concerned with words, thinking they held value above the concepts they expressed. At their best they serve as reflections for actions taken. I write now of my Path. The Road I take is one led by Raven. Bridging the gap between animal and human is no easy task. In pursuit of this I have researched the past, the ancients giving up their secrets. From this I began to cultivate my own thoughts, expressing them through personal reflection, through interaction with others, and through writings of my own. Some actions cannot be truly expressed with words. Artistic endeavours are better seen, than spoken of. Work done with the hands, sweat and tears, cannot be told of. Images from Gatherings tell far more than words could. There is so much left to do." ~ Reemul, 1994  From: raven@news.lycanthrope.org (Reemul) Subject: Fire (a poem) Date: 1996/09/06 organization: Lycanthrope Information Society newsgroups: alt.horror.werewolves an old man tired, weak, long in years walks down an even older path down from the mountain he comes his journey given a small respite a small village full of happy souls this his stopping place for a night he will rest with morning, his exit night draws near his old bones shiver eyes gaze up at the sky for the last time? his hands tremble the crisp air fills his lungs the breeze tightens his skin he remembers the words his thoughts given to reflection time to begin her voice still so clear yet, each time he hears her like being reborn exitement almost makes him stumble a giggle escapes he stops the time right the feeling correct here he will stay for the night to pass a little fire to build the ingredients so simple a little fire into a blaze? not tonight perhaps later... the song leads his way he hums a little tune the smoke begins to rise his eyes start to water from joy perhaps? a little light begins to show the heat warms his hands he closes his eyes his head moves closer the smoke thicker nostrils wide he draws it in his eyes burning his lungs about to explode surely this is death a crashing overwhelms a red tide drowns there is no breath there is no sight there is no being he remembers so much more he feels in ways as never before the smoke runs through his veins moves his bones makes him young again he flies with the wind he soars through the forest he eats with his brothers his existance made easy here he is happy but his frame is old and the smoke takes it's toll his eyes open to a starry sky he shivers against the chill freedom but a dream soon morning will come his path still a long one he cannot stay here long much yet to be done the door yet to open this village holds many memories some will soon go up the mountain some have already come back down some have preceded him down the long road some will never leave dawn breaks on the distant horizon the fire but a smoldering pile he smiles weakly, a knowing smile the fire is just a convenience a warmth against the night he packs up this things his step brisk and light almost like a young man today he smiles again a knowing smile? -- Reemul From: raven@musenet.org (Reemul) Subject: Rememberance Date: 1996/05/07 newsgroups: alt.horror.werewolves less than many, long them others I rejoice at the friends I have found the experiences I have had long is the path that brought me here to where i sit above the fire. long I fell down the spiral long I hoped for an end the pain too much I accepted my fate I teetered on the edge then a voice called to me I felt a warm caress I mistook her for another one who would lead me take me to the After she whispered in my ear Pistis Sophia she called herself sweet words she spoke sweet songs she sang songs of life of experience of existance but I must turn from my path oh! the price I must pay! but I accepted her challenge I answered her song oh, the price! the toll, my soul... my salvation now in the hands of the god Plutonium. Long had I denied what must be but now I must embrace it time a luxury I had little of except through a long needle the medicine of life, but death of the spirit willingly I now pierce my veins my scars are many such is the price I pay. a long time I sat another voice I hear! but not the voice of the singer I find myself in a nest a hatchling, a child Raven looks down on me my new mother, my teacher Raven spoke to me told me the new path I would walk a cold path a lonely path a path I would embrace I rejoiced, for I had found my way! and I asked Raven, "will this path lead to God?" but Raven said, "there is no God" and I was troubled. Raven whispered in my ear told me secrets, taught me tricks and I asked Raven, "is this the path of magick?" but Raven answered, "there is no magick" and I was astonished but soon I was forced from the nest to make my won way long I cried my song a lament much time passed before I saw the wisdom in Raven's words I saw for the first time into the hearts of those around me, and knew his words to be true I had been drawn back from the caress of the After my soul shattered my body broken neither could be as they were before with my own broken hands I pieced together my soul with my faith and wisdom I hold my body together that I may walk among the skins among the hollow men still I seek the After but despair no longer drives me demons held at bay gnosis the key to the lock eternity the prize where once I was astonished... for many moons I have sat by the fire many are the experiences I have had many more I hope to live my travels taking me to the hot desert the sun, hot, purifying the crucible for the soul I wandered long, unsure what is it I seek here? I sat and thought on this until much time had passed then before me I heard a slithering a Snake coiled in front of me at first I was afraid but Snake did not attack so I asked of Snake, "were you sent by Raven? sent to teach me?" and Snake said to me, "who is Raven that he and so I asked of Snake, "why is it you have come to me?" but Snake remained silent I became irritated with Snake my patience drew thin and I demanded of Snake, "will you not teach me that which I wish to know?" and Snake coiled and rose up and whispered in my ear, "he who seeks will find. yet, what you have asked me about in former times, and which I did not tell you then now I do desire to tell, but you do not inquire after it." his words struck me like a fist and my frustration knew no bounds I wailed against the sky and cursed the ground and when I was done, my rage passed I saw that Snake had left me and my heart grew sad both at his absense and at my own actions I reflected on this until much time had passed and I found these words to be true, "he who knows does not talk, he who talks does not know" with great sadness I left the desert I left the crucible of the soul wisdom gained at such a great price my spirit humbled my arrogance laid bare. even as I roamed the land of plenty my lips were parched I wandered through the lands of the skins of the hollow men my faith stretched to it's limits experience, which leads to understanding difficult to find so I journeyed again into the wilderness the forests my aim many were the streams I crossed, but still I was thirsty often I felt a presence following me yet guiding me but I ignored it, hoping it would leave me in peace but it did not, and I journeyed on, alone as i stopped one day, to drink from a stream to try and ease my thirst i felt it again, he who follows again i feared it was she who would take me to the After that i had failed in my journey that i reeked of the lacking but it was not she my eyes beheld Jaguar, cold and calculating silent and guarded he turned and walked from me and i was unsure if i was to follow but he stopped and turned his eyes beckoning me ever silent follow him i did deep into the forest i did not fear the darkness i knew Jaguar would lead me true not once did he speak so intent was he on the journey but soon he stopped and i drew up next to him and asked, "Jaguar, will you help me on my path?" his silence spoke more than i could imagine we sat until much time had passed, and finally he broke his silence Jaguar spoke to me, saying, "cursed will you be, if i consume you, and I become you. but blessed will I be if I become you, when consumed by you." his words troubled me for I understood them not but I reflected on them until much time had passed. and soon his words took on new meaning with every breath he took as he spoke my chest rose and fell every word that issued from his mouth I whispered in tune and I knew them to be my own where Raven had nurtured me weaned me for my travels where Snake had taught me humility tempered my arrogance to seek, to hunt was the realm of Jaguar who better to guide me? so I took Jaguar into me and we became as one my body broken, held together through faith my spirit shattered, pieced together with my own hands through Jaguar would I hunt where once I could not while Raven is ever present, he is ever distant I knew that Jaguar would never leave my side so long as I remained at his he would walk at my left hand even as Raven flies as my right coming down the mountain my journey far from over only just begun but my path laid out before me begun so long ago going up the mountain so many did I follow so many followed behind we all followed the same path we all had the same heart the same dream as I come down the mountain with new eyes I see the world some I journeyed with I see along a different path my heart sad my brothers in soul if not in blood our numbers thin our strength lessened is it I who have changed? chosen a path apart from the whole? do I seek that which is lacking? as I came down the mountain I heard a voice one I had not heard in so very long my heart was glad to hear her again I heard her song songs of life of experience of existance and I rejoiced! my faith was strong I followed the path set before me so long ago my actions and thoughts not in vain I felt renewed even as I felt loss a part of my heart left behind left to walk a different path if lines have been drawn then so be it some may say, "come and play, come and play! forget about the movement!" but I cannot I will not I will not forget my name a Raven who sits on a fence in the midst of battle may get shot... wise words I will follow like a knife in my heart I feel the loss of my brothers but we must each walk as our hearts tell us no less do I offer no more do I ask coming down the mountain my journey just begun! -- Reemul Subject: Cloacal Quiverings Date: 1996/07/30 Message-ID: <4tm1cf$kts@mercury.bbnplanet.com>#1/1 organization: The MuseNet Project, Cambridge, MA, USA newsgroups: alt.horror.werewolves *the Raven swoops down out of the night...* It took me a while to decide to post this under it's own thread. It really is a response to many posts, so i decided to give it it's own subject. I find it rather disturbing, the attitudes that can be displayed on this newsgroup. Often i hear great calls for tolerance, yet in the next breath, i see poison spewed at the object of someones distaste. While there are many subjects covered by both of the above, i choose here to talk about religious tolerance. Many of us were raised Christian. It's just a fact of this countries past that we all share this faith, with it's many denominations. Many (by far not all) of us have left that faith for one or another reason. Quite often there seem to be feelings of great anger towards the old faith, for whatever reason. And, unfortunately, these feelings of anger often express themselves as scathing hate towards anyone who speaks in a favorable, or sometimes even neutral light, about that faith. Now, before i go any further, i get as annoyed as anyone when confronted by bible thumping fundamentalists. I've lost friends over this, when they become fundamental, and i choose to stay on my own path. But, you see, i do not hate them. I do not deride their faith. Their choice is their own, and i am TOLERANT of this. Even if they get in my face, i do not hate them. That having been said, i find the lack of tolerance towards Christian beliefs on AHWW a sad thing. Demonhunter may or in fact may not be a fundamentalist. Do we really know? He could be a fuck who is just out to have a little fun at our expense. And what better way to do this on this newsgroup? Why, it's to come on as a Christian. Go figure. You see, not all christians are asswipes. And, for that matter, not all Pagans are prime moral examples. I find Wicca as a means for furthering myself about as useful as a kick in the crotch, but do i, when i hear a Wiccan go off with more "Blessed Be's" than a hive in summertime, make comments about how much i'd like to engage in a menage with the God and Goddess? No. (gets my cloaca a-quivering jsut thinking about it ;> ) I have absolutely no use for Earth Worship. But when i hear people drone on about Natures revenge and the Earth Mother, do i say that Gaia is a whoreish cunt that can blow me? No. And, to be fair, when some bible-thumper starts yelling in my ear, do i mention that Jesus gives good rim-jobs? No. (who knows, it was 2000 years ago...) My point? Heh. Who is at fault, the faith or the follower? NO religion is free of blood on it's hands. But does insulting the faith solve the problem? No. It's a distraction, nothing more. the fundamentally oral raven, Reemul From: raven@musenet.org (Reemul) Subject: Re: Personal therianthropy: where I'm at Date: 1996/07/17 newsgroups: alt.horror.werewolves Ron Orr (grizelda@vianet.on.ca) wrote: : It occurs to me that we don't talk much about why we may be what : we are, and in what way that reveals itself to us. For some reason it : doesn't seem to come up too often, and at times the werecards (mine : included) gloss it over a bit. : I thought I'd say a few things about how it is with me, and : perhaps get some discussion going on the subject. : This is a question I've been reluctant to ask. I'm afraid that : (as has happened before in my life) overanalysis will ultimately ruin : the experience. There are possibilities: he's symbolic; he's a : reflection of my psyche; or it's even possible that manticores _are_ or : _were_ real in some fashion, as is widely believed about dragons and the : like. I just don't know...and in a way, it really doesn't matter. It : isn't what he is, it's what he's done for me. i dont think overanalysis is a bad thing necessarily. how else do you learn and grow except through introspection? perhaps it really doesnt matter if manticore was or was not real. it is real in the myths and minds of humankind. in this way, it is as real as Raven or Wolf, or the other animals who represent our totems. mythical totems are more difficult than those which are extant, as we have no example to point to and say, "there, there is the basis for my spirit." but i think that mythical totems have a mystery and power that rivals any that an extent totem may possess. : Interstate in a thick, dark fog, I began getting these _ideas._ They : came to me in the form of stories, stories that felt like tales of : manticore mythology. They came entire, complete, needing only to be put : into words. Again, not a clue where they came from; stylistically, : they're nothing like I've ever written before. But it's all of a piece : with the rest of my experiences with my mythical counterpart. Perhaps : they're a way for me to get to know him a little better? i think that's probably right. Raven will sometimes do the same with me. have you decided to write these stories down? : Names: I've become obsessed with them. Magicians used to believe : that once you knew something's True Name, you'd be able to control and : understand it fully. I know some of you have had no trouble finding a : Name; in some cases you've been 'told,' in others one's occurred to you : out of the blue, or after some significant event. I've had no such luck. : The other me has been quiet about who he is, and it's begun to bother : me. Lots. I have the idea in my head that if I know who he is, I'll know : a lot more about what's happened to me. i agree. true names do possess a great deal of power. but true names can take many forms. once you do learn a name that is integral to your spirit, it is something that one should keep to oneself, but tha'ts a personal opinion. Reemul is just a nick. nothing more. but in a way, it is a true name. not in a way that anyone else can use though. ;> i would be wary of letting someone else give you a name, expecially one you consider part of your spirit. i dont know the true name of raven, he simply is. -- Reemul klaatu barata nikto From: raven@musenet.org (Reemul) Subject: Harrowing Date: 1996/05/21 Message-ID: <4ntctq$6hb@micro.musenet.org>#1/1 organization: The MuseNet Project, Cambridge, MA, USA newsgroups: alt.horror.werewolves the winds whip against my jet feathers my talons grip the branch below me so tenuous my grasp rain beats on me, a constant staccato a machine gun against my body a storm that has no natural cause a storm set upon me my myself i am the agent of my own demise, if i fail to keep my grip. how can you all just sit there? a mute look on your face! do we not walk the same path? my anger grows with every second! then i see your eyes... i see into your soul reflected in them is the same struggle the same storm hidden behind your eyes covered by the mask you wear the same mask i share the rage surrounds me my limbs set aquiver my vision starts to blacken a fire runs through my veins madness stands before me to sleep offers respite, if only i would join the hollow men temptations of the world surround me so much to choose from so shiney so sparklie but temptations of the world distract me i will take what i must written into my contract, i must partake of it's treasures my body and soul in bondage to a new god a price i pay to stay on the path the diety Plutonium with new tricks new magicks magicks to keep my body together tricks to keep my legs strong, that i may keep on down the path while i have a contract to keep my hands, my legs, my face, my breath i have no such assuraces about my soul. with my own broken hands did i piece it together with my faith and wisdom did i glue each piece in place shattered to the winds it was my soul laid bare for me to be reborn the Lady helped me put it back in place the Lady sang for me songs of life, of experience, of existance. and i knew that hers was the shining path so many temptations of the spirit so many guarantees if only i will give in to their light if only i will speak their words if only i will sing their songs a refuge from the storm to break it's frigid cold to shield me from it's howling wind to protect me from the driving rain but in my heart i know they offer not what i need their words are hollow their spirits reek of the lacking they walk hand in hand with the skins so few are the points of light so rare the gems of wisdom among the words of the hollow men to burn away the chaff to clear away the weeds, that choke the soul that hold back the spirit often one of the hardest decisions to make. knowledge ceases to be wisdom if it's use is long past what use has the man for a cave, once he learns the secrets of carpentry? the stories that put me to bed as a child these things do nothing to comfort me now i cast aside all that i was i leave behind my words that offer nothing i put away all i learned, but that teaches me not but i never forget for one day i may come full circle and take up what i left behind so many are the temptations of the flesh i could lose myself so easily the rapture of sex the ecstacy of drugs the union of love... these most of all are hardest to put behind me could i weather two storms? could another handle the demons i wrestle? perhaps. but i will not use what little time i have waiting for one to share my path i have fallen by the wayside in the past drawn by such sweetness i can not, will not walk another's path for them i expect no more from another it has been said, "precious things lead one astray. therefore the sage is lead by what he feels not what he sees. he lets go of that, and chooses this." these are words that are easy to understand but hard to follow. they are the path i choose. i release my grip on the branch i spread my wings i enter the storm to curl up, to hide from it's ferocity is to never proceed i called the storm i am the agent of my own harrowing with glee i sing my song with joy i answer her call. -- Reemul   
Click the Stag to return to the menu. |