A thoughtful and profound article. We certainly carry our story and stories within our physical forms whether we are aware of it or not. The prime sense for the Egyptians was hearing and not sight!
Oct 6, 2023·edited Oct 6, 2023Liked by Ellie Robins
For some inexplicable reason, a body-based one, I'm reminded of Van Morrison's line, 'Going down the old mine with/ a Transistor radio'... Music, man. A teenager's dream lapping on the bank of the River Liffey that ran by my aunt's Kildare cottage. Listening to pirate radio (Radio Caroline) located off the coast of Ireland during the summers of '64-'67... the beat, the pulse, the throb of new incendiary musical vibrations hailing from America, pouring in all over me,; unsettling the tight-arsed and tied up BBC (and sometimes too adult world) surrounding me. A world otherwise preventing me. Denying me. Excluding me.. Instead, ideas and feelings without the medium of thought or language. Leading me, freeing me, taking me somewhere else. It was a caveman glorious time to be alive. I guess you'd say, it stoned me to my soul ... Still waiting to come down.
Hi Ellie, by some strange coincidence, I was writing about the history of a Chumash pictograph site (kinda-sorta cavelike) the same week that you published this essay: https://etandoesla.com/175-saddle-rock-ranch-pictograph-site-malibu/ Thank you for providing some spiritual grist for the ol' contemplation mill.
A thoughtful and profound article. We certainly carry our story and stories within our physical forms whether we are aware of it or not. The prime sense for the Egyptians was hearing and not sight!
I did not know that about the Egyptians! Thank you for that gem.
Wonderful article Ellie! A richness here and depth!
Thanks so much for reading!
For some inexplicable reason, a body-based one, I'm reminded of Van Morrison's line, 'Going down the old mine with/ a Transistor radio'... Music, man. A teenager's dream lapping on the bank of the River Liffey that ran by my aunt's Kildare cottage. Listening to pirate radio (Radio Caroline) located off the coast of Ireland during the summers of '64-'67... the beat, the pulse, the throb of new incendiary musical vibrations hailing from America, pouring in all over me,; unsettling the tight-arsed and tied up BBC (and sometimes too adult world) surrounding me. A world otherwise preventing me. Denying me. Excluding me.. Instead, ideas and feelings without the medium of thought or language. Leading me, freeing me, taking me somewhere else. It was a caveman glorious time to be alive. I guess you'd say, it stoned me to my soul ... Still waiting to come down.
Sounds like you found a cave beyond the cave. What a thing to live through.
Hi Ellie, by some strange coincidence, I was writing about the history of a Chumash pictograph site (kinda-sorta cavelike) the same week that you published this essay: https://etandoesla.com/175-saddle-rock-ranch-pictograph-site-malibu/ Thank you for providing some spiritual grist for the ol' contemplation mill.
Hi Ellie,
Yes, that came from Jeremy Nadyler and a book he published. Can’t remember the name. He was also a Temenos person ( like Valentin and I).
David