Stella Adler, the famous acting coach, wanted more from a pupil, who was determined to play the role of Hamlet. She kept telling him, "Bigger! More! Hamlet is not a guy like you." He said, "Oh, you want larger than life?" She said, "Darling, there is nothing larger than life!" 🎭

”By the time the hill of beeches had disappeared, he caught sight of a powerful motor-lorry clanging its way along a narrow road, leaving a cloud of dust behind it, and the sight of this thing gave his thought a new direction. There arose before him, complicated and inhuman, like a moving tower of instruments and appliances, the monstrous Apparition of Modern Invention. ”He felt as though, with aeroplanes spying down upon every retreat like ubiquitous vultures, with the lanes invaded by ironclad motors like colossal beetles, with no sea, no lake, no river, free from throbbing, thudding engines, the one thing most precious of all in the world was being steadily assassinated. ”In the dusty, sunlit space of that small tobacco-stained carriage, he seemed to see, floating and helpless, an image of the whole round earth! And he saw it bleeding and victimized, like a smooth-bellied, vivisected frog. He saw it scooped and gouged and scraped and harrowed. He saw it hawked at out of the humming air. He saw it netted in a quivering entanglement of vibrations, heaving and shuddering under the weight of iron and stone. ”Where, he asked himself, as for the twentieth time he took out and put back Mr. Urquhart’s letter—where, in such a vivisected frog’s-belly of a world, would there be a place left for a person to think any single thought that was leisurely and easy? And, as he asked himself this and mentally formed a visual image of what he considered “thought,” such “thought” took the form of slowly stirring, vegetable leaves, big as elephants’ feet, hanging from succulent and cold stalks on the edges of woodland swamps. ”And then, stretching out his legs still further and leaning back against the dusty cushions, he set himself' to measure the resources of his spirit against these accursed mechanisms. He did this quite gravely, with no comic uneasiness at the arrogance of such a proceeding. Why should he not pit his individual magnetic strength against the tyrannous machinery invented by other men? ”In fact, the thrill of malicious exultation that passed through his nerves as he thought of these things had a curious resemblance to the strange ecstasy he used to derive from certain godlike mythological legends. He would never have confessed to any living person the intoxicating enlargement of personality that used to come to him from imagining himself a sort of demiurgic force, drawing its power from the heart of Nature herself. ”And it was just that sort of enlargement he experienced now, when he felt the mysterious depths of his soul stirred and excited by his defiance of these modern inventions. It was not as though he fell back on any traditional archaic obstinacy. What he fell back upon was a crafty, elusive cunning of his own, a cunning both slippery and serpentine, a cunning that could flow like air, sink like rain-water, rise like green sap, root itself like invisible spores of moss, float like filmy pond-scum, yield and retreat, retreat and yield, yet remain unconquered and inviolable!” - from WOLF SOLENT by John Cowper Powys

As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul after The Goddess. youtube.com/watch?v=Lnkl5-qo…

My Soul Waits for the Lord A Song of Ascents PSALM 130 (ESV) Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord! O Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy! If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared. I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning. O Israel, hope in the Lord! For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is plentiful redemption. And he will redeem Israel from all his iniquities.

Who is hid under His cloak, Cradled like an ancient idol, Hewn from His dark heart? God is spiriting away, again, To spoil His favorite cherub! Even the angels will gossip.

To sing, we have old songs; the old songs must be sung!

Our most ancient scriptures often say the simplest things. Were the scribes, then, fools? Surely, their wisdom foresaw: how readily fools lost respect for simple things, left unsung.

Just by hearing songs, he soon learned wisdom; by singing he was brought into the presence of the king.

The healthy instinct wants to build; both to take our time on a project and to found a sustainable legacy; one's pride in uniting is preferable to the thrill of tearing down/apart.

As The Spirit is neither male nor female, so, likewise, is The Soul "ambisextrous" and capable of relating in two ways; typically, in magnetic oppositions, when most powerfully attracted.

I mostly form ideas of what I've seen; but much there is that keeps a peace, or moves within the depths beneath, of which I hear, from those between.