Wassail, traveler, and welcome to The Gable Grey -- a place of retreat, of renewal, and of resistance: a tree-shaded refuge in Dark Times. Now pass the threshold, and rest from journeys! For a cold wind is blowing; and here, if you wish, you may hear tidings of the world without...

Friday, May 14, 2010

Dark Have Been My Dreams of Late

It is here, it is upon us:  the Paradigm Shift is in full swing.  Great change is afoot among peoples, in the Sea, and in the land.  The Earth itself is disturbed in its slumber.  Awareness of the change weighs heavily upon me, constantly; and yet I still cannot clearly see the way forward.  All the old measures of economy, of society, daily render meaningless my compass.  The scope and scale of the Paradigm Shift is vast, bounded only by human experience.  I do not know what to do, other than what I am and have been doing; but that does not seem to be enough. 

We must keep an ear to the ground, nose to the wind, eyes on the skyline.  Those still ignorant of the Paradigm Shift, those still under the spell of Saruman (and they are the majority), will depend on us who have come to reject the Ring, in the dark days ahead.

That said, it is yet an incredible time to be alive.  Anything is possible.

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Whiles carried o'er the iron road,
We hurry by some fair abode;
The garden bright amidst the hay,
The yellow wain upon the way,
The dining men, the wind that sweeps
Light locks from off the sun-sweet heaps --
The gable grey, the hoary roof,
Here now -- and now so far aloof.
How sorely then we long to stay
And midst its sweetness wear the day,
And 'neath its changing shadows sit,
And feel ourselves a part of it.
Such rest, such stay, I strove to win
With these same leaves that lie herein.

-- William Morris, from
"The Roots of the Mountains"