Enchanteur’s Cauldron
“When that time comes, I try to be alone and silent for several hours; I need a lot of time to rid my mind of the noise outside and to cleanse my memory of life’s confusion. I light candles to summon the muses and guardian spirits. I place flowers on my desk to imitidate tedium and the complete works of Pablo Neruda beneath the computer with the hope they will inspire me by osmosis. If computers can be infected with a virus there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be refreshed by a breath of poetry. In a secret ceremony I prepare my mind and soul to receive the first sentence in a trance, so the door may open slightly and allow me to peer through and perceive the hazy outlines of the story waiting for me.”
Isobel Allende
The Twelfth Night is the night when the portals open and travellers can enter Lemuria with le Enchanteur.
In ancient times Kings and Queens, statesmen and commoners alike came to the Muses bearing valuable gifts. The Athenian Treasury House in Delphi is a testimony to the esteem with which the Oracle and the other inhabitants were held. The inscription which appeared on the Athenian Treasury said “The Athenians give to Apollo the firstlings of the booty taken from the Medes in the Battle of Marathon.”
Enchanteur’s cauldron is a place to leave an offering for the Muse.
Before departing, on the this Twelfth Night travellers are asked to follow Enchanteur’s lead and leave an offering for the Muse who watches over us all. This may be a hymn, a verse, a talisman or whatever you deem suitable.
Once you have made your offering find that portal and come on down!
Travel Safely! May your guides protect you!
Heather Blakey – January 5th 2008
Murmuring Woods - Riversleigh Manor 
So said they – the daughters of the mighty Jove
All-eloquent – and gave unto my hand Wondrous!
a verdant rod; a laurel-branch
Of bloom unwithering; and a voice imbreathe’d Divine;
that I might utter forth in song
The future and the past
Hesiod
It is our responsibility to make worthy use of this divine gift!
Enchanteur
The silent moon has risen
the golden starlights gleam
In heaven clear and bright
The forest sleeps in shadow
and, rising from the meadow
the mist is wonderful and white
Anne Mirtschin
http://www.murcha.wordpress.com
come to the place of stillness,
a place of calm knowing
that carries you into the sanctuary
waves of sound
heard and unheard
an oasis for the soul
that unfolds and dwells
in profound silence
Genece
What offering shall spill
Into the muses’ cup?
A potent potion,
Fermented from the fruit
Of fertile imagination…
Heady, flammable, complex…
At once
Thick with sediment of ideas suspended within
And clear as moonlight in a midnight sky
A special brew
An offering
Poured from the decanter
Of the heart.
– She Wolf
Begging bowl: empty
Heart: Emptied of muse’s touch.
Filled by gift of stillness.
–Q
Offering for the Muses…
“Though we share this humble path, alone
How fragile is the heart
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars.”
From Loreena McKennitt’s Dante’s Prayer
http://www.xs4all.nl/~josvg/cits/lm/lorecd88.html – credits.
— Imogen Crest, Travelling Nature Hermit
Dearest Muse,
Guide me,
Keep me safe.
Blessed Muse,
Guide me,
Show me beauty.
Sweet Muse,
Guide me,
Replenish my soul.
Dazzlling Muse,
Guide me,
Help my voice sing.
Precious muse,
Guide me,
My thanks is eternal.
Chefleur
So, then, I lift my arms and close my eyes, reaching out to the Heavens, beckoning the Good Will and the Spacious Therein to enter and to entice me….I beseech thee, take me In.
Obsidian I offer; protection for all who are brave of spirit.
Blessed Be.
The wind blows fresh from the sea
it’s salty breath cleansing and pure.
It opens my eyes and clears my mind,
alerting my senses to wonders around me.
I look to you,
My Muse,
to guide me–
A tiny bird flies
unyielding into the storm.
What think you, little bird?
What secrets do you share?
Are you and I but one?
Am I looked upon in favor by the Muse?
Vi
To find the Muses
you must take the leap
Into the blue
and beneath the deep.
Your heart’s desire
is within your reach
if you proceed up the River
to the Rainbow Beach.
And then on to the mountains
to green valleys deep
to the Halls of Mnemosyne
where the Muses sleep.
With a song and a prayer
they awaken one by one
then all things become possible
under the sun.
Lori Gloyd (c) 2008
http://lorigloyd.wordpress.com
I’ve read the page that Le Enchanteur linked above called the Delphic Treasury I was intrigued and inspired.
I thought about what gift I could give to the Muse and nothing seemed appropriate except only one thing kept coming to mind. I didn’t like the idea of giving it as it is not exactly a gift to be happy about. The Muse may not like it and throw it back in my face, I thought.
But then I remembered that the Muse is not human, like me, and therefore likely not flawed in the same ways that I am. I also realised that the gift I was thinking of giving was actually invading my thoughts right now and the Muse may be glad to help me be free of it.
I decided to jump in and take the chance and see what happened.
I called The Muse and asked for some precious time. I felt it was granted when I felt a presence next to me, comforting and expectant. I couldn’t see anyone but there was someone there. I said, “Dear Muse, I give you this gift of my Fear. It has been a royal pain in the backside for many years of my life and I give it to you in the hopes that you may turn it into something more productive.”
I waited without breathing until I felt the presence of the Muse leaving me but not before it kissed both my cheeks in a warm caress.
I glowed with acceptance and pleasure, feeling as if I was finally being given permission to be me. And it felt good.
Soultide
http://www.soultide.wordpress.com
Happened to be watching Oh Brother Where Art Thou and caught this quote at the beginning:
Oh muse!
Sing in me, and through me tell the story
of that man skilled in all ways of contending,
the wanderer, harried for years on end…
(The Odyssey, Book 1, Lines 1-4)
Hey, if it worked for Homer writing about Odysseus…
O muse
I give you years, all those long years
remembering the joy
and pain of loss
the tender touch of lovers
and the fears of mothers
for the sons, and daughters now grown old
I give you history and can but hope
that you will come as you did long ago
bring back the music
and the word. Fran
My Offering for the Muse.
***********************
Saturday it was so hot ,I stayed inside & cleaned out
my bookcase ..some not now used books etc for the op/charity shop…..But I found a TREASURE in a book not looked at
for many years …so I pop into the Cauldron for the Muse
to read and peruse over…This Poem or as I call it A TRUTH it says something of the
Murmuring Woods to me ………Please bear with me as it is a trite long …..Lois.
****** GRASS *******
Grass is the forgiveness of nature- her constant benediction.
Sown by the winds ,by the wandering birds,propogated by the subtle horticulture of the elements,which are its ministers and servants.
It softens the rude outline of the world.
Its tenacious fibres hold the earth in its place,and prevent its soluble components from washing into the wasting sea.
It invades the solitude of the deserts,climbs the inaccessible slopes and forbidding pinnacles of mountains,modifies climates,and determines the history ,character and destiny of nations.
Unobtrusive and patient,it has immortal vigour and aggression .
Banished from the thoroughfare and the field ,it bides its time to return and when vigilance is relaxed or dynasty has perished,it silently resumes the throne from which it has been expelled,but which it never abdicates.
It bears no blazonry or bloom to charm the senses with fragrance and splendour,but its homely hue is more enchanting than the lily or the rose.
It yields no fruit in earth or air ,and yet,should its harvest fail for a single year ,famine would depopulate the world.
BY…….. U.S. SENATOR INGALLS , 1872…..
*************************
Now there are perhaps few who are so eloquent today
But one is reminded that the TRUTH spoken then is the TRUTH not
perhaps spoken enough today…….
I liken it to travelling to the MURMERING WOODS where one
can lay on that green grass , rest and re-kindle after a long journey,one needs ,desires,and deserves all that is on offer there
Lois (Muse of the Sea) Sunday 6th January 2008.
For the Muse, I offer one red rose.
From the bush I planted by the Pool of Mnemosyne, under the blue moon of May (2007).
For the Muse, I offer a bottle of giggles and a box of tears.
To all muses, I bring the gift of cake! Yummy cake with light, fluffy icing. Eat and be merry! Love, Pris
To the muse I offer a tapestry of attention, intention, and gratitude woven with tonalities of sound, color, and language.
And I marvel how a cauldron that already seems so full can expand infinitely to accept every soul which desires to create.
I offer you, dear muse, this bouton doré I made when I discovered I could create something new with with old skills and new material. Should you miss a button on your shawl, replace it with this bouton doré. It shall keep you covered as much as needed.
May the Muses inspire me to release my creative voices for the enjoyment of my fellow travellers
O God, O Venus, O Mercury, Patron of thieves,
Give me the grace, O Muse,
to always be inspired…
This we pray…
we sisters,
we tricksters,
we word women,
we inkslingers,
we character flingers,
we blogging babes,
we digital damsels,
we e-wenches on our
cosmic cyber journeys!