Allegories in Architecture: The Ancient Cistern

Part I: The Spider’s ThreadIn 1938, Ryunosuke Akutagawa wrote a short story for a Japanese children’s magazine called Kumo no Ito, or The Spider’s Thread. In this story, the Buddha Shakyamuni was strolling alone alongside a lotus pond in Paradise. Between two lotus leaves and through crystal clear celestial water, the Buddha peered into hell. Among the suffering he observed a man by the name Kandata, whose sole good deed in life was sparing the life of a spider while walking through the woods. Touched by this act of compassion, the Buddha lowered a string of silver thread, taken from a spider in Paradise, to save Kandata from damnation. Kandata, overjoyed by the thought of not having to drown in the Lake of Blood at the bottom of hell or chased up the mountain of Needles again, began climbing the thread to Paradise. When the shadows of hell began to fade and the light of Paradise was visible, he looked down at the other sinners. Terrified by the assembly of people climbing the thread, Kandata feared it may break under their weight – and began yelling, kicking, and screaming – telling them this fate belonged to him and him alone. At that moment, the thread broke, and Kandata was flung back into the lake of blood with the rest of the sinners. The Buddha shook his head in disappointment, and continued his morning stroll along the banks of the lotus pond. Even an eternity of punishment, he thought, could not instill an ounce of compassion in the man.For those of you who have played through Skyward Sword, the parallels between The Spider’s Thread and the design of the Ancient Cistern are easy to identify. Many of the story’s elements manifest themselves physically – such as the pond full of lotuses bordering the meditating Buddha Idol and the white thread descending into a lake of bones and cursed Bokoblins – but other aspects of the story, and Buddhism itself, are worked into the active process of moving from room to room. The recreation of this story relies on both physical placement and progression as methods of storytelling, with no direct verbal references to The Spider’s Thread explaining their connection. The dungeon is designed to tell this story in two ways – through Link and the Idol, and the story begins to unfold as soon as you enter the Ancient Ciste

via Allegories in Architecture: The Ancient Cistern.

The Confidant is held together with delicate threads and secrets.


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“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.”

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

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Acedia, Bane of Solitaries – Articles – House of Solitude – Hermitary

Acedia or accedie has a narrow religious definition but is a far larger and wider psychological and spiritual term relevant to the history of eremiticism and solitude.The narrow sense is that of sloth, indolence, laziness, as in the Western world’s list of seven capital sins. Eastern Christianity is a little more comprehensive in referring to seven “temptations.” Acedia is a psychological rather than moral condition, with implications for modern attitudes toward culture, conformity, and contentment. Acedia was a historical bane to monks, hermits, solitaries, and — by extension — to any one spiritually or intellectually inclined.Acedia and the Desert Fathers and MothersThe concept of acedia begins with the ever-observant desert fathers and mothers who first perceived and diagnosed the condition. Their first impulse was to shoo it away like a pesky insect by keeping occupied, as in the narrative of Anthony beset “by many sinful thoughts” and cured by angelic advice to stay busy  plaiting rope. Poemen avers that “acedia is there every time one begins something, and there is no worse passion, but if one recognizes it for what it is, one will gain peace.” And John Cassian adds:

via Acedia, Bane of Solitaries – Articles – House of Solitude – Hermitary.

The future is assured. It’s just the past that keeps changing ~ Russian joke.



foto of izzy foreal in bellingen library

Every book is a quotation; and every house is a quotation out of all forests and mines and stone quarries; and every man is a quotation from all his ancestors.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Plato; Or, The Philosopher”

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Home » Robert Henderson

ROBERT HENDERSONI am Koori, an Aboriginal man of 51 years, of the Wiradjuri People from the country known as Australia. I was on the streets for most of my teenage years although I did complete my junior certificate at high school. I hitch hiked the East Coast of Australia for 7 years stopping here and there to work. I spent time living and working in Kings Cross, on trawlers, in bands, mines and construction. Around the age of 30, I began working in palliative care in my local region and also trained as a professional counsellor, working with young people, families and the disenfranchised in Brisbane. I became aware of my interest in visual arts around ten years ago although I did win a portrait competition in Grade 1 at Buderim primary school for a self-portrait. Local artist Sam Fullbrook judged this competition.

via Home » Robert Henderson.

Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.



“We meditate on the transcendental glory of the Deity Supreme,
who is inside the heart of the earth,
inside the life of the sky,
and inside the soul of the heaven.
May He stimulate and illumine our minds. “

The Gayatri Mantra.

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Last Poem (J’ai tant rêvé de toi)

Originally posted on THE SILVERBIRD:

Last Poem (J’ai tant rêvé de toi)

I have dreamed so deeply of you that you lose reality.

Is there still time to reach that living body and kiss
On those lips the birth of the voice so dear to me?

I have dreamed so deeply of you that my arms so used
While embracing your shade to cross themselves on my chest
Would not shape themselves perhaps to the lines of your body.

So deeply that faced with the true apparition
Of what haunts and governs me for days and years
I doubtless would become a shade myself.

O balance-scales of feeling

I have dreamed so deeply of you doubtless
There’s no time left for me to waken.
I sleep upright, my body exposed to all
The apparitions of life and love and you,
The only one who matters to me now,
I could…

View original 77 more words • View topic – Poems: Wind Chimes Gift in Memory of Lost Loved One

have given the gift of windchimes many times to family and friends that have lost a loved one. Years ago I found this poem and it is in the archives, just look under the “memorial board”. Everyone I have given the chimes to just loved them. Here is the poem, I’ve never been able to find the author of the poem. I type up the poem using a light blue cloud stationary. You can replace the “he” with “she” to make it appropriate for the situation. Song on the Wind~~~ Take these wind chimes that we I give you Hang them high up in the tree, Let the melody remind you Of the spirit that is heshe. He would have wanted song To come and fill our days. He would surely bring you laughter If there was any sort of way.

via • View topic – Poems: Wind Chimes Gift in Memory of Lost Loved One.

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Originally posted on THE SILVERBIRD:


A poem sent to me by Betty of WINDSONG CHIMES. I have had chimes since the early 90s when my Mum sent me some in Sydney, I am intending to get mine refurbished and to buy some for Izzy’s Spot in the Forest.

And here is the poem :

“Take these wind chimes that I give you
Hang them high up in the tree

Let the melody remind you
Of the spirit that is he

He would have wanted song
To come and fill your days

He would surely bring you laughter
If there was any sort of way

If he could, he’d grin that grin of his
That crinkled up his eyes

That somehow owned a twinkle
He never could disguise

There’s nothing to replace
The man you knew and loved

But you can listen for his song of joy
From the chimes hung up above


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Originally posted on THE SILVERBIRD:


Today, the rains eased and the Girls came visiting. The annex had blown away during the night and there was some damp in with the books in the new Shed but we were able to sing a little for you, Iz.

Just a little and a dancing step or two.


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To wash this memory clean. Let the floods cross.




Tiddalick – The Frog Who Caused a Flood

As his belly rumbled
The frog rocked to and fro
With his hands upon his sides
A stream began to flow

Tiddalick’s mouth was open wide
With water gushing out
A surging tidal river
Spewed like a water spout

It swept away the animals
And covered all the sand
A shining lake of water
Had spread over the land

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Originally posted on THE SILVERBIRD:

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Hey, Iz. Here are the flood pictures. Minor but pretty. No klaxons blaring.

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Are You Ready to Join the Slow Education Movement?

Are You Ready to Join the Slow Education Movement?Posted by Shelley Wright on Aug 26, 2014 in Less Teacher, More Student, Making The Shift, The How of 21st Century Teaching, The Moral Imperative, Voices | 0 commentsSlow. I love this word, and yet it tends to have many negative connotations in education. Which is too bad because it’s the very philosophy we need to save our education system, and give kids the time and space necessary to grow into the thoughtful, articulate citizens we desperately need them to become.The 20th Century was known for many things. Mass destruction, of course. Statistics show we managed to destroy each other and plunder the planet at a rate unequalled by any other century in history. The 20th Century was also a time of great exploration, innovation and technological advance. The exploration of space. The eradication of disabling and fatal diseases. Increased global awareness. A measure of equality for at least some groups who have been historically disenfranchised.

via Are You Ready to Join the Slow Education Movement?.

Write about the emotions you fear the most.


Laurie Halse Anderson


“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.”

Frank Herbert, Dune

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I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees Asked the Lord above, have mercy now, save poor Bob if you please


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Can a man of thought and spirit be harnessed thus, and trudge along, like a pack-horse, in a deep, stinking, muddy road, when he may frisk it over the beauteous lawns, or lose himself, agreeably, in the shady, verdant mazes of unrestrained contemplation

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Originally posted on THE SILVERBIRD:

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I am not writing very much tonight. I may not even post today’s photographs even though it were an enjoyable day. I am happy tonight. I was with this lovely man for 7 years. Listening to his voice and watching those beautiful hands. Soon, I may be able to write about him. Instead of only sorrowing and panicking. For tonight – Pictures. Pictures of the life we had.

I have eaten well. Shopped with my Girls and the terrible cramps are not on me today. I did a meeting and checked mail and did grocery shopping. I spoke with my brother and my aunt and uncle are coming tomorrow.

sandy izzy vines2.jpg

For tonight that is enough. Iz, I miss you.

 iz and john m

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Necessity teaches the naked woman to spin.



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“Well, it seems to me that the best relationships – the ones that last – are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is… suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.”

― Gillian Anderson

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Every blessing ignored becomes a curse. I don’t want anything else in life. But you are forcing me to look at wealth and at horizons I have never known. Now that I have seen them, and now that I see how immense my possibilities are, I’m going to feel worse than I did before you arrived. Because I know the things I should be able to accomplish, and I don’t want to do so.” (Paulo Coelho)



I learned to watch, to put my trust in other hands than mine. I learned to wander. I learned what every dreaming child needs to know — that no horizon is so far that you cannot get above it or beyond it. These I learned at once. But most things come harder.

— Beryl Markham, West With The Night, 1942

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One man likes playing violin, and the other when his feet are smelly


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The Old Violin

The Touch of the Masters Hand

‘Twas battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.

“What am I bid, good people”, he cried,
“Who starts the bidding for me?”
“One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?”
“Two dollars, who makes it three?”
“Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,”

But, No,
From the room far back a grey bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said “What now am…

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Originally posted on THE SILVERBIRD:


Its very wet and quite cold. I did the AA Rally in Sawtell and I did stay the night at the motel and I did have the spa bath.  Very daring indeed and very sober of me.

I would like to be there now – hanging in close with sober people but I tired and the night became darker.

I met people I haven’t seen for a long time. Found out more about Suzzi and Michael’s deaths.

I met people I haven’t met before. Plenty of Gold Coast people and plenty of Armidale people.

I heard Queensland talk again and dreams ignited of boats and the North.  Norsie was in the next unit at the Motor Inn and we talked late.

I drove at night and in this flooding rain.

And I was amongst recovery which meant sanity talking and sober reactions.

My vision widens a little and Hope flickers…

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90-Year-Old Grandma Has The Moves!

Originally posted on Cute Puppy Love:

It was Jean Veloz’s 90th birthday party. Everybody knew that this 90-year-old woman has one passion and that’s dancing. So guys all lined up to make her birthday special, you know, let the old lady dance. What they didn’t know or expect is that this 90-year-young grandma has better moves than a lot of younger dancers. I think some on them couldn’t even even keep up with her ;)  Happy birthday Jean!

SHARE and show your love for the elderly!

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Utah is Ending Homelessness by Giving People Homes | NationofChange

Earlier this month, Hawaii State representative Tom Bower D began walking the streets of his Waikiki district with a sledgehammer, and smashing shopping carts used by homeless people. “Disgusted” by the city’s chronic homelessness problem, Bower decided to take matters into his own hands — literally. He also took to rousing homeless people if he saw them sleeping at bus stops during the day.

via Utah is Ending Homelessness by Giving People Homes | NationofChange.

20 Gentle Quotations from Mister Rogers | Mental Floss

1. ON HEROES WITHOUT CAPES”When I was very young, most of my childhood heroes wore capes, flew through the air, or picked up buildings with one arm. They were spectacular and got a lot of attention. But as I grew, my heroes changed, so that now I can honestly say that anyone who does anything to help a child is a hero to me.”From The World According to Mister Rogers Kindle Locations 501-503.

via 20 Gentle Quotations from Mister Rogers | Mental Floss.


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