Posts Tagged ‘Spain’

“Striking Fear and Terror”…..

August 18, 2017
My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

(taken by camera, East Morning Sky. )

I am writing this on my computer, no pre-plans for this blog entry, but hearing of the  slaughters of citizens in Barcelona, Vic, etc. and today, in Turka, Finland.  Finland.

By now most people have heard of the massacre in Spain.  Three not-so coordinated attacks, and people killed in each attack.

But Finland.  The country of too many lakes and very cold weather.  “Several men” ran through the crowd knifing people.  At least 5 injured, and one mother pushing a pram with a baby, dead.

The attackers got away so far.

What is happening?  Only the promise of these ISIS drones, to strike fear and terror into the hearts of everyone but them.

So what should we do?  This is an attempt to create world wide fear.  And with a lot of precautions, I think Churchill had it right:  “We only have to fear fear itself.”

And what could some of those precautions be?  I would keep updated on what was happening around the world.  Never so close, do I feel, to another world war as now.  My father fought in WWII, and there has been no real peace around the world since then.

I was one who prepared for Y2K.  It was an exciting time, when we thought something would happen of some importance in the world.  It didn’t.  But!  Many of us had toilet paper for a year!  And lots of weevils in the beans and wheat we bought.  Total loss.

This present situation with our mad dog president going nose to nose with the other mad dog president for life …..US and N.Korea,  this certainly doesn’t give any of us a ‘peaceful feelin’.  It strikes fear in our hearts, frankly.

I think we are in an uneasy time of it.  We are bombarded with too many important concerns and between alt-left and alt-right fisticuffs and tearing down monuments, and N.Korea and now the terrorism in Spain and Finland, for Christ’s Sake!

I’m open to any suggestions for the preservation of life.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2017

 

 

The Rites of Spain, for d’verse challenge.

October 28, 2016

 fed0b-turkey_vultureontree

I have to say…. the fascist underpinnings of this Futurism aesthetic give me hives. Intolerance as the coin of the day, and what we see right now under our noses reminds me of 1930’s Germany.  The Brownshirts arising, the lumpen proletariat just egging for a fight and easily manipulated.  Well, history repeats itself.

I deplore any fashion in literature that serves Nazism, fascism, any ism.  The Shinto aesthetic was bent to serve imperial Japan during WWII, and I believe just about any ism will find its adherents.  Which brings the issue of ‘what does art serve?’ to  light.

I have little brain for this movement.  It confuses me mightily.  And anything that was approved or looked upon by Stalin is even more reason to proceed cautiously.  I just couldn’t get my head around the prompt, but that’s not unusual for me.  This “The Rites of Spain” is a work in progress.  It doesn’t call for Revolution but can that be far behind when conditions are so dire?

Lady Nyo

Canto 1

 

 

Sharp azure skies

Rusty brown earth,

Black of women’s shawls,

Goat dung flung by boys

At passing soldiers,

The Inquisition churns onward

Like the great mandala

Crushing bodies under its wheel

Burning witches in great pyres

Ignited by ignorance

Of the blessed padres.

 

 

Time of terror,

Overtime superstition.

Of hidden manuscripts

under floor boards,

and investigations

Seeded by the envy of neighbors.

Goya colors flung on

the black of night,

Red of Blood

White of Death

Green of Decay

Duller grays of corruption

Shiny blues of greed

Exchanging favors,

Cardinal to Cardinal–

Madrid to Rome.

These are the colors

Of the Inquisition.

Holy Terror of God in

Man’s hands

where nothing is safe,

Humanity defiled.

 

Soldiers force Rabbis

to spit on the Torah,

A diversion, for the net holds much room,

All ‘thought’ is open to this furor,

For terror reigns.

The banality of evil,

Which words belie the results

Fashions such existence.

 

Dark shawls drawn

Over frightened faces,

only the

Whites of eyes

gleam out like hooded lanterns,

faces cast downward

when the Cardinals pass.

No one wants to be noticed,

There is Death in the

Very air.

.

 

Gossip is gone

From the full rose lips

Of women.

They huddle

Together,

Though no safety

In numbers.

 

 

Wearing an early shroud

To cover their

Beauties,

A slight sway of

Curvaceous hips

Could draw the Holy Terror

Upon their innocence

Condemned by black lipped priests-

Whores worthy of fire.

 

Cruelty and censure is the mantra of the day.

 

Breathe in the

Moisture of the drowned

Catch the blood

Flayed from bodies

Hear the sharp screams from

Those tortured,

And the

Sharper silence to follow.

 

Hope is gone

From the heart

Of Spain.

.

Fear the mantra of the day.

 

The disdainful eye

Of the Church’s

Informers,

Circling the

Spanish masses,

Like herding goats

From a horse,

Whip held easy

In the hand,

Ready to strike,

And strikes when not.

 

How many died

That could give

Birth to Enlightment?

How many aborted

By this

Scourge of Mankind?

 

Compassion forgotten

Humility distorted.

 

Lies the particular coin of the day.

 

The Inquisition

Rolled onward,

Tearing up

Soil watered by

Clotted blood.

Black tentacles

Of Power

Ripping

The heart

Of Spain

Asunder.

 

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2016

The Inquisition Once Again….and there is a poem in this pile.

January 13, 2012

“Nobody expects the Inquisition”….. Monty Python

But what is it we do expect with the Inquisition?

When I speak of the Inquisition, I am not speaking of the rack, torture (sort of….) or autos de fe (originally “articles of faith” but that meaning fell by the wayside, and autos de fe became the burning of ‘heretics’.)  I am thinking of intolerance and some other nasty stuff that goes along with the behavior of fundamentalists, or maybe their world view.

I have an extreme dislike of fundamentalism, be it Christian, Jew or Muslim.  Actually, I fear them.  Perhaps because I have had dealings (too many years) with a political cult that allowed no room for deviation from the ‘plan and politics.’ Perhaps because there was a definite stratification of peons and princes.  I was not a prince. This cult functioned in the real world much like fundamentalists:  there was no room to breathe.

Lock step applied.

Recently I have been reading Matthew Fox, the former Dominican priest who became an Episcopalian priest.  Funny, to think he stepped into this pile of manure rotating through the Episcopal Church over the issue of ordination of gay priests.  But as a gay Episcopal priest told me very recently when I asked about the exodus of Episcopalian members:  “If it wasn’t about gays, it would be about the ordination of women.”  And it probably was, too.

Matthew Fox is an interesting theologian.  He is very much involved in Creation Spirituality, a broad ecumenical movement that starts with Original Blessing, rather than Original Sin.  Original Blessing regains the understanding that our original and true nature, the original and true nature of all things, is “very good.” That’s encouraging. Although stuff happens, we do bad and sometimes terrible things in life–  it is still our authentic self.  It’s very much the opposite of the fall/redemption thing.  With that we are born rotten.

Creation Spirituality is nothing if not ancient: it harkens back to the great mystical traditions of Hasidic Judaism, Sufism, Buddhism, Taoism, mystics  like  Hildegarde of Bingen, Meister Eckhart, St. Francis of Assisi, Thomas Aquinas, etc.

There is much out there about Creation Spirituality, and I’m not going into a blow by blow here. I’m learning myself.  People can read where they are interested and intrigued.  I know I was and it was a theological/spiritual answer to many decades of dismay as to what I saw in the Christian theology of the fundamentalists.

But for some reason, and probably a good one, I will forever think of the Inquisition when I think of fundamentalists:  the same issues of power and control, the same patriarchal behavior, the lock down on expanded theological thoughts and ideas,  ‘evolutionary’ ones, because for fundamentalists, if it ain’t in the Bible, it doesn’t belong in your head.

Let the rest of us get on with building a less mean humanity.

Lady Nyo

(Some readers have asked me to write about our Christmas: Perhaps it is best to relate our Christmas dinner, something that was a ‘first’ for us, and now I realize how really extraordinary.  Seven guests around the table: a Hindu, a lasped Catholic, ex-Jevohah’s Witness, a Mormon, a child raised (ours) in the Quaker faith and then the Episcopal Church, and two going towards Creation Spirituality. Two guests gay.  An unexpected blending of religions that made our Christmas dinner a joyful one.)

The Rites of Spain 

Canto 1

Sharp azure skies

Rusty brown earth,

Black women’s shawls,

Goat dung flung by boys

At passing soldiers,

The Inquisition churns onward

Like the great mandala

Crushing bodies under wheels

Burning witches in great pyres

Ignited by ignorance

Of blessed padres.

.

Time of terror,

overtime superstition.

Of hidden manuscripts

under floor boards,

and investigations

Seeded by the envy of neighbors.

.

Goya colors flung in

the black of night,

Red of Blood

White of Death

Green of decay

Duller grays of corruption

Shiny blues of greed

Exchanging favors,

Cardinal to Cardinal–

Madrid to Rome,

And back again.
.

These are the colors

Of the Inquisition.

Holy-Terror-of- God in

Man’s hands

where nothing is safe,

Humanity defiled.

.

Soldiers force Rabbis

to spit on the Torah,

A diversion,

for the net holds much room,

All ‘thought’ is open to this furor,

For terror reigns.

The banality of evil,

Which words belie the results

Fashions such existence.

.

Dark shawls drawn

Over frightened faces,

only the

Whites of eyes

gleam outward like hooded lanterns,

faces cast downward

when the Cardinals pass.

No one wants to be noticed,

There is Death in the

Very air,

A pox of hopelessness.

.

Gossip is gone

From the full rose lips

Of  women.

They huddle

Together,

Though no safety

In numbers.

Wearing an early shroud

To cover their

Beauties,

A slight sway of

Curvaceous hips

Could draw the Holy Terror

Upon their innocence

Condemned by black lipped priests-

Whores worthy of fire.

.

Cruelty and censure is the mantra of the day.

.

Breathe in the

Moisture of the drowned

Catch the blood

Flayed from bodies

Hear the sharp screams from

Those tortured,

And the

Sharper silence to follow.

.

Hope is gone

From the heart

Of Spain.

.

Now fear is the mantra of the day.

.

The disdainful eye

Of the Church

Informers,

Circling the

Spanish masses,

Like herding goats

From a horse,

Whip held easy

In the hand,

Ready to strike,

And strikes when not.

.

How many died

Who could give

Birth

To Enlightment?

Fear replacing

The Intellectual future of Spain.

How many aborted

By this

Scourge of Mankind?

Compassion forgotten

Humility distorted.

Lies the particular coin of the day.

.

The Inquisition

Rolls onward,

Tearing up

Soil watered by

Clotted blood.

Black tentacles

Of Power

Ripping

The heart

Of Spain

Asunder.

.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2012, revised

“The Rites of Spain”

April 3, 2009

Canto 1.  This poem is  a series of cantos, that range across the issues of the Inquisition.  This is the first one.  This poem is experimental…and will be reworked at some time, as will the other cantos.

Lady Nyo

Sharp azure skies

Rusty brown earth,

Black of women’s shawls,

Goat dung flung by boys

At passing soldiers,

The Inquisition churns onward

Like the great mandala

Crushing bodies under its wheel

Burning witches in great pyres

Ignited by ignorance

Of the blessed padres.

Time of terror,

overtime superstition.

Of hidden manuscripts

under floor boards,

and investigations

Seeded by the envy of neighbors.

Goya colors flung in the black of night,

Red of Blood

Death of White

Green of decay

Duller grays of corruption

Shiny blues of greed

Exchanging favors,

Cardinal to Cardinal–

Madrid to Rome.

These are the colors

Of the Inquisition.

Holy Terror of God

in Man’s hands

where nothing is safe,

Humanity defiled.

Soldiers force Rabbis

to spit on the Torah,

A diversion,

for the net holds much room,

All ‘thought’ is open to this furor,

For terror reigns.

The banality of evil,

Which words belie the results

Fashions such existence.

Dark shawls drawn

Over frightened faces,

only the Whites of eyes gleam out like hooded lanterns,

faces cast downward when the Cardinals pass.

No one wants to be noticed,

There is Death

in the Very air. .

Gossip is gone

From the full rose lips Of women.

They huddle together,

Though no safety

In numbers.

Wearing an early shroud

To cover their Beauties

A slight sway of Curvaceous hips

Could draw the Holy Terror

Upon their innocence

Condemned by black lipped priests-

Whores worthy of fire.

Cruelty and censure is the mantra of the day.

Breathe in the

Moisture of the drowned

Catch the blood

Flayed from bodies

Hear the sharp screams

from Those tortured,

And the Sharper silence to follow.

Hope is gone From the heart Of Spain. .

Now fear is the mantra of the day.

The disdainful eye Of the Church’s Informers,

Circling the Spanish masses,

Like herding goats

From a horse,

Whip held easy

In the hand,

Ready to strike,

And strikes when not.

How many died

That could give

Birth To Enlightment?

How many aborted

By this Scourge of Mankind?

Compassion forgotten

Humility distorted.

Lies the particular coin of the day.

The Inquisition Rolled onward,

Tearing up

Soil watered by Clotted blood.

Black tentacles Of Power

Ripping The heart

Of Spain

Asunder.

Jane Kohut-Bartels Copyrighted, 2009