Recent music, books and articles recommendations


Virginia Astley:

TV series from my childhood, The Persuaders title theme:

Dr. Edward Butler – Bhakti & Henadology

Eddie Procter on landscape aesthetic:

Robert MacFarlane on English countryside,article in ”Guardian”:

New book by Marie-Monique Robin:


My article at the Paradox Ethereal Journal

Travelling memories & our age – vis, croatia

On the May day ~ poetry

Maypole in the ground
in the middle of the field
at the sunset of 30th April
The Summer has cometh
scent of Hazel in the air
touch the May-tree
take a hawthorn flower
smell the creamy Rowan
gather all Ye folk
to make a circle
to spin together
for our fertile land
and to try and touch the sky
dance and awash yourself
in the Mid-Spring’s rays of Sun
up until the starry skies appear
at the horizon
cast the spell in the woods
with your loved one a-maying
in the forest green
as the Moon will change the Sun
whose warmth will retire to
bonfire made with force-fire and need-fire
throw the Juniper in bonfire
leap the fire with your loved one
for a blessed land and purification
share the bannoch Bealltainn
and wait for Beltaine to arrive
with merry song,rose petals in fresh elderflower juice, cider and ale
eat the good food, remember the ancestors and weave stories of old

The Plant as Autonomous Power ~ Ernst Jünger

Ernst Junger chair

The following excerpt is a chapter from Ernst Jünger’s book Annäherungen ~ Drogen und Rausch (Approaches: Drugs and Ecstatic Intoxication), first published in German in 1970. It is a wide-ranging, loosely organized account of the author’s experiences with ether, alcohol, cocaine, hashish, opium, mescaline, LSD, and psilocybin, along with more speculative reflections on the nature of ecstatic intoxication. Although the book as a whole has not yet appeared in English, the immediately preceding chapter, entitled “Drogen und Rausch,” was translated as “Drugs and Ecstasy” in Myths and Symbols: Studies in Honor of Mircea Eliade, edited by Joseph M. Katagawa & Charles H. Long, pp. 327-342 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press 1969).

Jünger is best known for In Stahlgewittern (In Storms of Steel), first published in 1920, which is a narrative of his experiences as a front soldier in World War I. A prolific essayist and diarist, he was a prominent figure in Germany’s right-wing opposition to the Weimar Republic. Although a foe of parliamentary democracy, he was never a Nazi. During World War II he served as an officer of the German army in occupied France. His allegorical novel Auf den Marmorklippen (On the Marble Cliffs), published in 1939, was read by many as an attack on the Nazi regime.

For the most part, Jünger doesn’t demonstrate or even seek to convince–he observes, muses, reflects. Therein lies one of the obstacles for the reader: his style, despite its outward form, is fundamentally aphoristic rather than essayistic. In the chapter translated here, I have not attempted to amend the original, except in one case of an obvious misprint. Otherwise, in two instances, I have indicated with the notation “[sic]” passages that are problematic for other reasons.

When juices of vegetable and animal origin intermingle, new molecules come into being, chains and rings of the most varied sorts are formed. Only recently have we been able to look into this fine structure a bit–were we not able to, then little or nothing would really be altered. This insight, as some suppose and many suspect, probably distracts from more important things.

That some molecules nourish the body and others pass through it naturally is as little disputed as the fact that still others trigger mental effects. The American Indian distinction between everyday and divine nourishment is based on this perception, as is, in the higher cultures [sic], that between natural and sacred substances in general.

The question as to whether these effects are merely triggered or whether they “ensue” leads beyond the problems of the psychologists and the chemists. If we recognize the plant as an autonomous power which enters in order to put forth roots and flowers in us, then we distance ourselves by several degrees from the skewed perspective which imagines that spirit [Geist] is the monopoly of human beings and doesn’t exist outside of them. A new world-picture has to follow the planetary leveling; that is the task which the next century will take up. The nihilistic and materialistic theories are called upon to prepare the way for it; thus, their persuasive power, so incomprehensible to their opponents. Of course, even in a storm which uproots forests and tears the roofs off of houses, we don’t see the pull of windless distance–the same is true of time.

We are moving here at the edge of quarrels about the Lord’s Supper, which occupied minds for thousands of years, occasionally intensifying. It is a matter of bread and wine, of differences between presence and approach. When something really happens, the rough and the fine differentiations collapse. After all, they don’t penetrate into the “interior of nature.” We can give the widest possible scope to both “that is” and “that means.” Basically, they meet in one point. Even on the evening of its establishment, the Supper “meant” something beyond its actuality, although as a high stage of approach.

Today, we are plagued by other worries. Above all, this: that on this path gods no longer steal in.

Around 1806,1 cocaine was successfully prepared in Wöhler’s famous Göttigen Institute, one of Pandora’s boxes for the world. The whole nineteenth century is interspersed with this precipitation and concentration of active principles from organic substances. It began with the extraction of morphine from the juice of the poppy by the twenty-year-old Sertürner, who thereby developed [entwickelte], or rather, unwrapped [auswickelte] the first alkaloid.

As is everywhere the case with the approach to the world of the Titans, concentration and radiation increase here as well. In this world, forces and substances appear which, to be sure, are obtained from nature, but are too strong, too vehement for natural powers of comprehension, so that human beings have to rely on increasing distance and greater caution, if they don’t want to destroy themselves. These forces and substances are visible modifications of the entrance into a new world of spirit.

Fermentation, distillation, precipitation and finally production of radioactive matter from organic substance [sic]. With that, the twentieth century begins–1903, discovery of radium and polonium; 1911, Nobel Prize to the Curies for the purification of radium from immense amounts of Joachimsthal pitchblende. In 1945, the Americans handed over this Joachimsthal to the Russians, who extracted large amounts of fissionable material there.

Every transition is at the same time a break, every profit also a loss. When that is felt in the depths, even if not comprehended, the pain is especially great–above all, when there is still suffering due to the retreat of the gods from the Titans. Opinions on it differ like day and night. Pierre Curie was among the first victims of motorized transportation (✝ 1906). Léon Bloy gloated over the news about “the crushing of the infamous brain.”

Just as Goethe views color as one of the adventures of light, we could view ecstatic intoxication [Rausch] as a triumphal march of the plant through the psyche. The immense family of nightshades thus nourishes us not only physically, but also in dreams. For a study of them, systematics would have to be combined with the vision of a Fechner. Their name, “Solanaceae,” is presumably derived from “solamen,” consolation.

Just as the plant turns toward us not only physically but also spiritually, it did this much earlier erotically, toward the animals. To see that, we of course have to recognize them as on an equal footing with us, even as the stronger partner. Among the most noteworthy phenomena, the true wonders of our planet, is the mystery of the bees, which is at the same time a mystery of flowers. The love-duet between two creatures so immensely far removed from one another in their form and development must have once been attested, as if by a stroke of magic, through innumerable acts of caring. The blossoms are reshaped into sex organs which adapt themselves in a wondrous fashion to completely foreign creatures–flies, hawk moths and butterflies, also sunbirds and hummingbirds. At one time, they were pollinated by the wind.

That was one of the short-circuits in the ancestral line. A Great Transition. In such images, the veil of the iris becomes transparent. Cosmogonic Eros breaks through the separations of the educated world. The thought that such a thing might be possible would never occur to us, were it not palpably confirmed in myriad ways on a walk through a spring meadow, at every flower-filled slope. Nonetheless, it was not until our era that a human being solved the mystery. Again, a rector: Christian Konrad Sprengel–The Revealed Mystery of Nature (1793).2 What we call mysteries are, of course, only manifestations; we come closer to them in the bell-like buzzing under the blossoming linden tree. Knowledge is correspondence.

This plant, although itself hardly mobile, casts a spell over what moves. Novalis saw it in his hymns. Without the plant, there would be no life anywhere. All creatures that eat and breathe depend on it. One can only guess how far its spiritual power extends. The parable refers to it above all, and not without reason.

What is wakened, for instance, by tea, tobacco, opium, often just by the mere scent of flowers–this range of delights, from indeterminate dreams to anaesthesia–is more than a palette of conditions. There must be something else, something new which ensues.

Just as the plant forms sex organs in order to mate with the bees, it also weds human beings–and the contact gives us access to worlds we would never enter without it. The mystery of all addictions is concealed here, as well–and whoever would cure them has to give a spiritual equivalent.

References #

1.Sämtliche Werke, Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta. 1978;11:42-45.

Notes #

1.The original has “1860” here, which is clearly a misprint.
2. Das entdeckte Geheimnis der Natur.

Citation: Jünger E. “The Plant as Autonomous Power”. A chapter from Annäherungen. Drogen und Rausch (1970). Translation published in The Entheogen Review. 2000;9(1-2):34-36. Online edition:
translated by Stephen Slater translation 2000 (from 1970 work)
Originally published in The Entheogen Review

In memoriam poet and author Ives Roqueta / Yves Rouquette (1936-2015)

Every Language ~ Ives Roquetta
(Translated by A.Z. Foreman)

Every language is spoken at home
Or naught but noise, powerless against silence.
The words let themselves be led
To the slaughterhouse like those oxen
You saw grazing down in the dell
Horn against horn, as if still
Yoked hard together.
They are also like the dead
When the earth molds them
Into Gods once and forever.
Still, you can’t ask everything of them.
They’re just what you are.

In original Occitan:
Tota Lenga
Ives Roquetta

Tota lenga es la de l’ostal
o pas que bruch sens poder sul silenci.
Las paraulas se daissan menar
al masèl coma aqueles buòus
que vesiàs pastencar dins la comba
bana contra bana, e coma
s’èran juntats pel jo encara.
Revèrtan los mòrts atanben
quand la tèrra se los pasta
per los far Dieus un còp per totes.
Mas i pòdes pas tot demandar.
Son çò que siás.

Soundcloud Ives Roqueta

Negdje na sjeveru Europe (poezija)

Pati li emigrant
pod neonskim svjetlima
u srcu nekog velegrada
na sjeveru Europe
dok promrzao otpuhuje hladan prosinački zrak
koji kao da se uvlači u tijelo i dušu
koračajući prema glavnoj željezničkoj stanici
praćen rumunjskim romima koji na uglu nekog trga
kao da sviraju posljednji valcer na neki svoj raštiman način
nije to Bečki filharmonijski orkestar, a ni onaj u Lisinskom
nema tu tramvaja ni prijateljskog pogleda
na stanici negdje prema jugu
zapahnut vonjem ustajale vlage u zraku
misleći na daleke ljetne noći okupane mjesečinom
uz bokun Rokijeva plavca
na mome dragom otoku Visu

tako je otužno biti ljudskim bićem u današnje doba
u trenutku kada definicija čovjeka pada u zaborav
seleći se u neku vječnost
nadomjestiti će nas neka hladna bića bez osjećaja
koja hine biti ljudima
a mi će mo nestati uz posljednju jutarnju rosu
pasti u zaborav, prekriveni mahovinom
poput grobova iz minulih stoljeća
na vrhu nekog brda,
na bezimenom humku
uz fijuk hladnog sjevernog vjetra
na nekome usamljenom otoku
daleko na zapadu Irske

(posvećeno Viktoru Vidi)

Weary (poetry)

Elisabeth Sonrel painting 2
Weary, weary, I say
talking myself to ghost of Heaney
pondering while walking
As the centuries weave
embedded in the endless spiral of Time
down that trodden path
on the trail
through forest of the memories past
perhaps under that stone
covered by moss and leaves
there are bones of unfortunate lovers
from many centuries ago
or a warrior from the ancient past
those of a viking whose sword
is on display now in Ulster museum
rusty and forgotten,
to remind us
that the peat and the bog
will cover us all
as we merge to become one with the earth
from whence we once came

(Dedicated to Seamus Heaney)