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Chris Anderl

See, Apocalypse is A GOOD THING: as the veils of illusion are exposed and Truth, Beauty, and Goodness can awaken:

In quotes from Oxford English Dict. (courtesy of Apple OS)

"An apocalypse (Ancient Greek: ἀποκάλυψις apokálypsis, from ἀπό and καλύπτω, literally meaning "an uncovering") is a disclosure of knowledge or revelation. In religious contexts it is usually a disclosure of something hidden, "a vision of heavenly secrets that can make sense of earthly realities".[1]

The study of Scat (shit) and Religion has gone together since Ancient times:

"Eschatology /ˌɛskəˈtɒlədʒi/ (About this sound listen) is a part of theology concerned with the final events of history, or the ultimate destiny of humanity. This concept is commonly referred to as the "end of the world" or "end times".[1]

The word arises from the Greek ἔσχατος eschatos meaning "last" and -logy meaning "the study of", first used in English around 1844.[2] The Oxford English Dictionary defines eschatology as "the part of theology concerned with death, judgment, and the final destiny of the soul and of humankind".[3]

In the context of mysticism, the phrase refers metaphorically to the end of ordinary reality and reunion with the Divine.[4] In many religions it is taught as an existing future event prophesied in sacred texts or folklore. More broadly, eschatology may encompass related concepts such as the Messiah or Messianic Age, the end time, and the end of days."[5]
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If you think local news is politically unbiased, think again
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Some remarkably beautiful use of language from a favorite poet of mine--perhaps to cleanse your mind and ears from the disgusting filth spewed forth last night from the Republican Orange Ogre:


Where the cedar leaf divides the sky
I heard the sea.
In sapphire arenas of the hills
I was promised an improved infancy.

Sulking, sanctioning the sun,
My memory I left in a ravine—
casual louse that tissues the buckwheat,
Aprons rocks, congregates pears
In moonlit bushels
And wakens alleys with a hidden cough.

Dangerously the summer burned
(I had joined the entrainments of the wind).
The shadows of boulders lengthened my back:
In the bronze gongs of my cheeks
The rain dried without odor.

“It is not long, it is not long;
See where the red and black
Vine-stanchioned valleys—“ : but the wind
Died speaking through the ages that you know
And hug, chimney-sooted heart of man!
So was I turned about and back, much as your smoke
Compiles a too well known biography.

The evening was a spear in the ravine
That throve through very oak. And had I walked
The dozen particular decimals of time?
Touching an opening laurel, I found
A thief beneath, my stolen book in hand.

“Why are you back here—smiling an iron coffin?”
“To argue with the laurel,” I replied:
“Am justified in transience, fleeing
Under the constant wonder of your eyes—.”

He closed the book. And from the Ptolomies
Sand trough us in a glittering abyss.
A serpent swam a vertex to the sun
—on unpaced beaches leaned its tongue and drummed.
What fountains did I hear? What icy speeches?
Memory, committed to the page, had broke.

~American poet Hart Crane in “White Buildings”
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Please enjoy me reading an audio version of my musings on Nature and Culture over a 20 year period of living in San Francisco Bay's Marin County, CA. 96 recorded audio tracks make up this 2 hour! author reading of my eponymous book, available on Amazon as hard-copy and Kindle versions.
Sounds of Water, by Christopher Robin Anderl
Sounds of Water, by Christopher Robin Anderl
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