In Pursuit of Mysteries

Handbell Hero

Continuing the annoying holiday theme for this lead up weekend to Christmas (…er…post-Solstice Yule Kwanzaa), I offer you…

Handbell Hero!

Happy Cephalopodmas!

I want to wish everyone a Happy Cephalopodmas!

To celebrate the season, I offer a carol for you from the HPLHS Solstice Carol Songbook.

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Fish-Men

It’s beginning to look a lot like fish-men
Everywhere I go;
From the minute I got to town
And started to look around
I thought these ill-bred people’s gillslits showed.
I’m beginning to hear a lot of fish-men
Right outside my door,
As I try to escape in fright
To the moonlit Innsmouth night
I can hear some more.

They speak with guttural croaks and to hear them provokes
A profound desire to flee
Their eyes never blink and quite frankly they stink
Like a carcass washed up from the sea.

I wish I’d paid attention to that crazy drunken man.
He tried to warn me all about old Marsh’s Deep One clan.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Fish-men
Everywhere I go;
They can dynamite Devil Reef,
but that’ll bring no relief,
Y’ha N’thlei is deeper than they know.
I’ll continue to see a lot of fish-men
That I guarantee.
For the fish-man I really fear
is the one who’s in the mirror
And he looks like me.
He looks just like me.

 

 It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Fish-Men [1:42m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Hail to the King, Baby

On this longest night of the year, I look into the darkness and await the dawning of the light.

The lord of this world, literally the Light of the World, returns at dawn from this, the longest night of the year.

This is a time celebrated by many of our ancestors, both cultural and actual, over the generations back into the mists of time.

I’m not so much a Buddhist that I forget our pagan roots, just as the Thai, Japanese, Chinese and the other peoples of Asia have never forgotten their own non-Buddhist heritage.

At this moment, I will quote that hoary white and imperialist bard, Rudyard Kipling.

A Song to Mithras

(Hymn of the XXX Legion: circa 350 A.D.)

Mithras, God of the Morning, our trumpets waken the Wall!
‘Rome is above the Nations, but Thou art over all!’
Now as the names are answered, and the guards are marched away,
Mithras, also a soldier, give us strength for the day!

Mithras, God of the Noontide, the heather swims in the heat.
Our helmets scorch our foreheads, our sandals burn our feet.
Now in the ungirt hour—now ere we blink and drowse,
Mithras, also a soldier, keep us true to our vows!

Mithras, God of the Sunset, low on the Western main—
Thou descending immortal, immortal to rise again!
Now when the watch is ended, now when the wine is drawn,
Mithras, also a soldier, keep us pure till the dawn!

Mithras, God of the Midnight, here where the great bull dies,
Look on thy children in darkness. Oh take our sacrifice!
Many roads thou hast fashioned—all of them lead to the Light,
Mithras, also a soldier, teach us to die aright!