LEMURIA (avail May 2024)

PRE-ORDERS

A fresh batch of Oceania – Petitgrain, Organic Egyptian Neroli, Italian Neroli, Red Champaca, German Chamomile, Venezuelan tonka bean

Lemuria, Pacifica, Muu,… oh, the wonder of such rounded, gustatory words. Threading the spindle, I watched my own hands as they smeared bold and beautiful colours upon the backdrop of all my cloudy thoughts, and I bleated, a nervous sheep’s song that trembled and suffered the brightest shafts of pure and brilliant light, piercing into my mind as my heart burned and quivered to be reaching, climbing up the wall and out of the window of these ordinary and grasping perspectives. 

How had I tasted and tasted the drugging of Great Spirit, how could I have fallen so dead at my birth, landed here at the hem of such sedated spiritual inertia?  I paced crazily for an opening, an escape plan, a magic carpet upon which I could slip and drift so gently from these shores, that my living being, generously and benevolently delivered a perfect mystery, a purely enigmatic story that unfolded all around me, with a rolling, marching, travelling tune that tenderly caressed my deepest urgent frailties, calling to me, seducing, arousing my slumbering soul to attend to the tasks at hand.

Shocking me, a horde of flickering blue radiants dazzled me and embraced my whole swollen heart, touching my face and eyes with a sprinkling of their shimmering light, such luminous makers, they whispered to me of world-deep waters, and wide coastal lanes and great oceans of power so that I curled up tightly within their legendary laps and sailed into the full gust of their words and wonders, until my wishing made it so.

Up I stepped, a princess in mirrored light, and I touched every feather, every glistening jewel of that silvery-blue folk, and I caged my grief and turned my face away from the dwindling lights of my beloved wise-ones of the West, my lords and ladies of the past, Elven, Faery, truest loves of all my rising selves, my blissful dream-guardians as they passed away into the night, calling back to me…

‘You are a daughter of Paneshwak’

Lemuria. Home. Brightest star of all our earthly costume parties, Grandmother of every fireside fable and lost legend, Mu, the bible of all tribes, the rock of Abraham, the satyr sister of Babylon, the fire in the eyes of every giant, the mists of time, our ancient ones. 

Here I ask, “who weaves these bindings closed upon our sacred truths, what hand shutters the view and draws the curtains to a blackness upon the heroic adventures of all such bright and mellifluous souls?”

Such a panorama of tellings have cascaded into me that I have warped and wondered exactly what story I could sing to you, that would cause you to be moved, and cause me to regain my youth.

I have nested upon the summary, drowsing in a tea-lit twilight for an age; questing for the privilege of a righteous truth, wondering, what tale have I eaten, whereupon the regurgitation of it’s plot and placement could set me free?

It dawned on me as soon as I stopped talking, that it was the story of trance.

(excerpted from GAIA’A MOUTH ~ Teone Reinthal 2005)