#leah bee

[monstergagaholic]

I was tagged to “drop everything and take a selfie” so here i am. hanging out on the floor with my cat. I did that thing on photobooth where u can take four photos and in one Carmalt’s lil lips were feelin’ dry so she licked them and AHHHH SHE’S SO CUTE HELP

I tag Paige and Nikki. 

[binahbeat]

A tune from Oly land. Chorus cred to St. James Infirmary.

[hermeticlibrary]

Mercy Mother Sri Mix

Mercy Mother Sri Mix by Leah Bee

  Mother Mercy (Sri Mix) (Bee)

"I received Mercy Mother in the Pueblo Mountains of southeastern Oregon, near Steens Mountain. I asked Spirit for a song to sing in times of need and gratitude and this is what came to me. It was recorded in Portland, in the basement of a dear friend's house."

Currently nestled on the Eld Inlet of the Puget Sound, Leah Bee is a young philosopher musician who pulls influence from Nature spirits and her Guides. Pursuing a life of meaning and Magic, she tends to dwell in the darker worlds of mystery and starlight. She hopes to continue creating more electronically influenced music, embodying the healing powers of other realms. She is currently a student at Evergreen College.

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  The full track list for this winter 2012 anthology album consists of 6 tracks by 6 artists, 35 minutes of fantastic music:

T. Thorn Coyle – Hallowed Light

Rev Chloe Kalombinah – Ma Re Ah

The Psychogeographical Commission – The Lost Rivers of London

Kim Cascone – Saltash

Lore Acts – Cimmerian Witness

Leah Bee – Mercy Mother Sri Mix

  The Hermetic Library at Hermetic.com has an overall vision of Archiving, Engaging and Encouraging the living Western Esoteric Tradition. I started the benefit anthology project to help promote newer works in the Western Esoteric Tradition to the audience of the Hermetic Library and beyond. The anthology project also further raises awareness about the corpus and culture of magick and ritual.

This is the second issue from the Hermetic Library Anthology Project, and is being released on Imbolc in Winter 2012. I have 6 tracks by 6 artists this time around. This playlist starts strong with a track about moving from darkness into light, through an invocation and liberation of the divine feminine that is also a lament about loss, followed by a fantastic new cover of a Coil track. The playlist continues with a bright track but that is followed by some gritty and creepy noise to remind us that the light hasn't fully returned. After that I, for my part, am glad of a reminder that the days are getting longer, so there is a final track which brings us back to the theme of returning mercy and light. Quite a nice playlist that works well with the season.

I encourage you to check out the Hermetic Library at Hermetic.com, if you aren't already familiar with it, as that’s the reason this project exists and may also offer inspiration to you. The site was started in 1996 and has ever since consistently been an extremely popular resource for students and researchers interested in the Western Esoteric Tradition. You may also wish to check out other posts at the Hermetic Library blog and the Twitter and Facebook reflections to see how the library engages people in a living Western Esoteric Tradition.

Please join the Hermetic Library in promoting these artists who have contributed their work to this benefit anthology album project. All proceeds from album sales will support the library to help cover hosting costs and other expenses like materials acquisitions.

Hermetic Library Hermetic Library Anthology Project Hermetic Library blog Hermetic Library audio pool

Original Article

[binahbeat]

Naked and Shivering

June 25, 2011     He gripped the knife and stabbed the cigarette butt that lay helpless on the floor of my car, held it up to my face -- “What. Is this.”     Imperial eyes, too kingly for my kind. I like those smooth eyes, soft eyes, cradled in honey comb compassion; the eyes that search the world for jagged souls, souls with gaping holes from childhood beating and neglect.     I see now that I am on both side of this reaction, both broken and embracive, wholesomely fragmented.     But how to respond to interrogation. Equanimity. Quick wit. We both knew what clung to the tip of the old Ka Bar. What this set of piercing eyes was looking for was deeply tangled in the cosmic secrets of the twelve house of hidden unfolding.     “That would be a cigarette butt,” I responded flatly.     “Why is it in your car?” His raised eyebrows mirrored the tone of his voice.     “Because I smoked it.”     A little snort puffed from his lips as he spat out the window, disgusted with my ungodly behaviors.     The huge trees, pines and oaks, sped past the windows, deliriously lost in my self-loathing as a heavy sigh fogged the glass.     “I don’t know why I smoke them, honestly. Every time I reach for one, I am already regretting it, already feeling nauseous, dizzy, disassociated, short of breath...but something keeps driving my hand to cancer stick, cancer stick to mouth, smoke to lungs.”     “Self-destructive behavior!” he billowed. Yes, oh god among men, you have solved the riddle. Your brilliance guides even the blind. You have lit the untouched torch and thank Jesus for the illumination.     “Yes, I know,” I said, rolling my eyes out the window and my mind away from this car whose proximity shrunk with each minute.      “You need to learn to take care of yourself Leah! Accept your beauty! Take a shower for Chrissake! I’m going to hose you down tonight and tomorrow until you learn how to keep yourself, mind and body, clean.”     Well. I haven’t smoked since, and I can’t say that old Louie had much to do with it, but maybe he did; I am no god. I cannot tell you the exact formulations of the karmic path. I cannot tell you if it was him or the mountain or the electric air that stopped the desire. It was nothing profound or powerful. I am no accomplished guru, having conquered the human condition. It just happened.     In fact, it turns out that I am not much of anything after all. I dabble in the arts, graze academia, dip my toes in the waters of medicine, psychedelic and otherwise. Like a panting dog pacing the shores of a lake, I watch life from the shoreline only feeling the cool waters when they come up to meet my timid toes.     I worry about all the people I have let down, all the relationships I have let crumble into nothingness. My memory is hopeless and my mind is an error I try to rectify. My body is an anchor, dancing eerily and silently in the deadened green terrain at the bottom of the ocean.     I once thought I was destined for glory. The end result of said dream glory changed over time -- musician, philosopher, monk, healer -- but the story remains the same: an aching for something more, something deeper, closer to the truth, something real. I progress through the teachings, reach a point of amateur mastery, and run away from the thing all together, afraid to continue or even come close to success.     But I see something else now. I see myself in a new light, this costumed, enculturated animal, seeking out degrees of sex and reward, entertainment and nourishment. My divine potential now lurks in the background while I try to decide on which side of the world I sit. Watching it spin, I ponder the meaninglessness and the miraculous and I see myself reflected in the frozen ocean, naked and shivering, waiting to be hosed down.

[binahbeat]

A Noble Idea

A noble idea. the shaking hand that quakes the stirring world that takes the satin and velvet drapes of mankind’s hunt for meaning and wiggles in the taste of chaos between the satin diamond sheets of all man-made luxury-- knows not from whence the blank man came “stand back!” they say whoever believe it in the way we will leave boot prints on your skin and pipelines through your graves leave no prisoner unharmed and take the women to the slums beat the drums, oh beat the drums, a new race is born and they know not Why but the hand that pulls and prods and pokes this swirling, spinning Earth parade takes kindly to the forest folks, the desert dwellers and mountain maids for in their prayers and in their blades a certain holy promise made to all mankind to all lifekind to the sea kind and the green kind, of reverent symbiotic trade of which the booted blank man has become afraid so he shakes at the piano bench and he takes the bloody iron wrench and beats that dancing five fingered shadow and hunts the men who live in this shadow afraid of what they know (they know nothing of his gold) afraid of how they go alone (alone is but their home) a threat to all his bloody roads that lead like serpents to his throne A throne that only crumbles in the wind.