spiral spore encyclopedia
" I can remember Robartes saying, in one of his paradoxical figurative moods, that he pictured reality as a great egg laid by the Phoenix, and that this egg turns inside out perpetually without breaking its shell"
W.B. Yeats A Vision

"The nature of infinity is this: That everything has its
Own Vortex, and when once a traveller thro' Eternity
Has pass'd that Vortex, he perceives it roll back behind
His path, into a globe itself infolding like a sun,
Or like a moon, or like a universe of starry majesty"
William Blake
One morning I boiled myself an egg. The kitchen was bathed in light. Through the steam unfurling around the bulbous egg I felt the clarity of its form.
Shapes that break the surface of ridged infertile lines, oozing, blooming, protruding, unfurling into life. Breaking through the earth from an anonymous seed.
Start at the smallest detail of any organic creature and notice the circle.
I saw eggs morph into eyes into flowers into suns into breasts into sun dials into seeds.

"Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose"
Gertrude Stein
"In archaeology, the term entoptic phenomena relates to visual experiences derived from within the eye or brain (as opposed to externally, as in normal vision). In this respect they differ slightly from the medical definition, which defines entoptic phenomena as only applying to sources within the eye, not the brain. To avoid this confusion, the term subjective visual phenomena is sometimes used. Entoptic was chosen by author David Lewis-Williams due to its origin from Greek meaning 'coming from within' art and the ability to comprehend it are more dependent on kinds of mental imagery and the ability to manipulate mental images than on intelligence.' "
Wikipedia on Entopic Phenomena (Archeology)
"In the woods there grew a tree
A fine, fine tree was he
On that tree there was a limb
And on that limb there was a branch
On that branch there was a nest
And in that nest there was an egg
In that egg there was a bird
And from that bird a feather came
Of that feather was a bed
On that bed there was a girl
And on that girl there was a man
From that man there was a seed
And from that seed there was a boy
From that boy there was a man
And for that man there was a grave
From that grave there grew a tree
In Sumerisle, Sumerisle, Sumerisle, Sumerisle, Sumerisle"
Maypole song by Paul Giovani for The Wicker Man 1973
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'The past never a fixed and dormant landscape but one that is re-seen. Whether we want to or not, we are travelling in a spiral, we are creating something new from what is gone.' On earth we are briefly gorgeous by Ocean Vuong
On recognising the spiral I recognise myself.
Mouth to ear to mouth to ear to mouth to ear, knowledge is passed on, expanding the vortex of space in our hearts for another’s voice to dwell. A lack that forms a vision, lack-not as scarcity-but, abundance. DNA, the up, down, up, down, up down motion of threads in a loom that went on to inspire Ada Lovelace to create the first ever computer code.
Ever shapeshifting stew of synthesis. A serpent dance of suggestive hints, lines and darkness, creates the space of mystique for the sun to dwell, the helix gives space to light. What is the silhouette of the sun?
Spinning magic from my fingertips,
unravelling at the seams into the goo and ooze combining flavour crystals, soft chewable energy.
The flocks of hungry children under their adult facades swirl around the pot and draw thick elixir into their mouths,
protective layers of fat wrap around their bodies like yarn around a bobbin.