- To Squamish people, this mountain is known as t'ak't'ak mu'yin tl'a in7in'a'xe7en. In their language it means "Landing Place of the Thunderbird", speaking of the supernatural in7in'a'xe7en or Thunderbird. The jagged shape of the mountain and its black colouring are said to come from the Thunderbird's lightning.[2] The same is true for Mount Cayley, another stratovolcano further north (Wiki)
![Photo: To Squamish people, this mountain is known as t'ak't'ak mu'yin tl'a in7in'a'xe7en. In their language it means "Landing Place of the Thunderbird", speaking of the supernatural in7in'a'xe7en or Thunderbird. The jagged shape of the mountain and its black colouring are said to come from the Thunderbird's lightning.[2] The same is true for Mount Cayley, another stratovolcano further north (Wiki)](https://fbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/c76.0.403.403/p403x403/419250_10151269782447014_501423943_n.jpg)
A Native American Thunderbird rock art carving (or petroglyph) from Juneau County, Wisconsin. (Photographic Collection, Office of the State Archaeologist, State Historical Society of Wisconsin.)http://wpt.org/wisconsinStories/2001season/rocks/rocks_stories.html
Ice Boulders on Lake Michigan Shore - Articles - Coast to Coast AM http://t.co/MUB42als8j
Strange Tales of Thunderbird Photos
Back in the 1960s, a photograph, said to date from the late 1800s, appeared in the pages of a popular newsstand magazine of the day – possibly True, Saga, or Argosy – and displayed the deceased remains of a gigantic, monstrous bird, pinned to a pair of barn-doors somewhere in rural North America – the exact location is, just like the picture itself, a matter of some debate.
Numerous researchers, investigators and authors of a whole range of anomalies claim, with absolute unswerving certainty, that they personally saw the priceless picture when it was published. The big problem, today, however, is that despite the fact that the pages of all the above-magazines, and many others too, have been carefully and dutifully scoured – even to the point of near-obsession – the picture cannot be found, anywhere at all. It’s almost as if it never even existed in the first place.
What was the alleged winged nightmare? Possibly nothing less than a legendary Thunderbird. And, if you’re not acquainted with the phenomenon, I refer you to the words of my good friend – and fellow creature seeker and co-author with me on our Monsters of Texas book – Ken Gerhard, who says the following of the mighty, flying beasts:
“These creatures are likened to enormous eagles and are prominent in numerous, Native American folklores and totems. The name Thunderbird is derived from the sound that is apparently produced as a result of the thunderous beating of the mighty wings of the creature. Surprisingly, these mythological beasts are occasionally still reported flying around in our modern skies, and, incredibly, are described as having wingspans comparable to that of a small airplane.”
Well, in the same way that there is a distinct enigma surrounding the missing 1960s-era Thunderbird photograph, so there is a similar aura of weirdness surrounding the photo of a Thunderbird that appears in my and Ken’s Monsters of Texas.
Like all authors, Ken and I wanted to ensure we had a good and varied selection of photos to accompany the text of the book. And that included, if possible, Thunderbird-themed imagery. But, we didn’t want to simply go down the easy and lazy path of just pulling pictures from Wikipedia or somewhere similar, or using images that were well-known and/or well-used. So, the hunt was on for something relevant and new. But, it was no easy task. Or, rather, for a while it wasn’t.
One afternoon, just a month or so before the book had to be submitted to the publisher, I was speaking on the phone with my dad, and he asked what I was up to. I told him that the writing of Monsters of Texas was coming to a close, but that we were having a hard time finding a Thunderbird photo. Given that my dad’s interest in Cryptozoology is not exactly huge, he almost flummoxed me when he said, words to the effect of: “I can send you a picture; I have an old painting of a Thunderbird in my garage.”
This sounded almost too good to be true. Amazingly, it wasn’t. Like all young men his age in the early 1950s, my dad had to serve three years of what was then called National Service (or, in the U.S., the Draft). But, his stint in the British Royal Air Force aside, my dad spent his working career as a carpenter. In the late 1970s, the company he was then working for secured a contract to rebuild and renovatethe lobbies of a well-known hotel chain in and around the London area.
When the work was completed, my dad and his colleagues were presented with gifts, as a sign of appreciation for the work. In my dad’s case, his gift was a circular piece of stone, on which had been painted a brightly colored Thunderbird catching a fish. I vaguely remembered seeing this as a young teenager, but didn’t realize the significance of it back then, and promptly forgot about it – chiefly because it was never on display in my parents’ home, and apparently remained buried amongst a mass of stuff in the garage for decades.
So, my dad dug out the circle of stone, dusted it off, and took a picture of it for me – the very one that accompanies this article. But, there’s something else, too. I find it very curious that while I was diligently searching – but ultimately failing – to find what I considered to be a good, previously unseen Thunderbird image for the book, I should finally get one from, of all people, my very own dad, all as a result of a chance conversation. Or, was it all down to chance?
I am a big believer in the phenomenon of Synchronicities – so-called “meaningful coincidences” that appear to be the result of something stranger than mere random actions. And, I’m very inclined to place this affair into that same category.
And, of course, I can’t ignore the fact that this represents two Thunderbird-connected photographs that seem to have distinctly Fortean overtones attached to them – one of which seemingly disappeared from the pages of one or more magazines years ago, and another that appears in Monsters of Texas! Maybe I should keep careful watch, just in case the latter picture starts to mysteriously disappear, too, from each and every copy of the book…
where i log i b
Monday, March 4, 2013
Researching the Connections of Various PreHistorical Native Sacred Sites in the Great Lakes, North and South American regions
- To Squamish people, this mountain is known as t'ak't'ak mu'yin tl'a in7in'a'xe7en. In their language it means "Landing Place of the Thunderbird", speaking of the supernatural in7in'a'xe7en or Thunderbird. The jagged shape of the mountain and its black colouring are said to come from the Thunderbird's lightning.[2] The same is true for Mount Cayley, another stratovolcano further north (Wiki)
Friday, March 1, 2013
The Great Lakes' Mystical Powers~CONNECT
- Ja-Len Jones Note; Devil's Lake looks like a huge footprint...and I think that is why I have been finding so many "footprint" type shaped (or carved?) in the water here along the edge of Shaman's Beach by The Huron Worshipping Rock. I am trying to tie these two sites into a possible connect with the various iconography, symbols, etc.
- Ja-Len Jones ote the two structures appear to be "two" people, (well one looks like a woman and her dog..hehe)
- The Huron Worshipping Rock (Ekarennoindi at Scenic Caves, Collingwood, Ontario)
Devil's Lake Wisconsin, home of Devil's Doorway connects to the Huron Worshipping Rock, Collingwood, Ontario
more to follow~!!! :) <3 p="">
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Mag 156 In Limbo
Wind of History by Jacek Yerka
The Mardi Gras
left residuals
loose change
loosed chains
flood damaged futures
accelerated to ditch
the ancestral domicile
awash to save
Grandma's
Turkey a la King
with dumplings
while Gramdpa widdled the hours
to the right-hand side
of Westminister Chimes
in tattletale pieces
the rattlesnakes
gathered round
the broken table
strewn so piece-maille
strung like-confetti
weighing them down in the mire
once
all of them
perished the cherished newspaper
gossip by ragtime
windows aglowed by distant spark
hunting ghost-like apparitions
residual memory fields
vastly over-rated subterrean life
never quite not salubrious
callous proof-readers with offers
coffers pro-offered to the barebones
slimy grind
heaped forgotten mattresses
metres high across the gloom
brandishing tire iron-maidens
stillness
became
her
as the burning man brand
ignited latent passions
so as She kept silent
in the cubby by the keeping room
waiting to open the door of perception
once and for all
all for one
she swept the place
halls of bad luck and slack with preamble
and now without prerequisite halos
She prayed for repartration
or at least a partition
a part to play please said She
addendum; the folcrum car
is stuck and causing
scattering of papers to and fro
no rhyme nor reason here
in Limbo
sterling silver flung
clear across the vestibular credenza
crescendo of broken crystal
She hung onto the hope that dead pictures
could rebirth themselves
horse-hair saddlers
barely there to rein
black and white salve-like
histoical places
across the parish
of petal-pushers
She who was once wee Page
was on the same page
as the scallywags
hags from hell
flung by fury
here
to recover only brine
quickly to quiet rectory
turn over a slimy gold leaf
donner party quit
the bellyaching
earlier then on time
so soon Scalped Tickets had parted ways
She tired of the costant headhunting
pasted glittery masks on bloated faces
as Mississippi Stearmers had unglued them
at Inn on The Muddy Waters
breakfast in bed at 7 a.m. to 10 a.m.
no sir, no cover charge
after ten years of tear-gas stains
O' the Mural'd Walls!
in the dull anti-chambered hallway
going nowhere fast and then
the new order of the day
bring on the hay
Chiccoreal
Mag 155 spitz&tongue
artwork by Joseph Lorusso
Coke tastes better with Spirit
at the spitz&tongue
and those purposeful hugs
yes
undulatingly urgent
hot breath
needed touch
pause for a coital moment
curled up
in the corner of the
corner restaurant
Chiccoreal
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Mag#154 Mind Your Library
Central Library, Manchester, U.K., by Robin Gosnall
Mind Your Library
In each room
dwells dirvishes
spinning their colours
in each room
the faculty
peers over bifocals
hushed "shhh"
atmospheric taste
of ages old Papyri
as coiled cortex touches
inked paperk'd polyglots
musk of musty sea air
ages old now
leather bound with curled tongue
her ambience
all blue and gold
The Nightengale
Sings the Songs of the Nile
as crouch grass weaves
patterned shadows
on our feet
we enter here
ahead to delve
ten to twelve
deep folds into
laconic whispers
where we never were
we find we are
where we will always find
the pleasant keyholder
spin your lights
multi-facet
glints on walls
our
crystal
colelction
houses
realms
and
reams
pages
kaleidoscope
circus
desert dwellers
bodes well for us
in our
new adobe
come home
&
please visit
@
Your local
CENTRAL LIBRARY
in
MANCHESTER, UK
find
room
roam freely
here
~Chiccoreal~
Mag#153 She Spins Stratospheric Magic
Charlotte Gainsbourg, AnOther
She Spins Stratospheric Magic
Sound templates
recollect
now
these forner places
*
as breezes
FLASH
the zip buzz freezes ears
too close between them
something perhaps
held together
the tight
SONIC BOOM
of sudden stratosphere
EXPLOSIION
OVER THE RUSKIE
in her maiden hair
spray-like
stood speechless
the flaccid facilitators
soon
all eyes on royal fascinators
forearmed forebearers
of
BEforewarned by the BEforewarners
to
highlight
to curse the endless
anew
fireworks
energy bursts
being brought home to bear
baby borne
of such intensity of sexual magic
to
impregnate the sun-spheres here
so octane on ozone fast
come now, realize
how
high their perch
fever- pitched
comic SHRILL
of intense revelry
Drill-Sargent voices
in those uniforms
aBUZZ me
with
The Lady's Gaia
intoxication
evoking the Green Field
Latent and Later
Her Massive
Libido-Powers of somewhat arcane Lovers
Ma Earth
rebirthed her Sun
as ONE
mystical marriage
of
UNIONIZED
SQUELCHers
THE ALL DAY
ON A
DEEP MOANING
HUM
SONG OF THE INCOMING WAVE
to the tune
the beat of shaman drums
stabbed with
bent forks
the tear of drumskins
pock marked earth
stabbing pain stuck
where tippy taps
found sound
the spin of tops and sufis
centremost
dewy youthful
and
deep spin groovy
for the records
a cloud's reminder
of burned-in sun-effigy
matches corneal tears
*
she's our Ma
Ms
centriFUGE
energy never dispensed
only
dispersed
roust about town
abit aboot
on the axis
of pub crawl
we had it all
now maybe
weary
dreary
dismal
still we
could find
no evil here
~ <3 span="">
45 RPM Check it out;
~Chiccoreal~
Monday, February 11, 2013
Mag#152 "Just The Two of Us"
MAG 152
JUST THE TWO OF US
WE CAN MAKE IT
IF WE TRY
JUST THE TWO OF US
YOU AND ME
Chiccoreal
thanks to Bill Withers song
"Just The Two of Us"
JOIN THE HANDHOLDERS HERE; THANKS TESS~
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