A Murder of Crows

The crows in Whitechapel were getting restless.  Seriously.  I was in bed t’other weekend, having spent a long night at Fabric.  I was woken by the crows on the neighbouring rooftops.  Corvus Corvus.   Something was the matter, you could hear it in their squabble.  Disorientated as I was, there was clear communication from this rooftop messenger service, something is going awry in Whitechapel.  Unfortunately, from my bed, I couldn’t tell what…

Crows Crows in Alchemy

Corvus harbours foreboding.  Ravens as doombringers to the Towers at the bottom of Cable Street.  Rooks and Jackdaws as were used and consulted in auld English alchemy.  And it’s only become obvious now.  The lanes swarming with Jacobean black.  The next day I journeyed to Oxford, very early, I waited cold, statue-like for my coach on the Mile End Road as the leaves fell from the London Planes and swirled around me.  I was there to learn the 8 mother palms: secretive stances of static twist energy to energise and strengthen internal and external organs.  This is Bagua now.  Learn the 8 trigrams because these correspond.  The crows’ riddle gets serious…

Neidan Man

Here, a tablet showing Neidan emblems, ancient Chinese Taoist alchemy.  Make out the glyph on the top right: a crow in the sun.  This is Yin in between Yang.  The Li trigram.  That Mother Palm is ‘The Red Phoenix Faces the Sun‘, internally associated with the heart.

So there was something ominous in the chatter of that Whitechapel roost.  I was onto something…  Ruthie on the allotment, she talk to the animals.  With the intuition of the child.  These days, them heads is too full of their Sony Playstations, HotChip mobile telephone signals and the Basso Continuo of London in the background.  The city just out of earshot from the streets around O’Leary Square.  Sanae the Japanese girl sent a message through today.  She’s coming down to garden, murmuring soft like her e-mail account.

London at night

It’s been a while since I’ve dreamed of Japan.  Reading Murakami, After Dark, against a cold dark window on a coach back from Sheffield.  I had been thinking about the great Roc, not that Roc; silly.  ‘Great Roc spreads its wings‘ is the back palm.  It is external.  Rocs are mythical Chinese birds which are so huge they can carry off elephants.  And there, on the Finchley Road, a ladies eveningwear shop called After Dark beside a Japanese deli.  Both dark, empty and inconspicuous to anyone but me.  Crows cawing solemnly at the back of mind.  Master Gong Baotian claimed that someone from his village in China killed a Roc.  He brought back the carcass for the village to see – so they do exist.  Oxford, along from the old school building where I learn the Mother Palms, is the Oriental Condor – Chinese Takeaway and Restaurant.  21-22 Park End Street.  OX1 1HU.  And very nice it is too!

Japanese illustration of a Peng's wing

Sino mutterings in Whitechapel back alley.  Yong’s brother will soon return to China.  In fact the white crow watched over Apollo’s pregnant lover at Delphos.  One day, the crow brought bad news to Apollo and was turned black.  Corvus has remained black ever since.

Crows in Tokyo

A white crow in Japan

I must rise early, and practice the heart and back palms.  yinyang


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