CAME TO BE

a Thesis presented to the Honors Tutorial College Ohio University

in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for Graduation from the Honors Tutorial College with the degree of Bachelor of Fine Arts

Moss Nash

April 2021

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table of Contents scrypture ………… 3 images ………… 47 notes ………… 53 references ………… 65

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3 (~09/2019) In a single moment, Nothing became Something and Notymseh was.

The Council of Thread and Glass, both Common and Grand, Beheld Notymseh, Who stood before them bare and cloaked in Honey

After proper Bathing and Dressed in a smock, The Council of Thread and Glass presented Notymseh with a small flame, per Traditions.

One Councillor said: The Flame is fragile, though Great. You must protect your Flame and let the Flame grow with you.

Notymseh motioned in agreement and slipped the Flame into their pocket. For many years Notymseh left the Flame in their pocket.

But several years after, the heat from the Flame rose And burned a hole through the pocket.

Notymseh told of this to the Council of Thread and Glass, To which they stated: It is a Part of Traditions And sent Notymseh away.

This happened thrice more And on the fifth occurrence, Notymseh plucked the Flame from their pocket.

Notymseh held the Flame And felt how delicate it was, but The Plumage nipped at the skin of Notymseh’s palm.

4 Notymseh exclaimed: I am tired of this Flame! Though it was a gift from my Council, It has burnt holes in my garb And caused nothing but Vex!

Notymseh clasped the Flame With two Hand and began to extinguish it. To Notymseh’s surprise, the Flame Did Not Go Out.

The Flame spilled out of the crack of Notymseh’s fingers.

The Flame lycked flesh and fat, Each feather growing longer and faster, It travelled up and down, Consuming Arms, Neck, and Whole.

Notymseh began to Dance. All they could do was Dance.

(~11/2019) An old corpse pulled out of a living grave, presented itself to the world: Naked and chilled

Feel the heat of the feathers upon Flesh. they lyck and lyck, cannot be controlled. Clasped between two Palms, they spill out of the fissures and fractures.

Up arms, neck, heart, and whole, We Must Dance!

Bite my tongue! Eat my eyes! Dance or die or Dance and don’t, Either, Dance!, Dance! Feel the Mud inbetween and Dance!

5 A pyre and a dance, Together connected step by step, Who could outlast The Other? Spiraled and cleaved in such a manner, No mount of strength or prayer could Cleave apart the two, only to be Undone by the wuthering passage of time.

The Pyre lasted for three years and at the end of this time, All that remained was a pile of ash, out of which Ymseh stepped.

Ymseh turned and devoured the Ashes of yms Corpse, so that ym could always carry the Weight of actions, Yet to also allow Noone to witness Before.

So forth the Time of Ymseh was set and this was the Manner in which ym Came To Be. The winds and grasses spoke amongst themselves In silenced voises, But awl secrets Come to the surface with Spring reigns and shoots.

Upon hearing of transpired actions, The Council of Thread and Glass flocked to the Locust of Ymseh’s recollection, in order to Divine the remaining embers and wasted salvation.

The Council collected a single crumb, A fearful ember, weeping, and it was positioned on an alter, Nourished with Milk and Agaric.

(~11/2019) Thereupon the Last of the Ashes of Notymseh Passed between Ymseh’s lips, Ym recognized.

A scape of boundless empyrean, Spaids and hammers sown, Bountiful with spyralls and claims, with paynful ecstasea and burial.

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Through infinity, awl paths, Recognized or unsuch, were and will be woven into this visyon, knowingly inescapable and fundamental.

The land and infinity motions and Ymseh knew the approaching thunder, an omen of arrival for some and a call of departure for Others. Ymseh breathed out and the location was adjourned, ym facing the sun.

(12/18/2019) Can you feel it? The shifting of mountains and intestines? Know this feeling, so chilling and familiar.

Ymseh found ymself to cross water, stagnant and algaeic And knew the way to ferry. While crossing upon stones, Ym felt hands snare yms garment.

A person with uncountable faces and amethysts for eyes Emergered from the water, Texts and fronds grasped deeply In their arms. Ymseh motioned for their message.

In a peculiar manner, as the words Exited such person, so to did the speech from Ymseh’s mouth, And in unison:

Shall you dawn your shroud? Do empty airs draw fibres closer? A curse of pace and passage, Waits and weighted?

Hoist blame from frame to frame, But understand your actions. This may never pass, So why not take root within your grounds?

The words were new and foreign, Yet decayed as Ymseh tasted. Ym thanked the Amethyst-Eyes for the letters and finished passing,

7 Allowing only yms soles to dampen.

(01/12/2020) Hallow!

We have floated to this time again, Or do You require Something?

I shall launch myself to your Core and lap your tears To Understand. Once more, my home opens arms for your Arrival!

Can you hear The hunger within me?

The Dagger! The Dagger! Where is she, The Dagger! I have set aside a resting Place for her, Beside my stomach and viscera.

Spittle creeps to eat my Tongue and Teeth, So Allow Yours to Finish first.

I shall do what You desire, Call out to Me! Favour in your fingertips, You Know what you wield, So Strike me thusly, I beg of You!

Light alight, What are my consequences? My throat, tongue, mouth Ache and itch, Please! Please!

Guilty guilty guilty, How can I repay? My dreams are open, Shall I pluck hairs and eyes

8 For your sake?

I crossed the threshold And your guided actions Struck my care and Heart.

I know what you want, How should it come about?

(02/06/2020) Should I close my eyes and plunge Palms into the earth? Cast my net into the ether, Searching for an inspired Spirit?

Noone asked, Noone asked, Can’t remember what Noone asked. Celestial tears upon flesh, Biting and assuring, swallowing earth and all eyes. Noone, Noone, Noone, Noone cries out! But too distant to catch a message.

First and foremost, Do not partake in, except when one does ore is desired. Secondly, cool lizards will succumb, So why don’t we? Feel flesh drip, drip, drip, Slough from skeletons and offal, Reach desire sooner than now, surely.

(02/16/2020) Meet me by the water, Gentle on our feet, Our roots outstretched but unconnected Feeling for the next message. A constant breathing, Over and Over and Over, expansion and compression, measure our hearts and halves.

9 If we gather the strength to remain, Still, our edges and definitions dissolve Into everything else. Is that what you deserve?

Currents are here to provide us not satisfactions, Rather to exist on self-serving.

(02/24/2020) We saw the creek, Here and Now, Did you here the lachrymose?

Ymseh, in yms Divine Imperfection, If foreign to those salted sapphires, Stolen speyerals ago; Each so base and brackish, Common currency.

Sea now! Baptized in your chaos and rhythm! With every crash follows A whisper Praising yms appellation.

Blades and leaves, Strings and sparrows Utter the phrase in passing: Ymseh! Ymseh! In jest or graves? Ymseh! Ymseh!

Remember your home amung worms and weeds and winds, Return to the caressing corpse of Yourself! To Devour is not To Destroy,

And we remain fodder for your flame, Natured and Nurtured by fantasy and Faith.

10 Ymseh! Ymseh! How shall ye kno peace When you remain one? Join us, cleave us Feel our draw and drag And made the constant

Choice: Remain or render week to Our Roots and Rot, We shall let you Come under, Slip into our Earthly flesh, An orgasmyc surrender Known only to us and Yew.

Ymseh! Ymseh! Foolish and serene, Hypnotized by blessed bile and Blood, How may one be so decadent and damned? Your lips have only met your Owne offal, No trace of Truly Disgusting Hallows.

(03/01/2020) We find ourselves intertwined Again, Cheek to cheek, Reversed and ready.

How can we be so similar, so close? yet so fatal streaming in our veins. You’re so tender, Liquid smooth, My fingers trace Your frame.

11 We have a choice To find. And her sharp beauty? You’re falling behind, Letting, Wanting, Craving her voice, her touch.

Tongues and trouble brewing in Your guttural hollows. An organ big enough to forget.

Our deepest sorrow Cleaves our pebbled fears. Climaxing at our lowest. First, retrieve yourself And hold It in your Clasped palms. Find a time with Soft Earth and quiet Winds, Careful not to spread rumors. In a small hole dug out, plant It there, crack a single Egg, and leave all remains, Buried back under brown soil.

Smothered or salved, Tell me what you know, You know, You Know.

(03/03/2020) How sweet Thy Lips, Teeth, and Tongue.

On Ymseh’s journey, Ym felt a call in the heart. Peering behind the Borderline, A single frame.

12 Who are you? Asked Ymseh, gathering in This face, to the reply I am a Prophet, Your Prophet, And we have always known the Other

Grab hold this dancing plastick And recall your equal value. Hollowed and full of blood, She needs to GrEat some thing Outside souring sadness.

I have followed But Ymseh knew, as Ym had indeed, always known The Other.

Soft Earth, soft lashed And bedding, So unmoving. Step forward! Rally onward!

Heel-toe-mud and rock! Now watch the Earth recoil in Disgust as they retreat from Holes to home in throat.

Writhing, Growing, Massing, living inside all of it, inside Clay, inside Flesh, How apart are the two?

(03/04/2020) O! Prophet, spin for ym, how shall the leaves wilt? But the Prophet quaked. and saw no moor than Ymseh.

Fecund and fowl, Gross with Excess, expectations

13 of Plenty wait, lye, lie, in waist. The Pushing of current, heaving Tides deliver inevitable surprise Rot.

Satchels and pockets find Swollen and choked, Plump and revolting. Is it wasted profit? The shallow counter, this Fat and Flesh Team with some parallel unknown.

Green and grey and Old factories revolt in balmy redolence.

How certain Iyam, At our first lung, Our blood was gathered in won, No divisions or understanding, Dumb to awls and thread. While we consumed, the Act arrived naturally to Us, Neone and Noone, but also Eve and Eve and eve All consumed us, Silently corroding our roasted self and spirit among our native gnaws.

We have been salted and dried Hung from rafters, Buried in glass Jars of Vinegar and memoried, Neatly tucked behind Spirits and dust.

Ymseh! Yuse all thy tools and computers, Extract the singyular center of your Divinity, Looking within the second, Will you, can you, do you Witness Your Mistake?

She is there in Her Bloodied nook, Be yond controll. You! left the pot on, Did Not Snuff the Blue Flame underneath,

14 and She festers in gorging delight; Swelling and Boiling over.

(04/03/2020) With each passing Son, Ymseh heard the prayers of The Council of Thread and Glass, but Ymseh knew of the Offal waiting.

Pilgrim to the Land of Sin and follow the decorated stones and masters, Ymseh found ymself at the Rusted Temple.

The threshhold was uncrossed, Yet She lycked Her Lyps, She tasted her kin Ymseh and Ymseh back.

When a fruit so whole is Cleaved, do the Two halves Yearn for the Other? Shall the red flesh, sweet and Ripe, Be Cleaved again?

How could Neone not Desire Her? A kindred Cyster of Downcast opals, Her corpse enticing With shallow sweetness.

In Her silent voice She cried Ymseh! As the Council rested ‘round. Ymseh turned heel Back to Respite.

(04/20/2020) Ymseh is the creator of All Things, Ym has made Every Thing And Every Not Thing, In Cluding Ymseh.

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Ymseh created Ymseh, but Before Ymseh, Ymseh was Notymseh, who was created by the Council of Thread and Glass, who was created By Ymseh.

When Notymseh was created, All Came to Be, and All Came to Be for a second Time when Ymseh created ymself, and All will Come to Pass When Ymseh Ceases To Be.

Ymseh stands at the shallows of the Scrying Glass and Dips a Hand in to The Infinite.

Ym weeps for the perfect Imperfection of yms labor, No thing will satisfy.

As Ymseh forwards yms Journey, ym dawns that Like a serpent, Yms skins are remains.

(04/22/2020) In the Summer Court, Ymseh was called for Service as All are required.

Already a pilgrim afoot upon an indefinite Journey Ymseh knew this voyage was apart.

When Ymseh created Every Thing, ym Furthermore devised a plan, The Indefinite Journey,

16 To behold as Much of Yms Craft, Before ym destroyed It again.

Thus, when summoned by the Courts for Service, service was not a detour or an aside, But a new leif, An introduction to some one separate.

(~06/2020) Suited to be Told resting under and Upon Softed carpets, Enveloping. Give time to Notice and Thank, Here the waves and sighs of Life and Instruction.

At each Passing Horizon, Ymseh is born again, reForged in To a new creation: familiar and foreign; a knot to be tied and untied in A Fashion unknown by One to Infinitum.

With Laughter and melancholy, Ym finds ymself entirely Raw And Collapses into death by the End, Knowing.

How delicious the Act is of Creation. To harvest and knead, To Cleave and mend, for Labor to satisfaction.

Upon Creation, Consume! fruit shall Rot without consumption, And what is Rot, just Creation and Consumption of other.

17 (06/15/2020) The Star and Ymseh Met, one taller than the other, And Ymseh said I remember you. I devoured your self hole, To become part of the rivers inside me.

(07/29/2020) Hears a thousand words To climax, Ymseh at the Peak and Valley; floating gently on Sacred smoke, Ym to be found every wear, Nestled deeply between Two Song Birds.

As All, Ymseh Keeps companions, those To Be wholly Engulfed by Yms Dance.

Find Your self, Notymseh, May you Make Place atop your craft; Calm or Calloused waters abound. set the table for a Guest, Arrange Saucers, spoons, and the Dagger across The meal.

First Bathe, Guests understand the earth, Follow, a Gift; Resting on fingertips and speculate Worth, then run across the creamy golden pillar.

At the strike of a match, Call out, Cry out, The Whole Bodee erupts to Well come a Guest.

18 As a Faset, praise and Desyre, hollows and fasts, Dances and Dances Poor to Ymseh, ym knows.

Ymseh! Set a loft, set a sail! Gather in this Place made, the arrangement stands ground: Join Here, Join Now.

Through the Vast Unknown and Infinite, Ym finds certain of the Invitation.

Ounce Place has been made; drawn; snuff out the light, tend two wounds, Allow Ymseh to depart, Knowing Ym shall not forfeit until forgotten.

(07/30/2020) Watch, Pearls drip off their strings, sMothering the earth, and Each Green life celebrates in Dance.

Notymseh patients, Gel of sea in the stomach, wishing to be Invited to such.

In the Here and Now, They found themselves filled with Soft Ecstasy and Desire, and called out: Ymseh! Ymseh! be here with me! and to their Surprise, Ym Did.

19 Notymseh and Ymseh hung in Beautiful silence Together Yms Gaze Swallowed Notymseh whole. Breaking their mouth opened to speak But their words escaped Ymseh instead

Was it always this simple? and Ymseh laughed.

Silence settled Nd two sat, Listening to the Other’s nothingness. This lasted for an In finite heart beat And closed When Ymseh recognized Tear on Both cheeks. Notymseh wept to complete Ymseh’s pearls slipping off strings.

Ymseh! I love you! I love you! I love! and I love you!

My body and being Filled and frustrated and Rotting with love!

And Ymseh said I know And paused, What are you going to do About It? Though Ym knew their Answer.

Open Your Arms and Devour Me, Allow my Flesh and All become married to You, I want to live in Your Heart and Vains!

Consumate our love,

20 Slip the Dagger in to find my Center, A Gardener pushing their Spade into the moist Earth with Ease, Nimbly into one.

A gentle curve surfaced, and each word was Notymseh’s first breath as Ymseh said We’re both crying, Aren’t We?

Noone and Notymseh joined Two Gether on a Walk After rain and Noone spoke.

Do you think God planned All of This? The beauty and the disgusting and the offal?

How do you mean?

The Pair paused at a plot, Carefully seeded and tended, and Noone pointed

Let’s say, God crafted these Marigolds. Look! Each so enticing, complex and small, each containing more and more of their ancestors and future.

How divine! yet Entangled in their Roots are heaving massed of fat and muscle, and farther be low are The reminders of Blood and Bones and Bile. Entrails supporting the Ground we stand Upon! Did God craft all of those as well?

If God drafted enough for Every star and each leaf,

21 Why did He also design, allow, consider, such rot? Why is he letting wounds fester and turn?

The walk persisted.

(08/01/2020) Notymseh found themselves pacing the market ways and out the corner of Sight, they Discerned the Lurid Hand of some One grewsome.

She lodged in Paynes and puddles and Weaved haunted nests between passing teeth and gums.

Notymseh lurched, feverish, as Her festering Fingers Caressed their Core.

What changes Occur to allow Her Roam?

Notymseh knows pending Return, all eventually join the Heap.

Pen to the Council of Thread and Glass, Pen to Ymseh, Notymseh grows nauseous.

In an extinguished room, Ymseh and Notymseh Congregate.

Prying past face, Notymseh asked: Do you recall your source? and Ymseh spoke:

22 Yes.

All?

Yes, Do you?

Aback, Notymseh hung for a breath, then: One of them. Next asked: Do you recall your Death? and Ym said: Each holds close to the self, I place each in my breast pocket, Do you recall your Death?

Notymseh shook their head: I have not passed yet.

Ymseh spoke: You will meet Her Soon enough.

(08/02/2020) Knock! on the entryway, Notymseh peers out face to face peer, Covered Prophet.

Eye see the matters the concerns the constituents of Ymseh, and

Eye see Yew bear Her silver Kiss Pocked on the Cheek and Breast.

The Council of Thread and Glass House Her away, smiling toward your tries To meat Demands And Describe suffering.

She partakes in their

23 Meals, seeded as The Guest of Honor, Laps up red wine and lies.

Her endtrails weave through each Room, Tied and Tangled to Impossibility; Sinews twist into Red Thread Thick and solid and Unable to fear the Cleaving of your Shears.

Hair matted, dressed only by the Mold and Flies Swarming on Skin, Tongue a Cast Net to Feast on Passers By and You.

I stand to tell you now, Each rotation round, The Council awaits Eagerly Your succumbing,

The Council Incomplete! They weep behind their paines, But She was kept to fill your purpose.

Sung sweetly, simply seduction, Soured after the surface. You will be honored and Showered with Spices savoured, the Centre of the occasion, The Same manner a Beast Receives before seared and served at the Table; Who but She ready to Carve your Flesh.

(08/04/2020) A Letter to Notymseh:

How could you know the Taste of Living if ye Has not been Birthed?

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Your Time and Travels rendered Futile by The cage you remain in, sealed by a lock, A key absent from your Pockets.

Gentle feathers! Small bird, singing Empty, saccharine song! Delicate, fragile, Beyond your Bars await Birds of Pray Ready to tear limb from limb.

Settle in for the Night, We shall weep together, Wishing swift remedy to your Ails.

Mother! Mother! Draped in Soft Sky, full of Grace, Bless us with thy Fruit, Here with such sinners.

Join our sorrows, Guide the strayed Back to Salvation!

Notymseh, The Circled Council seats Cannot know Completion til Yew resume yours, Do you dare nullify nuclear love for Needles and Notions?

A weave this old Seams so intricate, May not always be sewn Back to mended.

Watch your Next Stitch; Worse than a Prick of the Finger Is to Shear off the Hand.

25 (08/05/2020) Notymseh took Inventory and counted self. Positioned symmetrical in the Cage, a verdant Garden resided. Young, Sturdy Trees anchored the land, firey marigolds and Seductive strawberries prospered.

(08/08/2020) Laced round the bases, knotted at the neck, Nettles sat poised and Eager to snap the Tender hand, Rendering care awful.

Tear a part a pot, Sharp needles and vines Cannot contain

(08/12/2020) O Notymseh! She makes your Blood Boil, Your Bones tremble, How dare She!

What a veil to don, To see through warmed spectacles when truly You only Pace in Her Palm, Her brambled hand Closing tighter on your trembling Heart.

How does She make you feel? To open the Door and find Her there each time? She knows your bind, your gag, Your delicious silence.

Perhaps poor Atlas could hold conversations along with his Burden, born on his bandaged back.

26 Watch Ymseh! No waits, no stones stuffed in satchels and pockets. Seeping poisons, Spittle, and Stares.

Notymseh, Know Noone, Noone and Her.

She’s the only One! Let Her lips touch yours, Kiss, kiss, fall deeply into mudded water and let her tongue slip past yours! She is the only One To Know You this long, To Know You This way.

(08/13/2020) Ymseh watched as Notymseh slipped on Soapy passes and patches, Unable to forge footing.

O! how yms heart and whole ached, To Behold Bretheren Bound and braided in such manner.

Starved and stuffed with Package Peanuts, Laced with lyes and leers, Notymseh holds an empty Hand.

She settles into Sinews and Synapses. A Bug boring through lumber To Numb her.

Cystems in place Cease to suffice, Only serving to suffocate further.

Ymseh bares teeth and Retrieves a shelved Tome,

27 Presenting the text to absent-weeping Notymseh.

J O Y Embossed in leaf, Pressd into the binding of The Blest Book.

Step-by-step, Each Council references Their notes, How to Tie Knots and Break Bread,

A fitting Gift for a Rising Councillor.

Ymseh! I cannot Complete such riddles or solve such recipes! No Yuse for The Council’s courting and commandments.

Joy to Neone but I, these leafy pages offer no thing but psalms and sauces, Not ingredients to ingrain Obedience.

Search ra lean, sigh O! pionate, Syringes and salves, scratches and scarring, Cysts! Cysts! O Ymseh! I’m sick! I’m sick!

I have always had sickness and sickness shall remain through The End, I’m sick!

Search my skin up and down, Sore on my limbs and organs

28 and Internal soft.

Let me succum! I want to heave ship, Mingle in Her Mouth and molars, She’s so Tempting, Pleasure at the Price of Passing?

We shall all Cease, Till She re mains, Let Her have it!

Not once in Eternity had Ymseh Wished to Weep so deeply prior to This Moment.

How utterly cloaked was Notymseh! draped in Her most Delicious Notions. Action dire, Sorry soaked, Lurch and shake, fever, fits, Expose. The festering foul, Heave lachrymose!

This is won Experience you must face A lone, In turn, all advice to guide you

29 I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick

(08/24/2020) In Time, wounds Taper and Temper, and J O Y continues to look Notymseh

Ymseh, Noone has seen, Perhaps at the Water’s Edge? Neone claimed Yms sighting at Market, but who can be assured?

30 Notymseh made place with the Tome, Red Ribbons streaming. Feelings are still tender, Easy to catch flies and fester.

The Nettles have grown Too close to flesh and leaves, Stinging, sticking. To cleave and hack at such thorns is fruitless, simple calculations offer more and more.

The Whole Garden must be Dug Up! The Root must be singled out, Banished, burned! Blocked, Barricaded!

Past Her grasp, Past the Hands who Feed Her, Immediate aim at The Gurgling Babe!

Daunting, Intoxicating

Such a task To get Lost within But Joy!

J O Y! Here are the steps, Laid out to Eat, The Council unaware of their Gift.

31 (08/27/2020) Every creachure You have ever Eaten, Every Thing You have ever Consumed, Is Alive in side of You Right Now.

They are moving, swimming, squirming and Writhing within You, Your body the bones and blood.

When do You cease and Another begins? How many Bodies and Beings Have You taken for your own?

Feel Them, Feel Them! Rejoice in Thanks, Thanks for the sacrifice, Thanks for the saved.

In time, You shall Also be Eaten, Consumed, Conscripted in to a knew Bodie, you’ll know Purpose again.

Crack the Spine! Peel back layers to reveal Guidance.

First, bipedal Bicycle, Split evenly into everyboard, Plus one fool, One sliver of the Whole.

Second, Cry out to Mother! She heres You and salivates, s-weeps, surrounded by Her own garden, thornless; Immaculate.

Cry out Continously,

32 half a century or so more, Mother pines and prays for You.

Notymseh arranges the Cards as such, an unlit candle placed atop each, and As they Named each condition, Each light lit. A contract signed for petition.

Mother, Mother! Be here, Be heard! Shrouded in sky and Roses, Join the circle!

They repeated Mother’s song, Mulling and mewling.

Notymseh faster now! Spin and sing and selibrate! Evry turn turns, churns, Sacred tears start to Stream, and Mother’s voice merges, Mysteries! Missed heiries!

Lie eye eye! Finish

And with Notymseh’s Fullest heart, Mother’s Deepest Sorrow, Supplicate Scream.

33 Notymseh screamed for Their Father, Father! Father! They could not See, could not Hear, could not feel or fear, Only call out As a babe for Father and Know Nothing ness.

34 Awaken! Notymseh, and they found them self center in their ceremony circle Candles burnt out, J O Y off-center and open, all as was before; Notymseh felt no change, no Trans form A shun.

Quick to subside, They dropped their defeated Head, O! Speye!

Top of the dirt, A Spade, Not Notymseh’s, Not Neone’s, Not Noone’s. The Spade enticed Notymseh, Could it be a Gyft?

Grab the perfect handle, and in Notymseh’s hand, they knew warmth, An Invitation.

(09/01/2020) Notymseh slipped the Space into the earth below them; the tool drawing down further through the clay and soil. Farther, Further, Father, With each chip, Notymseh began to feel warm, centred on hand-foot-crown, Light creeping through the Seams of the Earth. Hotter, swallowing, searing, Hallowing, Lift up Notymseh! Pull A Way! Rise up! above Flash and form!

Sleep Softly, Come To Be at Home,

35 Fair and inFinite. Kno Peace! My Child, Kno Peace, Well, Come Home!

(10/02/2020) Pardon please and slip with ease between the layers and layers of Loam and Lust.

Mighty Syc lingers above, Shedding piece by piece til all is Exposed, Raw and exquisite, Inviting.

Blessd, bountiful, Notymseh knows their lure. Tempting s lumber, A chair open at the Hall.

Act shun, act shunned, each sun Notymseh continues to Rearrange, Are You the one it happens to? or a time to be, to feel, to do?

Notymseh feared they’ve settled, forgotten how to move. Cycles spin, red frames, red fibres, Prostrate at the timbered’s feet and Mouth.

Cold, crepuscule, they press in to the Brown leaves, golden pines, Waiting to kno more.

Notymseh, your focus too Narrow and narrowly missed, you consume so much, how could you know better?

The sick, the suffering, must be

36 sever’d, or Else Yule never find what’s needed.

Your divine, the all and over and under, Screams and soars for you, How can You be so blind?

We shall wash your eyes, Rinse your bodee, But Its you! You’re Actions, You’re Doing. Invited once, Welcomed twice, we await you’re anSwer.

(10/06/2020) Notymseh bites their nails, Waiting for Wrath Whichll n’er arrive.

Greedy, wanting, the feast piles up and Up, Biting each Fruit and Flesh Ads a nother pebble to their chest.

But Ymseh only understands, as Ym too was once Notymseh, and Ym met, attended, devoured At the same Feast.

37 Waking, Notymseh looks and finds themselves in Soft Nothing, notLight, notDark, Gentle and fine.

They make Eight Imperfect steps within the Nothing, and ahead appears apparitions A parition A partition A division, a Door, flanked by a pair of partitioners.

Soundless, the two beckon Notymseh, or perhaps The Door made the call, but Noone concerned.

Rightening their gait, Notymseh approached the figures: Indeed, a Door in scribd and in laid, Brilliant, Brilliant! and a child on each side

Right a stern-faced girl who sparked fear and determination Within Notymseh Her pallid flesh covered by glowing plates and delicate chains. head framed by a mirror-yellow saucer While her stance and hands grasped a flamed sword, easily matching her Height.

Left! A White-robed maiden, objects in Each hand. Like the arms of a scale, out-stretched and out-crooked She weighed a single orange vial – Sky-hued pearls rattling within. Tied ‘round her neck a proud red kerchief, that innocent stain soaking the sanguine As she nested her head as if it were a sleeping babe.

38 At the same heartbeat, Both demanded: Notymseh Are You Here To Behold Our Father?

And Notymseh said Yes.

(10/18/2020) As they waited for the Response of Two, Notymseh noticed The Door hum; It could barely Contain the Contents consealed, Cross the thresh hold.

All are welcombed To see and sit With Him, Prayers, poems, pleas Please pious precious Pater, Answered the two, Now please prepare your self.

As a skilled seamstress, the Right being unRobed Notymseh with her blade, till they stood utterly bare Naked and new, bodie-free from scars and scabbish reminders.

Now Left, She lifted her bittersweet bottle to Notymseh’s lips and a different force overtook them.

39 Reaching, the feeling found itself in the offal foul, the centre of Notymseh and retrieved.

They wretched, and Notymseh spit up a life-worth lump of powdery pearls.

Pearls and poison, Weeds and wine, Rotted within and Out, Go! Here! Him’s Peak!

(12/18/2020) Ym so soft, Ym so gentle… So biting and raw, Eat away at Notymseh’s nose!

Sacred geometries and crafted infinities, Notymseh stands still to be consumed.

The delicacy of night is sacred, some Thing to be celebrated,

Notymseh, Take note, Paths and patterns are not meant to be missed, Here for you! You for them!

Take comfort in clouded skies, Your love remains When seen again, How much joy shall you know?

Pining for palms and petals,

40 Notymseh, Shouldn’t be more than a Fleeting bliss; Ymseh is here! Ymseh is now!

(12/26/2020) At the center of scrying and Divine Calculations Holds fast Divine Symmetrine, Ethereal and Earthly eurythmy.

The middle pin-prick Of Infinity remains Chaos, Righted each way it claims holy integrity; Constant chaos cultivates common Understanding.

Thus, the sum of All is Ate, and Ate is Ymseh’s affinity. But! Ym shall not be whole without One, as One is included in All, and by the Mysterie of Mathematics, Ymseh’s sigil’s even. All summed up to equal Ate, yet when One is separate, Ym’s Ate lacks the One to equAte, Therefore Ymseh state s even.

41 (01/20/2021) Brilliant doors swing to reveal themselves, pulled by Two Wing’d Hands and O! before Notymseh shined an AweSome display, beauty and power, glory and grandeur!

Round nd ‘round, Wreathes and boughs of plume and radiance.

Behind these beings Stood Angels with faces of Bronze, Gold, Silver, too hot to watch, and Echoing song, sounding Yaw and Praise!

Wheels of fire and Pillars of strength, a display of power, Be not afraid! Be not afraid!

Saucers spilling liquid Wine and light Trembling laughter, their Wings laced with Neon and discard,

Each divine voice calling Holy Holy Holy! Holey Wholly Holy!

And beyond! the endless Praise and Choir of angels, amidst billowing clouds lay a magnificent ziggurat, the home of Our Father.

Each brick made with the purest gold and inlaid with precious stones, an amount rivalled only by the stars

42 Notymseh walked through the symphony, passed the winged wheels, passed the Bronze-faced messengers, and lowered their head, out of respect, out of fear.

(01/22/2021) Enter this House, this home, The Throne of Our Father!

Notymseh journeyed in to the Temple, Guided by the voices, Viral, Virtue all,

Vanguard on the vaulted ceilings

(02/22/2021) At the center symmetrie, Notymseh quaked trembl'd to the ground at the Sight of Our Father.

Too bright to gaze, moknowlith of Light! Sheer sears on skins, Glory Glory!

Here Be Our Father, Our Father! Notymseh, Notymseh! Know this name! Notymseh, know the name THE GREAT REFLEKTOR Calmed down the calamity, senses soothed, the visualized verbalized and Notymseh could witness the self of Our Father.

43 No woolly wiseman, No wrinkled robes, Our Father, THE GREAT REFLEKTOR Bears the face of Notymseh sans smock and sandals

Notymseh, Knowing Yew How Could Yew Forget? You Were Forged In My Favour, My Face And My Flesh, My Form And My Flame!

Notymseh, Come Closer, Allow Our Hands To Hold And Clasp, I Hear You’re Here To Confer Confession

At His call, the thoughts of Those Notymseh Poured from their lips.

The Sorrows and Sadness and Salutations and Restorations! Calls and Cries, evry Dance dashed out, Notymseh tumbled over tongue and teeth to tell their text.

Wonderful, Weightless, and Worries, Woes, here the heels of Notymseh’s hide, the Looming, loss, lack, laughter.

Finally, their frame re frained from continuing further, as they had now reached Now.

Notymseh held silent, then froze, Our Father spoke:

44 Do Yew Truly Think This Way? Feel This Way?

How Long Have Sacred Sights And Hallucinations Plagued Yew? Prospered And Grown Untended In Your Garden?

Your Guardian Ghost, Divine Self And Seeker, Burned, Torn From Your Bodie

An Accident, An Assault, An Act Of Binary Blaspheme!

Yew Ache So Dearly, Desperate Desire For That Secret Scripture, An Obvious Answer Oblivious To Yew.

You And You’re Ymseh, Yew Did Not Snuff Out The Flame, Left Remains Scattered, And Now Yew Are To Serve Abomination!

THE GREAT REFLEKTOR refracted and reformed, still the Notion of Notymseh Yet also the Full Truth.

Great Heights! Wallowing just like Her in Fullness, Our Father revealed the ℞, The Powdery Pearls from His Saint.

45 Our Father! Thank you! For this communion! Holy Hands Place each Pearl in their mouth, piling up, Notymseh knows there poison.

(04/20/2021) Pearls n pills and Pious prayer, Polish off your Prescribed portion!

Our Father grows impatient, Eager to Watch Notymseh Commit.

Soon aside, Notymseh no longer a worry, Our Father, our family, can progress and process.

Notymseh, Notymseh! Roll each baby blue Bead around on your tongue, swallow whole or smash into teeth and gums.

Each Pearl pulls you closer to your prophesized Present, future.

Pulsing, pounding the Ecstasy of fear sounding through, You know, You knew, This was what You were meant to Do.

46

images

47

Came To Be, full gallery installation

48

Came To Be, installation details

49

Installation details of folded mantra stars

Original written Scrypture

50

Covers of the four Scrypture chapbooks included in installation and offered as viewer takeaways

51

Details of chapbooks “Messages for Notymseh” (top) and “Sickness” (bottom)

52

notes

53 one

Hands, knuckles, fingertips push in and out. Weight in my wrists, arms, shoulders.

Kneading, hunger in my stomach, hunger in my brain, needing. I let the dough rest.

Sometimes the dough must rest for an hour, sometimes for a whole day. I watch the changes in size, shape. After baking, I end up with a toady, lumpy loaf of bread. I know it will be eaten within minutes. I could buy bread from the grocery store just as easily, or even indulge myself and buy fresh bread from a baker. The time and effort required to make bread versus the ephemeral final product is not efficient.

Fingers guide up and down. I am swaddled, enveloped in fabric, not quite sure where

I am until the needle pricks my skin. My work jeans have some holes and worn spots I must mend. I can quickly repair a tear or two, but some of the larger areas will take some time to reinforce and stich over. I have invested several hours into the upkeep of these old pants, I bought them second-hand to begin with. Wouldn’t it be easier to buy new jeans instead of trying to fix this pair over and over again?

There is a pleasure to making, to creating. The deliciousness of DIY that cannot be experienced elsewhere. This pleasure, like any other emotion, is a flowing phenomenon that comes and goes, but I want to live in such current. I know the risks. I know what I make will be imperfect, with blemishes and flaws. I might end up with something worse than what I started with. I know I could direct my time and resources towards more concrete and productive outcomes. But, there is a source of power to be found within creation. A sacredness that cannot be compared or compromised.

54 two

My identity is changing and cycling. I am not a static set of traits, labels, and characteristics. I am not an inert or passive object that experiences happen to, I am a dynamic, complex being, an active participant in experiences and environments. Each day is another opportunity to discover myself, to explore and to create myself.

Our bodies are always physically changing. My hair grows a little bit each day, and a little bit of my hair falls out each day. My skin creates and loses cells on a weekly basis. My nails grow and I bite them off when I get bored or when they grow too long. I am not unreasonable to view identity in a similar way. I am constantly changing as a person. I am both learning and unlearning habits, traits, thought patterns, and skills. I am always gaining and forgetting memories and information.

Most remnants of my past physical self are discarded. Washed down the drain, swept into the trash, blown away by the wind. I never see them again, and I assume my hair and cells and nails and other past body parts will eventually return to earth. However, some of these remnants inevitably remain. They get caught on clothing and shoes, embedded in carpet and cracks in the floorboards. I pull a strand of green off of an old cardigan and I recall my past self, with dyed hair and a different outlook on life. I let the green strand of hair go; I am no longer that person. I appreciate my past self and I acknowledge how my past has led me to my present, but I have no need to cling to my remains. I will continue to grow and lose parts of myself.

In the same way I inevitably leave my hair and cells in places I have existed, I also inevitably leave versions of myself with the people I interact with; they are left with their perception of me in that moment. With time, some of these past selves will fade away or be

55 forgotten. Some of these past selves will eventually be replaced by a more current perception of me. And some of my past selves remain exactly as I was in the moment they were created.

I often find myself running into these outdated versions of me, and in these moments, there is a disconnect between my current and past self.

What happens when this disconnect, this misunderstanding, grows further apart? Do opposing perceptions ever find resolution? Or is there are breaking point, when the disconnect can no longer be supported? How do I reconcile with all of the versions of me I have left littered around? This is simply the nature of life and time, and I could not change such nature even if I wanted. Instead, I must come to terms with this process of self-discard.

56 three

I have met the Sacred before. I have met the Sacred in many forms and faces. I cannot call myself atheist or agnostic, this would directly contradict the Divine I have encountered. I also cannot bring myself to subscribe to one faith or another, despite my craving for spiritual structure. Through my own constant cycles, my understanding of the Sacred also undergoes constant change, and I am afraid to commit to such a lofty endeavor as organized faith if I know the Sacred will eventually change again. Within continuous change, there’s difficulty finding stability, a point of comfort and predictability, so I must look towards the only aspect that is constant: change. I embrace the chaotic nature of life, and I realize any spiritual practice I aim to participate in must also embrace such change.

I have met the Sacred before. I have met the Sacred in many poses and places, and I have met the Sacred within creation. If I cannot find comfort in a current system of spirituality, then I shall make a personal system for the personal Sacred.

To craft a system of symbols and spirituality entirely from scratch is intimidating, so I adopted several principles and techniques from a broad magical practice known as chaos magic(k). Nebulous by design, chaos magic prioritizes achieving desired results by any means necessary rather than through a fixed set of dogmas and canons. At the core of this practice is the understanding of belief as a tool; belief is a headspace I am able to control.

Chaos magic acknowledges the lack of objective truth due to the influence of our personal perceptions of reality and because of this, both everything and nothing can be true.

When working with abstract, symbolic, or other unseen concepts, belief is perhaps the most important factor. In Oven-Ready Chaos, Phil Hine explains the belief system of a magical or spiritual practice as “the symbolic and linguistic construct through which the

57 magician learns to interpret her experiences…” (35). He goes on to note “It doesn’t matter which belief system you use, so long as it turns you on”. With this mindset, belief becomes a lens I use to rearrange and reframe previous religious and spiritual influences in my life, forming these experiences into a framework for my own Sacred. By recognizing belief as a shifting, dynamic force I am able to control, I am able to position change, development, and alteration as the basis of my Sacred.

58 four

The Scrypture of Came To Be is evident of such change. Characters and content contradict themselves; each section written wholly in the moment and without regard to continuity. When reading through the text, though I composed the entire work, I find myself disagreeing with some passages. I have found some passages I do not recall writing, or I cannot recall my intention during the writing process.

The Scrypture is a living text. The Scrypture came to be around the fall of 2019, but personal writings and journals from earlier could be viewed as a precursor to Scrypture. I continue to add to the text as needed, when I am filled with the Spirit of creation, of inspiration, of desperation. The Sacredness of creation and the vigorousness of a sole believer paired with intimate icons and personal references imbue the characters, symbols, events, and text with life and significance. Pleasurable, and painful occurrences and emotions are transformed from mundane life into meaningful tales and figures I am able to look towards and ruminate upon. In turn, the significance of the Scrypture then reflects into reality as I create work, artifacts, and spaces exalting the Scrypture. Through this process, I am able to find and create spiritual significance, understanding, and acceptance in my daily life. The sacred pleasure of creation becomes canonized; I find resolution to the turmoil of my discarded selves.

I suppose that this too, this Scrypture, this essay, this collection of work known as

Came To Be, will also all become self-discard. The thought intimidates me, perhaps at the thought of the unknown future or the understanding of my current present will unavoidably become the distant past. However, regardless of how my life continues and regardless of the

59 self-discard I leave behind, change remains a constant, and I will continue to find comfort within the chaos.

60 five

Practice practice practice

Practice is preparation, but one’s practice does not need to be preparation for a particular performance. If the Scrypture is a living thing, then so is Practice. An art practice, a writing practice, a personal and spiritual practice. A practice is built over time.

A practice, personal, professional, or pious, does not require a dedicated place, but a workspace is helpful. When weather and earth allow, I prefer to practice outside. Writing, thinking, making, musing. But the winds and warmth are not always kind, so I often work within my room. I have a desk, but she is busy bearing other work of mine, sewing machines and potted greens. I make place on the floor instead, as it is the common ground. I am crouched over my tome, surrounded by books and mirrors. I stare into the mirror and get lost, pulled into the flow state. I’m not self-obsessed, I simply forget who I’m staring at.

Within public place however, there is a need for presentation. If I am to offer my personal practice as a project, then I should also provide a presentable place. A formalized workspace for worship and watching. An altar, a shrine, a space for working and reflection.

The creation of chapbooks for consideration consumed my studio practice, but how would I convey these zines and the rest of my work? Organically, an altar, a workspace, for the organization of information.

My tools and texts became the objects to arrange. Stacks of books refer to the readings I have been ruminating on, rolling sentences and stanzas around on my tongue for months, years. Some texts including Kurt Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions, Rudolfo

Anaya’s Bless Me, Ultima, and Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist provided broader thematic influences of spirituality and reality. Alternatively, Ram Dass’ Be Here Now, Yumi

61 Sakugawa’s Your Illustrated Guide to Becoming One With The Universe, and The

Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry edited by Stephen Mitchell directly impacted my spiritual and creative practices and processes, such as existing within the moment, listening to the Divine, and noticing the hidden beauty of life, large and small.

William Blake and the breadth of his work played the largest source of influence and inspiration for me. Certainly his style influenced my own approach to writing, but more so I was affected by his world creation. Characters stand for distinct ideas and values, but often these characters also fold and blend into one another, separate yet same. Figures could be reduced to single traits such as “reason” or “imagination”, the same figures also expand into cultural and political movements, religious and theological conflicts, lovers and interpersonal relationships.

The Duality of everything, emphasized by Blake, becomes key within Scrypture.

Ymseh, Notymseh, and Her are one and separate, a personal Holy Trinity. I have been all three and I will be all three again, I am none and I was never anyone else. Concepts and traditions from Roman Catholicism also come across within the written and visual work of

Came To Be, as seen with a holy trinity of mentor/creator, mentee/created, and an additional source of influence, i.e. a spectral or spiritual force.

In a motion similar to the Catholic Church and Blake, the Scrypture does not remain hidden within a tome. The work and the word must be seen and shared! I do not aim to evangelize or convert viewers, but I want to disseminate the divine I have developed. A public place, the installation, serves this purpose to some extent, but providing pious propaganda, the chapbooks, allow viewers to further consider the Scrypture and symbols.

62 The four chapbooks reference many of the prayer cards and books one encounters with the

Catholic Church, convenient content to assist personal devotion. I wanted viewers to truly sit with some of the Scrypture, as well as find further prompting from visual imagery in addition to poetic imagery. The chapbooks allow to viewers to revisit the Scrypture as often or as little as needed, unlike the limited installation.

To call the mural within the installation an afterthought is dismissive, but I originally intended the mural to simply mime and magnify the smaller chapbook covers. However, the process of painting entirely enveloped me. The scale, the effort and intimacy, the bodily directness and connection, I became lost within the lines and images. The Sacred was present and I was a part of the Sacred, a communion of corporeal and creative. I have not ceased thinking about the moment. Adding to the divine of the experience was the excess of the color teal.

The chosen hues of teal and gold represent Ymseh and Notymseh respectively. Teal as an ethereal, unnatural color, as Ymseh, the godhead, but made from blending blue and green, the colors of water and Earth, of living and growing. Yellow-gold stands in for

Notymseh, a striking compliment, even an opposite to Ymseh’s teal. Even without Ymseh,

Notymseh remains yellow, the color of spirit and excitement. Yellow ranges from beautiful and boastful to disgusting and obscene, encapsulating the dualistic and imperfect nature of

Notymseh, of myself. Notymseh’s gold appeared in the physical, a yellow line to designate the space, balmy beeswax candles to indicate the passage of time, the light brown wood frame of the mirror showing the viewer’s form.

The mirror, a great reflector, stands symmetrical as a central character. Symbolic of myself, the spectator, and THE GREAT REFLEKTOR within Scrypture, the mirror’s linear

63 frame also reflects the line quality in my work. The mirror has been a constant in my life for the past three years, it is one of my prized possessions. I mentioned before, I lose myself looking within it, looking within a scrying glass for guidance. The mirror shows myself,

Notymseh and Ymseh, Her, God, my family, my fortunes and failures. The mirror is the artist, is the viewer, is the subject, is just an object.

The pile of stars before the mirror act as a mantra-based prayer practice, a physical representation of the time and energy I have invested in not only this installation but within the Scrypture and mythology as a whole. I fold each star while reciting the phrase printed on the strip of paper, I am devoting myself, my mind and body, to this practice. I explored a performative aspect of Came To Be, a live performance or a recording of myself folding these stars within the installation space, but my own nerves and inexperience performing made these occurrences less than satisfactory. Meditating and folding stars became a private part of the work, something intimate, only for myself.

Despite displaying Came To Be and the Scrypture in a public exhibition, there is a satisfying, delicious, and ultimately protective feeling to keep some aspects of personal work within the private sphere. I have greatly benefitted from reflecting on and creating artwork about emotions and memories, yet I also run the risk of exposing too much. Some feelings are too recent, relevant, or raw to explore. Other areas may do more harm than help if shared.

Probing internal thoughts and processes too far also risks completely dissecting and reducing an experience, stripping a memory of personal meaning and leaving only what remains valuable for production of new work. Even so, I know I will eventually be able to revisit and further examine the emotions, entities, and imagery I presented in the cumulative Came To

Be, as In Time, wounds Taper and Temper.

64

references and research

65 Anaya, Rudolfo. Bless Me, Ultima. 25th ed., Little, Brown & Company, 1999

Carroll, Peter J. Liber Null & Psychonaut: An Introduction to Chaos Magic. Weiser Books,

1987.

Chapman, Alan. Advanced Magick for Beginners. Aeon, 2008.

Coelho, Paulo. The Alchemist. HarperOne, 2014.

Foster Damon, Samuel. A Blake Dictionary. Brown University Press, 1988.

Dass, Ram. Be Here Now. Lama Foundation, 1971.

Erdman, David V, editor. Complete Poetry and Prose of William Blake. Anchor Books,

1982.

Gibran, Kahlil. Sand And Foam. Alfred A. Knopf, 1966.

Hine, Phil. Oven-Ready Chaos, Chaos International, 1992.

Jodorowsky, Alejandro, director. The Holy Mountain. ABKCO Films, 1973.

Mitchell, Stephen. The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry. HarperCollins

Publishers, 1989.

Muñoz, José Esteban. Cruising Utopia: the Then and There of Queer Futurity. New York

University Press., 2009.

Rombauer, Irma S., et al. Joy of Cooking. Scribner, 2002.

Sakugawa, Yumi. Your Illustrated Guide to Becoming One With The Universe. Adams

Media, 2014.

Vonnegut, Kurt. Breakfast of Champions . Dial Press Trade Paperbacks, 2011.

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