Leneia a'Min & an Earthen Collision
Lana La Framboise
A’las fema-haul’ey. I’jir tali fema-haul’ey. A’zznar fema-haul’ey. I’jartil fema-haul’ey.
Themes
Epistemology & Bias
Effects of Fiction on Perspective
Spirituality
Meditational Practices
Participants
3-6 Dancers
Classmates
Friends
Texts
Interviews
Byzantine Notation Music
Observations
Mero Verne Script
Journal Entries
The epistemology of the West has been shaped by logocentrism and binary methods of knowing. However, this Western epistemology manipulates a detrimental bias on one’s ability to engage in spiritual practices that benefit the soul. By combining elements of a fictional religious practice (Leneia a’Min Maserna), Byzantine chanting (from the Eastern Orthodox church) of earth, and movements of classical western dancers, I impose a challenge to Western epistemology, and consequently Western philosophy and religion.
Prompts
Experiments with Leneia a'Min Maserna
Investigations of Byzantine Chanting
Explorations of Reading & Writing
some projects
Portion of: Qaslesna Dimensions of Movement
Please note that some of these works are not listed in their entirety as they can only be read and understood in the context of Vedam.
A paralleled cosmos, as infinite as we know here on Earth,
is pulsating with an existence we feel deep in our stomachs.
Behold the Plane Emprevar, the universe you dreamt of long ago.
Here, Vedam’s Leneiasomba are found in lullabies and childhood;
shapes revealed by pieces of TV shows humans believe in;
call them fairies or swans
call them mermaids or angels
Know that they subscribe to no system wrapped and tied in
Tyranny Superficiality Ashes
Can you handle these abstracts?
Carry me, oh Creator, to the sky
hold me like a* precious immortal
wrapped in hymns and rituals
not even the Angels can unwrap**
Carry me, oh Creator, the sky
hold me like a precious immortal
wrapped in hymns and rituals
not even the universe can challenge.
I greet you, oh Creator, in the First Realm
will you count me among the Ancestors,
among the children passed, and among
all the Souvi? Keep me in the lights
of Izaratos, Atlaros, and Dagris
*The phrase “like a” is a specific phrase in Mero Verne.
**The word “unwrap” doesn’t translate well to English.
Carry them, oh Creator, to the sky
hold this child like a* precious immortal
wrapped in hymns and rituals
not even the Angels can unwrap**
Carry them, oh Creator, the sky
hold this child like a precious immortal
wrapped in hymns and rituals
not even the universe can challenge
We supplicate you, oh Creator,
remember our Ancestors in the Expansion,
remember our children resting in the sky,
remember the Souvi who guide us
To the lights of Izaratos, Atlaros, and Dagris.
*The phrase “like a” is a specific phrase in Mero Verne.
**The word “unwrap” doesn’t translate well to English.
Inside a heartbeat are echoes intertwined with legends of Leneiasomba
ascending and descending the organs and the severity of bodies
pulsing rhythms strung together by vines and fluorescent bulbs hanging in trees.
This is poetry to gift with Strength found in dense foliage supporting
grounded voices with foreign scales and minor—sternums shake
twist like a wretched cry; rise like a wale to the sky; fall like a writhing body
Qaslesna | caus-les-na | NOUN; VERB
You marched with crosses on your breast plates
stole the relics of divinity misunderstood and said
“the sacred must be embodied—tangible—real.”
Come to Vedam instead, and let the journey begin.
There’s fire in your blood when the trance begins
holding stars that embody the morning sun
and echoes like voices under the temple’s dome
Come to Vedam, and access cosmic space.
It will require your soul—I know this is heresy to you
but this is just byzantine fiction. This is Qaslesna.
Landscapes of Strength and florescence interweave
art—movement—sound—dimensions you dream of
see them give substance to fairytales and nightmares.
Breathe this land and see the sky erupt into color.
Breathe the suns and the stars all mixed with one another.
Breathe this sea and see the waves fall onto bodies.
Breathe these ashes of planets and ancestors deceased.
Breathe the metayas and the snow from dreams and valleys.
Breathe the lands.
Breathe the blood.
Breathe the skies.
Breathe the body.
Breathe the Creator.
Receive the body of the Creator in the land and the sky.
Yes, my dear these are the lands
all folded into Earthen stars.
This is what I see at night
casted along the layers of the ocean.
Oh, yes, I know there are no oceans in Vedam;
there’s no such thing as vast unknown depths.
I murdered the creatures too powerful
and made you instead. Aren’t you so beautiful?
Yes, I’ve seen all this in dreams of Tuame.
I push this into the crevices of my mind’s palm.
Lands. Can you see them?
Blood. It smells not of death.
Skies. With all the moons for a lifetime.
Body. Are you afraid of yours?
Creator. Are you strong enough?