My shamanic death process October 7, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Mystical, Personal Journey.Tags: Iron Pentacle, shamanic death
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That title may seem melodramatic, and to be honest, it is. Yet it’s also accurate, and it’s been something that’s been transforming me from the inside out since . . . oh, I don’t know, 1982 maybe?
Basically, to go through it can be fast or painstakingly slow. I’m taking the more “educational variety” as William James might say in describing a variation on spiritual awakening. And the first moment on that path was my rude awakening to the way things really were when I came out to my parents. Then I had another one in 1987 when I screwed up royally on a job I loathed (and then spent the next 2-1/2 years slowly working myself up to either leaving it or to a suicide attempt), then I had yet another one 10 years later when I started working for “da man” and realized just how moloch-y the unreal matrix-reality worked in practice, and it’s been a series of different sorts of awakenings ever since.
This shamanic death that’s been ongoing has been sometimes dramatic, and sometimes it’s been a joyous reprieve. There have been moments of the awareness of joy and freedom along the way. And right now, this is not an exception. These next few months may see me truly fall into the process and embrace the transformation, throw myself into the grey gunge of the chrysalis and let the Iron Pentacle do its mojo on me. With some divine (self-)direction of course.
And I have a feeling there will be another joyous space just beyond it. In fact, I know there will be. The best part of this whole thing is that I know I’m not alone, and also there are more allies and colleagues along the way than I currently know of.
La!
Flows and Streams, Eddies and Currents October 2, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Mystical, Personal Journey.add a comment
A few weeks ago, I was given the task by a multidimensional guide to pay attention to flows and streams in my seeking a certain sort of power/shield. Right now, I’m just collecting raw data, but there are of course all sorts of flows that take place all around us.
For the first instance, traffic. It’s been quite interesting here in Albany that there’s been a film shoot the last 2 weeks. This has caused the flow of traffic downtown to move in an unusual manner, as parts of the area have been blocked off for shooting. (I witnessed a car chase down State Street turning onto B’way–complete with gunshots!–repeat itself 4 or 5 times last Monday or Tuesday.) Cars still need to find pathways through, and it was pandemonium the first couple of days, even on the bus. The mass transit itself had to disembark at a couple of more or less outer stations, but it was a minor addition to my walk. No bigggie.
I’ve been paying a lot more attention to the flows of air currents, more particularly micro-eddies that I perceive all around us. Somehow, I feel like they’re attracted to us. I get a my head of these phenomena, and I don’t unbut it’s like they provide some sort of network for our intentions. I think they might be connected to Star Goddess Herself. Somehow, like all of us are/everything is. I’m working with them with my intentions to see how that might draw some things (like tenants!) to me faster.
I perceive there are imperceptible “movements” in the dark matter/dark energies that underly all reality. They work to push some desired results forward, other undesired reults along with. These flows are quite mysterious, needless to say. But again, I feel that we can somehow tap them, not so much for selfish gain (though a lot of people attempt that, and not a few are successful), but because we want to be more fully in our “ISness.” I myself am working to embody integration and wholeness.
Anyway, just some cursory thoughts. More to come.
Storylines and their spirits (anti-tv screed) October 1, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Civilization Anonymous, Mystical, Personal Journey.Tags: vEmpire, rage, cats, violence, television, hate, fear entities, powerlessness, Tonglen, Glee, Gossip Girl, Anderson Cooper, Allison Stewart
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Sometimes I must confess I don’t really know what to blog about. Today though, I feel a mite on fire. There are several things at work here.
Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to blog about some interesting information I picked up yesterday about swirls and eddies in flows and streams, and their place in working intentions. But last night I had an incident with something very dark, but alas all-too-common.
There are many reasons I don’t have a television. Many of them are political. I don’t remember the exact moment, but at some point in the months leading up to the 2nd presidential seletion of GWB as Faux-ty-three, I pretty much stopped watching regular teevee. I know I no longer had a t.v. by the time I met my partner. But I could feel a decided loss of interest in the tube, and it helped to wean myself from the dross of it due to working overnight. The nights I had off, I just had no interest in watching late night infomercials. I did enjoy for a time watching World News Now with Allison Stewart and Anderson Cooper–they made a fun, if a bit Disney-mouseketeer sort of madcap team. I appreciated their sense of humor, and they had a delightful chemistry. But then A.C. became white-hot and of course he would. That partnership ended, and my interest in WNN faded after that.
And unbeknownst to me, I was also getting my brains back as they say. First from my sobriety, then from my EWP abstinence. And I was discovering all sorts of delirious sensitivities in my body, some that pleased me, others not so much.
Over time, I’ve discovered I’ve become extremely sensitive to toxic stories. It’s not so easy to recognize at first. I’ve come more and more to see the toxicities well up on various fronts. I think I had an initial encounter with it with Survivor. I have to cop to an aspect of myself that appreciates a good Macchiavellian like Richard Hatch. The elegant rogue that he is/was. (The fact that he’s a gay nudist named Richard also means a bit to me. Seeing that’s also moi!) Still, I noticed around my edges that there wasn’t something right there.
Fast forward a few years, and I see that of all things Gossip Girl has some sort of malevolence in it. It was at a time when I was starting to appreciate my witchy side even more, and I tried to express this to Jody but I got perhaps a little too specific and detailed. It freaked him out to hear me say “there are entities living in between the words, even the letters on the scripts!” And I guess I can see where he would have been coming from–I started a bipolar med not soon after that.
But still, I knew of which I spoke. I know about the notion of the meme, and there are mini-memes if you will, and they live in sit-coms and infomercials and costume dramas etc.
I could see another toxic story in The Tudors as well. I did so want to like that show. But the violence and implied violence in it was just too much.
Last night, my partner’s sister had come up for a whirlwind weekend of culture and home fix-it project suggestions for us. After dinner she suggested we watch both America’s Top Model and Glee. Never again. The first was Barbie meets Survivor and it’s difficult to watch pretty people be mean to one another. Yet it was the second show that really throttled me.
There’s something particularly compelling and disturbing about the shows that are targeted to our young adults and teens. Both Gossip Girl and Glee have a similar demographic I think. But both have a decided animus in them, and it might be a generational rage. But more than that it is nonspecific. It is the type of sticky evil stupidity that adheres to all sorts of rannkled and crinkled surfaces. After the show, and after Jody dropped me off at my place (there have been a spate of robberies in the nabe, alas), I was in bed, and I found myself in a deep, dark fantasy that sucked me of life force. I started screaming the c word over and over again, with my boss’s face in my head. I got my cat Samson’s attention, and at some point, he crawled up on my chest as I lay there in this wastage of anger and agony and his calming presence seemed to suck up my rage. Suck up that which didn’t belong to me.
My kitty the feline Tonglen master!
The particularly insidious thing about shows like this, is that they put pretty people in them, and I sensed some of my high-schooler’s longings after the inaccessible linebacker for example, come forth in a torrent. It took those longings and hooked them in with the animus and the permeable hatred that is lodged in the concept of the show. Unfortunately, I would not be surprised if there was a high hate ratio in each shot. (And by “hate ratio,” I’m not exactly sure what I mean. I’m thinking of one scene in particular where a chubby, unattractive “journalist” demands that one of the other characters reveal her bra. There’s a lotta-lot o’ hate in that scene.)
Samson’s calming presence helped me to understand that I was not the author of the venom coming through me. That it became lodged in me, hooked on my own unclaimed or unfulfilled yearnings, and then before I knew it, I was fantasizing about a new way to destroy myself. And create misery for others in the process. Gee. Hooray. I can at least write a play.
Well. I’m ever more glad I’m television-less. (But even so, I’m eager to watch Project Runway. Again, nothing is pure.)
This is another thing I have to detach and observe. There are eddies and flows, streams and currents here as well. Interacting with all out intentions.
Recovery Writings from a Retreat September 29, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Mystical, Personal Journey.Tags: Evil White Powders (Sugar & Flour), humility, humus-person, recovery, Star Goddess
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I wrote these two reflections during a recent weekend-long retreat for the food fellowship of which I’m a part. I’ve edited it slightly for your purview, but some people found it helpful.
Faith must serve as the pathway to the center of my life. My heart learned what my mind never could. Roots of reality would hold fast despite the high winds of the forces which would destroy us or which we would use to destroy ourselves. This is a way of life, I had to be fully engaged. There was power, strength, safety and life in numbers.
This is a way of life affecting my entire being; but I discover myself through the fellowship lighting the way toward faith in God Herself, the Originating Mystery. Some phrases I heard today filled the cup of inspiration.
“Faith must serve as the pathway to the center of my life.” Other people have held out their lanterns and gently suggested pathways through life’s thickets. They are a part of the great chain of being, of the web of interconnections linking us all together. The Mayans greet each other with the greeting “I am another yourself.” When faith and grace descend in my life, I no longer carry a burden by myself.
“My heart learned what my mind never could.” I heard someone say this morning that people can say the same message over and over again but not until I’m ready and the right messenger arrives will I be able to “get it.” I see this happen with other people as they let go of their caterpillar ways and enter into recovery’s chrysalis, at some point revealing the butterfly soul in development. It’s a constant process. The heart picks these things up and they hold fast.
“Roots of reality would hold fast despite the high winds of forces which could destroy us, or which we would use to destroy ourselves.” It’s one humus-person among others. I hold the possibility of many roots growing into this delicious earth. This fellowship brings forth a garden of possibility that previously we never had access to. Only in our dreams which were pallid images of the true reality indeed. The garden is within, it is amongst our number, expands exponentially out into the cosmos and brings back in eternal return if we but open to the mystery. So often it is just right there tantalizing us. We keep up the effort and as other start to burst forth, we can take inspiration on our own individual path of wholeness which it turns out belongs as much to you, to the neighborhood, to the region, to the continent, to Mother Earth and to Mother Universe Herself. We keep it as we give it away, free osmotic interchange of grace, surrender and love in tandem with sacred law.
****
The word humility has leapt out of all the words I’ve heard today. I have recently come to see that to be humble is to be a “Humus-person,” a person of the soil. Before this fellowship, I had a contempt for so much in my life. I was far from humble. I would sometimes emulate humility, and it would arise in my life in surprising but fleeting moments, not to be sustained for any significant duration. I had no idea just how far off the beam I was. Like many people, humility struck me as a sign of slavering and scraping servility. I only had as models of so-called humble people of these wraiths who seemed to be little more than balls of resentments and control issues. Why would I want that?
The Evil White Powders (“EWP”) of sugar and flour had pretty much skewed any real perspective on humility as it really manifests. In working the Steps – particularly 6 and 7 – I’ve found that humility – being a humus-person – involves a paradox. I have come to see humility as healthy pride, an acknowledgement of assets as well as liabilities. When we go to a carpenter, we want to work with someone who knows wood, who has skills with construction and putting things together. To make structures that are beautiful and sturdy. We want someone who holds enough authority in herself to say “I can do this.” We would avoid a person who would not come forth and say how trained he is. Whether it was out of shame that she was not worth the effort or the opposite, presenting an arrogance that promises a lot but delivers little. Humility steers a middle path. I know I can’t stay abstinent by myself. I come together with EWP-free people to maintain this profligate and fecund stream of Divine Providence.
Egotism and Transformation September 2, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Mystical, Uncategorized.Tags: dog poet, egotism, transformation
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The other day, I was introduced to this emerging character to be called “the Dog Poet.” It was in a rather playful context, and I think I might be able to jump into this with both feet, but… I have to address this pesky ego thing.
See, like a lot of people in these times, I have this notion of “maybe some day … I’LL BE FAMOUS!!!!!” (With all the cha-chings and bells and whistles that would imply.) And on paper, I don’t think I really want that. But when it comes up, it can take me for a good ride, much like the notion of winning the lottery. And really they’re pretty much the same thing when you come right down to it.
Anyway, I see these things now as opportunities to change something about myself. Like the envy thing that happened a couple of weeks ago, I see that there is a lesson inside my egotistical impulse to attempt to hog a limelight that doesn’t even exist. (Yet.)
I have the sense that this dog poet figure that the web-bots have picked up on is a real person, but is it I lord? *smirk* The Dog Poet would seem to reside in us all, I think. And like with Christ, I feel we all need to become that energy through the very vehicles of our being.
Transforming ego is something that we don’t just do once, btw. It’s something we constantly have to do, to right size it in relation to our other aspects, the child self and the true Godself, the most perfect part of me. (And you, and you, and you–of course.) This whole time is to find our defenses, confront them, and discover our true strenghtss in the process. Then push forward. Should we survive these traumatic times, we will be quite resilient, and dare I say gorgeous beings indeed.
Uneasiness Today… August 28, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Mystical, Personal Journey.Tags: divination, dreams, premonitions, Tarot, work dreams
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Last night, I had 2 dreams that on the surface seemed innocuous enough. In the first, I was at some sort of theater event, and I was dressed rather “suave 70s”–white turtleneck, corduroy suit, shades, feathered hair. I also had a beard and was a mite taller than I am. I was talking with a mother and a daughter. The girl was about 10 or 11, and was quite precocious. She had written the introduction to a book and was reading it aloud to us. I complimented her on it, and she said she thought it needed editing. I actually agreed with her, but I said it was good nonetheless and she should be proud. Her mother was all smiles, but she was also anxious about something.
For some reason when I awoke to go to the bathroom, I thought about the pyramids in Egypt, and mused that they were probably a portal of some sort to a spaceship that waited below the site. Odd that such a thing should arise in my headspace. But there you have it.
After that, I had a difficult time getting to sleep. My thoughts drifted to this thing then another, stupid work crap, stupid non-profit organization crap, etc. I finally got up and went into my parlor and grabbed my morning page notebook and started writing. Not till after I drew my card, rune & ogham for the day.
The card interestingly was the 10 of swords, which I take to be the end of delusion, the ripping away of the veil. In short, apocalypse in the classic “epiphany” sense of the term. My unease increased. (The ogham was willow, and the rune was Ingwaz, fyi.)
I performed a tarot reading about this unease later, and asked if it was somehow real, or was this just a caffeine related thing. Interestingly, the first card out was the Tower, covered again by the 10 of swords and crossed by the Hanged Man. The blocked card was sadly, The Sun, and the final result was the 8 of swords, which suggests apathy and being a drama queen. The advice of the cards, bafflingly was the 9 of swords, which in the Rider-Waite deck features a woman sitting up in bed weeping or holding her head as if after a scary/sad nightmare. At least that’s what I usually think of. It could be that “I’m just scaring myself.” But there’s also a hint of accepting whatever comes and just being with it. Later, I opened up a Spanish-English dictionary randomly and pointed at a word, and the word was “case.”
The other dream was about trying to get to work. First off, I started out in the identiity of one of my co-workers in the dream, and one who seems to be quite stressed. And I was already late–it was 8:30 a.m. and I was just leaving for the bus. I seemed to be in the suburb I grew up in at first, then I was on a road that seemed somewhat Albany-familiar, and I saw the bus coming not too far away. It was a stretch of road I was unfamiliar with however, and I ran to find the stop, and noticed that traffic was halted. I almost got slimed by a garbage truck, and scooted out into the traffic-heavy street that had basically become a parking lot, and saw that ahead was an exceptionally long semi that was unloading who knows what, and it looked rather stationary for the time being. I felt that it was going to be there a while, and that catching the bus was a moot point now.
The dream shifted and I was back to being me, and I entered a G/L coffee bar with a lot of books for sale. There were no men in the place, it was all lesbians, and they had attitude to boot. I just wanted coffee anyway.
The scene shifted once more and I was in someone’s house, and I was in shorts, but there was snow on the ground. (How Colorado!) People from work were there, and they were all at loose ends about the fact that hardly anyone was there. No one was dressed for work either. It was all quite cazh. (How does one spell that word, the diminutive of “casual”?)
Even so, since I was an assistant some people decided to give me things to do. Yippee. I woke up wondering about the sanity of one of these people, an attorney named “Mary” who wanted me to photocopy index cards on a non-existent copy machine. The space for it was quite empty, and I narrowed my eyes at her in frustration.
I’ve been having a bunch of work-related dreams of late. The other night, one of my bosses gave me work to do. “I told her yesterday and she said “I’m sorry,” to which I said “How dare you?” ironically. Quite hilarious.) Themes often pop up in my dreams. One recurring theme is the subway, which I think is about needing to see beneath the surface of things, and seeing where these avenuses take me. Haven’t had one of those in awhile.
On the bus this morning, there weren’t many people on it, but I found it interesting that one person was reading a book called “Why Sh*t Happens: The Science of a Very Bad Day” and I saw another person was reading a book by Eric IDLE.
Nothing has happened. Thus far. At least. I would like to breathe a sigh of relief. I told Jody about it earlier, and he asked me if I thought he would be all right heading to Williamstown for further research into his cousin. I said I didn’t feel like I could really say, but that I would feel better if he didn’t go, but that he should at least do his own divination beforehand. He did so, said it looked all right.
Wlell. I don’t plan to blog over the weekend. Things change however, and I might. I do have an appt. with a psychic and I’m looking forward to it. I’ve been wanting a reading with her for awhile, and have felt envious when Jody has received readings from her.
I might blog later, yet again though. About the fifth chakra in the Jarow book, and visioning through my boredom and frustration. Ah, yes. Fecundity in everyday experience. There if I want it!!!
Passion, Third Chakra and North Node-Cancer, Third House August 27, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Capital Region Notions, Civilization Anonymous, Mystical, Personal Journey.Tags: astrology, Hudson River, north node, passion, playwriting, regional theater - Hudson Mohawk valley, teaching, third chakra, third house astrology, willow trees
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In seeking out what kindles that fire in the belly, I’m struck by an astrological synch-up with my birth chart. Astrologers have started to structure their readings around the placement of the nodes in a person’s chart. The rule of thumb is that the north node is about where a person is to grow in this lifetime, and the south is that which the native does so well, it’s rather a stagnation to continue along those lines.
The ninth house is where my south node is, in Capricorn. I’ve been a dean at university or the Abbot of an abbey or held ome such role in past lives, so much so that it’s time I avoid such things. Even to be a university professor or to go on my own personal pilgrimage to the mountain top would be contraindicated.
The Third House however, is the place of elementary/high shocol education, and also the local neighborhood. (The Ninth, in contrast, is also about globalized systems.) The third house is about being here now, really. In the midst of the gossip, the laundry, the hubbub of kids playing in the back yard. It’s about siblings and short trips and writing and word-of-mouth communication.
I also have my Moon in Cancer in the third. So for me, it takes on an added emotional punch. As I get older and really feel what juices me up, a longing for a deeper communication with my landbase,, and particularly with the trees really juices me. Today, I hugged my willow tree teacher Eleusis over at the park by the Hudson. Gosh it felt good!
My communication style needs to be Cancerian–nurturing, sensitive, accepting, maternal even. And as I delve into the third chakra, that belly fire, I discover all manner of third house/north node connections. For instance, I want to teach playwriting for this region during this Triple Crisis, as Carolyn Baker refers to it. Or more generically, as the Great Predicament (h/t to J.M. Greer). So, I’m sitting down and starting to put together a trifold flyer to hand out, and maybe I’ll even (shudder) create a logo! (Yich, shoot me someone, if I want to get it trademarked.)
I also discovered today that there’s to be a Transition Initiative training up at Spirit Hollow next month–just 40 minutes away in Bennington, VT. (Yea, Vermont! Go Secession!) Andrew Harvey will be speaking there at the end of September too. Gosh, I’d love to meet some other folks there, from down this aways. Vermont is fabulicious, and part of me would like to move there. But I’m here buying a 3 unit home in Troy, and I’m feeling very pleased with where things are. If I could be two or three places at once (Heck, why not four, with Albany and Schenectady in the mix!), I would love to have a multifarious existence in the Mad River Vlaley. But right now it’s not meant to be.
The upper Hudson is what gets my attention and my love today. It’s a beautiful relationship.
My Meditation “Style” August 26, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Mystical, Personal Journey.Tags: meditation
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Today, in my spiritual practice, I noticed something interesting to me. Basically, we are training ourselves to be able to focus for at least 15 minutes at a time. I won’t go into specifics because … I’m a man of mystery. But I have been sitting at the 7 minute mark for awhile, and I decided to just bump it up and go to 10.
The interesting thing for me personaly is that with it being a bit more time, I suddenly felt spaciousness open up inside me. And it truly felt golden. I still have an issue with drifting, but the space inside me that opened up made it feel more of a liberation and a pulsation of joy coursed through my body.
Perhaps it has something to do with the 3rd chakra work I’ve been up to of late. Some elements relating to my personal power are coming forth. I feel jazzed, at least for today.
Passion for vEmpire’s collapse August 25, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Capital Region Notions, Civilization Anonymous, Mystical, Personal Journey.Tags: Albany, Capital Region, collapse, fire in the belly, necronomy, passion, playwriting, Rick Jarow, teaching, third chakra, Troy, vEmpire
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Continuing on with the Jarow “anti-career” exploration theme, I have been meditating on what gets me stoked, and the first thing that comes to mind is my focus on the collapse surrounding us all. And while it’s easy to get lost in all the miasma of hate, rigidity, asshattery and brutality out there, not to mention the frittering away of time, energy, remaining oil and “human capital” (ugh! Hate that idea, so let’s move away from self-commodification!), my focus has been on trying to craft new stories for a post-vEmpire, cultural imaginal cellular based future.
Anyway, I have been trying to write plays and the like, and that doesn’t seem to be working for me. Not exactly sure why, though I suspect it has to do with it not really being time yet, combined with a growing awareness that my going off and writing something by myself may not be the best way to go about this. Perhaps I need to build a story to be staged dramatically with a community? Or perhaps I need to form some sort of collapse writing group where we can get together and share awarenesses through our own fictive/dramatic/poetic explorations of self expression and bring it forward? I don’t know, but I sense community is a part of it, and also that it has to be local to my Troy neighborhood.
I also sense that teaching is a part of my fire as well. When I taught a weeklong master class in playwriting at Albany High, I was so stoked, so energized and … dare I say it? HAPPY!??!! I really NEEEEED this area of expression. Now, I don’t want to put the teacher out of a job, he’s doing good work. I would like to find a way to bring all the various budding playwrights in the (presently-called) Capital Region of NY State out there together, but that’s a larger undertaking and perhaps one that will need to emerge anyway.
Still, I know that cultivating playful and wise storytelling in the next generations is part of my MISSION. All this is just a start, but I can see that some beautiful idea is clearing the way to be envisioned and spring into my vision for an as yet unknown project to be completed in the next 6 months. I also need to visualize, per my counselor a 5 years-out Frostwolf and work backwards from there. Things are shifting every which way.
Ache’!
Zones/Objects of Focus August 24, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Mystical, Personal Journey.Tags: anti-career, chakras, finding one's purpose, Rick Jarow, somatic experience
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I may be getting more of a handle on my discontent of late. Currently, I’m reading Creating the Work You Love by Rick Jarow. He brings forth a self-examination and contemplation model using the chakras. While I sat with Jody in the diner yesterday, I was overcome with tears of recognition whilst reading about the sex chakra (the 2nd). At some point, I suspect I will just have to get to a place of real anger that impels me to take some different course of action. I need to get angry, I know it. I hate it, but I’ve seen that sometimes I have only been able to act from that place.
For many years that was the place from which I wrote. But it takes a lot out of someone to continue writing from that place. One burns out. It’s not a replenishing kind of energy. There is a lot of debris hanging about, resulting from choices arising from fears rather than trust. Which means there’s power inside grief, which I’m intimately familiar with. That sort of power can arise from the potent grieving for a beloved pet or friend or spouse or relative, but it can also come from recognizing those moments where I cut something off in my own life.
The answers are lodged in my body. That is to be the source of a fulfilling and meaningful life, and that is something I’ve long known to be true. It was actuaally an aspect of my education at the Padua Hills Playwrights’ Conference I attended 23 years ago! I’m realizing I need to take a walk through the body, not so much for the stories they might tell–though that will be of use perhaps. But more in what they are holding onto. What events/details/mistakes, etc. they play over and over again, trying to get it right. “Maybe THIS time it will work.”
One of the pieces Jarow observes as relative to the 3rd chakra is to notice where one puts their focus. I have been putting a lot of energy into my witch practice, to being a priest of some sort, to being attuned to nature more, to gardening, to being a good spouse to my partner. I would like to attend to my writing, but my heart isn’t in it right now. The poignant stab of pain relating to my envy attacck of 2 weekends ago caught me off guard, and I’m still suffering its after effects. Because I’m letting go of something on a much deeper level, and I haven’t attended to all of it yet. The witnessing of the play followed by the book in the b’and’n created a 1-2 punch that I’m slowly attending to. And crying a lot.
(As Colin Brown of Body Electric says, “when a man cries, an angel ejaculates.” So there’s a rain of angel-cum about me. Yippee!)
I focus too on the ongoing collapse, and I wish I could hurry it along at points, and at other times, I wonder if that’s a good idea. I’ve lit some power candles for certain structures to dissolve, and I find it amusing that they’re being propped up. Something will come along and take them down and it will be quick and a shock. Though not to me. It’s to be a shock to many who have invested energies in the status quo, even if they are people who are not getting any returns off it save for being succored in their anger at them’ns who’z diferrnt.
The yeast people, or the dining room table folks across the UINOSA.
Of course I focus on the collapse more because I want to focuson what comes after. I try and dream about what that might look like, at least insofar as trying to manifest a better way through. Something again that draws on somatic wisdom in connection with this amazing organism called Planet Earth.
The body has ultimately given me the benefit of many doubts. Reading this book makes a lot of sense to me, but I have to say I’ve wanted to throw it across the room and into an incinerator some times. Pain. Ikc. But it’s where the good tings rise, I know.
Damn. Yet again.
