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Needing to seek a balance October 17, 2011

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.
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These are days when I need to find some sort of a balance between all the things I need/want to do, tasks I need to accomplish, and also my need to rest and recharge. I’ve spent quite a bit of time with the resting this past year, healing from the abandonment of myself, and I’ve come to understand that I have a reserve of power that I didn’t know was there, but that I could only know after having been exposed to vampiric energies in all areas of my life. I see that I’ve changed a lot, at least at the level of awareness. I need to acknowledge where I’ve been and where I’m going, toward becoming the Healthy Priest making all things sound.

My anger is my friend sometimes, telling me that something isn’t right. I had an interaction last week wherein I could just feel myself as a balloon deflating, and I wonder if the other person in the interaction is consciously aware of undermining me and sucking that qi from me. Does he know he’s a vampire, wishing to suck at me like he was a sole-proprietor version of Aaron’s Rent-a-Center? He might not. In any case, I need to call upon my Godself to come down into this particular situation and help me to wrest myself from the tentacular clutching dogging me.

No more. Begone, ye beast, to be banished into history, and to free up the glorious and radiant Present. But in that beauteous Now, I must find the way to accommodate the need for rest, along with the need to make some money. Ah, yes, the exigencies of life.

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Perhaps a Title Will Come To Me September 28, 2011

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Do others feel it?  That there seems to be a ramping up of energy that leads to a liftoff of some sort?  I am here in my little witchy cottage, and I careen through all sorts of emotions, not the least of which is Forgot Everything’s All Right (FEAR).  See, I will be able to pay October’s rent, and that’s about it.  I have food because I’ve been stocking up and I have a neighbor and a food pantry, and hopefully will be getting the food stamps in order, but I don’t have money to pay for the Nat Grid bill, the credit card, the cellphone when all these start to come due and paying.  I trust I will be able to manifest all this, but I don’t honestly know at the perspective of today, September 28, 2011.

The Work of this God is to be a joyful, wealthy, healthy, creative, solvent, abstinent, sober, lucky shaman by the river.  A playwright and screenwriter.  A counselor, a healer, a joybringer, a celebrant in all manner of life.  A forest creature in many ways as well, seeing as Pines and Oaks and Cedars are sturdy allies in my journey.  And what I see for myself is that future, which is coming on line.  But I have always sensed this gap, and I’m at the gap now.

I’m about to “jump and trust the net will appear.”

And in order to get to that place, I need to jump and be OK with the possibility that the net is not there at all, and that I will fall and fall and fall, until I land hopefully on my head and reunite with God Herself.

The journey of this past year since I ankled my legal gig has been one of coming to terms with the terminal diagnosis.  Do I have cancer? An inoperable tumor? Or maybe one of those terribly tragic diseases of slow wasting of which there is no cure.  Yes, indeed.

I am a playwright.

There you have it.  I am a playwright, and I have a difficulty in reaching audiences, and it’s partly built into me, and I’m trying to work with it, after having worked against my resistances all this time, and you know what?  I see that this life has quite a high overhead, and that for many a year that overhead took the form of ignoring or sabotaging my work.  And today I’m not doing that, but in so making the approach of putting my writing right behind my recovery, I’m also opening to the possible truth that there is no road here for me, that I’m coming to a place where the bridge is out.  But the end of this movie is not “he turns back to begin again, forced back to the vEmpire with tail between his legs.”

If it’s not Indiana Jones, it will be Thelma and Louise.  I must press forward.  If I’m not meant to be a playwright who gets audiences, and writing is acting is directing is living my life (eating, sleeping, shitting, pissing, having sex, putting a roof over my head), then not writing is not acting is not directing is not living my life is not eating, is not sleeping is not shitting is not pissing is not having sex is not putting a roof over my head.

Not writing for me: Is not existing.  And I would rather do that without the burden of having to attend to a body that would only be for cuntwork in cubicle hell working with vampires with J.D. degrees.  Been there done that, rather be dead.

My new prayer for the days is that my Godself comes into my body and is present within me.  To be radiantly self-possessed, to have all my points clean and clear.  Acceptance is the answer to all of my problems.

What other shingles can I put up to declare independence from The Man?  My recovery comes first, and my writing comes first after that, and everything else must support the two of them.

Anyone need their chart done?  Writing help?  Typing?  A dinner companion–on your dime?  I’m a cheap date and lots of fun.  Perhaps we can read some of my scripts together.  It could be delightful.  It’s time we all start to acknowledge that we need each other.

And people do need me, I know they do.  The question is, will they wake up to this fact before it’s time for me to go?

If worse comes to worst, there’s North Dakota, where my Mother and brother live.  I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, it’s meant to be.  In the meantime, I have returned to a script I started years ago.

It’s my rehabilitation of The Tempest, with a Mexican sorceress (Persefoni del Cielo) who was banished from the corporatocracy 17 years previous.  It’s set on December 20, 2012, the night before the end of the Mayan Calendar in an out-of-the-way convent turned into pagan amusement park in Seagull Junction, North Dakota.  And it’s called Ambergris Mysteries, which is the name of the theme park.  Instead of a boat and a storm, it’s a train and a blizzard, and the king is a CEO of a company called Alonzo Prosper, Inc.  And Miranda/Ferdinand are now Randolfo/Ferdinand.  (There has to be a gay angle in it somewhere, why not the budding young lovers who will boldly enter a transitional phase out of the vEmpire?)  Basically I’m trying to remove the colonialism in the play and replace it with a re-embrace of the natural world.

Face Everything And Restart September 6, 2011

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The moment I’ve been fearing all my life has arrived.  Ever since I embarked on this path deeper into the forest of My Frostwolf Self, I’ve been aware that I would encounter a gap.  It seems like I’m at a chasm and there was a bridge, but it’s out.  I need to somehow get across the chasm, and I don’t know if it’s going to be the sort of thing like in that Indiana Jones movie–the one where he seeks the holy grail, with Sean Connery and Alison Doody–where I have to take a step off the cliff and trust that there is an invisible bridge that will hold me as I cross the abyss.  Or if, when I step off, I just fall to my death–which I don’t really have a problem with, and I understand why that scares some people.  But I don’t really have it in me to go back to work in the vEmpire either.

It’s getting to be do or die.

Where I am now:  I’m nearing the end of my 401(k) funds, and I’m on the rolls to be called for substitute teaching with several school districts.  I’m looking into teaching online courses, and I’ve got an astrology column.  I’m open to knocking on many doors if I need to, yes, even to work retail if I have to.  It feels a tad too early for that, but still.  I don’t know that I have what it takes, but I also know that there is a place for me . . . emergent.

I’m at a point where I see the need to joyfully make offerings to the gods in the form of selling my furniture, my washer & dryer, even most of my books.  I need to be more ruthless than ever in terms of what I keep, and I have to resist the temptation to buy new things.  I don’t really have the money, I’d have to go deeper into debt actually, and I don’t want to do that.  But the thing is, all these things I have right now are homage to a ghost.  I feel like a ghost in my own life, and it’s mostly because the things I have reflect who I am leaving behind.

The gap. Where I am now.  What I see across the chasm of trust in my Godself is the life in the 5th dimensional space and beyond.  It is truer than the life we lead now.  It is simpler, in some ways harder, but more satisfying.  It is a life that harkens back to older ways, some Medieval, but more realistically even older than that.  One that practices acceptance rather than a churchly death-magick upon all those who disagree or who offer new points of view.  It is a world where we as another species of God Herself’s kids realize we have lots and lots of siblings in the forms of the spruces and the peachtrees, the otters and the lions, the grasshoppers and the moths, etc.  And that we all have a place.

I don’t have a place in the vEmpire.  I know too much, and I am sick of being sucked at and I’m sick of trying to suck stuff out of you and everyone else.

The part of me that I’m sacrificing to transformative fire is the part of me that is the getter, the never satisfied part of me.  I went to graduate school and went into debt so that I could GET the opportunities that I feel I deserve, so that I could GET prizes and cash so that I could GET the acclaim and recognition that I so crave, and also the security and the status and yeah, all the boyfriends I could muster.  But the thing is, I didn’t GET any of that.  It isn’t meant to be, and all the magick and the spells, etc., to attract that into my life won’t amount to a hill of beans because a part of me doesn’t really want that.

What do I want?  That has been the question I”ve been exploring over the past year.

I want a simpler life.  I want a community where the folks inside it and I all have each other’s backs, and therefore we possess real wealth.  I want to be generous with my being and my experience and my love.  I want to embody abstinence and sobriety and eventually solvency too.  I want to know that I count, and that I can be counted on, and that others count and can be counted on.  I want to give away what I need to keep in sacred and devoted service.  I want to have my basic needs met with just a little extra to keep me feeling like I have all that I need in the world.

In the scheme of things, this isn’t a lot, but it is a lot because there is no place for the simple needs except at the tippy-tippy-top of the hierarchy where it’s seen as sort of  WTF? and dumb.

Standing at this chasm between the old self and the new self, between old choices and unfamiliar but desirable choice is the moment I find myself.  I have reached the bitter end of this highway, and the way forward isn’t crystal clear.  It might be for all I know, once I take that step into fate.  There might be a crystal bridge underneath like Indy stepped onto in that one film, the third in the series which I can’t remember the name of. (There was Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Temple of Doom, and then the third one.)  But I could be gracefully leaping into the Godhead too.  I can’t go back the way I came–that way IS certain death.  I might go fast with a real leap or I might forsake my sobriety for a delicious OD in a den of ill repute, or maybe I’d go the slow path of sugar sugar, oh honey honey!  But if I see the need to return to the vEmpire and take a cuntjob again, being cunted of mana and cunting others of mana to replace the lost mana that never gets replenished, then I will check out whatever way I can.  I don’t have it in me to get sober and abstinent to live a ghost’s life.

Really I have only the one choice to continue that journey into the wood of my being, and envision a joyous hearthfire where my tribe and I are communing under the stars, where we are thoroughly enjoying our amazing lives together and marveling at the miracles of another day.

Truth be told, I don’t know if I’ll have a lot of debt-money in the future.  I call it debt-money because those Benjamins, U.S. Grants and Andrews in our pockets are really not all that substantial, and they only mean what we collectively want them to mean, and they don’t even really mean that at a much higher level than most people are willing to contemplate.  At some point we will see the men and women behind the curtain, and we will see that we’ve been sold a most cruel bill of goods.

I already know these things before most people do.  I have been confused about how to make it in the dying vEmpire, and quite frankly I don’t think I’m meant to.  Right now I need to find the ways to get by and to give generously of what I do have, of the desire to be a serviceable wayshower for others, which means I have to get busy learning these things from other wayshowers myself.

This little note might scare a lot of people.  But it’s not meant to.  I fully accept that I’ve led myself to this juncture where I need to find places to eke out an existence rent-free, where I might have to let my cellphone lapse, where I need to avail myself of all assistance possible as I make this transition to a more simple means of existence.  I fully understand that some of my friendships will of necessity terminate because this is just too much for people to deal with.  (They might be rekindled in the future, depending upon how things shake out.)

Life is vibrating at a really scary level, and we are witnessing the shaking off of debris that we have come to adore.  I have held onto a certain identity – the Undiscovered Playwright-Genius – for way too long.  Its husk weakly clutches at my spirit, but it’s been my ego that has held fast to it.  The unhealthy ego needs to be purified and cleansed, and this husk needs to be added to the need-fire now.  It’s in the way of the Shaman.

I will be holding a huge sale on pretty much everything I own the weekend of September 24-25.  This will be a momentous month of trust and truth for me.  I drew male lovers in the Cosmic Tribe deck today, and I blog all this from a place of deeper acceptance and love than I have ever known.

It is with love that I retired my corporate identity last Libra New Moon, the anniversary of which is a few short weeks away.  It is with love that I  release the fame-seeker part of my ego because it’s become too much like sugar and flour and booze.  It takes more than it gives, and I’ve hit bottom.

The prayer for the day is to know Godself’s will for this God’s pursuits.  I have a list of things to do, and I have a list of things to create.  Understand that writing is still a part of my gameplan.  I am aware that we are in a state of enormous flux, however.  I need to be a part of the change I seek to happen, to be acting in support of the sacred economy being born from Gaian requirements for our species.  The vEmpire has little use for me, but the emergent culture is where my heart lies.  I need to go to where it’s warm, and to go to any lengths to bring a recovery-centered life forward, not just for myself for the planet.

Small but large.  Slow but fast.  That’s how it works in my amazing life.  One day at a time.

Storm Trekker August 30, 2011

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Ay-ay-ay… Starting with Mercury going direct and a little strange eruption of anger regarding the student loan appley-crapple-crap (can we say “Projection?”, dracula baby?), and going through a rather slow and steady descent into financial insecurity and dismal prognostications that were no way real, with a soupcon on difficult feelings relative to events of the past 14 months and a deep pang of loneliness that overtook me in an unguarded moment driving on Route 32 to volunteer help in groundskeeping up in Saratoga, I found myself in a rather desolate and despairing space during Hurricane Peace. (Peace in Greek is Irene, don’tchaknow.)

I feel raw from it all, having realized yesterday afternoon that very little of what I was feeling was mine. Still, I am sad I missed the opportunity to seed an exceptionally powerful new moon, which sits opposite my own Sun-Mars conjunction. I will have to go back and retroactively do a rite therefor.

There’s lots of power about right now, and it belongs to all of us. And the best part? TPTB can’t possibly touch a lot of it, because it comes from love.

Writing and Gifts August 4, 2011

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Some days I wake up and start my day, and then an idea comes into my head and I need to pursue it.  This is one of those days.  Over the past few months, I’ve become more and more solid in my un derstanding of the AA Twelfth Step:  “Having had a spiritual awakening, we tried to carry the message to others and to practice these principles in all our affairs.”  And I had a searing understanding of gratitude emerge in a different way today.

Currently, I am reading Sacred Economics by Charles Eisenstein, and he observed that in indigenous tribes, gratitude and obligation are the same thing.   He also pointed out that our very lives are a gift, and when we show up to the gifts we have to offer and give them with gratitude, we are involved in the fabric of life in a fulfilling way.  I have gratitude for my writing, and I am eager to give it as a gift to the world.

That being said, I see that I have a distribution problem.  I don’t know how to get my gifts to people who could use them, and it’s difficult because I really do have to rely on others to transmit them, unless I convert all of what I’ve written in play form to narrative.  That is not an easy thing to do, and some ideas are only going to be expressed in the form of a play or a screenplay.  They won’t be as satisfying if I convert them to novels and stories.

Still, I see that I am writing, and I am introducing a different concept into my life, that of having the courage to rest, and I see that by doing so I have more energy for the remainder of my day.  If I get the appropriate amount of rest and meditation and spiritual practice, the quality of my energy toward the remainder of my tasks is prodigious indeed.

Over the past few years, I have felt pain about that aspect of my writing which is about recognition.  I have long understood that recognition and fame are basically mood-altering experiences that trigger me.  I want more of that great feeling, just like it’s sugar or what I imagine heroin must feel like.  A day at a time I stay away from all Evil White Powders, as well as John Barleycorn and other various addictions as I go along.  (I’m now almost 3 weeks clean of sugarfree gum, which unfortunately I can go to town on!)  It has become dangerous for me to go into bookstores and look at the Drama section because my envy gets triggered.

In the 4th Step of the 12/12, it talks about worry, anger, depression and self-pity (WADSP) as being cause to do an inventory, and I feel envy is a WADSP cocktail.  I don’t need a huge exposure to it–all it takes is a mere second and I’m off to the races.  It takes some time before I can rein in my crazy-ass head about it.

I see that part of the issue for me lies in the faulty conception of self that is slowly leaving me.  It certainly as left me where some of my compulsions are concerned, and now I must turn my attention to the desire for fame in writing.  I must remember I write to be of service, that it is the Work of This God.  When I’m in the flow of the work, I’m not thinking of awards and acclaim, I’m immersed in the world of the characters and the actions they undertake.  I’m doing the Work because I’m called to it, and because it’s fun, and it’s up to my Godself and my Fetch and my Talker in allignment, and a crisp and sharp Iron Pentacle working in combination with the triple soul, that will summon those for whom the writing is a balm.

If I write the healing work, those most receptive to the call will hear it.  That is part of the sacred contract I set up before I was born.

The self that was–separate, distinct, egomaniacal–is dying into the self that is becoming, which is distributed and connected to others and because of that, is in right-sized pride some of the time.  When the pride point dips into shame or rises into arrogance, then some shifting around needs to take place to bring that bubble back into the acceptable level.  The soul lives outside of myself, I must remember.  There is both individual and collective here, and it works in some mysterious ways.

I’ve been aware that I need to take care of some things in the past.  I have a couple of amends I really need to make, and interestingly one of those amends is to someone in Boston, who I need to visit, and while I’m there, I also need to visit Harvard since it’s been appearing majestically in my dreams of late.

I had a dream that I was in the doctoral program in playwriting at Harvard, and that I was searching out a place to write at Samhain.  There were all these people dressed up in Halloween costumes and they were headed to various parties, and much of the interior locations of the dream were decked out in orange and black, lots of spider and jack-o-lantern motifs.  (One room was decked out in mylar, however, and made me wonder who the Pisces was that put that one together.)

I found myself in this comfortable room.  I could see the brilliant October afternoon sun blazing and the trees with their autumnal leaves, and then I heard someone playing a CD of classical brass music (Purcell or Handel or Bach).  Said “this is the place,” and found a wingback chair.  Then the real world intruded with a phone call.

I know I’m in the right place with all of this, though it’s quite contingent and to my ego feels precarious.  Still, isn’t that true of most people these days?  I sense that more and more people are waking up to the gifts of desperation that are everywhere abundant.  Perhaps we will start to act upon this new sense of self that Mr. Eisenstein has suggested is as much impelling us to return to gift-economy ways as anything else.

I’m eager to discover just how this will work where playwrights and theater is concerned.  How can P2P playwriting work?  Ideas?

Multiple Streams (?) 11 or so? July 8, 2011

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This could be a cohesive post, but in pondering what I want to say, I realize I might start somewhere and end up somewhere else entirely different.

Of late, I’ve become aware of the place of the Ego in my life.  In the Feri trad, we don’t seek to sacrifice this part of the Self, but to pursue spiritual technologies that make this self-aspect healthier.  As I start to practice my witchy work, I see that the shiny, sharp human pentacle that I am becomes more supple, resilient, and observably healthier.  As a writer, I need to have a humongous and healthy ego, to be able to withstand all sorts of slights and misunderstandings.

Part of becoming a healthy ego is the need to not coddle toxic relationships.  Hence, I can never work a vEmpire job again.  In 12-Step terms, where an alcoholic says one drink gets you drunk, where a compulsive eater says one bite of sugar gets the calorie train rolling (or some non-Morellian variation thereof), so too can I say “I’m one abusive supervisor away from the 6-story swan dive into concrete.”

When I was younger, after graduating from my MFA program and early on in my debt-servitude when I began to get a glimmer of just what I had done to myself by signing onto this insidious lottery-form of underearning and self-esteem erosion, I was quite eager and enthusiastic for my various projects.  There were some project that didn’t jazz me as much, but for the most part I really grooved to my writing.  A lot has happened since then, a lot of pain that has escorted the various forms surrender has taken over the years, and it gets ever deeper.  The writing element has returned, but it is not the same.  Before, I lived for my writing.  I may have had a miserable work life, loneliness in the relationship sector, nights of crickets sexually, etc.  But at least I had my writing.  I often wondered if it was a codependent relationsip.  Turns out my writing vanishes when codependence starts to enter the scene.

Gone are the various codep rel’s from my life, and my writing has returned, but it feels fragile and delicate.  And being the product of this ersatz economic reality we have inflicted ourselves with, I spend inordinate amounts of time telling the inner worry-wort to convert that energy into prayer already!  I am a writer, and I need to do my writing work.

Blogging is a part of that, and I have been lax with this blog and the other 3 I have started.  The struggle to understand what my Work is and how I can now bring money in and how to make it all work together symphonically is the question I wrestle with.  I’m presently involved with something that doesn’t really suit me, though I’m giving it a superb shot.  I need to start to make a certain transition and I need to find some way into teaching as one element that will feed my soul.  The other day I read a natal chart for a new client, and that felt so amazing.  That is also part of what I am called to do.  So I need to start to attract the right clients for this astrological God as well.

My recent Dartmouth trip has underscored that I have a lot of talents, and that the codep-rel’s have been obscuring this wondrous being that I always knew I was.  To be fair, some of the self-deception began at Dartmouth, when I had no idea that I had entered into a realm of subtle expectations that I had no idea held sway.  Yes, I did feel a certain responsibility about being “the first” Morell to go to an Ivy.  (And I do hope my niece will apply to Big D as well as the odious H–if she must!)  And I did see I had to fight for some of my accomplishments, though I made them bigger than they needed to be and spent a lot of excess time writing 12 page papers when the assignment called for 6-8.  (Didn’t learn that lesson till my Senior year.  Dang!)  I did however, feel woefully outclassed by my prep-school peers and those who were more single-pointed in their focus on success, and my ensuing alienation and self-recriminations, while absolutely unnecessary, were at least understandable.

I knew, going through my college years, that I wanted a complete life, however.  And with each passing day, I see that more or less I have one, though at present it doesn’t seem like much.  Yet I feel like I’m at the turn of the corner somehow.  Before the turn felt like it was just ahead, now I feel I’m right there, perhaps a couple feet away.

With the stuff that has happened in the past year, I see that I am reclaiming my divine self, my child self, and my Genius.  The work of alignment and Iron Pentacle does have a slow payoff, but it pays off nonetheless with the patience and the simple act of showing up every day.

I have been showing up to a daily meditation (more or less) with Vesta, goddess of the heart, and the guide for this continuing transition.  I am now faced with an interesting charge, to be sure to get enough sleep.  It’s strange to factor this in, but perhaps getting enough sleep will force the worry crapola away?  I don’t know, but I can hope.  I can put that into the Goddess-Box as it were.

Still, I need to be confident that I have all that I need, and that I can show up to take the next right action, and not need to be rescued.  That I can rely on my own Godself to guide my actions and thoughts and that I am certainly capable from this place of Wholeness that I have been cultivating over the past 2 years.  The fellow I was at Dartmouth, as much as I might not like who I perceive he was in the light of my present understandings, did at least pride himself on getting things done, and in purusing goals vigorously and with fervor.  I now reclaim that aspect of myself and push forward into whatever is coming next.

And so, I blog today.  Yesterday, I started writing the text for an e-book that I hope will serve as a contemplation of the 12 Zodiacal Signs and the times of year they cover, and the possible correspondences for a transitional collective phase they might offer individuals in terms of how to focus on vocational possibilities.  I show up each day and ask my heart, the fetch Andu, the orange-blue dragon-muse Starbjoerne, and other guides (mostly Elecampane right now), to assist in lighting the path to whatever writing must out.  I will probably look at the 2nd draft of Beauty All Around Me in the next 2 days, then send out a revised draft to 4-5 friends for insights and comments.  And I will take a couple of other actions along the way to step toward the vision of the Shaman by the River.

It’s all of a piece, and it will work out as it must.

Coming Full Circle: 25th College Reunion June 23, 2011

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Over the last weekend, I attended the Dartmouth Class of 1986 25th Reunion, and I got a lot of unexpected benefit from just showing up.  It was an incredibly healing journey, and it has left me quite emotional.

Who would have expected that it would turn out to have been such a spiritual journey for me?  I had delightful conversations with people who were total strangers to me, and I just showed up as myself.  I didn’t have any agenda to prove–I only went with the intention of enjoying myself, and it went beyond my expectations.

I’m eager to share a lot about the reunion, but I feel like I need to hold the container a bit.  In talking with someone in my food fellowship, it became apparent that this could be a delicious story that I could translate into a screenplay form.  See, Dartmouth in the 80s was a really rough place for a gay boy or girl to be.  And I was dealing with the aftermath of my parents threatening to disown me “because they loved me.”  That had me looking over my shoulder, even as I kept constantly checking in my heart to see what the right thing to do was.

I knew deep down that coming out and being open about my sexual orientation was the way I had to go, for my own peace of mind and spiritual alignment.  I bore witness to my fellow GSAers at the time who were facing the shit of others’ projections and unrecognized demons.  It was a boon to have appeared at the reunion at the urging of one fellow 86 who had been one of the more visible lightning rods on the campus.  Fester suggested I go to it, and he must have had an inkling that it would have been a good thing for me.  I certainly was willing to just round-file the application, but something in me said “let’s try it, what the hell?”

For starters, it is a great thing to go to a reunion and have people I knew stop and look at me, and say to themselves “who is that? Oh!  Ohmigod he’s changed SO Much!”  I do look quite different from the chubby fellow I was back in the 80s.  Chubby, but still hotter than I realized I was, thanks to my “fat head.”  I was struck by how well many of my classmates had kept up their physiques, and how some did inevitably let themselves go–though I’m testament that that can change!

At the DGALA breakfast, Fester, his partner Mickey and I sat with a couple of younger alumni, including one woman from the class of 2001.  She told us that when she was at the school, her sexuality was a non-issue, she was able to go through her studies without incident and find welcome at the College, and by the way, she thanked us for having gone through the gantlet back then.

I discovered a fellow shaman in my class, who lives in Santa Fe and is a solitary.  I’m studying with a teacher, but I work pretty much solo in my community.  That was a total plus.

I got the chance to make an amends to someone I had perceived I had harmed, but in reality he saw the issue quite differently.  It was one of the most moving moments.

President Kim at the DGALA Breakfast informed us all that we had a place at the school if we wanted it.  And I’m finding that I do want it.  I have a couple of ideas to share with the folks in Hanover, should they have an interest.

I also decided to attempt to reconnect with Dartmouth Alumni involved with theater and film.  I will be assembling a list of people to inquire as to how I can get a couple of scripts to people who will seriously consider them.  I sent My Littleton Play to the Theater Department Chair, who I met years ago when he was the Literary Manager at the Denver Center.  And I’ve got one other person I need to find out how to contact, who is a powerful player in TV.

I have a lot of possibility, but I also have to say that the Reunion comes at an interesting time in my life.  For my funds are dwindling to nothing, and I see that we have an economic whirlwind forming around us all, and I wonder just how I’ll be able to take care of myself, how I’ll be able to work with others to take care of our communities.  For now, I am doing the things I need to be doing, and trusting it’s enough.

There are more things I wish I could share about, but they have to do with recovery stuff.  I maintain the mantle of confidentiality and anonymity ruthlessly.  People may know that I’m involved with the Steps and Traditions, that is my decision to disclose that.  But to me, it’s just one aspect of the bulwark of the spiritual way of life, and I am living in a place of constant joy.

I just have to shift my focus and there it is.  And Dartmouth strangely enough brought that forward, despite seeing some rather hard-set faces who reflect back judgments that who knows where they came from and what purpose they serve.  It all seemed rather puny and annoying actually.  I occasionally noticed one fellow who was a lead proponent of the “anti” side during those times.  He hovered close to his wife.  Oddly, I  never saw him really interact with too many other members of the class.  Now I put this tidbit in here with the proviso that I didn’t follow the fellow around.  Just that when I did notice him, he seemed to have a smaller existence and a bit of loneliness.  I could identify actually.  There were moments when I was sort of waiting for someone or was at a loss for who to interact with during the reunion.  Funny that I would see this former publisher of the Review just at those odd moments, no?

This reunion kindled in me the most surprising of all reactions in that I want to give service.  I guess it’s sort of a 9th Step amends for having kept myself away from the school all this time.  I thought that the place didn’t want anything to do with me. Come to find out they’re eager to embrace me with open arms.  I may not be able to give much in terms of finances, but I do have passion and attentiveness to burn.  I hope to find something agreeable to all parties concerned.

 

Status Report and a Meditation on Lips June 8, 2011

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It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged, I realize.  Truth be told, I have not been all that inspired to sit down at the computer and start to type out what I’m thinking.  I’ve been busy writing a script, and I think I have a draft completed, all but the actual typing.  About 1/3 of it’s typed up, and then I’ll share it with some trusted others to work out what’s going to be next with it.  Tweaking, revision, etc., before launching the vessel out into the waves of development and possible production.  That will come when it comes.

I have also been involved in the crucible of wholeness creation, and that has been quite the sterling adventure.  I was exposed to an organization which is one of the many “Amways of consciousness” out there.  I won’t go too much into it, except to say that while I discovered some gems in the rough, the fact is the experience came into my life to push me to create and maintain boundaries around the Work of this God.  The experience of standing up to this organization and saying “I want my money back” and standing in the truth of that–I’ve never done that before.  It was HUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE.

One of the things that arose for me too, after this workshop, was that I have a certain dynamic of codependence which plays out in a teacher-student relationship.  When I assume the role of the Student (notice the capital S), that means someone else is capital-T Teacher.  And actual study becomes irrelevant.  Rather than being a person involved in study with someone who is sharing information, I invest a certain amount of life force in what has become a toxic relationship.  Interestingly, it was after the workshop when I started to try to piece together what was going to be useful going forward, and perceiving that very little was going to work with the Work of This God, that the whole dynamic of the teacher-student toxin became visible.  I owe a debt of gratitude to the Witch Himself, the Witch I’m Becoming, who prompted me to probe deeper into the whole excavation of my student loan shame and burden.

Underneath that was an incident that has haunted me for many years, when an English professor in college basically told me that I couldn’t write.  That she wouldn’t work with me.  It was actually a blessing in disguise, for I wouldn’t want to work with her either, but to that 19 year-old undiagnosed codependent-addict that I was, devastation and shame rocked my world.  I didn’t believe her, but I believed her.  Something untoward and undiscovered got added into the mix, but looking at the truth of that, I could see that I have constantly set myself up to be disappointed again and again and again, and the student loan symbolizes the branding of doom upon this Consumer-Zombie Mask that I buried not too long ago.

It’s all a fog though.  And the fog-fugue of the Teacher-Student distraction codependent dance has been illuminated for good.  I will no longer be a Student, and no one will serve as Teacher to this Frostwolf anymore.  I work with a person who shares from ahead of me on the path, and I gratefully and willingly study what she points me toward.  I recognize she’s “someone who’s been there,” and who can give me pointers–it’s important to remain teachable, even as I refuse to recognize that role anymore, and anyone who would attempt to assume that role with me.

Henceforth, I recognize no one in that toxic role anymore.  It is an old tape and it has worn down to the nubbins, and like the air conditioner compressor belt that gave out in the car recently, it may smell like the engine is on fire, but is actually something small that can easily be replaced.

This is all about learning to trust my own magic ultimately.  I will magical experience and authority into my experience.  I trust my magic.  I work with the forces and the elements and the deities joyfully and with such devotion and gratitude.  I create beauty all around me.  This is the Work.

As part of that, I offer this strange and delightful meditation on lips.  This morning I had two dreams that both related to lips and kissing.  One was just that, and the other was a dream about lipstick.  So I was writing in my creative journal, trying to piece together what I needed to say, and that’s when I realized I need to blog today.  It’s frickin’ time already.

Lips serve many particular functions of course.  They are an integral aspect to the functions of breathing, eating, speakings, singing and sexual functions.  I can breathe through my mouth when I choose to part the lips and let air in–useful especially when I have a cold or some kind of blockage in the nasal cavities.

Regarding eating, I don’t have much observation except to say that my lips can moisten when I see something on a plate that arouses my tastebuds.  As far as I know, the lips don’t have taste receptors, but they can participate in the excitement of “Oh, butternut squash! Yea!”  There are certain sour foods too that can put my lips into the state of astringency, such as a lemon or certain sour-tasting herbs.  The sour and astringent tastes do have their effects on the lips.  I have an inclination that the bitter taste also has some sort of function as well, and spicy herbs such as cayenne and ginger can make the lips feel quite a lot of pain.  I also can remember the sense of occasional dryness in my lips when I exposed myself to sugar and flour.

Really, it occurs to me, that lips have certain commonalities with the skin, for they are but more sensitive regions of the skin.  I can sense dry and powder, and metal and cold, and hot and wood, and smooth and rough, etc.  The lips are sensitive to textures, which is of course an element of the sexual and sensual functions I enumerated at the beginning.  I can of course find the parts of a handsome man I want to get close to quite pleasing in the oral labia as it were.  [ 😀 ]  The smoothness and the ripples and the varying textures of the cock, the soft velvetiness of the scrotum, and smoothness of the gluteus maximus, and the echo pucker of the anus.  Hooray!  Bravo lips!

It’s intriguing to consider the speaking function most, however, as tempting and delightful as the sexual aspect is.  In going through all the sounds that I know of that our mouths can make, the lips form a creative function where the vowels are concerned.  It’s in vowels that the lips are most creative and essential.  I send the shape of the O to make the vowel sound in Show for example. And the same with the other vowel sounds and the umlauted vowels in German.  But the lips serve as necessary functions in the making of almost all the other consonant sounds.  I tried to make a guh sound with my lips tight.  Sounded like I was about to let out a sob.  Try it with a tuh sound, and I sound like I’m stifling a laugh.

The only sound that lips closed makes is of course the mm sound.  But there are 2 sounds that the lips don’t seem to have much of a function of save reducing volume.  I can make the nn sound and the ng sound, with lips closed or open. The n sound is a little muted and vibratory, and the ng sound is a bit quieter, but they override the mouth pretty much.  None of the other sounds do–they all require the lips to be parted for the most part, to form the sound.  If the lips aren’t open, they sound choked or stifled.

The plosives are always fun for the lips. PuVoBiFa. VaPiFoBu!  Try saying that a couple times fast.  The M of course vibrates the whole face, which frequently makes the AUM sound of meditation a bit of a drag.  But it’s so much fun to consider.

What observations  about lips do other people have?  It just occurred to me this was a rather interesting idea.

I hope one day to get back to my astrological stuff, and as I start to gather clients I will do so.  But I sense the nature of time is changing, and with it all the things based on time (such as money).  These are interesting times of no-time that create new opportunities for us all.

Enjoy.

New entry coming May 24, 2011

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I’m going to be posting a piece that will take me a bit of contemplation furthered by actions, before too long. Hopefully by the end of the week. In the meantime, enjoy this beauteous song with enticing video:

A Spacer between Scripts & Sun’s Aries Egress/Taurus Ingress April 19, 2011

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I think I’m pretty well through the first draft of the first script of what I’ve determined is a quartet of screenplays related to the collapse of our culture.  I describe the first of the 4 as “The Matrix meets Avatar.”  And it follows a character going through what I’ve loosely been going through, but ratcheted up to a “SuperHero” sort of level.  And just over the weekend, I realized that some material I’ve started writing on what I thought was the screenplay following the journey of my protag’s wife is actually material for a younger colleague of the wife.  The wife’s journey will be followed up with the fourth script in the Civilization Anonymous quartet.

I reached what I perceive to be the end of the writing, and it’s now about the typing with a tiny bit of research on certain technical issues regarding a nefarious practice which I won’t go into here.  I had about an hour left in my daily 2-hour commitment (which I feel is too small, but I have a lot of stuff to do in my life so 2 hours is the minimum of what I feel comfortable with).  So I realized about a half hour into the remaining hour that  I could blog!  Hence the title of this entry.

Ah, yes.  But what to blog about?  I’m not really sure though there are a number of possible topics.  I guess the one that’s most on my mind for the remaining 24 minutes of writing time is that of the Aries-Taurus transition underway now.  Over on Planetwaves, they note that the Sun is void-of-course now.  What that means is that the Sun has done making significant  aspects while still in Aries, and is just marking time until it moves across that cusp.  The Aries-Taurus cusp seems to be quite sensitive and has been associated with all sorts of infamy.  Columbine, Waco, the OKC bombing, and just last year it was the BP Oil Disaster.  These dates are also associated with the births of Adolf Hitler and William Shakespeare.  So there’s all sorts of activity at this zodical interface.

Knowing my own chart, the points of Aries 30 and Taurus 1 fall in my 12th house, so I’m not sure what to make of these energies myself.  The 12th house is the “house of self-undoing.”  Which is bad when it’s unconscious and good when the choice of self-undoing is consciously chosen, as in the forms of meditation or service to others.

Aries and Taurus are both about the Self, however.  Aries is “I AM, Baby!” and Taurus says “I HAVE, sweetums.”  Aries is the infant, and Taurus is the newborn.  They are both spring signs, though I have come to think of Taurus as holding the emotional beginning of summer in the Beltane/May Day window that leads up to the Cancer Ingress/Midsummer/Summer Solstice.  Another way to think on it:  The point at which Aries ends and Taurus begins is the last third of the 46-day window of Ostara to Beltane, the run-up to Spring’s apotheosis and the conception point of Summer.

Sign changes typically indicate flux energies.  I’m feeling that the events of today and tomorrow, should they become visible, probably are taking place in the economic sphere.  With Pluto in Capricorn and Chiron in Pisces and Uranus in Aries, I feel that something in that sphere is in need of deep cleansing, a fiery transformation and top-to-bottom restructuring but from the ground up.  Yesterday the S&P announced that the outlook for the US dollar was grim and in danger of receiving a negative rating.  Various tea-leaf readers in the econ pages speculate this and that, but I honestly feel it’s because the House is calling in its chits, and demanding its pounds of flesh.  We are about to know a world of hurt, and I honestly hope we can now collectively begin to face these demons.

It’s interesting to ponder all this as we send in our tax filings.  I read this yesterday and felt a strong dismay.  Are we sending good money after bad if we find ourselves owing?  And if we’re getting money back, how much meaning does it have?  The other day, I threw an I Ching, and got Hexagram #12 – Standstill.  It suggested that I not take money for the offerings I might make, to stand on my principles.  As I move through the reality of this world, I do find a dissonance between myself and the larger culture.  Yet that culture is just that–larger than myself.  I need to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and not let my ego get in the way.  Yet at the same time, how does one stay intact and whole inside this Jailbait economy?  vEmpire by any other name is all about imprisonment and slavery.  How can I become manumitted?

I threw another I Ching yesterday and it was mildly better (Hexagram #64 – Before Completion).  Still, I perceive that I am now being called to really begin THE WORK for which  I was created.  I have already started writing several pieces, and I will edit the script I had read over the weekend down a bit and revise parts of Act Two before putting it up at Cerridwen’s Mountain.  Still, THE WORK might involve creating some new work-recompense arrangement and it might very well occur right on the block where I live!  How’s that for magickal working?

That fellow I see myself becoming, the healthy, wealthy, lucky, joyful, free shaman by the river is making himselfs known through various prmptings that come through me these days.  I need to be patient and to be cognizant of the path before me and not the obstacles I perceive.  These things are coming to pass and I’m most decidely an active participant in what is coming.  I’m helping it along, and it’s in dialogue with me.  Just need to remember to take care of myself through it all.

So today, I shall workout.  I shall lead tonight’s CDTN meeting with a co-facilitator, and more will be  revealed.  I will most likely blog tomorrow, even as I take notes on the next scripts in the queue.  And  I will look for more opportunities to do service. 

I have a good life today.  It keeps getting better, and my faith grows even as things start to look a bit more dire.  But this too shall pass.  Gratitude makes things so much better. 

A good thing to remember.