Soooo much inspiration today, the one day this week that I knew I would not have to leave the house. I read. I wrote. I tilled the fields. When I am overstretched and doing things I don't want to do, this is the kind of day I long for.

The tanka project is changing everything. Ballet season starts in New York in a few days. Hell, there's even going to be a new Harry Potter movie! I could've done without the very loud thunderstorms, but hell ... nobody's perfect.

Back to performing and running around tomorrow. But for this one day, I got to be a poet, in The Womb. Mercy.

It was a weird Wednesday. Money was beyond tight, so we had to eat at home, and stopping back mid afternoon was a total momentum killer. But we played video games for free at D&B, even winning an adorable stuffed lion for our efforts, before driving down to Avon as it got dark.

A weird Wednesday, but any day that wraps up laying on a blanket under the stars in Happy Cove couldn't be all that bad.

Necro-posting didn't quite get underway, but the groundwork was laid, going back to May. That's appropriate, as it was a day of infrastructure, mostly technological, with a bit of story thrown in for good measure.

I've lost my voice in here, but I might find it tomorrow, if my oblique plan comes to fruition.
We'll see ...

The funny thing is, I actually HAVE been writing. Just not here.

Five lines a day, with deep intention, since August 26th.

So much I could say about it, but not right now.

Believe it or not, I still haven't given up on chronicling The Year of Unknowable Things. But I have a lot of work to do. Deep necro-posting begins tomorrow.

Good night.

New Chairs ...

Changing my seat, it's possible to see the world differently. Magick at the library. Design at the coffee house. Some days, if I stay in my beloved Womb, all I can do is sleep, toss and turn at two pm, waiting. Autumn, far away. Winter, farther still.

So I move around, ask questions, get to know the current better. It named itself today. A clever old name. So I sigilized it, and it asked for a radioactive heart, like some star bellied sneetch from an Otherworld without name.

Servitor :: egregore
I WANT MORE

I have a feeling what comes next is going to annoy people.

Good.

A Current Affair ...

There's a current coming through. Full on chaos re-immersion, to be discarded at any time. What is its secret name? It's face? No tradition. No lineage. Just here and now. Utterly recyclable. The most powerful magickal charge.

Thirty nine days 'til the Equinox. I think the second wing is starting to move beneath the ash. I'm getting angrier. This is not a bad thing. Still dizzy. Still need the naps. But agni up. Who will I become? What is this next regeneration? All I know is there will be glitter.

It's hard to put a voice to these things, even with loved ones, even on a Wednesday. It's not that she wouldn't understand. It's more that I don't understand. Yet. But this developing current with no name ran through me as I stared at / walked through / breathed into these places ...

I will always need these [places]. But I'm going to need some darker ones soon ...

Do The Watusi ...

Is dizziness a disease of the heart or the head?
What reason to get out of bed?
Are all the giants dead?

Too many business emails, phone calls, design sessions. My future phoenix wing just wants to do the watusi beneath the ash and soot of my former selves, anticipating Autumn. But everyone wants something, and everything is so forward focused. There's no now, and though I don't like now very much, I like thinking about then even less. Past then, future then, all shit. You know it's true.

I'm going to go read about 4th dimensional hyperreality and then go to sleep.
I'm not kidding.

With The Pressure Release Comes Relief ...

... and exhaustion!

Somewhere, somewhen, I remember hearing that it isn't the car tire crushing your leg that hurts the worst. It's when they take the car off of you. That's when you're really fucked.

Now that everything is out in the open, now that everyone has been told about my plans for the shamanic future (one went very good, one went very bad) I can breathe.

Such cRuShInG relief!

Summer malaise since the beginning of July. Ro-ro-rotator cuff foolishness. Kirtan wife acting up / acting out. Even the lovely overnight anniversary and Flame Shift, bless 'em, were strains. Is it any wonder I slept until 10am today, then had a nap in the afternoon? Dunmore Throop is scandalized!

Reading about the writing life, and the way of the storyteller, about entropy in the u.k. and the fact that Joanne Rowling knows as much about the tablet and stone as I do, it's been a helluva day, a helluva season, a helluva life.

One of many. Lived at full speed. All at once. All mine.

Flame Shift #76 ...

Once again I begin again. All will be revealed in time. So many feels, so deep and wide and true, though not to be explained. Not yet. Everyone's going through ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. Texts from old friends and older friends and wisps of stories coming through where I can almost touch them.

Who is Dunmore Throop? One day, I may just tell you.

I spent nearly the entire day up here on Flame Shift #76. I did my work and I did it well. She was as present as you would expect. When I got tired, She woke me. When I needed to shift my focus, She let me know. Magickal timing was more important than ever. She's preparing me, that crafty Lady.

I know it's not time to return to my poetry just yet. But god, how I want to.

This is a history, this journal. Of who I am, and was, and might be, depending on when you read it. What we watched, or how far we walked, or how clean the house is or how warm the weather is doesn't matter so much. It's about what I felt / feel / will feel. That's the only kind of history I care about.

And I just don't know how I feel right now.

Longwalker, Seventeen Years Later ...

Back when we were kids, there was an album we used to listen to all the time. It was by one of our heroes, Jon Anderson, and it was called Toltec. I didn't understand it fully at the time, but the album was deeply laced with the wisdom of Native American shamanism.

Like I said, we used to listen to it all the time, studying every morsel, gleaning whatever we could from the spoken word bits by a medicine man named Longwalker. For kids in their early twenties, who knew nothing, but who knew they needed a way out, music like this was a revelation.

Fast forward seventeen years, and Elizabeth put the first movement of the record on our old boom box as she was getting ready for bed. We're still together. Bug is in the next room. And as I'm listening to Longwalker, it hit me like a ton of rocks ...

I've actually become that medicine woman.

For a while now, I've been so down on shamanism and kirtan, so down on anything that smelled even vaguely of New Age. Even after The Lady's admonition last week that "I am not a secular humanist," I've had a hard time actually being proud / comfortable with what I do.

But hearing this music, it all came rushing back. The sense of discovery, and wonder, and mystery. I could remember being young, and wanting to know everything. I'm not the same person anymore, especially these days, but hearing Jon and Longwalker, I was proud of who I've become, for the first time in a long time.

I suppose that's a start.

The rest of today was movement mixed with the standard sturm und drang. We had family pancake breakfast. E and I each had study time. I got some dates in here transcribed. (July 15-20, if you're interested.) I talked to BA a few times. E and I drove out to the Palisades, then later took Walk #2 around the neighborhood.

The AC downstairs is still not working, so I am getting ready to sleep up here yet again. Maybe that's good, though, being immersed in this mad sanctuary, this Womb. Maybe I'll dream of other worlds again. Maybe somewhere, somehow, Jon & Longwalker would be proud of me, that I found my way here all these years later.

It's going to be a looooong 55 days until the Equinox. But maybe, just maybe, this is the first tentative movement of a red and golden wing, buried beneath a pile of ash ...