Don't know if I'll be posting from Madison or not. I'm curious to see how this vacation will go--going to Winter Witch Camp over Presidents' Day Weekend, and I'm celebrating my birthday the Wednesday following. 41 years old, my my.
Looks to be a big year for change, but a year to come into myself more actually. My Solar Return charts for Madison and NYC both have a striking resemblance to my actual natal chart. Perhaps this will be the first year of entering into my real self? Should be interesting.
Talk soon!
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Feelings Feb. 5, morphing into Alcoholic Belief
Feeling a bit rudderless right now. I don't really know what this is about, though I suspect a pink cloud I've been inhabiting for a few months is finally starting to clear. (Oh, well.)
Perhaps it's also because my 41st birthday is just around the corner. I had hoped that during my 40th year I'd finally see Paris, but it wasn't meant to be. Still, I did get to tap into deity energy, and that's molto especiale. This year, I hope to go on a spiritual quest of some sort, to dig deeper into whatever my mission is for this lifetime. For the moment, there's this sensation of floating, of hanging back from making any commitments because I'm unsure of what I need to do. Like with relocating--do I just move to one of the places that draws me? Or do I do what I've been doing, sitting here and trusting that the Goddess will move me to the next right place at the right time? What actions do I take in the meantime?
I struggle also to identify what my feelings are at any given moment. I do notice that when I walk through parks and under trees I feel way better. But I've been feeling listless and uninspired when it comes to my writing and when it comes to what I want to do to live out a full and passionate existence, about which I generally feel unclearly.
I pray for awareness and acceptance, but it doesn't come easy. So consequently, I waste a lot of time on yahoo games for single players or sleeping (which may not be so much of a waste as I might lead myself to believe). I am looking forward to my upcoming vacation in the Midwest, though I feel nervous about it for some reason. Don't really know what that's about. But I'm going to Madison, WI for a week, then to Winona, MN for the Winter Witch Camp. (Should be a blast, I hope!)
Under it all I feel a bit of sadness that is of a mysterious source. I try to remember to choose life and choose existence, even though it gets to be a drag sometimes. It's not that hard when I look at the insane people around us all, who would have us believe that the EndTimes(TM) are upon us. The glazed-eyed disconnect common to all addicts covers their fearful faces, and I see that I am at least making the attempt toward giving more of myself to human beings all of whom are worthy of their love and desires. In looking at these angry, suffering faces, I become conscious of my projections onto them, and their greedy receptors for that seemingly unwelcome energy. They want me to perceive them as their enemy, as a threat. And, not that they aren't, but the perception itself is one of the addictions they are fixing with, because these people need to believe there are people out there who "know" they are the pieces of shit they think themselves to be, but would never acknowledge publicly. And who better in which to kindle this reflexive hatred but people they've decided are pariahs for going after the very things they want for themselves--sexual liberty and power, spiritual understanding, an awareness of their own sacred authority?
These people don't want my love, and yet they want my love. They want the fool thing I wanted for myself when I was in the sugar--to be loved for my contempt, my judgmentalism, my blaming of others for my loneliness, rage and suffering. I wanted to win an effing Pulitzer Prize for writing plays about how awful our world is. Celebrate the human condition? Me? No way, not when there were Fundamentalist Xtians out there X-ing people out they didn't approve of, and all those simps who followed them willingly, blindly.
There's an addled quality to these people that I see, that I identify with on some level. It reminds me "There but for the Grace of Freya Go I." (Freya's mysteries are the camp theme for WWC this year.) I have my areas where I am just as off-base in my own personal map of health and insanity. One difference between me and say, SpongeDob Stickypants is that I try to keep those aspects of myself private. SpongeDob, Jerry-Winky, Batpuke and the others go public with them and attract others of like insanity, sort of like drinking buddies, only they're more a Belief Buddies. Perhaps a couple of them are even thinking, "Well, I'm not as bad as that guy there, so I'm going to hang out with him so that I can remind myself not to get that bad."
There's an alcoholic logic to these people. If they weren't possessed so by Deimos (Terror) and Phobos (Fear), the sons of Ares who added grist to the mills of war and bloodshed, I would feel sorry for them. Kind of. There's enough of the Al-Anonic in me to see that I need to stay the F away from these vampires. But they do reflect something in me crying out for love, even as it militates against the thing it needs and desires more than anything else. Alcoholics only want love, but they don't feel like they really deserve it. So they must win love through doing things compulsively and controllingly, or forego love entirely. Both paths get old, fast.
I pray these people find God's/Goddess's will for them. The only prayer that makes sense after all. I pray for my own alignment with the Gods' will for me as well. Godsspeed.
Perhaps it's also because my 41st birthday is just around the corner. I had hoped that during my 40th year I'd finally see Paris, but it wasn't meant to be. Still, I did get to tap into deity energy, and that's molto especiale. This year, I hope to go on a spiritual quest of some sort, to dig deeper into whatever my mission is for this lifetime. For the moment, there's this sensation of floating, of hanging back from making any commitments because I'm unsure of what I need to do. Like with relocating--do I just move to one of the places that draws me? Or do I do what I've been doing, sitting here and trusting that the Goddess will move me to the next right place at the right time? What actions do I take in the meantime?
I struggle also to identify what my feelings are at any given moment. I do notice that when I walk through parks and under trees I feel way better. But I've been feeling listless and uninspired when it comes to my writing and when it comes to what I want to do to live out a full and passionate existence, about which I generally feel unclearly.
I pray for awareness and acceptance, but it doesn't come easy. So consequently, I waste a lot of time on yahoo games for single players or sleeping (which may not be so much of a waste as I might lead myself to believe). I am looking forward to my upcoming vacation in the Midwest, though I feel nervous about it for some reason. Don't really know what that's about. But I'm going to Madison, WI for a week, then to Winona, MN for the Winter Witch Camp. (Should be a blast, I hope!)
Under it all I feel a bit of sadness that is of a mysterious source. I try to remember to choose life and choose existence, even though it gets to be a drag sometimes. It's not that hard when I look at the insane people around us all, who would have us believe that the EndTimes(TM) are upon us. The glazed-eyed disconnect common to all addicts covers their fearful faces, and I see that I am at least making the attempt toward giving more of myself to human beings all of whom are worthy of their love and desires. In looking at these angry, suffering faces, I become conscious of my projections onto them, and their greedy receptors for that seemingly unwelcome energy. They want me to perceive them as their enemy, as a threat. And, not that they aren't, but the perception itself is one of the addictions they are fixing with, because these people need to believe there are people out there who "know" they are the pieces of shit they think themselves to be, but would never acknowledge publicly. And who better in which to kindle this reflexive hatred but people they've decided are pariahs for going after the very things they want for themselves--sexual liberty and power, spiritual understanding, an awareness of their own sacred authority?
These people don't want my love, and yet they want my love. They want the fool thing I wanted for myself when I was in the sugar--to be loved for my contempt, my judgmentalism, my blaming of others for my loneliness, rage and suffering. I wanted to win an effing Pulitzer Prize for writing plays about how awful our world is. Celebrate the human condition? Me? No way, not when there were Fundamentalist Xtians out there X-ing people out they didn't approve of, and all those simps who followed them willingly, blindly.
There's an addled quality to these people that I see, that I identify with on some level. It reminds me "There but for the Grace of Freya Go I." (Freya's mysteries are the camp theme for WWC this year.) I have my areas where I am just as off-base in my own personal map of health and insanity. One difference between me and say, SpongeDob Stickypants is that I try to keep those aspects of myself private. SpongeDob, Jerry-Winky, Batpuke and the others go public with them and attract others of like insanity, sort of like drinking buddies, only they're more a Belief Buddies. Perhaps a couple of them are even thinking, "Well, I'm not as bad as that guy there, so I'm going to hang out with him so that I can remind myself not to get that bad."
There's an alcoholic logic to these people. If they weren't possessed so by Deimos (Terror) and Phobos (Fear), the sons of Ares who added grist to the mills of war and bloodshed, I would feel sorry for them. Kind of. There's enough of the Al-Anonic in me to see that I need to stay the F away from these vampires. But they do reflect something in me crying out for love, even as it militates against the thing it needs and desires more than anything else. Alcoholics only want love, but they don't feel like they really deserve it. So they must win love through doing things compulsively and controllingly, or forego love entirely. Both paths get old, fast.
I pray these people find God's/Goddess's will for them. The only prayer that makes sense after all. I pray for my own alignment with the Gods' will for me as well. Godsspeed.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Haven't felt like posting much of late
It could be the January hibernation thing, though I think I'm just bored right now. So I thought I'd blog a bit about that.
I log into other websites, check out other blogs and I'm really ... well, I hate to say underwhelmed, but I don't really sense there's a lot of new stuff out there to read, to glean from the whole Internet affair. It could be that I'm just a bit tired--it's been a few months since I've had a vacation, and I am gearing up for a week in Madison, WI with my best friend and the following week I'll be at Winter Witch Camp in Winona, Minnesota (in the dead of February, that's co-o-o-ld I would imagine!), and perhaps I will be more energized thereafter. I don't know.
I've had odd thoughts of late, mostly about my character defects. I realized last Friday I've been carrying around a resentment toward a total stranger for the past 4 years. It's an unpleasant trifle, really--it involved my reading from a solo performance piece I'd written at my writer's group at a B&N in Manhattan where we used to gather and read our stuff aloud and then give our unvarnished feedback. This particular night, I was in the middle of a monologue of a character who had woken up from a suicidal trance just as he was about to jump off a roof because a playwriting group he'd been a part of had shamed him for his work, when this woman at the next table basically told me to "Shut the F' up because you're bothering me and I'm trying to study." I see my role clearly. That wasn't the right venue for our writer's group, unfortunately. But this vampire's Arianrhod moment devastated me. And I didn't realize just how deep the cuntcomment went until this past Friday, four years later. I've been having problems with my own writing of late. Just haven't felt like it much, though my having gotten abstinent has a lot to do with that.
I realize as I type these words that I haven't really wanted to say much about this experience, because it seems so broke-a-nail. But the Big Book is filled with examples of people who lost their sobriety because of the broken shoelace. They can go through divorce, the death of a loved one, downsizing, etc. with no problem, but let there be so much as a dinner fork missing for a sit-down dinner with friends, and the temptation to chuck it all away becomes irresistible. There but for the grace of Hestia.
I've been fairly listless with it all, though I'm getting into writing this "Mirror" for my best friend. Have no idea what I'm doing, but I surprise myself with my ability to show up for something that is meant to be a deeply grateful and personal gift to someone who has meant so much to me for 25+ years. And I'm making slow and steady progress on the children's book I've been engaged by my Otter (via Taliesin) to write.
So there you have it. I didn't feel like blogging and I"ve blogged a bit tonight. I probably won't be here for a couple of days. And then next week I'll go on vacation. Don't expect to blog much then either.
Happy Imbolc everyone!
I log into other websites, check out other blogs and I'm really ... well, I hate to say underwhelmed, but I don't really sense there's a lot of new stuff out there to read, to glean from the whole Internet affair. It could be that I'm just a bit tired--it's been a few months since I've had a vacation, and I am gearing up for a week in Madison, WI with my best friend and the following week I'll be at Winter Witch Camp in Winona, Minnesota (in the dead of February, that's co-o-o-ld I would imagine!), and perhaps I will be more energized thereafter. I don't know.
I've had odd thoughts of late, mostly about my character defects. I realized last Friday I've been carrying around a resentment toward a total stranger for the past 4 years. It's an unpleasant trifle, really--it involved my reading from a solo performance piece I'd written at my writer's group at a B&N in Manhattan where we used to gather and read our stuff aloud and then give our unvarnished feedback. This particular night, I was in the middle of a monologue of a character who had woken up from a suicidal trance just as he was about to jump off a roof because a playwriting group he'd been a part of had shamed him for his work, when this woman at the next table basically told me to "Shut the F' up because you're bothering me and I'm trying to study." I see my role clearly. That wasn't the right venue for our writer's group, unfortunately. But this vampire's Arianrhod moment devastated me. And I didn't realize just how deep the cuntcomment went until this past Friday, four years later. I've been having problems with my own writing of late. Just haven't felt like it much, though my having gotten abstinent has a lot to do with that.
I realize as I type these words that I haven't really wanted to say much about this experience, because it seems so broke-a-nail. But the Big Book is filled with examples of people who lost their sobriety because of the broken shoelace. They can go through divorce, the death of a loved one, downsizing, etc. with no problem, but let there be so much as a dinner fork missing for a sit-down dinner with friends, and the temptation to chuck it all away becomes irresistible. There but for the grace of Hestia.
I've been fairly listless with it all, though I'm getting into writing this "Mirror" for my best friend. Have no idea what I'm doing, but I surprise myself with my ability to show up for something that is meant to be a deeply grateful and personal gift to someone who has meant so much to me for 25+ years. And I'm making slow and steady progress on the children's book I've been engaged by my Otter (via Taliesin) to write.
So there you have it. I didn't feel like blogging and I"ve blogged a bit tonight. I probably won't be here for a couple of days. And then next week I'll go on vacation. Don't expect to blog much then either.
Happy Imbolc everyone!
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