I meant to try and post something yesterday (Art/Freyja/Jaguar), but I couldn't get around to it. Yesterday, I was surfing on my normal sites when I came across this observation from Matt Savinar at LATOC, that was about people who "embrace" peak oil--that we have some personal agenda in doing so. It may be anticapitalist, anti-suburb, anti-this, anti-that or I would imagine pro-primitive or whatever.
I was glad to read this, though at another time when I was a very different person, I probably would have been deeply mortified by this notion. I would have felt "Aha, caught!" and been deeply resentful and wounded. But because I can objectify certain aspects of my experience that cause me trouble, I can look at the situation and honestly ask "does that apply to me?" and go through it a bit more rationally to get to a deeper answer.
And yes, I think I do have agendae. Or is it agendas? It's more than one.
The first one is that I simply am aware that I have a role to play in the transition. Those of us whose birthdays are in the 1960s have Pluto and Uranus in Virgo. (At least from 1960-1968.) Those of us whose b'days are from 1964-66 have a bit more intensity, because Pluto & Uranus were conjunct in 1965 and Chiron opposed the conjunction between 64 and 66 when it wasn't as tight for orbs as many would like to see for conjunctions. I was made aware of the conjunction's effects in my early 20s and understand that people about my age have an extremity about us. We have some role to play in this transition, and I am both patient and impatient to get to work on it, even though I have very little idea of what "the work" is about.
Though I'm getting some ideas about that, which brings me to a second agenda that I know of. I need to post an observation I've made recently about a theme to some of my postings I've made on other people's websites. I have a feeling people's eyes glaze over when I mention that I lost 120 pounds through the assistance of a 12-step program, and that I think that the Steps and the Traditions as worked out by the original members of AA can be of great use. The fact of AA life is that it is "organized anarchy." The only requirement for membership in a 12-step group is simply the desire to stop the compulsive activity or intake of toxins. I've written before on how I think our dominator/Empire/civilization culture requires us to become addicts in order to "survive," which would probably be better read as "subsist." To live at the lower threshold of existence. And when we put one substance/activity down, something else like the game of Wack-a-mole pops up. Put down the booze, and the sugar pops up. Get the compulsive sex in order, and then start that cocaine habit. Because to live merely subsisting can not be sustained, and it would be better for people to find ways to abstain from subsistence if possible. Granted, that's not always a possibility, but in our culture, we are spiritually subsisting even as we acquire more and more crap through our unrestrained affluenza. And I'm heartened to see that at least one person has made similar observations about this life. Morris Berman in "Dark Ages America" pointed out how empty our lives are in his observations about fundamentalist Christianity and that it's distracting us from what we need to focus on to become sane again. Of course, I've also noted that the f.C. is a belief addict whose toxin is in the belief that "my way is the only right way for everyone." To act on that thought requires spiritual bankruptcy and moral death.
I think it's time for Empire Anonymous to start happening. "We admitted we were powerless over hierarchical thinking and head divorced from heart, and that our lives had become unmanageable." OK, that's not perfect, but my point is that AA and other fellowships do present a model for a way of life that can be a bridge out of dominator culture. It allows people to take care of whatever their business may be, but also to remember their primary purpose, which is to maintain their abstinence from the compulsion that would send them back into their misery and/or insanity/death. In any case, I'd like to see if there are other people out there with whom I can have a conversation about how how, one day at a time, they move away from the Empire/Addiction culture and into something more reasonable and humane.
Other agendas will probably pop up. But I seek to become right-sized in relation to Sex/Pride/Self/Power/Passion on the Iron Pentacle and Love/Law/Knowledge/Liberty/Wisdom on the Pearl. We are all agents acting upon one another in this reality, and I for one wish to be much more conscious of what effects I have on others and on this planet. I seek to be right-sized in all my affairs, and carrying the principles of 12-step and tradition work assists me as much as my meditations do. In fact it's because of those principles that I even do meditate today.
More to come.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Queen of Wands Cerridwen Lamb
Interesting. I've drawn the Queen of Wands 3 of the last 5 days. I guess something is trying to get my attention.
Today's the one-year anniversary of my getting together with my boyfriend. A year ago today, I was coming down from Alexandria Bay, New York after having gone on a medicine walk--what is basically a junior version of a full-on Vision Quest. I managed to have quite a powerful experience upstate, within shouting distance of ye olde Canadian border. Coming off that powerful experience, I was ready enough to start to enjoy the fruits of a budding relationship. I still don't really know how it happened, though I drew a Goddess card from Doreen Virtue's deck. Athena popped up. I sat with the card and listened for her voice and she just said, "walk to the window." I dithered a bit, but as I started to walk to the window, Jody emerged from his office and looked at me. I told him what had happened, and we got closer together and then he said "she's telling you to kiss me." Which I had to say was what was on order. (bashful grin)
What a glorious Monday that was! We're going to a fancy restaurant tonight to celebrate.
There are all sorts of small changes around me and in my schedule. Today I worked out at the Y at a little before 6 a.m. I joined about 10 days ago, and have been working out either after work or on the weekend. This is the first time I did so at the time I usually meditate. After doing the anaerobic part, I got on the treadmill and let that take me into an internal place. I could even stare at a white wall, and thank Goddess, the television was off!
The tulips are everywhere abloom, in time for the upcoming tulipfest. Jody and I are planning on going to the Dandelion Gathering of Reclaiming in a couple of weeks as well. And the price of gas is going up. I am thinking of Jody's responsibilities this summer and his need for the car. I've been able to do without just fine, thus far. That has been a bit contingent on Jody's vehicle however. We had a talk about that when we started dating. A part of me would like to get a car, though I see what's transpiring around us all, and I wonder about it. I'm thinking "Enjoy it while it lasts, dude."
Today's the one-year anniversary of my getting together with my boyfriend. A year ago today, I was coming down from Alexandria Bay, New York after having gone on a medicine walk--what is basically a junior version of a full-on Vision Quest. I managed to have quite a powerful experience upstate, within shouting distance of ye olde Canadian border. Coming off that powerful experience, I was ready enough to start to enjoy the fruits of a budding relationship. I still don't really know how it happened, though I drew a Goddess card from Doreen Virtue's deck. Athena popped up. I sat with the card and listened for her voice and she just said, "walk to the window." I dithered a bit, but as I started to walk to the window, Jody emerged from his office and looked at me. I told him what had happened, and we got closer together and then he said "she's telling you to kiss me." Which I had to say was what was on order. (bashful grin)
What a glorious Monday that was! We're going to a fancy restaurant tonight to celebrate.
There are all sorts of small changes around me and in my schedule. Today I worked out at the Y at a little before 6 a.m. I joined about 10 days ago, and have been working out either after work or on the weekend. This is the first time I did so at the time I usually meditate. After doing the anaerobic part, I got on the treadmill and let that take me into an internal place. I could even stare at a white wall, and thank Goddess, the television was off!
The tulips are everywhere abloom, in time for the upcoming tulipfest. Jody and I are planning on going to the Dandelion Gathering of Reclaiming in a couple of weeks as well. And the price of gas is going up. I am thinking of Jody's responsibilities this summer and his need for the car. I've been able to do without just fine, thus far. That has been a bit contingent on Jody's vehicle however. We had a talk about that when we started dating. A part of me would like to get a car, though I see what's transpiring around us all, and I wonder about it. I'm thinking "Enjoy it while it lasts, dude."
Friday, April 21, 2006
Queen of Wands Vesta Fairy
Hm. Typing the heading gave me a sort of giggle. Today is to be a homey, carefree sort of day for making art, and lo and behold, I plan to read my "Persephoniad" at the Albany WordFest tonight, if I can get myself a slot. I think it should take 3 minutes. If I can only read the first three segments though, that's finezels.
I looked out the window of my workplace and saw the gas station's markers showing that gas is now over $3/gallon. Yesterday I posted about gratitude, and I stand by what I said. Last night I observed that gratitude is like a peace that, instead of sitting passively, circulates through my body in a constant motion. It's a flutter, I guess. I like the FAG acronym--
(T-hee! Life, the queerest o' the queer, if we but follow ye middle way. Thanks Thomas the Rhymer!)
I'm thinking FAG is certainly what my local environment needs.
I looked out the window of my workplace and saw the gas station's markers showing that gas is now over $3/gallon. Yesterday I posted about gratitude, and I stand by what I said. Last night I observed that gratitude is like a peace that, instead of sitting passively, circulates through my body in a constant motion. It's a flutter, I guess. I like the FAG acronym--
Forgiveness
Acceptance
Gratitude
(T-hee! Life, the queerest o' the queer, if we but follow ye middle way. Thanks Thomas the Rhymer!)
I'm thinking FAG is certainly what my local environment needs.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Male Lovers Xochipili Beaver
Gratitude. That's my most awesome fuel.
I wake up each day, and I say a prayer of gratitude over the breakfast I make. When I remember it, I try and say a blessing over the lunch I make for work the next day. I try and remember to bless my food before dinner as well.
During this glorious spring, I send gratitude to the nature spirits and the fey of Washington Park. I walk down State Street from my awesome apartment (for which I am also so grateful!) and past the State Capitol (Cappy! The awsome woofers!) and the D&H Building/SUNY Systems Admin Building (Aurora Petra Majesta), and get a sense of the feelings and sentiment of the spirits of the city of Albany. I send them blessings as well, even sending physical touch to the Woofers. (Odd I suppose that the State Capitol's energy is canine. But that's what I sense. I don't call it, I just accept it.)
I send gratitude to the Goddess and the God at work. No one knows this is what I do when I raise my arms, seeming to stretch. Actually, I like the stretch, but it's a side benefit of "breathing one up to my sacred dove" and asking the Goddess to inhabit my heart chakra.
Gratitude is the name of the game each day. I wake up with it and I go to bed with it, if I'm not so exhausted that I forget, as sometimes happens.
The other night I awoke with a nameless fear. I came across a meditation recently "I am not my body." Someone else augmented and said "I am not my pain." To this, in that moment, I added "I am not my fear," which helped to disentangle the fear entity which had lodged itself temporarily in my physicality to separate and leave. The next day, I thought it's not my fear. I am not fear, is how I now say it. Fears do come and go, but because of my meditation practice, they don't stay for very long. I clean them out daily. Perhaps it's an apotropaic act, an act that childishly wards off "evil." (Pain. Fear. Despair.) But these things do have power when appropriately used.
And the other day, I realized I can even be grateful for the religion-drunks, those who've drunk from some toxic belief cocktail or mainlined junky doctrine. The sugar comas of the neoconservatives and the fundamentalist whatevers, addicted to hate and biliousness. I'm grateful for their negative example, of course. Pat Robertson and El Arbusto show me what I decidedly don't want. And they give me something to laugh at, something for which my laughter is a healing elixir, though they experience it more as peroxide to a wound, or as the entities inside the darkness experience light.
Those are my thoughts for the day. Those and that I'm excited about WordFest. I haven't signed up for a slot in the Open Mic--hope I can still scarf one up. I got an inspiration the other day for a story. Whether I get one or not, I'll post it. It's set about 1,000 years ago in this Mid Hudson-Valley region, and it's about the dream of a Medicine Man named Broken Wing, who wakes up from a vision of the future, that he experiences as a nightmare and a huge responsiblity. It's sort of a myth for our time, I guess. It came to me in a morning reverie, post meditation & offjerking. [!!!]
I wake up each day, and I say a prayer of gratitude over the breakfast I make. When I remember it, I try and say a blessing over the lunch I make for work the next day. I try and remember to bless my food before dinner as well.
During this glorious spring, I send gratitude to the nature spirits and the fey of Washington Park. I walk down State Street from my awesome apartment (for which I am also so grateful!) and past the State Capitol (Cappy! The awsome woofers!) and the D&H Building/SUNY Systems Admin Building (Aurora Petra Majesta), and get a sense of the feelings and sentiment of the spirits of the city of Albany. I send them blessings as well, even sending physical touch to the Woofers. (Odd I suppose that the State Capitol's energy is canine. But that's what I sense. I don't call it, I just accept it.)
I send gratitude to the Goddess and the God at work. No one knows this is what I do when I raise my arms, seeming to stretch. Actually, I like the stretch, but it's a side benefit of "breathing one up to my sacred dove" and asking the Goddess to inhabit my heart chakra.
Gratitude is the name of the game each day. I wake up with it and I go to bed with it, if I'm not so exhausted that I forget, as sometimes happens.
The other night I awoke with a nameless fear. I came across a meditation recently "I am not my body." Someone else augmented and said "I am not my pain." To this, in that moment, I added "I am not my fear," which helped to disentangle the fear entity which had lodged itself temporarily in my physicality to separate and leave. The next day, I thought it's not my fear. I am not fear, is how I now say it. Fears do come and go, but because of my meditation practice, they don't stay for very long. I clean them out daily. Perhaps it's an apotropaic act, an act that childishly wards off "evil." (Pain. Fear. Despair.) But these things do have power when appropriately used.
And the other day, I realized I can even be grateful for the religion-drunks, those who've drunk from some toxic belief cocktail or mainlined junky doctrine. The sugar comas of the neoconservatives and the fundamentalist whatevers, addicted to hate and biliousness. I'm grateful for their negative example, of course. Pat Robertson and El Arbusto show me what I decidedly don't want. And they give me something to laugh at, something for which my laughter is a healing elixir, though they experience it more as peroxide to a wound, or as the entities inside the darkness experience light.
Those are my thoughts for the day. Those and that I'm excited about WordFest. I haven't signed up for a slot in the Open Mic--hope I can still scarf one up. I got an inspiration the other day for a story. Whether I get one or not, I'll post it. It's set about 1,000 years ago in this Mid Hudson-Valley region, and it's about the dream of a Medicine Man named Broken Wing, who wakes up from a vision of the future, that he experiences as a nightmare and a huge responsiblity. It's sort of a myth for our time, I guess. It came to me in a morning reverie, post meditation & offjerking. [!!!]
Monday, April 17, 2006
Tower Persephone Jaguar
Spoke with my Mother yesterday. It's always a trip to speak with an O'Reilly-head. I love my mother, but I also know that she's deep in the clutches of something much larger than she or I can even attempt to do battle with. I mostly don't contest her.
On the immigration issue she said, "It's really very simple. Just keep 'em all out." Now, at first I couldn't let that pass, and I think I might have gotten a gentle point across, that the Racist Right really complicates the issue. I said there were emotions involved, and my Mom, the Libra with no planets in water, said "You have to leave the emotions out of it."
Easier said than done, right?
The truth about this issue is generally pretty ugly and gross. Corporatists of course favor race-to-the-bottom immigration. Racists favor erecting walls at the borders with snipers to "shoot 'em all and let the WRASP god sort 'em out." (I inserted the 'R' to add "rich" to the WASP acronym, for the Archonic Jehovah/Yaldabaoth is a rich-man's mirror-image deity. Invisible Donald Trump/Pat Robertson Cloud Being as it were.) To have an honest discussion on this topic would have been a marvel, to say the least. It blew my mother's mind that Wal-Mart (of which she is no fan, at least) is interfering with Port Security. What good's a wall going to do when you've got a corporate fifth column at work at the ports?
At some point, I realized it was better I just let my mother go off on her toxic way. She's of the school of thought that Peak Oil is a fabrication, a destructive mirage. Mother, bless her heart, also eschews the Armageddonists' insanity. But she really doesn't want anything to besmirch the fantasy of how we Americans live our lives and what sorts of difficulties we foist on others the world over. By her lights, I'm just a negative person, even though I mostly feel positive about what's about to boil over everywhere. Sort of like Jesus Jones "there is no place I'd rather be [than] right here right now, watching the world wake up from history."
I'm hoping that because I really do work at accepting "what is", at least as I understand "what is," will be the greatest service I can offer to anyone in Albany or anywhere for that matter. I have no idea who, if anyone reads this blog. I know there are a couple of ye stalwarts out there. And one of these days, I hope to post a link to various PDFs of my longer opuses I've been at work on. Currently, I'm attempting to write a Shakespearean 5-act play about marriage, art, walk-ins, work, the tripartite world, etc. It's a rewrite of a script I started years ago and shelved when I started working at law firms and "saw how the world REALLY worked." I have some fun little plays from that era as well--including the "Eight of Swords" I posted last week.
For today, I accept my mother's denial. May the belief b'ankey she clutches tightly to herself serve her for as long as humanly possible. Ditto for my brother and sister and everyone I know who currently has hedged some bet. For my part, I'm educating myself and taking quiet actions, ever reminding myself that pawns in a chess game often are the most powerful pieces because they're so quiet and slow, and easy to dismiss. (My hero!) I have no desire to be a guru, or to toot my own horn too loudly, else the stand-out nail gets hammered. In the meantime, it serves me and serves others and serves deity and guide alike to be kind and thoughtful in all my interactions with others.
I like where I am today. It's working just fine, even though there's evidence to the contrary. I'll integrate that at my leisure--after all, I do have time for that pursuit. At least I'm aware that I do. The three A's--awareness, acceptance, action--occur in a certain order by design. My awarenesses grow, my base of information accumulates more stuff and becomes knowledge that hopefully distills even more significantly into wisdom. (And Prayer and meditation do wonders.)
On the immigration issue she said, "It's really very simple. Just keep 'em all out." Now, at first I couldn't let that pass, and I think I might have gotten a gentle point across, that the Racist Right really complicates the issue. I said there were emotions involved, and my Mom, the Libra with no planets in water, said "You have to leave the emotions out of it."
Easier said than done, right?
The truth about this issue is generally pretty ugly and gross. Corporatists of course favor race-to-the-bottom immigration. Racists favor erecting walls at the borders with snipers to "shoot 'em all and let the WRASP god sort 'em out." (I inserted the 'R' to add "rich" to the WASP acronym, for the Archonic Jehovah/Yaldabaoth is a rich-man's mirror-image deity. Invisible Donald Trump/Pat Robertson Cloud Being as it were.) To have an honest discussion on this topic would have been a marvel, to say the least. It blew my mother's mind that Wal-Mart (of which she is no fan, at least) is interfering with Port Security. What good's a wall going to do when you've got a corporate fifth column at work at the ports?
At some point, I realized it was better I just let my mother go off on her toxic way. She's of the school of thought that Peak Oil is a fabrication, a destructive mirage. Mother, bless her heart, also eschews the Armageddonists' insanity. But she really doesn't want anything to besmirch the fantasy of how we Americans live our lives and what sorts of difficulties we foist on others the world over. By her lights, I'm just a negative person, even though I mostly feel positive about what's about to boil over everywhere. Sort of like Jesus Jones "there is no place I'd rather be [than] right here right now, watching the world wake up from history."
I'm hoping that because I really do work at accepting "what is", at least as I understand "what is," will be the greatest service I can offer to anyone in Albany or anywhere for that matter. I have no idea who, if anyone reads this blog. I know there are a couple of ye stalwarts out there. And one of these days, I hope to post a link to various PDFs of my longer opuses I've been at work on. Currently, I'm attempting to write a Shakespearean 5-act play about marriage, art, walk-ins, work, the tripartite world, etc. It's a rewrite of a script I started years ago and shelved when I started working at law firms and "saw how the world REALLY worked." I have some fun little plays from that era as well--including the "Eight of Swords" I posted last week.
For today, I accept my mother's denial. May the belief b'ankey she clutches tightly to herself serve her for as long as humanly possible. Ditto for my brother and sister and everyone I know who currently has hedged some bet. For my part, I'm educating myself and taking quiet actions, ever reminding myself that pawns in a chess game often are the most powerful pieces because they're so quiet and slow, and easy to dismiss. (My hero!) I have no desire to be a guru, or to toot my own horn too loudly, else the stand-out nail gets hammered. In the meantime, it serves me and serves others and serves deity and guide alike to be kind and thoughtful in all my interactions with others.
I like where I am today. It's working just fine, even though there's evidence to the contrary. I'll integrate that at my leisure--after all, I do have time for that pursuit. At least I'm aware that I do. The three A's--awareness, acceptance, action--occur in a certain order by design. My awarenesses grow, my base of information accumulates more stuff and becomes knowledge that hopefully distills even more significantly into wisdom. (And Prayer and meditation do wonders.)
Friday, April 14, 2006
3 Disks Freyja Deer
Interesting meditation today. Realized that I needed to switch the Above and Below god and goddess so that the order of 1-13 is:
Dian-y-Glas, Krom, Cerridwen, Hecate, Freyja, Hades, Star Goddess, Persephone, Odin, Hermes, West God (Xochipili until Beltane), Vesta, East Goddess (Kwan Yin).
Also, I thought I needed to post this song that I wrote years ago for a series of jaundiced short plays I penned called Furcht, Elend LLP: An Olio of Oiliness for These Unctuous Times. Furcht means fear in German and Elend means Misery. I was working for a law firm that seemed to relish going through its staff like cannon-fodder. We really were meat for the JD wolves at that place. Here 'tis. The song is entitled "Eight of Swords", in honor of the Rider-Waite card of the same image:
http://www.learntarot.com/bigjpgs/swords08.jpg
(The following is the stage direction:
Eight swords stand in the ground. OCTAVIA SCHWERTER, a timid woman in her thirties, enters and puts on a blindfold and binds herself loosely with rags. She sings "Eight of Swords."
OCTAVIA
"I put this blindfold o'er my eyes
because I despise the things that I see
I place these binds on my wrists
'cause there's I'm helpless to affect
my own reality
"Maybe I'm selective
I see things so defective
I can't make an elective
to move out the way
"If I had some choices
to express my voices
and make correct noises
to brighten up my day.
"Maybe my values are wholly misplaced
the golden rule seems so quaint, old-fashioned.
Maybe it's time I tried on a new face
one that has terrible teeth made for gnashing
"My issue is i've got goals to pursue
deserve a better life and you do too
take it from the rich
they can tell you which
one son of a bitch
selling drugs or pitch-
ing their wares in the malls and the markets
best line their guts as they lining their pockets
Who do I seek to emulate?
Is it learned or is it innate?
What can I choose to simulate?
Can I keep from becoming bait?
I'll position myself as unassailable
unmovable, unmoved, unavailable
except to the most privileged, exalted ones
sharp scales not soft skin covering their organs
"I can't rest until I start the transformation
into someone who knows how to use information
there's only one question that remains
with three variations on that refrain:
How much of a shark do I become?
How much of a shark must I become?
How much of a shark can I become?”
Dian-y-Glas, Krom, Cerridwen, Hecate, Freyja, Hades, Star Goddess, Persephone, Odin, Hermes, West God (Xochipili until Beltane), Vesta, East Goddess (Kwan Yin).
Also, I thought I needed to post this song that I wrote years ago for a series of jaundiced short plays I penned called Furcht, Elend LLP: An Olio of Oiliness for These Unctuous Times. Furcht means fear in German and Elend means Misery. I was working for a law firm that seemed to relish going through its staff like cannon-fodder. We really were meat for the JD wolves at that place. Here 'tis. The song is entitled "Eight of Swords", in honor of the Rider-Waite card of the same image:
http://www.learntarot.com/bigjpgs/swords08.jpg
(The following is the stage direction:
Eight swords stand in the ground. OCTAVIA SCHWERTER, a timid woman in her thirties, enters and puts on a blindfold and binds herself loosely with rags. She sings "Eight of Swords."
OCTAVIA
"I put this blindfold o'er my eyes
because I despise the things that I see
I place these binds on my wrists
'cause there's I'm helpless to affect
my own reality
"Maybe I'm selective
I see things so defective
I can't make an elective
to move out the way
"If I had some choices
to express my voices
and make correct noises
to brighten up my day.
"Maybe my values are wholly misplaced
the golden rule seems so quaint, old-fashioned.
Maybe it's time I tried on a new face
one that has terrible teeth made for gnashing
"My issue is i've got goals to pursue
deserve a better life and you do too
take it from the rich
they can tell you which
one son of a bitch
selling drugs or pitch-
ing their wares in the malls and the markets
best line their guts as they lining their pockets
Who do I seek to emulate?
Is it learned or is it innate?
What can I choose to simulate?
Can I keep from becoming bait?
I'll position myself as unassailable
unmovable, unmoved, unavailable
except to the most privileged, exalted ones
sharp scales not soft skin covering their organs
"I can't rest until I start the transformation
into someone who knows how to use information
there's only one question that remains
with three variations on that refrain:
How much of a shark do I become?
How much of a shark must I become?
How much of a shark can I become?”
Thursday, April 13, 2006
6 Swords Hecate Bear
(I drew the 6 of Swords yesterday as well. Odd that I would draw the same card two days in a row, but there it is. It happens every once in awhile.)
This week seems to be filled with even crazier news than before. Perhaps it's because the craziest aspect of what's going on (and of course not talked about except as general grousing) is that fuel is creeping up to $3.00/gallon. I'm curious what the tipping point will be to see others start to talk en masse about the Involuntary Powerdown will be. Will it be $3.50/gallon? $4.00? Do I hear $5?
Someone mentioned offhand that the price will be whatever people can pay. I'm not so sure. It will be curious to see what people do as the price of gas starts to rise and rise and rise. I'm wondering how it will affect everything else we do, and how we'll not only deal with the situation, but each other.
Btw, I did see V for Vendetta this past weekend, and while I do recommend it, while I think it is a wonderful piece of art, I also recognize that it's propaganda for liberals. It'd be nice to think it might inspire people to actually come out for some radical sorts of actions. But I'll sit and wait on that.
This week seems to be filled with even crazier news than before. Perhaps it's because the craziest aspect of what's going on (and of course not talked about except as general grousing) is that fuel is creeping up to $3.00/gallon. I'm curious what the tipping point will be to see others start to talk en masse about the Involuntary Powerdown will be. Will it be $3.50/gallon? $4.00? Do I hear $5?
Someone mentioned offhand that the price will be whatever people can pay. I'm not so sure. It will be curious to see what people do as the price of gas starts to rise and rise and rise. I'm wondering how it will affect everything else we do, and how we'll not only deal with the situation, but each other.
Btw, I did see V for Vendetta this past weekend, and while I do recommend it, while I think it is a wonderful piece of art, I also recognize that it's propaganda for liberals. It'd be nice to think it might inspire people to actually come out for some radical sorts of actions. But I'll sit and wait on that.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Princess of Cups/Hermes-Salamander (Fire Elemental)
Not been blogging much of late. Have wanted to, because I'm in a temporary writer's block again, due to structural concerns of having a 40-hour/week job. Over the last three weeks, I worked quite a bit of OT as well, and didn't have time to put anything down.
I was writing in my journal yesterday, yearning to be creative. Oh, my did I so wish to be in "the zone". For my belated Ostara/New Moon ritual last week, I threw a tarot reading on my creativity. My ally is ye olde Herm(es)it. It never occurred to me that Hermit and Hermes were of course interrelated. Could be that to find oneself in Hermitage is a devotion to the messenger god? Getting quiet to receive those messages was what I longed for yesterday and still do today.
I wrote a little poem on this today:
Twenty minutes is not time enough!
Dive deep into Hermit waters
after noshing on my healthy lunch?
How mad do I have to be here?
You try and create a something
that will speak a profoundest truth
in the space of a noontime break!
Ah, I need to choose gratitude
nonetheless, for my forty-hour
shackles (at least while they have me)
even if it takes up all the space
that it does, blocking my real work.
***
Today, I do have a modicum of time as the dust here at the firm seems to have settled somewhat. Since I'm typing "on firm time" as it were, I am reticent to put much down on the virtual paper of a blog entry. I have come to like the people I work with very much, and it pains me to see that some people are no longer here.
Some people have been making appearances in my dreams, and not in that ominous "you don't belong here!" way that coworkers have appeared in dreams during jobs I've thoroughly detested. I do belong where I'm at! I know it in my soul. But it's a curious thing to let people in on this in this sickly culture that is dying. I need to release the information at the appropriate time. That day is coming, I sense. But I've dreamt that my boyfriend was a co-worker and one of my actual co-workers was in the dream. I dreamt that my b.f. and another co-worker were helping me move into a Tourist Court-type motel (aka dingbat). I dreamt two of my co-workers were talking as if they were characters in one of my plays, and that one had arranged to whack someone on a Carnivore Cruise. (That's a rather wild play. Think The Sopranos meets How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying by way of My Name is Bill W. Yep. Pretty fun and weird.) And in a meditation recently, I saw my best and brightest self in the personage of the Managing Principal. (Not to be confused with holding the office of the Managing Principal, a job for which I'm so not cut out for 6 ways to Thors'day!)
Anyway, I need to sign this off for today. Hopefully I'll have more tamari.
I was writing in my journal yesterday, yearning to be creative. Oh, my did I so wish to be in "the zone". For my belated Ostara/New Moon ritual last week, I threw a tarot reading on my creativity. My ally is ye olde Herm(es)it. It never occurred to me that Hermit and Hermes were of course interrelated. Could be that to find oneself in Hermitage is a devotion to the messenger god? Getting quiet to receive those messages was what I longed for yesterday and still do today.
I wrote a little poem on this today:
Twenty minutes is not time enough!
Dive deep into Hermit waters
after noshing on my healthy lunch?
How mad do I have to be here?
You try and create a something
that will speak a profoundest truth
in the space of a noontime break!
Ah, I need to choose gratitude
nonetheless, for my forty-hour
shackles (at least while they have me)
even if it takes up all the space
that it does, blocking my real work.
***
Today, I do have a modicum of time as the dust here at the firm seems to have settled somewhat. Since I'm typing "on firm time" as it were, I am reticent to put much down on the virtual paper of a blog entry. I have come to like the people I work with very much, and it pains me to see that some people are no longer here.
Some people have been making appearances in my dreams, and not in that ominous "you don't belong here!" way that coworkers have appeared in dreams during jobs I've thoroughly detested. I do belong where I'm at! I know it in my soul. But it's a curious thing to let people in on this in this sickly culture that is dying. I need to release the information at the appropriate time. That day is coming, I sense. But I've dreamt that my boyfriend was a co-worker and one of my actual co-workers was in the dream. I dreamt that my b.f. and another co-worker were helping me move into a Tourist Court-type motel (aka dingbat). I dreamt two of my co-workers were talking as if they were characters in one of my plays, and that one had arranged to whack someone on a Carnivore Cruise. (That's a rather wild play. Think The Sopranos meets How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying by way of My Name is Bill W. Yep. Pretty fun and weird.) And in a meditation recently, I saw my best and brightest self in the personage of the Managing Principal. (Not to be confused with holding the office of the Managing Principal, a job for which I'm so not cut out for 6 ways to Thors'day!)
Anyway, I need to sign this off for today. Hopefully I'll have more tamari.
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