Feelings are not Facts

I don't know when this came upon me, but I have been noticing of late that I seem to be highly sensitive to others' thoughts. I'm picking up the thoughts of strangers, and of peripheral acquaintances. December energies, I'm seeing now, still reflect the thinness between the worlds that began on Samhain, and will last evidently until my birthday. (Feb. 23rd is the day the Romans celebrated the Terminalia, which was the day sacred to Terminus, God of Boundaries.)

I've had some outlandish thoughts, some of which have overpowered me in meditations. For now, I'm sticking with Gods and Goddesses and firmly envisioning them in my mind. It seems a bit risky to just open myself up without some sort of filtering mechanism in place. I've had some pretty scary thoughts that aren't mine coming through. Generally, even with the focus on deities, I'm feeling tired and a bit listless.

It could also be a delayed reaction to the election, though I don't think that's it. A part of me wants to flagellate myself for not really doing a lot about it. It feels "old" to me somehow. My oracles and such seem to tell me that it is time to celebrate. What to celebrate I'm not exactly sure, but it seems that a cornucopia of galactic delight is on order. Like Charlie from Willy Wonka, I have "the ticket."

The Fae/Fey/Faerie

The Star Goddess instructed me on aspects of my existence which are to be manifested, one of which is that I make contact with the Fae. Faerie folk do take notice of us, at least a certain kind of individual. There are some aspects of my attractiveness to fey that need work. I need to work on my generosity, but it's difficult to know what the best mode for that is sometimes. I can't give money to EVERY homeless person I see, and I'm not sure that's desirable. The Al-Anon aspect about enabling comes into my head. I do love to be generous with the squirrels and the pigeons. The other day, a white-speckled pigeon flew onto my hand and ate nuts out of it. Awesome!

So, I am attempting to make myself available for contact with "my faerie godmother" or "godfather" as it were. According to Ted Andrews, there are fey male spirits, such as the salamanders or fire-faery. I wonder if the sylphs (air) manifest as androgynous. The gnomes (earth) also seem fairly masculine to me as well, while the undines (water) are definitely female. (Are there male undines and female gnomes and salamanders? Who am I to say, not having experienced any?)

I asked about a couple other things to manifest, and it appears I'm to manifest abundance in several places--Albany (NY), California, Colorado, North Dakota, and a place that seemed familiar from a dream I had but I don't really know where it is.

I talked with my friend Michael about the monetary situation touching us all, and he suggested that my inclination not to worry about that too much is right on. I share that because I still feel like there's a whole new burst of some amazing goodness coming our way. I feel this burgeoning excitement in my heart. I just want to share it with others who feel the same way and wonder how this too will manifest.

What is the world you want to create? Is there a way I can help? These are the questions to ask of myself and others.

Amazing articles on this website

http://www.awakeninthedream.com

I've been finding all sorts of commonalities with different individuals on the web, but this man's point-of-view is very close to my own. I don't know as much about Jung as other people do. But I'm somewhat familiar with his views on apocalypse, and I have been feeling that this whole aspect about the book of Revelation is meant to be metaphorical for the process of uncovering what is hidden on a person-by-person basis. Evidently, Jung spoke about there being a collective psychosis that could happen, and most likely this is what we are having to face in our present-day world.

On another note, I've been having the realization that I need to filter my mind at different points during my days, especially when I have unstructured time. My own veil between my own thoughts and those of random others has been flimsy of late, and I have had to constantly check myself and ask, "What am I feeling? Whose thoughts am I having, mine or some unspecified other's?" On Friday I was meditating and I received a very strong image of myself-as-someone-other-than-me putting a gun in "my" mouth and tasting the sweet metal, delighting in whatever waited me on the other side of the trigger. I snapped out of this bizarre reverie when I realized what "I" was thinking and pulled myself back from the experience. At that point, I had been 4 days away from my last day of work. Later, I walked through the park and got myself back on track, but I wasn't prepared to have those thoughts invade my mind. Hecate led me on a "mini-Bardo" journey the night before (yes on Thanksgiving, interesting eh?), and I was made aware of how sensitive I can be and how much I can take on before my head and heart start to feel dizzy and nauseous. Ick-for-millennia, dudles!

In this past week, I also had three significant dreams. In one, I was in a classroom with a famous person I will not name. She knew everyone in the room except for me and one other person, and she looked at me and was very curious about me. I felt very much affirmed and tres flattered. In the second dream, I was "home" in a place I feel I've seen before, but can't put my finger on where I have experienced this place before. There was a bridge across a body of water. The bridge was made of cement or stone, and had no visible guard railing. I turned into this town, which I felt was "Albany" and felt right at home. I was there with my Dad, and I was showing him around. Someone stopped us and asked for directions to the school, and I helped him out. The third dream involved my being at a fun party where everyone else there was younger than me. I saw my teacher Todd from Witch Camp there with his boyfriend, and I felt chagrin because I didn't want to see him just yet. There was another fellow there too who I knew was there, and I also didn't want to see him just yet. I felt something needed to have been done before I talked with either of these guys, that some project was unfinished.

My Tarot Cards for the past few days: Famous Person dream, The Fool; Thanksgiving, The Moon; Friday, 3 of Disks (productivity); Saturday, 10 of Wands (bearing the burden); today, 6 of Disks (goals).

Haven't posted any recipes in awhile

I realize that so much has been going on, I haven't really sat down and tried to create any new dishes. I've been mostly eating out or making my Lentil-bentilz. I did have that unusual meal with the eggs, squash, millet, apple and nuts. (Didn't work all that well, but maybe I'll have another go at some point.)

Right now, I guess as far as my food goes, I'm in a "comfortable groove." I'm not bored with my food at all. I feel pretty blessed, all things considered. I have pretty much the same breakfast every day, unless I'm meeting a friend. Then I switch my grain from 4-grain gluten-free cereal to brown rice and I switch my fat from 2T nuts to 2 strips of bacon.

For lunch, it's been mostly the lentil-bentilz or I go out. There's a wonderful restaurant on the next block from my home that serves generous veggie portions with 6 oz. of grilled salmon or chicken. (Mama's Food Shop also has mac&cheese and mashed potatoes, fried chicken and meatloaf for those who are not on restrictive diets, as well as some delicious desserts I can no longer tolerate.) And dinner has been a salad with cheese and either turkey or chickpeas, chicory and arugula for greens, and an assortment of mixed veggies. Squash with the apple, nuts and butter. A sugar-free jello cup. If I don't fix "brinner" I go to Odessa where I can also get generous portions of veggies.

I do feel a need to start experimenting more with chickpeas and perhaps corn and peas as well. It appears that life is about to get very difficult for a short period of time. And I wonder at my debt-level whether I'm in deep doo-doo or not. I have a sense that I will be going through some pain and suffering around the pain. The suffering will probably be reactive and disappear once I apply the principles of spirituality to the situation. Just in case, I've been slowly stocking up on canned chickpeas and vegetables. I probably should get a couple of cases together. With the way these people are running things, I wouldn't be surprised at the level of their short-sightedness. It's probably something now to consider about moving to the furthest northern reaches of Manhattan or the Bronx, even, just to be closer to more natural environs.)

I'll probably experiment with Hoppin' John and stuff like that. Black-eyed peas, cannelini, great Northerns, etc. I like beans, but I'll probably get tired of them at some point. Still, I'm very glad I have my abstinence, and I sometimes need to just write that out.

Another Burner Day Upcoming (Bummer-dude...)

Yes, I'm "getting my period" again. This is a One-Death cycle. I'm a 6 Death, which means that 5 days hence will be 6 Monkey. Crocodile, Monkey and Vulture are in a "family" of sorts, according to Mayan astrology. Every 65 days we get these wondrous periods, to be sure. The last time I "got my period" I was at Witchcamp, so I barely felt it, if at all. This time around, though--whew, boy!

Yesterday, I left work in a noncommittal mood. Neither up-nor-down. I got to a 12-step meeting, and I started to become seething for no reason. I still don't really understand completely what happened, though in talking to my best friend about it, the reason might have been other people's energies impacting my sensitivities. And I kept raising my hand, and kept on not getting picked to share, so I felt a bit miffed at that as well. It only deepened my valley of imploding biliousness. I started to think about that stupid Internet game "Alchemy" where you try to complete rows on a board by placing colored glyphs next to other glyphs that possess either the color or the glyph itself. When you can't place a glyph, you have to drop it into a cauldron where it turns into boiling blood.

My stomach was a cauldron of boiling bilious blood yesterday. I left the meeting in a sour mood, and I went to Tompkins Square Park and fed some squirrels, tried to talk to trees, but I felt a seriously decrepit energy even there. The trees did their best to salve me, but I couldn't even connect with the Woofers at the Dog Run. I came home, talked with a friend which helped, went to sleep, got up, had my talk with my best friend (his b-day was yesterday), and then I talked with yet another friend about it, who helped me understand what happened in yet another way.

Before the meeting, I had this image float through my head that the people who have the energy I want for myself had "ascended" and I was left behind with the "remedials." (Yes, I do have a big ol' baby-ego!) And when I left, I thought I should just cut-and-run from the group. In talking with my friends, I realized that yes, I do have wisdom to offer that makes others nervous. I often wonder that I'm crazy, and Michael told me not to question my sanity. Other people he regards as sane, to a person, all have said the exact same thing in the past week. (Amazing...) And so, I just need to be patient and wait for others to see they're having some of the same thoughts as me. "Then they'll see!"

Whatever.

It ties in with my Toltec Reading, actually. In the Spirit quarter, I got the Dog card, which indicates that I'm meant not so much to be a teacher as a peer to people who are learning about their modes of connecting to the Great Spirit. I'm more like an example rather than a teacher, perhaps a quiet leader like a seeing-eye dog, and I'm meant to be just as unsung. All right. I can find happiness in obscurity, I just know it!

Image that came to me

After reading some of the reports re: Fallujah, I decided I needed to journey to "Metaphorland"--don't know really what else to call it. I did that recently where the U.S. was concerned, and saw the different regional animal totems chafing under a red net that was fraying and near-to-falling apart. In this image about the world stage, I saw the red-webbing assembled into a human figure trying to stomp on a black snake. The snake was putting up a valiant fight, getting part of it stomped on, as another part of it rose up and feebly attempted to bite the attacker. I saw the other animal totems of the countries of the world standing near the fight, and at first I thought they were heart-sick over what was happening. The regional totems of these countries are indeed heart-sick. But I saw something else. I saw that same red webbing connecting all the countries together as well as to the attacker. The webbing seemed at first to emanate from what looked like "Israel," but I sensed that was a convenient node only. That the real source of it seemed to either be Switzerland or Britain. What was rather unnerving, though, was that the nexus of webbing that was in Britain lay rather close to more glowing energies that had a healing nature to them. I sense that these energies are getting stronger and are sending out loving, sparkling green-based energy. (Chlorophyll green, not "evil-chemical green.") The fraying energies in the U.S. are fast giving out. What fed them before no longer works, and for the moment, they are operating "on fumes." Still, the nexus in Britain and the other in Switzerland seem to be pumping out stuff really well, and a couple of these figures seem to be developing in other countries. I saw one near the Firebird of China and the Bear of Russia. I didn't think to look at India or Brazil, but I assume something is developing in both places as well.

Just thought I'd share. So much needs to be done, my friends. So much. But we must begin where we are at, wherever that may be...

Ancestors Part III; Mayan Calendar

For my last two days at the Ancestral Campfire, I met a "Governor's wife" and a Druid. The Governor's wife only introduced herself as Felicia, but she wanted to meet me. She was a rather quiet woman, but with a steely will. Carried herself with quite a bit of refinement, but under the frou-frou was a no-nonsense and controlling political wife, one very adept at putting diplomacy into her every move. Still, she confessed that her controlling side got in the way of her really kicking back and enjoying her life. She told me the story of having a big dinner for a dear friend of hers and she had wanted it to be just perfect. But the friend said that all that mattered to her was that Felicia was honoring the woman's birthday and that she had to release the reins of however this party went and know that everything would be fine. And after Felicia adjusted to the situation of loosening the grip on the party-planning and marshalling, she was actually able to have a good time for a change. She eased into a more natural way with parties after that.

The Druid was an opportunity to learn about sexual shamanism. He got right into that, actually and commented on my fantasies of having a life where I can go about my business skyclad ("my best outfit!") without worry of arrest or uproar. Diarmuid said that the sexual aspect was one element of his healing practice in his lifetime, and then he proceeded to work some of that astrally on me-at-the-campfire. Yes, the Druid just climbed onto me and sat on my astride, catching me up inside him in one elegant and slick moment. *PFLUNK* that was it! I feel there was some astral healing that took place there, and I feel like I was sent off from the Campfire for this year with "a bang" as it were! (tee-hee!) It's part of my path, and there's more stuff coming down the pike.

Yesterday, I was called by my personal pantheon first to bring all 9 of my deities into work with me, even "the Mystery God" who has yet to introduce himself. So last night I brought Cerridwen, Dian-y-Glas, Hermes, Hestia, Hecate, Odin, Freya, the Star Goddess and Mystery God with me. The funniest part of the escort was the deciding that they'd all come with me. It was when Hecate suggested I invite the Mystery God into the space that all the others decided they wanted to come. Cerridwen and Dian-y-Glas for their parts are sick of it. Odin's not thrilled, and Freya at first begged off. But then with MG, they were like "Oh, he's so much fun! When you know who he is, you'll understand." Great, guys! Make me feel good not knowing who he is yet.

While I was there, I was called on to do a reading. Each deity took my hand and rifled through my Tarot Deck and picked out a card. The reading itself, taken as a whole, seems to portend that I'm about to meet someone. It's like imminent, and I need to prepare myself. (Or not.) But I'll be called upon to Seize the Day and act with Authority in my everyday life and to approach my communications with stability crossed with dynamism--what I usually do anyway. When I meditated on each card, the respective deity clued me in as to why they selected the card they did. Except for Mystery God, who did "a penis dance" in my face and in my brain. (His cock turned into a real tool, flipping different switches in my brain tissue. I felt little lights go off, little synapses firing.) His card was what some regard as "the gay card," The Hierophant. So I take it that all this sex stuff is about to pay off. Maybe even this week. Cross your fingers, toes, and other appendages...

As to the Mayan Calendar, I needed to just say "get ready." According to Carl J. Calleman, we are about to enter into a year of momentous change as the energies shift from the Third Galactic Night to the Fourth Galactic Day. This period will mark the definite shift toward the transparent and the ethical, and this will totally unnerve the powers that be. Following the Fourth Galactic Day and Night the next year and the Fifth Galactic Day as well (?), we may see the real darkness emerge with the Fifth Galactic Night, which corresponds to the emergence of Hitler and the whole aspect of WW2 and the Holocaust. Just in time for the next presidential election. Interesting eh? Difficulties of great darkness will ensue--imagine the energies of the 20 year period of 1932-52 being compressed into one potent year. That's how fast time's speeded up! (In the cycle before the Planetary, where the demarcations were 20 year periods, they were more like 100 years, and before that, an even larger span.) We can see that western dominance will recede even more over the next two years, probably as the house-of-cards that is our economy tanks, and as more and more people see they don't have to live by the rules the overlords set out for us. Their desperation will become more and more apparent and they'll have a last gasp which could really portend the Armageddon scenario so many Red-Staters seem to long for. Who knows, though? Perhaps the forces of alignment will intervene? Hard to say--three years of intense progress could render that difficult. We shall see. In any case, we're in for an exciting ride.

Ancestors Part II

There will be one more part after this, the finish-up. Since November 8, I've met with Du-Wak, a Siberian shaman; Bill and Lois Wilson and Dr. Bob and Ann Smith and three AA's who survived WWII; Shakespeare, Beckett, Chekhov and Fassbinder; four different fellows from four different cultures of my blood ancestry but 100 years before their peoples became assimilated into the Civ-Borg; and Eliane from France, Josiah Cotten, Ben Franklin and John Winthrop. (In that reverse order.)

I met with Eliane, Josiah, Ben and John because I woke up Monday evening too tired to go to the Open Mic. I made a contract with them to look for another opportunity (didn't find one) or to go to the next one. I did find an unusual opportunity which I will avail myself of not this week, but next week. Out of the blue, a fellow I knew from my swing-shift days came up to me and said "Hi, where have you been?" Since I work the graveyard shift, my schedule needs extensive therapy. He told me about another open mic poetry night at the Bowery Poetry Club, which I will attend the Monday before Thxgiving--I'll be off that night!

Tuesday, I met with a Celt, a pre-Roman Italian, an Angle and a Swede. The 5 of us were all rather strange and stiff with one another. Cordial, but decidedly not a thrillsome group were we. The Celt and the Italian were both nude, though. They both proudly basked in their sexuality and I felt a slight undercurrent of jealousy in the Angle and the Swede. I got the impression all four of them were at least bisexual, with the Celt most decidedly more gay than straight.

Wednesday was Playwright night. Shakespeare and I get along really well. Fassbinder feels still a bit cynical and defended. Beckett seemed aloof and Chekhov was reticent--very Capricornian. Shakespeare of the four was the most garrulous and welcoming, and affirming of me as a talent in my own light, though one whose reputation will only be discovered well beyond my time in this form. I think it was at this session that Ben told me that I was a guide to him in his lifetime. He only met me twice, and both times I appeared to him as a 52-year old man. But I gave him valuable help both times. Strange that we would create a feedback loop like that.

Thursday, I met with the AA's and was that interesting! Bill W. said we are basically living in a "distribution camp" as opposed to a concentration camp. The fascist tendencies have osmosed outside of a death-camp model. If we live in certain address-zones it's as if we were in a concentrated fascist camp, but one with permeable boundaries. Interesting metaphor. Dr. Bob and Ann seemed very Al-Anon to me, they didn't say much. It was the 3 AA's who survived WW2 that interested me. And, true-to-AA-form, we got into a rather raucous discussion about something that had zilch to do with alcoholism--the hyping of the Greatest Generation. In the spirit of the 9th Step, the three guys, who identified themselves as Tom Colangelo, Joe Corbett and Frank (Sorry I can't remember his last name), did acknowledge their part in the mythologizing, but they insisted they were innocent about it. They didn't understand its function in the fascist discourse that has since metastasized through the culture. They pretty much fit the Susan Faludi Stiffed bill of things, working-class, no-nonsense, everyday joes who stood up and fought the good fight and succeeded, only to be treated with accolades and disrespect later. I needed to talk with them though, because I need to stay sober/abstinent and start becoming solvent too during these darkening times.

Last, but not least was Du-Wak, the Shaman. Scary looking guy. He carries himself that way on purpose for good reason. I showed no fear, however, and looked directly into his eyes which very much reminded me of doll's eyes. No blinking, straight-ahead stare. He bristled when I sent him the God-energy I do with people more and more these days. I talked with him because I needed to understand the energy behind an idea I had reading Gear & Gear's People of the Wolf of "calling the people" to action. It's not something anyone's been able to do though, because people's voices are very particular, and the still small voice needs to cut through a lot of chatter. Still, I feel there's a way to send out a call... Du-Wak and I promised we'd talk again. He also told me that he has encountered "my kind" before, that we're rare, and that while he was alive, he'd never met anyone like me before. Only since he was parted from his physical body has he met people like me. I need training and I need to find mentors and later, people to train and people to treat. I'm a certain kind of sexual, shamanic healer who needs to work a certain "chalice/blade" energetics.

Last night, I also met my friend Damien who told me some cool things about what's going on. I've been agonizing about the current situation, about what I'm supposed to do. Do I write letters to get Ohio's election (and all the other questionable ballotings) recounted? Do I just start to take actions to create the world I know we can all share in? Do I attempt to reach out to people who have not yet succumbed to the religious-crack-addictions out there? Damien told me that the Ancients are coming, that I've cleared the path for them to enter into my life and that they will surround me with all the inspiration I need. I'll know what to do, when they start to arrive. I think they already have, but I guess more are coming.

Ancestors

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

For some weird reason, I keep seeing the image of Charlie in the movie version (Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory that is), when he's deeply saddened that the fifth ticket to the factory was discovered in Argentina, and he goes to the corner shop to get a chocolate bar and on the way home, he hears the news that the Argentine ticket was fake. Fraudulent. And in shock, he's standing there with a chocolate bar in his hands and--dare he hope?--he opens it and discovers that he has indeed scarfed up the real fifth ticket.

I keep thinking of this image as regards the events of this week for some reason. I don't exactly know where it comes from. It feels different from mere wishful thinking. It feels significant to me energy-wise, like this is something that was definitely not meant to happen. Though it's interesting to me as well that "President Kerry" didn't feel right either. "Not-my-pResident" Bush definitely doesn't feel right, but what that's all about I guess we'll have to see.

Since the last post, I've drawn the Queen of Swords ("Lawgiver") and the Prince of Cups ("Dreamer") TWICE!! (Yesterday and today.) Wednesday I decided I'm a part of the resistance, whatever that is. And yesterday and today, I'm not exactly sure what the Dreamer is portending, though I'm reading Gear and Gear's People of the Wolf which is about Native Americans moving south through the Cordilleran Ice Sheet many, many moons ago. The main character is called "Wolf Dreamer" and he has a vision that's guiding him and his people. Perhaps this is a synchronicity, for I'm "seeing" little snatches of my future, and they involve both Bismarck, North Dakota AND Albany, New York. Though Sebastopol, California is also starting to make some impact, and there's that nagging West Virginia thing too. I'm not sure how it's all going to work. But I feel there's some guidance pushing me forward, outward, and that everything will really be all right. Really.

I have faith I've never ever had before. On the Prince of Cups card, the Dreamer holds out his cup and it receives a divine substance through a portal in the sky. Flying fish stream out of it and around him. The top of his body is flesh-tone, but his lower half is blue, and he stands in a pool of water inside a red lotus. Grounded in his emotions, he's connected to cosmic energy.

Let it be so. The images I have for community seem to be coming to fruition around me. Again, I don't really know how it's happening. Mystery and magic combine. I have faith, and it's rock-solid. Old stuff is just falling away. Somehow, I feel the whole jig is up and somehow I'm a part of it and somehow so is anyone who reads these words. (Give yourself a big hug, for me!)

More to come!

Day cards for 11/2 and 11/3

I decided to get a sense of the lay of the land for today and for tomorrow. Today's energies are represented by The Hanged Man (!) which I take to be that no matter what, no matter the feeling of suspended animation, we are all, everyone of us, right where we are supposed to be. Yes, we'll be on tenterhooks, and we won't know and we will want to. (Like duh!) The Hanged Man is calm, even peaceful in the midst of turmoil. Really, the landscape behind him is as flat and interesting as draperies. The man himself is much more intriguing, especially with a bone through his septum. The beam of light that holds him against the World Tree emanates from the top of the card, which pulses with starlight. The Goddess has us in her hands, and let us remind ourselves to open our hearts and all of our portals to the divine. We will know what to do next.

It's interesting to me that the card I drew would be so dead-on about the day's energies globally, and that it's what I personally have to work with. (This has happened with my day card before. When New York lost, defeat was in the air, and it was my card for the day.)

Tomorrow is the FASCINATING one: Knight of Cups. Lifeguard. There is an energy of saving others here, and perhaps saving ourselves. Many people will be "out-to-sea" and we will collectively be searching for our higher powers to bring a rescue to us. But folks, we are our own lifeguards. I just have to remind you all of that. There will be turbulence, there will be those who flounder about and many may find themselves submerged in the waters of chaos. If we can help one another, by all means offer lifelines and such. But not at our own expense. These are initial impressions. But I'm feeling a pulse of Neptune going on here, Neptune and the Moon both. The Hanged Man is the Neptune card, and Knight of Cups can either be all water signs or Cancer usually. There's a watery influence to be observed here. I sincerely do not believe it means that a Cancer (i.e., W) will win the election. I see it more as a general influence that portends lots of emotion and we will struggle to keep our heads "above the waters." I will probably add to this as the day goes on.

Get out and vote. Do your part and pray. Cast spells of fairness and scrupulousness. Commune with warrior ancestors. There's lots to do ahead...

Samhain, Election Tarot Reading, thoughts

I co-priestessed a Samhain ritual on Saturday. Rituals really make me feel good. I had a good time planning it and leading the induction into the trance. Since I was doing this for pretty much the first time, there were things that I needed to rethink. Logistical errors that beginners make, sort of thing. But it was a deep and meaningful ritual, and I have been given an assignment by my guides (one of whom is Ben Franklin--been working with Benzel for over 13 years!) to sit at the ancestral campfire in meditation for the next fifteen days. I talked a bit with my maternal grandma and grandpa. Saw my dad's folks on another log toward the front of the fire, and I'll probably see other relatives who've crossed over. There were tons of people to talk to, some of whom were my "spiritual ancestors" and "soul ancestors" as well as the blood relations. I sense a lot of wisdom to be coming my way.

My great-grandmother Rose Dion Maxson was the one who spoke with me the longest though. She's a deeply earth-connected spirit whose energy still emanates in Devils Lake. I had an illuminating conversation with her about the magic of working one's blood into a place. I don't exactly know what she did about that, but I sense it's probably got a literalness quotient involved. Menstrual cycles and what-not, I imagine, adding to one's ties to a place. I'm curious to see how it evolves, this talk with the ancestors. And I'm curious about how a couple of desires will unfold over the coming year.

My card for the year was The Chariot from the Cosmic Tribe deck. http://www.stevee.com/pages/t.fs.html (click on "images" then "Major", then the number 7--Chariot is the 7th Major Arcana for a gander). Sense this year will see my connection to the various worlds I shuttle between taking a greater role in guiding the vehicle of this body. I will be working with some astral energies to manifest some dreams. Right now, those dreams include:

1. A healthy, loving, adorable, sexy partner (or more than one if my karma demands it!)
2. A plot of land in North Dakota while I keep my apartment in New York which becomes more fabulous with each passing day.
3. A lucrative outlet for my massive creativity that sustains and serves as I express the numinous connections to these other worlds.
4. The healing of "my spending wound" so that I may channel my finances and energies and tiem into pursuits more worthy of my investment.

****

On the topic of the Election, I threw a tarot reading using the ultra-busy Voyager deck. From the reading, I got the sense that Kerry would ultimately prevail, but there would be anger fueling the energy streams after the election. Somehow being connected to both earthly and cosmic energy contributes a solidity to the need to change our ways of being. The election and its aftermath will see a beginning of a more deeply spiritual and connected mode of existence on planet earth, but it won't go off without a hitch. Still, it's our responsibility to take the natural anger we feel and use it as fuel, not as a destructive force, but a force for transformation and healing. The planets and the stars and the earth itself are really in charge, and it's up to each one of us to divine within what the nature of our actions is to be in the next few days. I'm confident that Ben and other ancestors will be giving me directions to follow. Curiously, I'm re-reading Harry Potter 5 again for the 5th time! (I've read the other four 7 times a piece.) Lots of examples of standing up to the abuse of authority to follow there. I'll be moving in that direction I feel. As will tens (hundreds?) of thousands of others, here in New York alone I imagine.

One last item: I heard out-of-the-blue from an old friend who I thought was mad at me. Turns out he thought I was mad at him--this has happened before between us. We're going to have to have a talk about that, but it was amazing to hear from him and share with him what was going on in my life. Turns out he's on a similar path re: mediumship. I've been deepening my awareness of other worlds and working with guides, and now come to discover Damian has too. Wildness abounds!

Still haven't felt like posting much.

I take it this is only a short phase I'm going through, but I just don't seem to have a lot of interest in spewing my thoughts out. It's not like I don't think I have any thought to share. I'll share this much: I really have come to see that everyone on this planet has a lesson to teach, even if a goodly chunk of Americans seem to be in thrall to some sickness called "Republicanism." All of the individuals I've met who are either confused about who to vote for or who are damn sure they're voting for the pResident Select seem ill-in-the-head to me, the same way my dad was both when he was dry and when he drank. They remind me so much of my father, actually. I seem to have been able to turn the corner about that, and it might have something to do with seeing my Mom turn the corner regarding my being gay. There's a lot that's happened in the past few months, and I really should be sharing it with whoever wishes to listen. But I've been rather mesmerized by Dian-y-Glas (pronounced "John-ee-gloss" from what I gather) and Cerridwen in their interactions with me.

When you're entertaining Gods and Goddesses, it's a bit of of a comedown to try and gather my thoughts for a blog. Not that it's easy--Cerridwen has me returning to a script I started to write before I started working legal. I re-read it and saw that I've really changed as a person and as a writer, but that even when I was in the throes of my addiction, I could tap into tear-provoking anguish. There were snatches of Mutable Grand Cross which I couldn't believe I wrote. And some of the best material was in the script I thought had the most problems! Interesting. (Cerridwen and Dian-y-Glas both forbid me from reading the first segment of MGC. I think I understand why.)

Anyway, that's a little teaser of what's going on. More will come eventually, but I think I'll probably have to put it together bit by bit.

Slog slog slog

Life's been interesting the past few days. I've been drawing a Tarot Card each day, as a means of putting my finger in the flow of life to see what energies are around me. The card that keeps coming up is the 7 of Swords, which is a card about deceit. For me, it seems to be about having to deal with all these mewling voices seeking to "get" something, if not from me, from someone, something outside themselves. Today's card is The Hanged Man. In a walking meditation to work tonight, Hermes and Hestia told me I needed to hold on and trust them through the next patch. Cerridwen, Dian-y-Glas and of all goddesses Hecate appeared to bind their energies into the contract for good measure.

It's October. The election, if it's really to happen, is about 3 weeks away. This is a damn good time for some "surprise" that's really no surprise to occur. I have become recently aware of how many unhinged people there are around me. I do work occasionally with one of them, but I also sense there are "unhinged" individuals who are ostensibly on my side of things as well. I'm not talking so much about other Pagans, though I'm positive they exist. Just looking at my own curious brand of sanity/insanity, I know most of us are "Edge-dancers," and sometimes we slice ourselves up on that razor blade of reality. Amongst activist types in general, there's a bit of extremity. But there's also calculation and reason as well. I hope I can find myself in the places where reason and action coalesce, where magical transformation has a real benefit.

All I can say is I think something's to happen this week. My card for the day is The Hanged Man, and the card for yesterday was The Chariot. I've had quite a few major arcana since October 1, when I drew the Moon. All of them seem to indicate that it's important to keep centered through whatever is to come next. The Hanged Man tells me that I can still find luxury and joy in my experience, no matter what it is. There's so many possibilities, I don't know what's to happen just yet. Though when it does, I have the curious premonition I'll be saying "Oh, of course! Why didn't I think of that? But it's still not going to work." (I'll be amongst the many people out there aspecting Hermione Granger, donchaknow.)

I'll be thinking of you. I wish you luck, and in the spirit of my recognizing the Goddess in you, I feel you wish it back to me.

We are all one.

The Goddess and the God work in mysterious ways

When I was on the plane coming into Newark Airport, I felt a deep disquiet about returning to New York. Thankfully that has all left me, I'm happy to be here now. But I had to go through a number of beautiful, challenging experiences to get to this place. One of those took place 30,000 feet in the air.

In those last two hours I was flying from Denver to Newark, I felt I needed to calm myself down. I was concerned that with the pResident Select speaking in New York, it would be too tempting an opportunity for a terror attack on the City Many People Hate. Also, I needed to prepare myself for that feeling of torpor and despair I knew would have a grip on the place I live. The Republicunts basically invaded New York, and occupied the town, laying economic and cultural waste in their path. I could feel the pall in the air even over Chicago.

So I meditated on the plane, and in that meditation, I was alerted to a shocking fact, that the spirit I've been working with who referred to herself as Karburown, the Steward of the Mountain of Playwriting, is actually the goddess Cerridwen. She sent me on a further meditative journey that I won't go into here. But I've been reading a bunch of info about Cerridwen and understanding that I've always been somehow connected to her. She gave me a magickal name to use--Frostwolf Cerridwens, was what I used as a placeholder until I learned more about Cerridwen. I found out that Taliesin, the great Celtic bard, was her son in a story rather reminiscent of the birth of Athena. Like Athena, Taliesin is a god of creativity but is also one of bardic inspiration. One of Taliesin's titles however was Cerrdorion which means "son of Cerridwen." So I worked out the optimal numerology of the name. Frostwolff Kerrdorion works out the best--the second f in Frostwolff makes the whole name a 6 which harmonizes the 4 of my birth name and the 9 of my birthday.

I also had another experience recently with a God of my understanding. www.faerywolf.com has a shrine to the Blue God of the Feri Tradition. Since I got back from New York Witch Camp, I've been ravenous for information about paganism. Up in Copake, I found a family I never knew I had. It was a similar experience to when I went to North Dakota for my grandmother's funeral. There I met blood-family members I never knew before, and felt profoundly welcomed. I also feel there's something very special about the land on which my folks live, some primal maternal energy that probably goes back a couple of generations, or perhaps the land sits on some ley lines as does the New York State Capitol.

Well, one of my web-forays led me to Faerywolf's site, which is amazing for any and all queer pagans to take a gander at. His essay about the Amethyst Pentacle has made for some interesting meditations and awareness of where I am on my path as of this moment. When I got to his Shrine to the Blue God however, I burst into tears. The only way I can describe it is that, in putting together the various pieces of the jigsaw of my life, I have this one section of pieces that I've been slowly amassing with the one blue color over in one corner, and with this shrine page, I found the lynch-pieces that unified all those others together, and was able to plop a whole part of the mosaic into place.

There's even more to the story than this, it keeps unfolding. The Blue God, also referred to as Dian-y-Glas in Feri (and Malek Taus by the Yezidi), has been appearing in dreams and in various guises in my everyday life. So has Cerridwen in her own way. I try to commune with them a couple times a day now, though they get irritated with me if I try to do so when I'm coming in to work. I've been sending that out to either the three H's--Hermes, Hestia and Hephaestus--or to the more general positive powers of the Universe. (It's all right if I'm at work to commune with C and D, just not in transit.) I'm so glad to have discovered that I've been walking in their soft moon-and-starlight all my life long. They've communicated their love to me even through the blue Christmas lights my Mom put on the tree each year when I was growing up.

All this and the Grand Quintiles of October too! What a blessed world!

Re-entry mostly achieved

Vacations are over now

I'm back, but still not quite completely all here yet. I underwent a real transformation in Copake, New York over the last week. My friends Vajra & Rose told me I'd leave the NY Witch Camp a different person, and they were right. I've left more stuff behind, and I'm willing to pick up more stuff.

My "magical name" I discovered on the plane trip back from North Dakota, actually. I was feeling quite apprehensive about the trip itself, wondering if there'd be some sort of attack on New York during the Republicuntvention. It seemed to be a real possibility, so I went into a meditation that became a trance, guided by none other than Cerridwen herself. She gave me my name then--"Frostwolff Kerrdorion" (the second name is Welsh for "Son of Cerridwen" though with a slight variation in spelling.)

So I introduced myself as "Frostwolff" at the Witchcamp. I have discovered more family members here, my spirit/soul family as opposed to my blood family. There were all these people whose energy I thoroughly enjoyed, and they reciprocated with such love and attention. I found myself really slowing down to take people in. I had an opportunity to start to heal my sexuality through this experience as well, and I even performed a piece I'd written a long time ago at the Talent Show.

I'm still processing this whole wondrous experience I just went through. I'm at work as I type these words, but a part of me is still "between the worlds," longing to be in connection with my family again. I developed crushes on men and women both (!) and I will be co-priestessing an Autumn Equinox ritual on Saturday at Vajra & Rose's place uptown. At one of the evening rituals, I got to devoke fire. "Crackle, crackle, fire burn, thanks to transform our concern/Blacken, blacken, cinder, ash, now please bless for us our trash!/Hail fire and farewell!" Some of my trickster energy came out in Copake, needless to say.

So. Today I sit at my computer terminal with a piece of black tourmaline on top of the monitor for protection. I'm wearing a fluorite crystal pendant which I was instructed to acquire by the spirit of Devils Lake herself. (I found it today at a store on Christopher Street.) I'm also wearing the saffron bands that were presented to me as part of one of the rituals. I am also wearing a bracelet I bought at the Witchcamp. It consists of amethyst and fluorite beads as well as a pearl, a moonstone, an onyx, a jasper, a couple of garnets and a chip of ruby even. I'm doing my best to take the experience out into the world and to see how my transformed self interacts with others. It's still too soon to tell as of yet.

Today is also the day I switch back to my night schedule. I wonder for how long this will last. It feels like a lot is shifting all around us. I'm going to try to reserve a spot for myself at the Winter Witchcamp in Minnesota, which will follow some of the myths of the Norse goddess Freya. Again I look forward to that. It's all a part of whatever transformation is to take place.

More will be revealed. Details forthcoming!

Back from NoDak

Had a wondrous time out on the prairie. One sad note: They really don't get a lot of good news out there. All of it is pretty much on the tube, and I certainly don't trust anything there. That aspect of the trip was sobering.

I will have more on my trip later. All in all it was a good one. I came back tanned, relaxed, and contemplating a possible move to Bismarck, even! I actually liked that place! Weirdness aboundeth!

Two more links

The first one is the latest alert from Karen Bishop. The second (referred to in the column) answers something inside me, the same thing that Big Eden answered.

http://whatsuponplanetearth.com/latest.html

http://whatsuponplanetearth.com/ViewOfTheNewWorld.html

In any case, I'm conscious today of the necessity to put my energy into the positive. I do focus on the negative so much, and perhaps its because I care. Perhaps it's because I see how we are all connected, and that I don't see it as idealism to try to ameliorate the effects of my actions and so make the decision to choose differently so that others may benefit. When I see people I care about and adore making choices based on fear and a willful murkiness that occludes their own hearts' connections to others, I feel pain, but I also know from my Al-Anon work that I can't live their lives for them, I can't make their choices.

No more than I can tell the ocean to "Stop being wet, for godssakes!"

So the choice I make for today--because tomorrow I might wake up in a dark mood--is to try to add only positivity into the equation of my life. And today's an especially good day for it because I am switching from my worknight schedule to my dayplay schedule. As of 6:30 a.m. I'll be on vacation! (It'll be at about that time I have my lunch, having eaten my "deakfast" at 10 p.m. last night. In switching my body clock, I need to stay up 24 hours, spacing my meals about 8ish hours apart.) If circumstances around us all change in the next week, as they well may, I might find myself "stuck" in NoDak. Well, worse things could happen, I suppose. But maybe that's as it is supposed to be. I accede and accustom myself to Gaia's will for me.

I strive to have no expectations, and I strive to also not be disappointed should nothing occur in the next week. I must admit there's a part of me that wants something to happen. But if it does it does and if it doesn't it doesn't. I pray that violence is minimal and that truth has its day. We all have to get honest now, no matter how painful it may be. Better to feel some pain and awkwardness now, rather than a whole lot of suffering down the line. In piecing together my 8th Step, I see that I have a lot of pain to wade through, but that I've saved myself a lot more down the pike. I've gotten off a couple of the merry-go-rounds that have kept me mesmerized on a central pole. I sense I'm still on a couple of them, but they're no longer working the same way. I know too much. Yes, I'm very curious how all this will unfold.

I might not get a chance to post much in the next 10 days or so. My parents sent their laptop to my sister, and I don't know that they replaced it. I have my doubts. But if I get a chance to post something I shall.

Ruptures/Raptures

I'll get back to the Grand Jury characterizations soon. I think. I have really mixed feelings about it, but I see that there's some potency regarding power here, more specifically in the linking with corporate power with white thinking and the illogical leap that if one thinks critically of corporations then one must somehow be other-than-white. It's an intriguing direction that I accidentally stumbled upon in talking with a coworker who is African-American and is constantly seeing her observations be conflated with a racial bias. It's a strategy to keep people in denial, I think, and when white folks say the same things, it really rankles those whose denial is three parkas thick. It explains why, when I once said to my brother-the-cracker that I worried about the direction of the country because I thought we needed to rein in the corporations, he said "I think black people get what they deserve." I thought it was a non-sequitur, but now I see it's a conditioned response, and ultimately the racial aspect is an inept sort of window-dressing on the whole Empire having no Clothes to put over its necrotic, wheezy body-without-organs.

Enough of that for the moment.

I wanted actually to write about the upcoming election and my fears, get them off my chest. I need to acknowledge that I'm projecting into the future and that my projections hopefully are wrong. Mercifully I hope they are wrong. But where I sit today is inside an expectation of violence in some form to emanate from the Republicuntvention in New York. I felt months ago that I needed to get out of the city, and lately I've been wondering if I shouldn't also take my Kitzelbitzel with me to NoDak. I wrote about that yesterday. It might be silly, but I'd rather have my cat be safe than sorry. I still haven't decided, I have a few days yet. I have a friend who's ready to look in on the animal, but I think it might be a better thing to have the cat stay with a friend at least.

It's the form of the violence that I wonder about now. There won't be a North vs. South or Rich vs. Poor Civil War going on. The violence I fear will be undifferentiated, a little like the bizarro sequence at the end of Stephen King's Needful Things where the evil man breezes into town and short-circuits various individuals to one another to lead to all these individual life-and-death struggles between two people, most of which end in the deaths of both persons. I see that I'm being manipulated--I even think I need to stop listening to Air America for the time being, no matter how much I might agree with Al, Kathryn, Rachel, Chuck D, Liz, Randi, etc. The thought came to me that I might be as vulnerable to manipulation von der linken wie von der rechten when I heard an advertisement for a study regarding shift-workers such as myself, who might have difficulty sleeping.

Like most shift-workers, guess what? I have trouble sleeping! Is it a disease I have, as the study seems to project? I have a different kind of answer to that: It is a socioeconomic disease, not a physical one, that is causing the problem. The disease involves the idea that some individuals think they must have 24-hour access to . . . . EVERYTHING! It's the disease of greed ultimately that is the cause of shift-workers' insomnia. Outside of a few unusual people who naturally have a nocturnal rhythm rather than a diurnal one, people are generally diurnal. It isn't a disease to have difficulty going against one's essential nature, O Wise Scientists, and to foist the idea that we are somehow "sick" because we are going against our natural rhythm and having a problem getting what we need reflects a deeply obtuse and out-of-it viewpoint.

There are other ads on AAR about driving drunk and speeding, and they also help to ratchet up the fear factor. I've wondered if they aren't parodies, but its probably that they're a commercial enterprise and they're happy to get whatever ads they can. Still, I can't stand those ads and I wish they'd dispense with advertising in general. I think I'll either go back to my classical station to be the bringer of wakefulness or better yet, return to an old-fashioned ringing alarm clock. (Welcome to 1904! Ah, technology...)

Nonetheless my fears have gotten me to think about the nature of the violence that surrounds us all. It is an undifferentiated miasma permeating our entire culture. It seems that most people have at least one specific group they're afraid of. Speaking for myself, it's angry born-again Christian rage-aholics. There are others who spark fears and rage inside me as well, but these are of course at the top of the list. I have this dawning awareness about rage vs. anger. I have more hope when I feel angry, but when I'm in rage that's all I see. It clouds my thinking to total disruption and distortion. I can't see what's real. It's a drug. This drug affects and addicts people across the political spectrum. I'm sure there are even "wild-eyed moderates" though that might sound like a contradiction in terms. I forget which Greek philosopher said it though--"Everything in moderation, including moderation." ("Hi, I'm Jenny and I'm a modera-holic. Don't go extreme on my ass, or I'll cut you!")

It feels like there's a whole lot of victimhood going on, on all sides to me. Right now, we see the real pros at victimhood-- poor little rich cunts, persecuted dominating Christofascists, whiny arrogant neocuntservatives-- having a field day with their "poor me, poor me, pour me a drink, Jeeves"ism. (And make sure that it's exactly like Cunty-Cunt likes it, Jeeves! He's been slaving at the Excel Spreadsheet for ten whole minutes!) There's so much resentment, it feels like spirituality has left the city. The resentment escalates left-right-moderate-left-right-moderate, and also paternal-maternal-humor-paternal-maternal-humor and other sorts of escalations going on. No wonder I want to get to the flat windy plains of NoDak.

I'm only speculating, but I see all sorts of scenarios taking place re: our violent near future. The potential for all sorts of mass murder takes the breath away. We have been a nation locked in a civil war for I don't know how long. There have been the long stretches of years where we've been able to play at getting along, and we look at our attempts to jerry-rig other nationalities into "workable nations" (Iraq? Yugoslavia anyone?), when we ourselves have only barely been able to withstand one another. It seems our schicksals are coming home to roost, but I don't know what the process will be. Anyone care to guess? Personal combat nationwide perhaps? World Wide Wrestling Federation meets Howitzers? I don't know. I feel scared, but I try to remember that Gaia's already decided all our fates. We will enter into them whether we want to or not.

Fear and Dreams

I'm living inside the police state, basically. I work across the street from Citigroup (the epicenter of evil???). I have to open my bag every time I get to work for the bored and over-dressed security guards (suitcoats on humid summer days, poor dears) and pass police cars diagonally parked in "ostentatious-paranoia-inducing-'emergency'" (OPIE) mode. The whole thing around these turdor alerts seems pretty OPIE-dopey if you ask me.

It's having an effect however. Yesterday, I meditated for a little bit, but I fell asleep. In that unusual sleep-mode, I had a dream where I was at a friend's place and we were complaining about our irradiated produce. He had a cabbage that kept growing and growing and elongating along the way, while I had a turnip that sprouted tentacles and berries!

I've had dreams that have been scary portents before, even a couple that have involved the corner of 53rd and Lex. In one, I dreamt New York was being attacked by aliens. In another, I dreamt that 3 of my co-workers were being arrested right out in front of the building. These dreams were from a couple of years ago, but I wouldn't be surprised if they actually were premonitions of things to come. Interestingly, in the arrested co-worker dream, I had the sense I was long-gone from the scene. In the alien-attack dream, I eventually made it home where my block was being attacked by our own guys, it felt like. Every third building was being bombed, and each building to the left of the bombed ones was being overrun by soldiers. I decided to head North-by-Northeast in the dream. (Albany??? Interesting.)

I know in my heart of hearts that I'm all right, that we are all just fine. But my child-self gets a little afraid, now a lot more. There's also the whole aspect of my parents' aging. I've been thinking about my near future and my further future, though it's difficult to think of the latter as I feel we are already in Philip K. Dick overdrive as far as necriferous empire goes. Near-term I can imagine myself in Devils Lake, NoDak taking care of my parents as they get on in years. I'm the logical candidate of my parents' children to be caregiver, and sometimes I feel scared of that and other times I embrace it. It's difficult to imagine myself out in Lawrence-Welk-Land, eking out some sort of existence amongst the elderly Scandinavian farmer set. I think I'd have some support, from uncles and extended family and what-not, and who knows? I might even find people who'd genuinely welcome their oddball Manhattan-fancy-ass gay IV-LEEEEEEG edjumicated cousin/nephew. (Golly!)

And I can see that I'd like it out there, sorta. At least I'd like the ability to meditate and to get to know myself on a deeper level, even though I suspect I'd grow quickly bored. But I don't need to prejudge my experience before I have it, and I don't need to create a negative expectation either.

Of course these thoughts occupy my headspace as I get ready to head out there, but I have to remind myself It's only for a week. What could go wrong? (Even with the aforementioned fear scenarios, I wonder if I ought not take my Kitzelbitzel with me, and prepare for the worst re: NYC's temporary attractiveness to authentic terrorists during this Republicuntvention upcoming.) (My cat would drive my folks crazy, but I'd have him, just in case.)

I have a sense I'm being led, and that everything is really all right. Plus Canada is only 90 miles away. There's clearly hope...

Haven't posted for awhile

Take a look at this link:
http://whatsuponplanetearth.com/latest.html

It explains some things. I like logging into Karen's website for these Energy Updates. While I don't know what's coming up in this world, I think we can safely say that it is getting mighty strange out there. I'm heading to North Dakota for a week to avoid the Republicuntvention. (Where are they going to store all those coffins for Undead Week I wonder? I assume the Carlyle Hotel is a good place to start!)

I won't be posting for awhile when I get there. At least I don't think I will--my folks don't have a computer anymore, having shipped their laptop to my sister. (I will be taking pictures.)

Grand Jury's Over!

Thank Gaia!

Another characterization: "Good morning, Mr. Morell, would you state your name, shield number and precinct for the record."

"Officer Morell, Shield # 92323, Precinct 5a(1)"

"And what do you do in the 5a(1) Precinct?"

"Anticrime Unit. I canvass the area in plainclothes, looking out for criminal acts or trying to prevent them from happening."

"And you were working on the day of August 17th, 2004?"

"Yes I was."

"And were you working that afternoon, around 3 p.m.?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"And did you have the opportunity to apprehend someone at that time?"

"Yes I did."

"And what was the name of that individual?"

"Richard Dencktnicht."

"And what circumstances led up to the arrest?"

"I was called to a Bodega at 1-1/2 Avenue B, where a robbery had taken place. My partner and I got there and talked to the manager--"

"That would be Ms. Richard-Sellers?"

"That is correct. She said she had been robbed and attacked. She looked like she had been hit in the face and complained about a loose tooth."

"Were the EMTs called?"

"Yes, someone had done that."

"And were there other people in the store?"

"There was one fellow, a Mr. Richard-Salem, who had quietly witnessed what had happened from the back."

"And did you ask Mr. Richard-Salem to help you find the perpetrator?"

"Yes, we did. We got in the control car and we started to canvass the area and--"

"Sorry to interrupt, but would you explain what 'canvass' means?"

"Sure. Canvassing is searching the vicinity of a crime for a suspect. Mr. Richard-Salem was in the car with us, and near the Hamilton Fish Library--"

"That is on Pitt Street?"

"Yes. He spotted the suspect. My partner and I pulled up near to Mr. Dencktnicht and announced ourselves and he started to run. I gave chase, and we turned onto 9th Street. My partner got to him first and he fell to the floor. He moved his arms all around and kicked and thrashed about. I got one of his arms in a cuff, but he put his other arm under his back and refused to allow us to apprehend him. After a few minutes of this, we cuffed him and took him to the Precinct."

"And did Ms. Richard-Sellers later have the opportunity to see Mr. Dencktnicht in police custody?"

"Yes she did."

"I have no further questions for the witness."

Subtext of Officer Morell: Argh! My day off and I have to come into the Grand Jury and testify! Bastard Dencktnicht! Better get an indictment's all I can say. Well, these people look mostly regular, though I can see the black woman doesn't believe a word I say. Too bad. I'm only trying to help. Though I think they deserve all that they get. They don't fool me, these people. In fact, I don't like a lot of the people here. The foreman seems OK. Reminds me of Father Richard O'Malley at Our Lady of Perpetual Backdraft. Nice fellow--too bad about the altar boys."

(Maybe more to come later. All this was made up sort of. The case details were, certainly. White cops seem to be fairly generic to me, alas. I'm merging a whole bunch of fellows together into one. But there will be other sorts of cops and ADAs and even jury members to come...)

Last Day Grand Jury

At long last, my month in this purgatory is over! I'm looking forward to trying to get back to my summer schedule, just in time for my sojourn in Dakota Norte to begin sometime next week. I haven't booked my flight yet, but once I do this I will be oh-so-happy to get out of Mussolini-ville for a glorious, stress-reduced week.

Now that I'm in my last day of this difficult month, I'm looking back over the slow slide into isolation and impotent rage that I allowed into my life. It's tough to expose myself to that consistently angry and repressed energy embodied in our police and legal systems. I think I wrote about the two angriest cops whose energies I've been witness to--both worked for financial institutions. The other jurors I have had the most problems with also work for financial institutions, interestingly enough. (They wouldn't know that I had problems with them--is that to my credit or detriment? Sometimes I can't tell when I'm working good Al-Anon or just being codependently wimpy.)

Others remind me that all of these other people are me--the ADAs with their varying degrees of competence, repression and despair, the uptight cops, the mostly unseen accuseds, the witnesses, the jurors and the wardens. The employees of the court. In a way I've been both participant in and audience member for, a parade of characters each of whom is me. I am Richard the ADA who populates his prattle with "ers" and "ums", I am the enraged, red-faced Irish cop who answers all of his questions concisely and with venom, I am the easygoing, baby-faced warden who's engaged to marry one of the court reporters, I am the Texas-born, Virginia-raised white-collar criminal--I mean banker who serves on the jury and votes to indict on every single case, I am the gay psychotherapist serving as secretary for the proceedings who secretly wishes he was a white-collar criminal and so forth.

How accurate all this is really has no bearing--it's all about my perceptions and judgments, and that is what I've been having to confront with the most unease and discouragement: my ease with making judgments. "The more one judges, the less one loves" reads a t-shirt that I used to wear when it was thinkable for me to wear size 3X. I sort of wish I had the courage to put that t-shirt on and wear it to the grand jury room, but I never dared to be so spiritual so brazenly in all this time. (And would it really have been spiritual to try to show people up in such a way? Still, it might have been interesting to get someone to film the reactions of others to reading my t-shirt in such an environment. Talk about drama!)

So I'll probably populate some of this blog now with some of these pithy observations about the different versions of myself, as per a suggestion made by a good friend. Here's the first:

"Hi, I'm Richard Chitra Bombay, and I'm an assistant district attorney for the county of New York. I'm here to present several charges against Richard African-American Defendant. On the charge of criminal possession of a controlled substance in the third degree, New York Penal Code ___.__ subsection __ under the theory that the defendant possessed a narcotic with the intent to sell, and I'm charging you with the count of criminal possession of a controlled substance in the fifth degree Penal Code ___.__ subsection __ under the theory that the defendant possessed more than 1/8 of an ounce of a narcotic, and also criminal possession of a controlled substance in the seventh degree under the theory that Richard African-American Defendant possessed a controlled substance, and I'm also charging you with criminal possession of a weapon in the third degree under the theory that the defendant possessed a firearm that has been defaced. I will have two witnesses before you today, and now I'll bring in the first witness, Richard White-Plainclothes-One."

My vision of Richard Chitra's subtext: "I'm a great ADA. I don't exactly love this job, but I'm going places all right. It doesn't hurt that I'm a cute person of color in a society that is dominated by all notions of color. Even New York City pays attention to color, and I can see as an Indian woman that I have a leg up on most of the other minorities here. It is interesting to note however, that the racial element is losing force. It all comes down to how we represent ourselves. I may some day see some Punjabi boy gangbanger on the other side of the court, and I'm sure I'll wonder how he got that way, how the parents were involved, etc. But there's a good reason that jobs from here are being shipped to Bangalore and Lahore. It's because of our work ethic. I really don't like agreeing with Dinesh D'Souza--"Distort DaNewza" some Dartmouth friends said about him--but my observation does bear him out a little. Though it's not as much racial as it is about how these near-destitute people can't back up and see the whole picture. I don't know if they're incapable or if they just don't have the tools or if they're just plain lazy--maybe a combination of all three. I talk with Richard LaQueisha J.D. Washington, Esq. and Richard Marianne Jean-Veniste about the black defendants and the victims too, and they have an even more jaundiced viewpoint. I don't really know what to think, but hey, I've got a job and pretty good security with it. I don't doubt I'd have a harder time if I lived in Selma, Alabama or Tucson even. But even so, if all these drug cases keep coming in, I'll be set for quite a while. That feels good."

Note: I do have a specific person in mind with this characterization, though I don't think she represented any cases like the one I have pieced together. The case itself is a compilation of several different kinds of cases I have heard. The subtext section is just my musing about "Richard-Chitra" based on my own internal temperature and texture as it responds to the information she presented to the "Richard Foreman." (Hilarious! There Really is a Playwright with that name--he won a Macarthur Fellowship even, and runs the St. Mark's Ontologic-Hysterical Theater on St. Mark's Place in the East Village!) How "true" is it? I don't know. I'm putting out my perceptions just to say "Given the information of what I've seen of this person, and she's one of the four or five I've seen on a couple of different cases--this is what I perceive may be going on behind the lenses of her eyes, in her soul. Again, not to judge, just to bring my perceptions out and say this is what I see and nothing else but."

Remember. Even though a real person inspired this, "Richard Chitra" is another me. As I am another you.

Just Being Human

Some days just suck. Warning: This is not a happy post. I'm putting this on my blog because I need to let people in on what's going on in my head right now. I need to express myself a bit.

Or rather, I find myself in a sucky mood, and I can't seem to dig myself out of it. I know the things that will help me--reaching out to others, trying to be of service, making some plans and what not. And I have to cut myself some slack I guess, because of this F***ing grand jury service. (I took yesterday off and boy did I notice a shift in my energy! Only one more f'in' day left thank Gaia!)

I've been isolating. I've not been taking very good care of myself--two nights ago was the first time I went to a movie in almost a month. I've also not been a participant in the civil war that's going on outside my window. Yes, we are in a civil war, whether we want to realize it or not. It's not a civil war between regions however, but one between those who wish to live in a friendly universe vs. those who clutch onto living in a hostile universe. I find myself in a liminal space, between the two. God, it's arduous work to move from the hostile to the friendly! I get to be too hard on myself--today I was "complaining" to another person who helped me to fetch myself up short and realize the disease of civilization was talking through me, wanting me to judge myself for having a rough time.

It's tough for me to sit in on these cases where I get to see people being mean to each other, where I get to expose myself to uniformed/plain-clothes officers who are really sanctioned criminals IMHO, getting their jollies off of further victimizing the unchanced and the unschooled in favor of the unprincipled and the immoderate elegant thugs operating at an eagle's remove from all of the muck. I saw two thug-corporate-cop-cunts on one case, safeguarding the interests of a couple cuntorate vampires, and I immediately wished these two fellows had their heads separated from their bodies. They carried themselves with such swagger and rage and general cuntishness, I found myself fantasizing about bashing their brains in. Of course I had to pray for them, had to ask Gaia to transmute my hatred into something positive. I don't know if anything happened, other than that I didn't jump out from the foreman's table and throttle each of these thugs to death. Guess that's something.

Because of all this isolation and exposure to ugliness, I'm in a toxic morass. I didn't handle this time in service to New York State very well. I told myself I was doing service and during this episode ended up doing myself more disservice. Fantasies of my own death have been populating my mind.

It occurred to me tonight that we are probably going to be making the aforementioned civil war more of a reality as the election draws near. If, as I expect, the Cunts at the Top find a way to fix the election in their favor, I'm fairly sure that there are enough people out there who won't stand for it that they'll cause some sort of disturbance. If, on the other hand, Kerry does actually win, then the Cunts will foment a civil war because they will believe they've been wronged and "the South will rise again" as it were. These are unreasonable reptiles-in-human-clothing who will brook no challenge to their tenuous grasp on reality. The truth will out, and there will unfortunately be war. I see it as inevitable.

Evolution of My Understanding

I'm better off without him.

As difficult as it is for me to let go of the reins of a friendship, I need to release my former sponsor from any perceived obligations he might have toward me. Whether he pulls himself away from the fetters is none of my business. I have been in that arduous position of telling someone to "Let Go of me!" when I was the one who was holding onto the other one. It's time I go about my business and live my life.

In talking with my best friend today, I had to laugh at myself, the therapy junky. Yes, I have learned quite a bit in my inner travels and travails. And the good news is that I take what I learn and give it over to others for their objective appraisal. After talking with my other sponsor, an Al-Anon friend and my best friend, I can more dispassionately see that my former sponsor has issues and it would be codependent of me to even start to address them. And so I ask Gaia and the sun to bless him, give him everything he wants out of life and now I choose to walk down a different pathway.

I thank him for some of the benefits he gave me as my sponsor. He did help to get me into a place of abstinence and he did give me freely of his understanding of 12-step recovery. He and I did have some good times, especially driving out of the city. I enjoyed talking with him about art, theater, aesthetics and other heady topics. He's a decent person and a good person who wishes to help others.

But we're not the greatest combination and I have come to recognize that we come to a parting of the ways. It's not the first time I've parted with a sponsor, though it is the first time I actually got so apoplectic I yelled at him. And while I felt that initial guilt, I see it as a piece of information that in reality gives me great encouragement rather than a feeling that I did something that needs an amends. The amends I need to make is one of timing--I needed to scream "G.F.Y." to him earlier than this. But no matter, it came out when it did and the timing I have to respect as impeccable.

It's also given me a perspective to reevaluate not only my connection to the food fellowship, but to all my fellowships. It's been 9 years since I first walked into an Al-Anon room, and as much as I have incorporated the 12 Steps and 12 Traditions into my life, I need to take a pause and reflect on what I've been doing and what needs my attention.

Yesterday, I talked with my mother about housecleaning and keeping busy. At her age, she needs to keep busy especially, or she'll drive herself crazy. So she creates projects for herself. She was taking a break from setting brick slabs into the dirt outside the house when I called. Likewise, I need to create "recovery projects" for myself. My 8th/9th Step is a project, but so too are some other areas, like the "Square Dancing Project" and the "Turning my Apartment into a Home Endeavor." I can spend some time on the projects I create and take some small actions toward them. I also need to spend some time on the "What's My Perfect Life to Look Like? Program" and "Richard Gives Service Project" as well.

And I have my former sponsor to thank for this, for jump-starting the process through his own need to pressure me and slot me into a time slot with no room for error or human fallibility. Thanks!

A different perspective

I talked with an Al-Anon friend about the fracas with my CEAHOW sponsor. In one of those D'Oh!mer Simpson moments, I was reminded that as per Al-Anon, if I feel guilty about something, I probably did something right. In retrospect, I did need to tell him "Please, if you would, off to back." Yes, it came out sideways. It came out in a rather childish manner and could have been more elegantly carried off. But I'm human and I didn't respond to the pressuring all that well. So ironically it's to my credit that I said what I said, if not for the style, than at least for the content.

Hooray for me!

Living with an Emotional Hangover

I've been in a funk the past few days because of my angry eruption. It feels like an emotional wound that got reopened. Perhaps it had scarred over since the last time, but it feels just like new. I'm surprised at the primal feelings I have, of how they would so like to cloud over my vision. It's probably no shock that I don't feel at all like meditating of late, though my awkward Grand-Jury-debilitated schedule only adds to that mishagoss. Since I've not been exercising as much of late, again due to G.J. rationalization, I have inadvertently put myself in a more vulnerable position regarding emotional wraith penetration.

There are so many factors to the feeling of toxicity that courses through me right now. I haven't reached homeostasis yet. The situation will continue to evolve, as I use the tools of the 12 steps and talk about the situation with my other sponsor and my _A and _-Anon friends. (_ means fill-in-the-blank. DA, AA, NA, Al-Anon, NA-Anon, etc.) There are other factors too that are more confusing. My food fellowship is not ideal as a means of staying in recovery. I'm wondering if it isn't something I use as a bridge to some other sort of fellowship that is a bit more mature in its outlook without going into OA-style permissiveness and rationalization. Though armed with the knowledge I've received from my food fellowship, I might be able to wade into the OA waters and seek out the ones who have achieved something of note.

The thing that set me off most was not knowing how to deal with a situation that allows for no recourse. I've been in jobs like that. There's a word for that sort of job, and that word is "abusive." It's tough to go through all of this stuff, which is supposed to make me stronger, and then receive what amounts to a "pop-quiz" of sober action and to recognize that my head needs some fine-tuning. I'm sure there was a graceful way to handle that situation, and I probably could replay the whole scenario making a different choice. That is a tool for the future. I am not a bad person, just a guy with issues about being pressured. I have this image of a snake that has been coiled up inside me, waiting, just waiting for the right opportunity to reach out and strike. And what's so confounding is that what I said was really inane, childish, small and small-minded. That it set off the other person was something I think I did intend to do, and how I knew that would do the trick is beyond me. "My inner parselmouth" read the situation correctly and it hit its target all right. "Listen, Virgo--" and that was all that was needed.

I don't think it was the other person's intent to be abusive. They got into a tunnel-vision of their own and he had his reasons for his actions. They may be reasonable, they may not. My role in the situation was that I have been a people-pleaser throughout this relationship. I've not been able to maintain clear boundaries around this sponsorship thing. I have a lot in common with this fellow, and I do genuinely like the guy, his eccentricities notwithstanding. But we have learned how to hurt each other, and that troubles me sehr.

And I've been living inside this strange, darkened viewpoint where I get to accept my own humanity. At long last, I suppose. But I don't like what I see, and while it's not like I viewed myself as Gaia's gift to humanity before, I'm feeling a deep sadness underneath the rage and fear. This really is sadness too, not self-pity. (That little monstrosity is trying to wheedle it's way in, but I have to kick it in the jaw and send the little skull-dog scurrying away from me. I now think that's what my weird dream about being attacked by the vicious little undead pooch was about.)

More to come later. Still developing...

Albany of the Imagination #2

In this town of my desiring, I see myself eating at Shades of Green, the vegan restaurant on Lark Street. Many of the street names of Albany's Capital District are named for birds. Dove Street, Eagle Street, Hawk, etc. Lark Street is Albany's version of Greenwich Village. It has a "funky-bohemian" feel to it. About two miles to the west, down Central Avenue is the Food Co-op, the name of which escapes me for the moment. I imagine myself hanging out on Lark Street sometimes, sharing a meal with a group of friends of like mind, all of whom come together in a thirtysomething-like collection. (I hear W. G. Snuffy Walden's music and others of that ilk as the soundtrack to this existence, I must also note.)

I envision a life where yes, cold weather abounds. Of course Albany frequently has harsh winters, yet I love that. For today, anyway. Growing up in Colorado where it could snow 3 feet one day then be 65 degrees the next day in December, I do have a deep affection for the white stuff. Even four years at Dartmouth, where it gets really cold due to the humidity of the continental climate, couldn't exterminate my "nevaphilia." (I think "Nevada" means snowy, in case my made-up word is incorrect.) I need to have four seasons. Since I entered into this abstinence my sensitivity to seasonal change has become much more exquisite. Now that we're into Lammastime, I am aware of autumn's imminence. The season is "born" now, while Summer is at its apex. Over the next few weeks, I'll be longing for squash, sweaters and the changing of the leaves.

The Hudson River Valley gets a gorgeous tinting in autumn, needless to say. Last fall, I sat near the Hudson in Riverfront Park and just took in the grandeur of the trees across the river in Rensselaer. I can envision lovely get-togethers, maybe even bonfires at nearby farms and the like. I can also imagine lively dances and social opportunities galore. In this world, I still don't know what I would be doing for a living, but I'm filling in the details of the dream. It will unfold at its own place as I color in more of the vision.

About Yesterday's Angry Moment

Well, it's been an enlightening 24 hours.

The sponsor I got angry with yesterday and exploded at fired me tonight. He left a message on my machine telling me in essence to find someone else to work with. I feel a whole mixture of emotions. Sadness, fear, powerless rage, yes. But mostly relief.

The Recovery Spiral by Cynthia Jane Collins has been a real help to me in the process of sorting through my feelings. In retrospect, I realize I have not been able to be completely honest with my sponsor, and because of this I have been reticent to share all of my feelings about things. Really, our sponsorship relationship hadn't been working for quite a while and last night, a lot of feeling just came out sideways. I wish I had caught myself before I blurted out my insanity, and I at least had the presence of mind to clip off the conversation before I went to town on the guy. In retrospect I see that I'd been getting a lot of mixed messages from my fellow addict, but minimized my own reactions thereto. It's easy to forget that all of us coming together in 12-step work have a disease that tells us we don't have a disease, and it's part of the process of becoming aware that we participate in making our relationships murky.

There's a saying in the rooms: "Before recovery, a drunk horse thief. In recovery, a sober thief." I still approach my relationships with that addict mentality of "what can I get from this?"--even when I tell myself I'm not doing that. There are some people with whom I don't do that, but more often than not, that limbic brain sizes others up on several different rubrics. I have to be very careful where sponsors are concerned. My needs are changing as I gain awareness and I need gentleness and truth-telling combined. Not an easy combination. I so wish that the castles of my imagination would manifest and we'd all be living "the life of the spirit made manifest." We inhabit these flesh packets and we have to negotiate with other flesh packet-inhabitants. These bodies, hearts, minds and souls have certain requirements to meet, and these come into conflict. And if there's one thing I HATE, it's conflict.

I need others to tell me not to beat myself up during this difficult moment, and not to judge what happened yet as a mistake. In other words don't diagnose before I'm ready. Like I said, there are a lot of things to sort through in this short, troubled relationship. I need to honor myself and my former sponsor both, by owning up to only what is mine, for it is a tendency to say "Global warming? That's my fault and my fault alone." Even as I tease out what is mine, I have to not point my finger at my former sponsor. The outburst came at a difficult moment for both of us I fear, and I know we each have to take care of ourselves through this process. The goal is to heal, after all, to learn to live with the disease of addiction much like the diabetic or someone with MS has to live with their disease. Being painstakingly honest during the process is not something I want to volunteer for, but I must if I'm to stay abstinent. I need to stay put and sort it out with people I trust. This will take time.

Meanwhile, I need to grieve. Yesterday, after I had my outburst, I wanted to cry. My body shook with emotion and horror. I feel this rawness in my chest cavity, an aching. This is the nature of an emotional hangover. There's more to this than meets the eye, and I know that I owe an amends. But I need to take my time with this. Even though the 10th Step says "When we were wrong, promptly admitted it," and I admit I was wrong, I still need to walk through it with others to nail down where exactly I was wrong.

Fun fun fun!

Maybe this is melodramatic...

I work literally across the street from the Citigroup building. Today, there's a terror alert, and it's being haphazardly handled. A co-worker came in for the day shift, furious that 53rd Street hadn't been closed. She'd already seen 4 panel trucks go by as she came in to work. I'd heard also that while the entrance in front of 599 Lex (my building) was closed off, people could still come out RIGHT UNDER THE CITIGROUP BUILDING as of last night. There are police with submachine guns and attack dogs in front of 599 Lex, but the subway's still open? And 53rd Street is still open? I mean, like WTF?

My shift ends soon, and I'm pretty sure that if there's an attack, it's not going to happen before 9 a.m.--aren't I the optimist? But I just have to say, enough of this cheneying fear already. I've been telling my friends I don't want to get used to seeing cops with AK-47s around everywhere. That's h0w fascism starts, y'all. That's how the frog boils to death, a degree at a time. I want to jump out of this concrete pond now!

Albany of the Imagination

When I let myself go and imagine "my perfect life," I see myself walking on Lark Street near Central and Western Avenues in Albany. I see myself traversing State Street past the State Capitol and riding a bus out to the University. I see a free and easy fellow, looking for opportunities to be of service to Albanians, who is a part of the place. I try and envision what I do for a living there, but so far nothing comes to the surface. I do see myself living at least on the first floor of a house, perhaps even inhabiting the entire premises. I see myself as being a valued and valuable person in these environs, that I have a lot to offer the place and the people and the spirit of the place and peope, and that it returns the energy tenfold.

Today, I'm going to start something I hope I will be able to continue for a time. I've mentioned the film Big Eden before. "My Perfect Life" or rather "The Life I Want for Myself" can be shorthanded for the time being to Big Eden in Albany or nearby. I sense that Albany may not be a perfect fit with that idea--there is a reactionary element in the area's religious people, particularly in the Episcopalian heirarchy. The Irish Catholic rigidity is also an area of concern--William Kennedy points to this in his wondrous biography of his hometown, O Albany! But Albany is a city. It may not be as populous as the epicenter of culture 3-1/2 hours to its south, but because of its urban nature there is a diversity of opinion and belief. As it is the state capitol, there's also a degree of expansiveness it must have. And it's a college town to boot.

So this is my first post about the Albany I imagine myself becoming a part of. Whether it actually ends up being Albany or Manhattan, or Devils Lake, North Dakota where my folks live, or Charleston, West Va.--wherever Gaia wills me to go--I am recording my impressions about life there, about the people that I might meet, about the spirit of the place.

Speaking on that spirit, I believe that the heart and soul of Albany is to be found in the H. H. Richardson designed State Capitol building itself. I find myself drawn to the courtyard in front of the building, just wanting to commune with its frisky-puppy energy. The State Capitol is a gorgeous building that yes, was probably inspired by some French architecture. But it is its own building as well, forthright in its gracious presence. For all of the politicking that goes on there, it feels like a "happy building," particularly in sharp contrast to the Rockefeller mo(der)nstrosities across Eagle Street therefrom. Walking down the Empire State Plaza, one can't help but think of Mussolini Rome and Berlin under Hitler or East Berlin during the Soviet years, with their rigid [national-]socialist-realism that advertised their weak masculinities. The only good thing those buildings do is to increase one's appreciation for the spiritual center of the city. ESP will never be that, The Egg notwithstanding. (I do like The Egg, but that may be because I like to be perverse.)

(I'm still sort of learning the ins and outs of posting to this site. Here's a link to a picture of the building I love so much:

http://www.bluffton.edu/~sullivanm/albanyrich/cap1.jpg

#1 - Integrated Party; #2 - Anger Eruption

Actually, I'm going to type #2 first, and put it below #1 which is more pleasant.

#1: There's a party always happening inside me. On my way to work tonight I did a walking meditation where I tried to get in touch with all my animal guides. In doing some informal internet research on working with animal guides, I came across a fellow who says that each of our chakras has it's own guide. The first animal that appeared was the otter. He felt like he was my heart chakra, and then other animals started to appear. I now feel there are more than just seven chakras, that there are at least 13. One starts below the ground, and the "last" one is somewhere out-there in space. Anyway, I hadn't really been as in touch with my animal guides of late, so I decided I'd just spend time with each one of them as I walked part of the way to work.

My root chakra animal is the iguana, and I had some difficulty getting in touch with him. When I moved up to goat, who was looking a bit peaked and I felt a wave of sadness come over me because goat seems to need a lot more, I started to understand that I had a difficulty with iguana because I don't feel as rooted into the world right now. When I moved up to the third chakra, things got a little better, though my third-chakra beaver is a bit nervous and fidgety. (I've noticed that's the way he is by nature, sort of a high-strung professorial type guide.) Otter always wants to play--he works, but he works with purpose, so that he can play without fetter. I imagined Otter playing in a small lake and splashing water at me, beckoning me to have a better time with life.

My three upper-chakra animal guides are all female for some reason. Hawk, She-Bear and 12-point Doe. I could see from Hawk's POV, flying above me, even as I kept my visual focus on the sidewalk ahead of me. And I like being in Bear's energy--she's quite calming in her redoubt. It was sometime here that the thought that "There's a party going on inside me" got caught in the web of my consciousness. I filed it away so that I would begin this post with it. Then I moved to to Doe, who I find a bit intimidating. She doesn't suffer blather and process much. I have to cut to the chase with her many times, though I think when sometimes I don't know what it is I'm feeling she's a bit more patient. Doe reminds me of the SUNY-Systems Admin Building in Albany, New York. Kind of a crone energy Doe has. In fact as I was trying to commune with Doe, I got a whiff of "Old-lady smell." (Clairvoyance, Clairaudience--is there such a thing as Clairolifaction?)

I imagine all my animal guides and my more human ones too spreading out and exploding onto a large green expanse near water. The party is ongoing. Sometimes I remember to drop in, like I did tonight.

#2: Well, I was on the phone with one of my sponsors and I ran headlong into a trigger. I won't go into the specifics of the conversation, but I felt myself slipping into a place that was a bit out-of-control. I can only talk about what's going on with me. In the heat of the moment, I felt I had been triggered, and the voices of "no f*in' way" were all ablaze. I have a feeling that what was going on was two people who were both being unreasonable in their own ways were clashing, and I had at least the presence of mind to terminate the conversation, even though that meant hanging up on my sponsor in mid-sentence. I didn't think I would be at any place where I could continue the conversation and in fact, saw that I had already caused some harm, when I "played the sign card." (He can't help that he's a Virgo, I can't help that I'm a Pisces.) That was a bit unfair, and I see the need to atone for that transgression.

I don't exactly know how it happened. I know that there probably was some sort of Al-Anonic shenanigans at work, because I felt several hooks being thrown out and I was desperately trying to dodge them even though I was finding myself increasingly angry. When I got off the phone, I had these irrational thoughts like I had been "found-out" and was having to go to the Principal's office or face the bailiff. I will need to talk to some other people about the specifics of the situation to see whether I was unreasonable, or whether I was being reasonable but frustrated and reactive. When anger and fear enter the picture, distortion is the name of the game, and I will need to speak to someone who has more access to reason than I do at the current time.

I'm sure I will need to make amends to my sponsor, but I have to be clear what the nature of my causing harm was, and that I only make amends therefor. The Addict/Alanonic way of apologizing is to take on way too much, and before I know it, I'll be apologizing for being responsible for the US having a dry-drunk as "president." Like that's ALL my fault! (I do still believe we all qualify for Al-Anon just because of this state of affairs alone!)

I was the one who was angry and resentful, so that means there was something the matter with me. I like the phrase "something the matter". It's kind of a vague phrase which we have given a larger meaning as being upset with a state of affairs or a condition resulting from some discomfort. I see that I had unintentionally turned my sponsor into an irresponsible authority figure. Just because someone isn't perfect means they're automatically Hitler crossed with Mrs. O'Leary, cow-owner. I felt something take over inside me, and I sense that this something has been building for awhile. There's more to it, and I need to sort it out.

Food Thoughts #1

Chinese dietary theory holds that each food we eat is one of five "elements"--fire, metal, earth, wood or water. Tonight for "nunch" I had a meal that was only imbalanced re: water. The fire foods were salsa, brussels sprouts, and red lentils. The metal food was cauliflower. Earth included the banana, carrots and turnips and Wood included millet, butter and cashews. If I drank decaf coffee that would be counted as water, though perhaps dandelion root tea would count as water. (I have since switched from regular (fire) to decaf (water).) When I choose to have a cup of blueberries/pineapple for dinner, then I'd have water in the blueberries. I'll probably do this tomorrow, since it's best to have some representation from all five elements. I would imagine that if I were to have a fire-less meal, I'd be a bit sluggish; without earth I'd feel light-headed, without metal spineless, and without wood brittle. Without water, I guess I'm a little out-of-touch with my emotions.

Tonight I'll have tuna, turkey and cheese for protein, rice cakes for grain, various greens and veggies for a salad, and some avocado squash as well, cashews, ranch dressing, and butter, blueberries and pineapple, and sugarfree berry jello. So I'll have in the fire category, tomatoes, red onion, red pepper and scallions and maybe arugula (can't remember if that's fire or water) while metal includes the rice cakes and wood the cashews and I believe the tuna, cheese, butter, dressing and perhaps the purslane(?). Water will take the blueberries, the jello and mushrooms, and lastly earth the carrots and avocado squash. I forget whether it's earth or wood that includes turkey (by process of elimination). All in all, a fairly balanced meal.

*****

The other day I had some pork chops and my body rejoiced! It luxuriated in something that the pork meat offered. I have no idea what, but I do notice it when the cells of my body seem to glow with joyous abandon. This has happened to me on several occasions, now that I've cleared my system of refined white powders.

*****

I'm still an addict, no matter what. Yesterday as I was getting my stuff ready for my "brinner" meal, I spied someone else's "frosted celebration-matter." Immediately upon seeing it, I remembered its taste and imagined it in my mouth. It was instantaneous, there was no controlling the initial impulse. I had no desire to steal it and devour it, but I did remember that longing after the nutrition-deficient substances I once knew. A part of me felt enraged I couldn't have a piece of celebration-matter. But I continued on with making my nutritious meal. Someone came in and smelled the arugula and asked what it was, because it smelled so good, even though he was also talking with a co-worker about "those yummy raspberry cookies." Still, asking after arugula is as it should be, is it not?

*****

The addict in me isn't wrong, he's irrational. He wants to have as much sugar as he can stand without any consequences. But when my body comes into an internal contact with sugar and flour, there can only be negative ramifications. I don't always feel I'm enough with abstinent food, but without the refrain from the white powders, the frequency of feeling OK with the world would go down, my weight would go up, I'd have a never-ending feeling that I wasn't getting enough nourishment and really nourishing foods would seem unexciting and dull. I remember after getting off sugar the joy I felt at having a cup of butternut squash! Oh my word! It was the best sensation in the world and it was abstinent! During my fat years, squash held no allure, little appeal. It was best seen as something to endure on the way to dessert. But today it holds its own loveliness. I'd lose that too with a hit of sugar, the "positive" effects of which would only last for five minutes or so. The addict doesn't want to believe that the body he inhabits is this way. He wants to believe that he's just like other people when he plainly is only like others who are inhabiting hypersensitive bodies like he is. The addict isn't a figure for me to hate, but one for me to love and cherish. He's not evil, he's just crazy.