Light Fire with Water

faucet1I took off from work on Friday for two reasons. 1) I really needed to not deal with my coworkers for an extra day. I love them but damn. (They ended up calling me anyway. Twice. More on that after the jump.) 2) I had a lunch date with my father.

Following the lunch I decided to find a local botanica as I had a sense of needing…something. I haven’t been to one in ages and their prices are generally much better than the local new age/pagan stores. Everything is about demographic. Stores will price what the market can bear.

After a harrowing couple of U-Turns because my GPS is kind of bad at its job, I spent another 15-20 minutes simply walking around the shop and feeling, admittedly, overwhelmed. I know my way around a pagan shop like a boss but this place was new to me so I did the best thing and asked for help.

30 minutes, 2 conversations, and about $75 later I walked out with two bags and a mission. Most of that $75 came from the bottle of cleansing wash specifically created by the proprietor of the shop.

3 days. 3 washings. 1 candle. Then you can proceed with your other work.

The last cleansing is today. Since the beginning of this process I’ve had:

* An old acquaintance reach out to me out nowhere. It was a good thing I missed the call. The guy is a magnet for dysfunction and drama and talking to him would have roped me back into conversations that mean nothing and do nothing for me in the long run.

*Odd dreams surrounding my move to the Netherlands or where I’m encountering scenarios or people who seem out of place in my dream world. I can remember these people and places vividly.

*Decreasing anxiety about the political atmosphere at work. Whereas before I might have been anxious about missing two phone calls on my day off, I simply sent a text stating that my laptop was at the office. I didn’t have access to work materials. They would need to figure out things for themselves.

In the words of my partner “The world will still turn even if you don’t do everything.”

Once the cleansing ritual is done, the road-opening work can begin. The fact that the assistant at the shop mentioned this and I didn’t even tell him road-opening was where I was headed magically gave me a hint that I was going in the right direction.

If you read Silence is Golden Part Deuces, than you know all of this is part of a series of goals I have that involve leaving the country, strengthening my coding chops with projects, and furthering my quest for prosperity and self-sufficiency. This meant leaving social media, focusing on my magic, focusing on my technical skills and avoiding social justice platforms, blogs, and conversations which is difficult to do when that’s what tends to clutter your feeds. The latter of which achieve ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TANGIBLE for me.

If you’re another black woman reading this blog, then you know most of us are socially conditioned to put the issues of others before ourselves or join in fights that provide us no benefit. Tangibility means there is an outcome that enhances your health, wealth, or happiness PERSONALLY AND IN THE NOW. Not down the road. Not after “the struggle”, or another panel discussion or “think piece”. Like with your magic, if you’re not getting results from what you’re doing then you aren’t doing much of anything.

The benefits of this cleansing have already shown themselves as have the benefits of the social media cut off. My fire is lit and now it just needs to be fed by action and discernment when it comes to what I’m exposing my life energy to and where I’m channeling said energy.

As another piece of sync for this last day of cleansing, today at 5:00pm EST  Gina McCauley of What About Our Daughters will be hosting a free Webinar titled The First Rule of Beyonce Mode;

We’ll cover the rules of Beyonce’ Mode, a state of being where you get things done while everyone else is posting selfies and status updates. A fun-filled hour studying the strategic genius of Beyonce Knowles-Carter.

There’s still time to sign up for the webinar and, once again, it’s free.

Find what lights your fire and use it.

What I’m Reading:

Over at Fools that Men Adore, Heretic sits some truth surrounding how Writing Isn’t Everything in Magick. As a bibliophile, I can relate to wanting to cop the newest title but failing to do the work involved in testing the theory for myself. I’ve also witnessed the tendency to see publishing a book as the marker of how serious one is in their occult/religious practice.

Gordon’s released another post for his Archonology series that further shows why Tumblring, wringing hands, and writing think pieces isn’t going to help you in the long run.

A few weeks ago Sannion discussed life purpose at The House of Vines, specifically the concept of living with True Will.

And finally, Ribbon Farm’s post on Technopaganism and the Newer Age is an amazing essay on the effects technology has had on the New Age, Californian culture in relation to Burning Man and Silicon Valley, the concept of “Technopaganism”, and the shift from New Age to Newer Age. I probably didn’t do the piece justice with my synopsis but just take my word for it and give it a skim.

Janelle Monae is my Muse

Because the pagan/occult sphere is overwhelmingly white (Not saying this in an accusatory way. It’s an observation. The occult/pagan world is really no different from the world outside of it.) most of the imagery coming from it tends to follow the same trend. During a recent research paper I was completing on the roles of women within the Dionysian mysteries and how these mysteries often offered them modes of expression forbidden to them by mainstream society; my musical tastes shifted non-too-subtly and I found myself listening to songs with themes celebrating feminine liberation.

Specifically BLACK feminine liberation.

It was as if I needed to be reminded of my own “self” for a moment and that version of “self” came through in the songs of Janelle Monae, a talented artist and phenomenally amazing (redundant?) woman whose tunes seem to spark the Dionysian flame within me. She’s sensual, rebellious, dangerous in her authenticity, straight forward in her words, a shapeshifter, and mime. She is visceral, autonomous, black womanhood in a society that denies it exists (or demands it conform to soothe it) and she is absolutely divine in her essence and totality.

A Sovereign for Your Silence (Part Deuces)

In case you aren’t hip to the lingo. From Urban Dictionary:

deuces
when someone holds up two fingers symbolizing “peace” when leaving an establishment, “deuces” is often said.

I gave my deuces to most social media sites last week and am debating whether I want to continue participating in online forums. Some of the ones I used to enjoy have become either echo chambers or prime examples of the Tyranny of the Weak (I was going to do a blog post on how it seems some pagans treat weakness as a virtue to be protected and nourished, but I don’t know how to write it without coming across as an even bigger asshole.)

You never realize how loud and noisy social media is until you tune out from it. During the past week I took the time to reread some of Gordon’s writing over at Rune Soup, particularly “Nobody Promised You a Life Unoffended” and as I sat staring at a Facebook feed spilling over with the latest crusade of the month (Not downplaying #blacklivesmatter, but most of the non-black people hashtagging it everywhere are going to move onto the next big thing in about a month so…)  I felt an overwhelming urge to just delete everything and call it a day.

So I did. See, I know being black in America sucks. I live it every day. I don’t need constant reminders from people who don’t live it and can’t do anything about it. While I sit in a career stymied by prejudices in the IT field, I don’t see any of these people offering anyone any jobs or networking opportunities to improve their situations. But thanks for the “awareness.” That awareness don’t do shit.

What I need is to focus on getting out of corporate America (not that corporate Netherlands is going to be some kind of dreamland but I’m so over being a citizen here it’s almost painful), finishing up some programming projects and perhaps doing some road opening work for a few personal and professional goals.  What is the point of practicing magic if you’re sitting in sad-sackery all day bemoaning the cards you’ve been dealt?

Sometimes you just have to rip the deck off the table and deal your own. Fuck it, sometimes you need to burn the deck and tell the table we’re now playing Scrabble bitches so nut up. LostHand

For what it’s worth, the ancestors and spirits that I have built ties with have been integral to me overcoming some near disasters since I separated from my ex-husband. When I say I had to start over, I mean it. 6+ months later I’m doing pretty well and can now focus on the next horizon which includes working to build a stronger relationship with my agathodaemon, implementing a daily magical practice I can actually stick with, and rebalancing the roles Dionysos and Lucifer play in my life.

It’s been 6 months of relative silence from both of them and that’s always a sign. Normally it’s a sign of me having to wade through my own bullshit and come back to the table when I can handle eating with the big kids.

On that note, less social media probably means more blogging. More blogging means I’ll probably be updating the links as my spirituality has shifted away from pure Hellenic Polytheism, into a general polytheism with synchromysticism, ancestor veneration, and plain ol’ sorcery thrown into the mix.

Sunday is a day of rest or in my case, thrifting and obtaining a box of Shabbat candles.

Who am I kidding though? I’ll still check Pinterest.

The Underworld Takes Visitors

The whole world seems to be collapsing. I think human beings have felt this inclination for as long as we’ve had conscious thought. This kind of makes the whole concept of a final Rapture or “Judgement Day” all the more ridiculous from a spiritual perspective. Granted, many religions have their deity derived destruction myths; the warning from our forefathers and their gods of just where our societies are headed.

"Orpheus in the Underworld" - Jan Brueghel the Younger

“Orpheus in the Underworld” – Jan Brueghel the Younger

And it’s happening soon! SOON! Within our lifetimes even! Can’t you see the signs? And the signs are often behaviors and actions of human beings that didn’t bring about any global destruction within the past few thousand years. Earthquakes, tsunamis, and plague notwithstanding; human beings have managed to be pretty damn resilient considering how divinely doomed we are.

When Orpheus travelled to Hades he must have been terrified. The underworld is a liminal space, overlapping our own reality instead of being distinctly apart from it. If the living world is the top coat on a wall of paint, the Underworld is the wall itself; the canvas from which the material world is vomited up and then composted when the time comes.

As a world that once seemed so vast has shrunk considerably due to technology, we get to see its children’s motions. Communities and nation-states break apart, coalesce, and murder each other in a rite of passage older than when ancient wisdom seemed modern. Through all of this, it seems the best we can hope for is to make it through our own initiations, our Dark Nights, our fleeting glimpses into the ash-filled mouths of the dead as they yawn before us in a bittersweet chorus of regret, or epiphany, or worse.

Sometimes you leave the underworld with a revelation.

Sometimes you’re lucky if you get to leave at all.

What’s In a Name? And Other Questions

I’ve had a few nicknames over my lifetime. Some good, some bad. Some exceedingly short-lived. For an entire summer I went by a name that quickly vanished by the time the season ended but one nickname has stuck with me for a very long time; a little over a decade even. Shu.

Completely by happenstance as well because the name I had chosen was originally Schuldig. Stolen from a not-so-popular anime, for some reason I loved a German telepathic psychopath enough to want his moniker. Schuldig means “guilty” in a couple of languages and I certainly felt that kind of weight for a good portion of my life.

But despite spelling it “Schu” for short, the correct spelling never caught on and I became Shu amongst friends, frenemies, and enemies for years. Even now, the name holds true when I reconnect with people from my past through social media. At some time in the past I looked up the incorrect spelling wondering if it had any kind of significance and must have blown it off; it wasn’t until a couple of nights ago that I looked it up again. Probably spurred on by my reading of the first Sync Book edited by Alan Green.

Taken from Wikipedia

-Randy Scott Slavin (We can't just have the sky and earth fucking all willy-nilly)

-Randy Scott Slavin
(We can’t just have the sky and earth fucking all willy-nilly)

The air god Shu separated the sky goddess Nut from the earth god, Geb. This treatment symbolized duality, the separation of the world into opposites: above and below, light and dark, good and evil.

For clarity sake I will admit that I know fuck-all about Egyptian mythology and I want to avoid the trap of ascribing meanings to mythologies I am ignorant of based on mythologies I have a bit more familiarity with. I do not think I’m devoted to the god Shu or am inspired by, touched, gifted, related to or even remotely interested in having a devotee or working relationship with him (nor he me); but the fact that such a complete nick-name fuck up resonates so strongly with themes in my existence isn’t something I should necessarily ignore.

As I’ve spent more time looking for and experiencing synchronicity the fact that “Shu” refuses to die begs the question of “Why?”

One of the more difficult aspects of synch I’ve experienced is deciphering the “whats” and whys of occurrences. What does it matter that the very same day my partner and I get into a random discussion about Michael Jackson’s kids we later see them splashed on a tabloid cover in the grocery store?

Why is it that I’ll be thinking of a song and then hear it randomly while out and about? Sure, 90’s music is popular but so popular that songs from my childhood just happen to always been playing in public areas? No one likes Oasis or the Goo Goo Dolls that much.

How is it that I just happen to meet, and form a relationship with, someone from a country I was considering moving to? Who also happens to want to go back to the same country?

And considering everything happening just from the random, should I even consider taking the next step in synchromysticm and tuning into that portion of the Twitterverse that thrums with synch by the minute?

So many seem so connected and able to understand while it feels like I’ve waded into the deep end of multiple mysteries converging to form…something I can’t quite put my finger on.

And all I have are more questions.

A Sovereign for Your Silence

Recently I’ve become less than impressed by noise. I’m not talking about the sound of sirens that blare outside of my window during the wee hours of the night. The background hustle of urban living tends to fade into a distant hum once you’re used to it. I’m talking about chatter, or more, the incessant need for human beings to fill a space with their voices.

King Henry would later use this tendency to create one of the most paranoid courts in history.

King Henry would later use the human-chatter tendency to create one of the most paranoid courts in British history.

This isn’t just in my walking life either. Even online I’ve pared down from being a member of several forums and groups to barely going to one forum (Studio Arcanis formerly Evocation Magic) and whittling down my Facebook friends list to just people I actually communicate with on a fairly regular basis. I guess since my divorce I’ve realized just how superfulous so much commentary actually is

I like quiet. I like it to the point that I took an extremely early shift at work just because it gives me three hours of blissful silence in which I can actually be present.

Amma, my mentor, would say this state is a combination of a few things; taking myself off of a medication that was doing my body so much harm that any benefits weren’t worth the cost, backing away from spaces that seemed to worship trigger-warning-happy victimhood over self-reliance or plain common sense, and taking steps to achieve a goal I’ve long held but thought unobtainble. In other words, as I’ve made the decision to take control over that which I CAN control, I have little interest in listening to a steady drone of largely stagnant voices constantly voicing the same complaints and reading from the same scripts they have been for years. In silence goals are set, discipline is formed, and “talking just to hear yourself” becomes a nuisance.

Taken from The Springs of Contemplation; A Retreat At the Abbey of Gethsemani by Thomas Merton;

We have to realize that sometimes human beings deliberately create noise. People with frustrated wills come together to make noise that cause others to suffer while they themselves do not suffer. This is one way for a frustrated person to “get even.” We have to resist this.

Since moving away from the noisescape even my dreams have become different. They’re less fragmented, easier to remember, and longer in duration. The faces and stories seem to manifest on a grander scale; spanning countries and dimensions moreso than before when they seemed to be Youtube-esque preview clips; strung together only by the thin link of having occured in my own head.

As the outer world has been muffled by discernment my inner world has begun to blossom.

It’s quiet here.void-of-silence

And I like that.

This isn’t to say I’ve withdrawn from everything completely. Even after paring down of my Facebook activity there remain close to 200 people who add their insights, opinions, and passions to the tapestry I weave out of my everyday existence. I still have my favorite blogs; Rune Soup, The House of Vines, Beloved in Light, and The Secret Sun just to name a few. My inbox swells with offerings from The Renaissance Mathematicus and Disrupt and Repair.

The difference lays not in the quantity but the quality of the offerings; these other individuals drinking from their own wellsprings of contemplation often far longer than I’ve even entertained having some form of a spiritual life. Their offered cups have only inspired me to take a step back and really examine what they’re listening to and why.

2015 will likely be no different from this year. I have no resolutions, no parties or gatherings I intend to attend. I’ll likely spend the New Year hunkered down with a good book and glass of rum and rootbeer.

I raise my glass to you and hope you find your bit of silence in the year to come.

Astral Weather, Rabbit Holes, and Trained Responses

In case a previous post didn’t tip you off? I’m an Alice in Wonderland fan. I saw the Disney Movie when I was a little girl and have kept a copy of it ever since. Alice Through the Looking Glass, MirrorMask, all versions of the same stories and themes. In a way, I related to her. Her love of the surreal and nonsensical was something that called to me even before I knew what the “surreal” actually was.

Of course once she got to the world she dreamed up in her own mind, she found it wasn’t nearly as wonderful as she would have hoped. In fact, the constant inability to rely on her own senses and sensibility often drove her to tears.

But at least she's a cute crier.

But at least she’s a cute crier.

That’s the thing about trained responses. The mind is used to behaving in a certain manner to certain stimuli be they boring history lessons by the riverbank, shisha smoking caterpillars, or bumps caused by Mercury Retrograde during a challenging Neptune-squared Mars.

I had a feeling something was wonky when a seemingly smooth sail toward this new week suddenly turned into me losing my debit card within hours of depositing money into my bank account, my apartment “remembering” that I needed to pay an extra $300 for a pet deposit on top of needing to move my lease signing date from this coming Tuesday to Friday.

My first reaction? Panic followed by the paranoia that follows a seeming loss of control. After so many other bumps on this road to freedom and radical self-care, I felt I couldn’t handle another surprise. For some reason, in that moment I realized this was my trained response. This was how I always handled situations that popped up out of the not-so-clear blue sky. So I checked my astral weather;

-54 Square Neptune – Mars

Challenging aspect: You may be prone to fear or an overworked imagination during this rather long-term transit that can last for some months. There is a lot of drama with this position. You could lose control of your actions because you have difficulty in controlling yourself, and in thinking things through.

This may be a difficult period. You should stay close to those people who in normal times reassure you. In this way, you will have confidence in them and, during this transit, they will protect you, reason with you, and calm you down.

Although your focus may be compromised and physical energy scattered, there is a strong potential for you to improve your intuition and magnetic powers. You may be in the right place at the right time. The effects of this transit will have much to do with the condition of Mars in your chart. You may, for example, be inclined to take shortcuts or to not know where you are headed exactly, and attract negative influences as a result. You may feel uninspired or lazy due to lack of motivation or a feeling of being without a direction in life. You may have a hard time drumming up the confidence to move forward. On the other hand, you can be extremely inspired if your personality is extroverted, and/or if you work with Neptune instead of against it. Neptune is urging you to become more refined with regards to your desire nature, anger management, and assertive tendencies. Incorporating more imagination, compassion, and spirituality into these parts of your personality will help you to not only “manage” the transit, but to learn from it.

Well there we go then. And there’s something about knowing the energies surrounding my little sphere of the universe that makes things seem a whole lot better. Even though I can’t control what happens in the future and can only be present in the moment there is something to be gained even from the craziest of random adversities. The freak outs are wholly unnecessary especially since I have amazing people by my side. A loving primary partner, an amazingly patient and doting adoptive mother, and good friends all over the world.

When I reflect on these things, the trained response is revealed to be what it actually is: a self-inflicted lie.

How most of my freak outs tend to end.

How most of my freak outs tend to end.

Learning new behaviors is part of this transition I’m going through. Letting go of fear of uncertainty, something I gained sitting in civilization and weaving , will be one of many steps I take to reclaiming my role as Maenad and shifting into my roles as light bearer, independent scholar, and occultist.

To work magic means to believe in your ability to alter reality with the will, the aid of spirits, and the blessings of the gods and irrational fear doesn’t fit into that schema anywhere. The role of the mage revolves around tramping around the fields of the unknown in more than theory.

The Maenad rushes into the mountains with little regard for what bumps in the night.

The light bearer stands in front of the pitch black mass of space time and brightens the shadows with the search for vibrant truth.

In the end, Alice stops trying to make Wonderland play by her rules and instead breaks the game using its own paradigm of nonsense. Bumps, bruises, and knaves be damned.

And now…it’s time to get dressed for tea.

 

 

Reality is the Looking Glass

The basic concept of synchronicity allows one to think that perhaps, just maybe, there is no such thing as coincidence. Seemingly “random” incidents are really connected in ways that defy normal human perception unless one is willing to look closely for the clues. Links. Cues. Whatever. This is particularly true with relation to symbols, numbers, ‘astral weather’ (Thanks Gordon) and a whole host of other little nuggets often overlooked.

Like waking up a few days after my 30th birthday to the clock reading 3:33. The connection was not an instant one. I laid there for a few minutes kind of pissed that I was awake 3 hours before I needed to do the whole get-ready-for-work bit. When the gears finally shifted it was more of a “huh, that’s some interesting sync.” before I got up to feed my Sims. (Don’t judge me. You don’t know my struggle.)

30 was marked by receiving further confirmation about a new position I pulled from the ether with a little help from some friends (3 of wands). This would be working in a field of IT I’ve only done as an amateur (3 of Pentacles) and I’m scared witless. Who says it’s not who you know? It’s totally who you know (3 of Cups). Previously working with the hiring manager for said department helped ease the wheels. This following the hell on earth that was the past six months (3 of Swords), it seemed like every 3 in the Tarot tableaux decided to make its own guest appearance in the very boring novella known as my life. (It would probably be better if it had more Spanish. My life needs more Spanish.)

And apparently LESS LSD.

More Spanish but less LSD.

Did I mention the whole personal transformation that’s continuously challenging me to alter my perception of what my ‘true calling’ actually IS while throwing me headlong into a completely out of the blue newish relationship-type thing? (The Empress). More on that later when I’ve had enough coffee and rum to be eloquent. Actually fuck that noise. My commitment phobia is in full gear and it might be better for everyone involved if I completely pretend as if nothing is happening.

aliceglass10

They probably know this is how I see them.

Despite my attempts at blissful, and willful, ignorace I’ve been in this whole sync mode where it seems the gods, universe, someone’s mom is watching out for me with the general gentle care one expects from an overly ambitious Light Bringer who’s made a deal with a certain God of the Vine.

My immediate sphere is bursting with new magic, entities I wish to form relationships with, gods and ancestors I will honor in the coming months, history to read, dynamic sado-magical techniques I hope to employ, and wine and food meant to be relished in the bewitched setting of my own home while surrounded by the sacred company of the outcast, decadent, sublime, and strange.

Kind of like how I spent prom.

And everything ticks along accordingly in a cacophonous whirl of sync. It would almost be comical if it weren’t for the fact that I spent so much time ignoring it.

Here’s to a little more mayhem couched in inevitability.

 

The Split that Made the Hive: Loki, Lucifer, and Mindful Divorce

I am not a Lokean. Let me repeat this, I am not a Lokean. My dealings with the Norse pantheon tend to be far and few between. That’s mainly do to my own discomfort with being a black woman and interfacing with gods who have been more-or-less coopted as for the Whitest of the Europeans despite this kind of not being the case. Whatever, I have 30 years of American White-Supremacist and Revisionist history to erase from my mind when it comes to these gods.

Sue me.

Actually don’t sue me since I’m about to be going through a divorce. 

Art and symbols often converge to create magic or religion or both depending on the situation. At the top of this year I came across a picture of old Flame-Hair and Sigyn that was just plain nifty and decided to use it as my desktop wallpaper at work. What? You act like you don’t spend about 1/3 of your desk-job surfing Pinterest and reading Rune Soup.  lokisigyn

So I got to spend 6 months explaining my “golly gee” art selection to innocent help desk techs and the random stranger who felt the need to stop in my cube because apparently I just have “one of those faces.” I also got to spend these same months caught in two reorgs, having three different managers, being reminded by a mentor that, off the record, I’m still black in corporate America and need to “play the game”, having the most duplicitous and passive-aggressive piece of New Jersey scum (aka my boss) decide to formally reprimand me for a polite but honest email, and then have said reprimand revoked just so I can transfer to a new department with a new manager. Many thanks HR and Happy 2014.

You don’t have to believe in Loki for him to believe in you…I guess. And it’s not even that I didn’t believe in him, it’s that I didn’t believe in him needing to be in my business like a recurring UTI. 

But out of all of this tumult I came to some startling realizations about myself; like that I have no desire to be an analyst anymore. That the most pleasing faces can hide some very insidious natures. That sometimes I really just need to hex a motherfucker and that sometimes what isn’t said is louder than all manner of explanation and what is done can convey a message quite clearly all on its own.

With this fuckery of a yeatr tucked into my proverbial belt, Lucifer returned to his position on my monitor as he is prone to do (along with Dionysos) during my artistic cycling. Bear in mind this wasn’t so much because I felt I had learned some kind of lesson. It was more because I was scared to death that Loki’s continued presence in my office space would mean even more upheaval I was not prepared for.

My 30th birthday was spent playing Axis and Allies with my secondary partner and watching Pride and Prejudice while openly crying at the happy parts. I came home to the realization that I didn’t want to be here/there anymore and this sensation had been with me for quite some time. My unhappiness had led to a plethora of decisions that were totally against my best interest and led to increasing health problems and a feeling of emotional emptiness that could only be filled by booze and Destiel fanfiction.

So one week after Lu’s reassertion I tell my husband I think it’s best I move out and take a loan out on my 401k. My apartment is picked. All’s that’s left to do is pack, prepare, and pray.

The truth will set you free.

But breaking self-imposed shackles is always a bitch.

So instead of being bitter or blaming my partner for 5 years of life that were pretty good all-in-all I have to admit that HE didn’t change but I did. It’s not that I want MORE of anything. It’s more that I want something different, simpler, and a hell of a lot less emotionally draining. I need to be in a space/realm of my own.

But most of all, I need to freedom to BE ME in my mercurial. ecstatic, and energetic entirety without the constant sensation of letting someone down. And sometimes I just need silence.

Dionysos had been strangely silent during this long coming collapse. But then in my peripheral, on the edge of my mind between what I sometimes think is just my own voice and that Voice that whispers throaty truths… 

They’ll take you out of the mountains and show you civilized men

And you’ll sit for awhile to spin and weave , the abandon of youth tempered by wisdom

But eventually you will want to come to the mountains again

Come to me again 

And they will say you cannot serve two masters

Because to them you are a slave

 

 

 

 

To Neither Hold Nor Have

 

Over the past month one theme has been playing in my mind. It comes from a conversation I had with a coworker about the beauty of a young man who worked in our group. I was attempting to explain how, despite his physical attractiveness I had no desire to lay with him sexually. I think my idea went something like this;

Of course I find [him] beautiful. He’s gorgeous but I have no desire to possess him or even touch him. It’s like a flower you come across. The flower is beautiful but do you pick it? Its beauty will eventually fade and die once it’s been wrestled from the dirt and soiled by your hands. I feel that way about people. If I touch them, I alter their environment in a way that could be potentially destructive . It’s far better for me to observe their beauty than to try to take actions because of it.

As much as I am a Dionysian woman I am also a bit Epicurean in my outlook. Pleasure should be prolonged as long as possible. With age I’ve found that I obtain more pleasure from the lack of “having” than I ever do from actually obtaining my desires. A beautiful man is still beautiful if every day I see the sun rise on his beauty and have no reason to think otherwise. But what if we quarrel? What if he turns out to be of poor character? Well then the beauty is diminished. In my desire to possess, to hold against my flesh, I’ve destroyed the aesthetic. capturedflower

“But human beings aren’t perfect.” You’ll say and you’re right. But how often do we say this to ourselves not as a reminder of why we should accept others as they are but more as a reminder of what happens when we decide possession is the natural course for desire; whether sexually or aesthetically? The assumption is that this  attitude derives from expecting perfection, but I feel this attitude comes from my inner realization that my very real imperfections are quite capable of deteriorating the delicate masterpiece someone else has become.

This is a far cry from many feelings I have had in the past where I wanted to reach out and touch, grab, and hold with hand, tongue, and teeth. It’s almost ascetic in its implications, but maybe that is where I am headed right now. Especially as Lucifer and Dionysos both switch gears with regard to what is expected of me and where I am supposed to be headed. If anything this moment seems completely counter-intuitive to everything I ever thought these beings would be but maybe that’s the point after all. They, nor anything else, is MINE to possess or “know”. All of that is an illusion, an attempt at wrestling control in the face of the weakness of the eye and human soul.

The only thing I can possess is my knowledge of self, my own destiny, thoughts, words, deeds, and truths.

 

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