My Disorganized Religion

The joy of this blog thing is the way that, in the process of trying to come up with things to entertain my readers, I am inspired and required to organize my thoughts.
They need organizing.
Between dating a deeply pious and well educated Christian, reading multiple philosophers at once, and engaging in excitable midnight conversations about quantum mechanics, my brain feels like it is filling up and popping out my ears these days. Kant and Wilber and quantum theory are sort of tangling up in my head in pleasing ways and forming all sorts of interesting pictures of the nature of reality, and I am feeling pretty pleased with myself for having intuited much of it beforehand, under the guise of the hocus pocus I have been studying determinedly for more than half my life. The framework of belief stands against all philosophical assaults so far, we are now furnishing the interior with details.
But what does the framework actually consist of? I recently requested a post on spirituality of a fellow blogger, and it got me to thinking that it was about time I conducted a review of my own beliefs. Not only for the benefit of those who are curious about me, but for my own as well. My personal belief system has been pieced together slowly over my lifetime. Now is as good a time as any to organize those pieces.
I am a witch, or at least that’s what I tell people. The actual truth is a lot more complicated than that. I have incorporated all compatible aspects of the different religious and philosophical thought systems I was exposed to into my own traditions, while discarding that which did not work or make sense. Not in an offhand way, mind you. I have since childhood had some quite deep instinctive beliefs, which I was unable to cast aside in order to believe what I was taught.
Hence I am not a Christian though I had the best Biblical education available to children short of actual bible school. I was very involved in the church throughout childhood.
Besides weekly services and Sunday school, we observed lent, went to church nearly every day of holy week, stations of the cross, midnight mass, xmas morning service, etc. I was a server for 3 years, (those kids in the white robes carrying candles and helping the priests and stuff in High Anglican and Catholic services) which is possibly where I got my love of high ceremonial drama, though I rarely do that sort of thing now. I received a grown up bible (with a cover handmade by my mom in plastic canvas!) as my 10th bday present. I read quite a lot of it, though I already knew all the stories from my children’s bible.
Also they sent me to "daily vacation bible school" every summer. This was held at a Baptist church, though we were Anglican. Oh and a youth group I belonged to at the same Baptist church met 2 nights a week as well. Not to mention conferences and seminars on bible topics and Christian living. These things have continued to influence me even during the times when I have been really angry with Christianity.
Even at a young age I had an abiding interest in spiritual and religious matters. I hassled my family, priests and Sunday school teachers endlessly with questions and argued relentlessly when things did not make sense.
There were a great many things that did not make sense to me.
I was also always interested in the occult, though the subjects of tarot, psychism, meditation, etc. were verboten in my house.
I discovered Wicca when I was 12 and was initiated at 14. Over the next two years I learned the basic principles of magick. I was able to pass on this budding knowledge, and the love of it, to another in exchange for an introduction to the tarot.
At 16 I was part of a magical circle composed of an eclectic mix of ceremonial magicians, shamans, and one flaky lightworker (heehee Bran), ranging in age between 16 and 36. It never should have worked but it did, for quite awhile.
At 17 I began studying shamanism and local native traditions while volunteering at the native friendship center.
When I was 19 I worked at a new age bookstore and learned a lot more about Buddhist and Taoist teachings.
At 20 I took my first job as a professional tarot/psychic reader, on a 900 line. It was here that I rediscovered the original basis for all my interest in spirituality, namely human psychology. I began reading a lot more myth at this time. I was also, for the first time since the circle I once belonged to, surrounded by people of like mind, and exposed to a great diversity of views even within a fairly specific range of belief.
Each book I read, each method or idea I was exposed to, taught me something, even if it was only that there are a lot of flaky people out there writing books. I have mentioned in an earlier post about learning critical discernment. It is essential when studying something as subjective and personal and yet universal and scientific as magick.
"Scientific?" I hear some of you scoffing. "Coincidental success exaggerated by overactive imaginations scientific?! Peasants running around in the woods without any clothes on scientific???!!! Overblown superstitious folk customs and childish wishful thinking SCIENTIFIC!!!!!?????"
Yep, scientific I say.
There is a way it works and a way it doesn’t. But it does work, and just like physics or biology, one does not need to fully understand the principles at work to perform a successful experiment. Understanding the principles comes with time and careful analysis of results. Not that my methods have been particularly methodical, I’m not really like that, but I have been doing this stuff long enough to have developed a very comprehensive practical understanding of how it works.
That’s why I’m always lecturing you guys.
Magick is the art of causing change in accordance with the Will. Brushing your teeth or chopping carrots could be considered magick acts, and for practical purposes I do not differentiate between natural "physical" magick, and the more intangible energies that can be raised to work ones will. This is why we call it metaphysics. All physical laws have spiritual counterparts. As above, so below.
The transformative power of thought is well known to most. The best magick transforms thought and perception before going out into the physical world. Certain aspects of quantum physics make a great argument for many of the "superstitious folk beliefs" held long before they could be proven through scientific observation. My quest has been to find the pure truth behind the subjective experience.
This is the basis of my interest in mythic archetypes also. There is a common thread in all mythological systems, including the Christian system, (sorry guys its true) which suggests it is all from one source.
Well of course it is.
I recognize the underlying patterns that are common to all culture specific modes of thought. I find it very interesting that Christians on the whole have dismissed the validity of archetypal concepts when their holy book contains just as much as anyone’s. In honor of this I have begun compiling ideas for a biblical tarot. I cannot take full credit for that idea, alas. It was suggested to me by a certain seminary candidate who will remain nameless.
Myths tell of the doings of god and heroes, but in actuality they are allegorical expressions of sometimes tangible but frequently intangible human experiences. They point to that which we aspire toward and that which we shrink from. When you remove the specific masks from the characters in these stories, you begin to see the core essences they represent. When you cease to seek for a literal interpretation, you begin to see the underlying pattern. Thus myths, while being for all intents and purposes fictitious, can give us an accurate idea of the core truths that resonate with the psyche. Archetypes don’t just represent the immortal in humanity; they ARE the immortal aspects of humanity on inner levels.
This is why the tarot is an effective tool for exploring the less communicable aspects of the psyche, especially the deeper subconscious. If you try to interpret a tarot spread literally you will find yourself talking a lot of irrelevant nonsense. If you look beyond the specifics to the ideas represented by and encompassed within the images, and allow the mind to intuitively free associate those with the subject of the reading, there is a lot of useful insight to be gained. The same can be said of any archetypal expression of a universal truth. That’s all I see when I look at any religious system anymore; a series of metaphors that reinforce the preferred status quo of a particular culture.
Old ideas don’t die, they just take new forms. Old secrets survive in new languages. When I first began my own spiritual search, I was seeking an alternative to the mindsets and role limitations of the culture I was raised in, in the hopes of getting far enough away that I need never return. I was hoping to prove Christianity "wrong" and wash my hands of it. I now recognize that it has its own validity as a system of thought, as a stage of human spiritual evolution, regardless of how it is misinterpreted and misused by certain of its followers. I have often wished that such a detailed support and teaching system existed for those of us of the magick persuasion, though we are supposed to be alternative to organised religion.
The real question has become, for me, not who is right but what is right. This must be answered on an individual basis.
I believe in a god beyond myself, who incorporates me, who I am a manifestation of. I believe that I have a direct connection to this divine entity, which I can separate my consciousness from, but not my essence. As I grow in awareness of this intrinsic relationship, it becomes less necessary to try and visualize it in a personified form. I begin to see it in all form and in all formlessness. I relax and allow communion with this formless One to guide me, and as I follow the guidance I am drawn closer still and more is offered. Or rather, I become more capable of recognizing what is offered. I am blessed with gifts of uncanny timing and direction. I am shown signs written in the sky. I am granted true visions. I am directed to random people bearing gifts and messages. I believe that what I refer to as magick is a way of growing closer to the inner reality of the divine, and of manifesting the guidance I receive.
At those times when I have begun to lose awareness of this, my sense of alienation has been increased by my crying out in a state of unbalanced impatience and missing the answer in the echoes of that cry.
I believe in searching all sources for new ways of understanding, in stretching ourselves to encompass more of the reality we encounter instead of choosing to believe only that which reinforces preexisting ideologies. I also believe in filtering the nonsense out, when it proves to be such. I believe in a sane and compassionate embracing of all worldviews, with an objective eye ever open to the possibility that certain aspects of them were created from fear and not from love, or from expediency instead of responsible moral philosophy.
I believe that we all, gods and humans and everything, are experiencing continual learning and development and that this often necessitates some very unpleasant individual experiences. I tell that to people who ask why God allows disasters and wars and stuff. Nature requires destruction in order to create. It smashes itself and rebuilds from the particles.
The only thing that does not change is the infinitesimal speck at the center of it all that I mention in my Soapbox post, which I call God, capital ‘G’. All reality is emanations of that center, distance or extension is necessary for the speck to perceive It’s own being.
Everything else is just details, as far as I am concerned, which is why I can accept anything, though I may not condone it, because I do see all things as a part of that whole, which is self contained and already complete in its own development, saving only self recognition and understanding of its own nature, which is only possible when the limitations of time and space allow an extension of perception and consciousness where before there was pure Beingness. We are all God’s thoughts, feelings and sensations. We are God's mirror. We can see it in each other if we take the time to look, and that is, as a priestess, what I do. I try to dwell in constant awareness of this and promote and ecourage it everywhere i go. To acknowledge the divine within humanity but also to continue rising beyond human limits. As people lose their fear of their own power and beauty, humanity evolves spiritually.
Theres more, but lets stop there for now. Any thoughts?

Those of you who care will be pleased to know that I have succeeded in completing all components of my thwarted signage project. This being wednesday, that means I WIN.
now i can go back to writing at work instead of actually working, and I will have something better to entertain you guys with. Does anyone have any topic requests? I wrote up a storm in response to the last two and had an excellent time.
Otherwise you will just get more aimless rambling, I got nothing important to say, see?

Grrrrr.
I have had to console more than one person this week over the feelings resulting from another person’s belittling or simple lack of clear understanding. Today I was blessed with the opportunity to practice what I preached in terms of the solutions I suggested.
Here is what happened.
At my work, the attitude of the management toward merchandising, advertising and all aesthetic considerations of marketing is negligent to say the least. Stubbornly ignorant at times even. Like all signage was printed in black ink on yellow paper until I started kicking up a fuss and demanding better materials when they brought it to me to do. Now we have several examples of my early experimentations in graphic design, tossed in higgledy-piggledy with the black on yellow, and earlier incarnations yet, down to handwritten signs with marker on cardboard. There are hundred of signs in this store, and I have requested to be able to redo them all, but there has been little cooperation.
Last month we had a meeting regarding signage and it was agreed that I would take over designing the Specials board that you see as you enter the store. It was being done by the corporate sales and marketing chick who, while having a lot of creativity, doesn’t seem to get how to make signs readable. It was also agreed that I would have all necessary information and pictures one week before the board was expected to be ready.
A lot of things were agreed to that never happened, and in the end marketing wound up doing it again, largely because I did not in fact receive the stuff I needed to even begin until 6 days into the month.
Last night I dreamed that everyone was hassling me to get this month’s done. I woke up realizing it was a week away from the end of the month. When I got to work I asked the manager about the specials and he said he would look into it.
A few minutes later the woman who I report directly to approached me. She said that the board did not have to be of good quality, and they thought two days was enough to get it done. I disagreed. I asked that I get the photos by Monday at the latest, she said Wednesday was soon enough. The board has to be done for Friday. I was kind of bewildered. She then spoke belittlingly about my inability to get the last one done and said she hoped I could do it without help this time. Excuse me? It is true I did get mysteriously bogged down in the last one, I could have accomplished more but I felt really pressured by the lack of time and the volume of material I had to work with, which is why I had asked for a week. it was actually a week into Sept before I got the pics last time.
No matter, no one is perfect, and I’m not really trying to make excuses for not doing it, but I will say that I have a solid track record for creating very good quality work in a reasonable period of time. But not in no time. Not in negative time.
Anyway, I continued arguing with her for the time I needed even as she turned her back and walked away from me! And then I got upset. The best thing about working where I work is how reasonable and respectful everyone is to each other, so I was pretty shocked.
I considered a number of retaliations. I wanted to chase her down to the office and raise a fuss. I thought of telling the owner of the company. I even considered walking out I was so upset. The worst part was knowing that not only was I right, but that she would have thought so too on any other day, and I still don’t know what happened.
Anyway, what I did in the end was vented on the store manager, who is also her husband. I said very simply that I would handle any personal issues between her and I myself, but that I would like him to intervene on the matter of getting me those pics and things. He said he would see what he could do. Then I went to marketing girl and asked her if it might be possible to get the stuff by Monday. She said I could probably have it by the end of today, no problem.
No one knows why Val was so determined to wait till the last minute. I haven’t asked her. None of this actually depends on her cooperation anyway, I don’t even know why she got involved.
I considered approaching her and asking for an apology, but I find I prefer to simply quietly circumvent her attempt to thwart my efficiency by enlisting the help of others and having the board ready to go BY Wednesday with the best quality graphics and layout I can produce. Then I can say to everyone, "looks good, don’t it? Boy, it’s nice to have that out of the way already. It’s wonderful how that policy we all agreed on to get this done efficiently and well has been upheld with such success! Don’t you think, Val?"
Being right and doing a terrific job of your assigned task and looking good doing it at the same time are all very satisfying, but the best revenge is getting your own way.
Bitch.
That’s the way that I am really evil btw everyone. Because I will find the best solution to get around people's dicking with me and they will never know it in time to cook up a new plan. I will just go right ahead and do what I want, disregarding all efforts to obstruct me. I will do so without drawing attention to their stupidity, so that they may feel quietly stupid when i succeed and have the added frustration of knowing I have kindly spared them the public embarrassment when I could have made an issue of their failed attempts.
Neener neener. Take a lesson you guys, again, heres how to use my infuriating attitude to get your way!
My art school friend has experienced a similar problem, which you can all read about if you click on her comment on my tom poem. the instructions some anonymous guy left on how to post a link were unclear, and it keeps rejecting, so scroll back and find that if you care to understand the details.
She came up with a few ways to communicate her pissed off-ness about this to the class, which I argued were unconstructive. She said "am I just supposed to meekly take this crap and play their game then?" I said, no, you’re supposed to beat them at their game. You have the option of going back and presenting you ideas in such a way that at least one person in the class may be willing to attempt viewing your piece the way you intend it to be viewed. If even one person chooses to go against the norm and experience it the way you intend, you win. It may be that this person will come to the conclusion that the others have without trying it out, and you will have to accept that, but the objective of your art is to challenge thinking, not to threaten or alienate those unwilling to be rise to the challenge, which will serve only to cause them to close down to your ideas.
And that’s true, it may be more satisfying in the short term to vent, to throw another persons shortcomings in their face, etc., but its just not very efficient. Even when a person deserves it with all their might, it’s not worth it if you can instead use their negative energy to power your own success. It makes you look good, feel good, and makes them look and feel stupid, and that’s what we all want, aint it?

speaking of which...

this is my art school friend that i told you about, known around here as 'r'

*
she says i am her technology friend, since i have had to teach her the basics of computer use in order to give her access to the joys of blogging. how fucking ironic is that? refer to my first month of blogging to find out why if you dont know how ironic that is. i am still not tech literate enough to make her r a link to her though, but she commented on my tom poem if you want one.

r, if you click on this image it will show it in a new window which will have a url that you can copy and paste into the appropriate space on your profile page. hope that saves you some hassle. didnt think to tell you how to do it before.

i made this in photoshop, from shots we took with my webcam, which r is in love with.

i think it expresses her very nicely.

allow me to introduce myselves

do you ever feel like more than one person lives inside your head?
*

yeah, us neither.

The Magic Flute

Synchronicity blesses me again.
Yesterday morning I was musing to myself about the funny miracles occurring all around me, and also on the fucked up little anti-miracles I sometimes experience, and have lately. I thought, I want some little miracle of my own today, please. I want some remarkable happy occurrence of meaningful coincidence. Not because I need it, mind you, just because I am greedy enough to wish for an abundant life, so that I can overflow to others, so that I can gloat smugly about the power the divine can exercise in the world when it is invited to act. When I am bragging about my amazing magic powers or psychic perception, I am preaching my faith. I am proclaiming the truth of the nature of reality as I see it. I am sharing the reality of this very natural power with any and all who care to perceive and make use of it. Heed if you will.
My life runs over with miracles, unasked for and unexpected. My life reads like a very weird storybook, full of deus ex machina that would be obvious to the point of clumsiness were they not in fact what really happened.
Here is what happened yesterday.
I took a message for my boss from a lady who said she had some free theatre tickets to give him. I jokingly asked her if she had some to give me too. She said very possibly, and how many people would I like to bring along? I had an escort in mind and said so, and she said she would get back to me. My first choice was unavailable (alas!) and so I had to make do with r, whom I have begun to think I am actually dating, since I see her every day lately. We even managed wrangle up a ticket for her bf.
C, I am sorry you missed it. It was beautiful.
The show was Amadeus, which was also ‘coincidental’ because I have been thinking of Mozart since a week ago waking in the obscenely early morning, being unable to fall back asleep, and listening to The Barber of Seville on French CBC until I could again. Later that day he came up in conversation. He got into my head and kind of sat there. It seemed fitting that I get to see this play.
It was brilliant. The actor who played Salieri made effortless and convincing changes back and forth between a palsied, wheelchair bound old man and an artist and aristocrat in the prime of life.
It tells the story of Salieri himself, far more intimately than Mozart’s own. Salieri begins as a devoutly pious man, a great artist in his own right. He had made a bargain with God for his fame in exchange for glorification and worship in song, and service to man.
He is doing very well until along comes upstart Mozart, wearing blue jeans with his frock coat, and blows through Vienna like a hurricane, impressing the court with his virtuosity and offending every member of it with his immature antics.
Salieri is disgusted with him. He is also entranced with his music, and bitterly jealous of it. There is a scene where Salieri has composed a march in Mozart’s honor. Mozart sits down and plays it from memory without glancing at the music, then creates a cheerful, uplifting variation, while Salieri, who hates him already, stands burning with wrath. Mozart is just having fun, and invites Salieri to try a variation of his own, which he refuses.
I think this is one of the key moments of the whole play, more telling than all Salieri’s poetic speeches explaining his motives for assassinating Mozart’s career. It is a moment I have faced myself, and have made the wrong choice more than once. We artists are all here to uplift humanity, and that includes each other. When we begin to compare ourselves to one another we lose sight of our own unique powers. Salieri had the opportunity to grow past his jealousy of Mozart and to learn from him, but chose otherwise. He was trapped in desires, conventional thinking and fear.
He curses God for giving the gift of pure divine expression to someone so crude and crass as Mozart. For making Mozart his "Magic Flute" and not himself. He declares war on God through Mozart. He swears to block the divine in the world as best he is able.
Of course he fails, but he makes Mozart suffer horrible deprivation. He uses all his influence at court to interfere with his career and prospects. Mozart eventually dies, one thinks more from exhaustion at the futility of pushing against the invisible wall he cannot understand, than any reported cause. His music lives on long after his death while Salieri’s becomes unfashionable within his own lifetime.
A few things struck me about this. Salieri got what he had asked God for, and gave what he had agreed. He continued to receive the blessing of fame long after he betrayed his side of the bargain. He cursed at God for being denied the gift of divine music, but before that jealously took him he was a devout and much loved man who expressed God in his work to help poor artists, in his teaching and sharing the gift of love of music.
True love for art is every bit as much a divine gift as genius at it. It is certainly often more pleasure than genius is. He was the only person at the time who understood Mozart’s music for what it was, what it would be known as later. He is blessed with the ability to perceive the manifestation of the creative power of God, but not to be it’s instrument. How different it could have been. How poor Wolfgang must have longed for such understanding from any human being, as he understood himself. How that understanding might have further elevated his music, and the world thereby! But would it?
I have, in earlier post, spoken of the transcendent power of real suffering. Pain and anguish, physical and spiritual, serve to strip away the barriers between ourselves and our greater awareness. When it is properly attuned to at least. I very well know the truth of this. As Mozart’s life became progressively more unbearable, his works became more transcendent, more mystical, lovely and sublime. Would he not, if he had received due recognition and rewards during his lifetime, have become corrupted by it? If he had been well fed and comfortable, insulated by fame and wealth, would he have lost the divine madness of inspiration?
One could ask the same question of many of the great ones unrecognized by their contemporaries.
It seems that art is birthed from and spurred on by the need to make sense of tribulation, to have ones own particular suffering understood. If you can ache and still love and honor what hurts you, suffer and still celebrate God, and dance alone in the rubble of a shattered life to music crafted from the agonized moans of the human heart, you are blessed with God’s greatest gift. It is freely available to all, but rejected by most.
Blessed lessons these are for one who has recently suffered some rather outrageous attempts at character assassination herself. M, remember this. Jealousy cannot destroy the truth.
And this beautiful gift was casually tossed into my hand by a stranger on the phone, simply because I had the audacity to ASK for it when it occurred to me. Had I been more timid, more polite, less nosy and presumptuous, I would never have even known the opportunity existed.
Ask and ye shall receive, I keep telling you guys.
It is not some special power I alone possess. For all I am constantly accused of arrogance and self-aggrandizement, I really do not claim to be better than anyone. I was raised with humility being an important value. Like all important values I was taught at the time I scorn it, but that’s not the point. I WANT to be special, I used to think I was, but in fact I now believe myself to be perfectly ordinary. This is because I see magic as quite ordinary, natural, and logical. If you have the cojones to look the universal powers in the eyes and say,
"This is what I want, and what I feel would best equip me to serve my purpose, which only helps You Guys, may I have it?"
you will get it. You will probably get it in a wildly different manifestation than you want or expect, but you will get it. I am also conceited enough to believe that my prayers for guidance are answered regularly, and that by virtue of this I am empowered and expected to act for the furtherment of my personal goals, since as I am a priestess they are connected and intrinsic to the greater divine plan. I really think this. However I also really think the same applies to anyone, and if you try to get in tune with it, you will see what I mean.
It is what we do with these gifts that damns or redeems us.
Speaking of miracles, here is another.
My lost friend. Poor B. He is found again, he is finding himself again.
Last week he came to see me at work. It was the first time I had seen him in months. I was afraid, since the last time I had seen him, which I speak of in a much earlier post, he was a real mess. This was also the day that my real problems with he-whose-name-we-do-not-speak began their final nasty descent. Boy, only a week ago you guys.
Anyway, B was still on the street, still messed up and using, but more lucid and clear. We spent my lunch hour together and I was able to tell him some things and ask him some things that had been burning in me this whole time. I really hate unresolved misunderstandings. I was able to give him a hug and tell him that I still cared about him and would always be his friend. That was good. I bolted from our last meeting and I’m sure that must have made him feel lousy, even if he deserved it and I had little choice. I said what encouraging things I could but cautioned myself not to get my hopes up for his recovery, but I could not resist singing a returning spell in his ear as we parted.
Yesterday, right before close, he came to my work again.
He told me he was working at the construction site down the street, and that he had been in detox for a week.
Thank you Isis for prayers answered. Let this stick.
there is a third miracle as well, but i will not speak of it here.

A heart is judged not by how much you love, but how much you are loved by others

Thank you to the Wizard of Oz for my title. By either standard, I feel satisfied with mine.
Things have gotten so calm around here suddenly.
I am able to at last concentrate on writing poetry that is both witty and pleasant. And beyond. Like this very special one here (ok its not that recent but now feels like the time to post it)

sausage and lentil soup (cooking is another of the many art forms that i rule at)

this soup kicks ass. it is delicious, cheap and easy. try it. all measurements are approximate.
you will need:
1 cup brown lentils
1 cup split red lentils
2.5 cups water or veg stock (use oxo if nothing else, stock is way better)
half a medium yellow onion, diced
5 cloves garlic (or WAY more!)minced or crushed
3-4 sausages, italian or farmers or both (tonight i had both and it was awesome!)
1 can diced tomatoes
1 tsp. fresh or dried basil or thyme
in a medium saucepan bring lentils and stock to a boil, reduce to simmer and cover for 20 minutes. cut sausage into bite size pieces and fry, adding onlion and garlic toward the end of browning.
add to the lentil mixture along with tomatoes and herbs. simmer all for another 20 minutes or so until lentils are tender.
add salt and pepper to taste
serve with some kind of tasty rustic bread, and beer, or tea, and enjoy with an appreciative friend.
makes 4 servings (ish)

I love to ride my bicycle

morning city streets
we zoom
Zoomhilda and I, singing
race
into the sunrise
all the open space
I need
is blowing in my face
at breakneck speed
I breathe
a flying song
and heave
it, transformed,
out
upon my ragged panting breath
it is the best hymn I can sing
it warns the unsuspecting up ahead pedestrians
that I am right behind them
wakes em up
At night
oh how I love to ride my bike
beneath the manic moon
her orbits teach my sprockets how to spin
she illustrates to me how to most graceful glide
rising
or descending
in the friendly night
I ride
with perfect confidence
by day
there is no greater sense
of freedom
I am praying
my jubilant prayers in fearless song
composed at 40kph

Higher Education

Wouldn’t I like some.
As many of you know, my level of formal education is in fact pitiful. I left school very early, and did not look back for a long time. I have managed to become learned in a few areas as a result of intense passion for living and a huge love of books. Like I really love books. Like if I were to be exiled on a desert island and could only take one thing with me, it would be a library.
Also I make a point of hanging out with people who are way smarter than me, and parasitically leeching knowledge from them. These patchwork bits of learning have formed a sort of eclectic semi-expertise in a few subjects, which, if I stick to them, make me seem awfully brainy. When I stray, my ignorance shows like an ill-fitting petticoat. I am awfully brainy, but that is a result of choosing to think and pursue study on my own.
I do not advocate the path I have taken to everyone, but I will say that I have no regrets whatsoever about having let experience, synchronicity and spirit be my teachers thus far. I have managed to learn a great many things not taught in any school, with the added advantage of the only pressure to assimilate the knowledge coming from myself.
This has been a subject that has been on my mind of late, as I begin to reach the limits of what I can accomplish this way. I have never been career oriented particularly, in my educational interests, but there are things that I want to know how to do and things I want to understand more in depth. I am attempting to write a book, and having fair success (or was, its definitely been backburnered the last several weeks) because I have read so many. The finer nuances of storycraft are something that I only understand intuitively however, and since I began I have often felt the lack of technical knowledge. I am frequently told that it doesnt matter, but I think I may be fixing to pursue some before long, all the same. There are advantages to having a common foundation and standard of knowledge, guided and regulated by people who have studied long and hard themselves and have, it is to be hoped, a clear understanding of how best to impart that knowledge to their students. Just so there are advantages to wandering around sampling a little of everything, as I already said.
An interesting note to the statement of letting synchronicity and spirit be my teachers; they do a damn fine job. All that was written yesterday while I was at work. After work I spent some time with a friend of mine who has returned to art school to finish her degree after withdrawing 3 years ago. Without my mentioning any of what I had written to her, she did a lot of talking about school, and she said similar things. She said anything you can learn in school you can learn in a library (on a desert island, see? that would be wicked!) or from talking to people you know who know stuff, and that the reason most people go is just for the papers that prove they know. she also said "If the teacher doesnt tell you on the first day of school, 'I have a bias, and this is a game' then they're selling it to you as reality, and thats unfortunate."
Which is true, but I learned a long time ago that you dont have to buy. Every book is written from another persons bias as well, and there are plenty of crappy books out there. When I first started learning magic, one of the first and most important things I was taught was to learn to discriminate when reading any magic oriented literature, between what was truth and what was bias. I have tried to apply that everywhere. The best way to learn is to keep your eyes and mind open. To observe the real truth about anything, you have to know how to see past your own biases and expand what you are capable of accepting as part of your reality, without doing so indiscriminately. I forget who said "keep your mind open, but not so open that your brains fall out" but thats important too. There is a lot you can learn by simply taking the time to see things for what they are. And watch for messages from spirit.
This will be me getting all flaky and new age for a sec, but I really am guided toward that which I am seeking. Regularly the most uncanny coincidences lead me toward exactly what I am looking for. I say this now because after this writing and the conversation which followed, I swung by a garage sale today and got a whole pile of books several of which were concerned with analyzing the technique of writing. There was a copy of The Fountainhead, but i left that one. (hee hee) I also got a typewriter, which I have no use for, but my art school friend had said she wanted one, so thats some more groovy synchronistic happenstance.
One more thing about her, and her particular educational process.
There was a period of several days where, though classes had begun, it looked like she would not be able to pay her tuition for the semester. After attempting to get ahold of the money in every way she could think of and failing, she was feeling pretty crappy. She said to me, "what should I do?" I said, "Ask the universe for a miracle."
She rolled her eyes at me and laughed, and I shrugged and smiled. Then we ate some delicious shake 'n' bake chicken and pasta cooked by her boyfriend, which there just happened to be enough of for me even though I had shown up unannounced and uninvited, speaking of synchronictiy.
The next day she mentioned her plight to a coworker, who mentioned it to the owner of the store where she works. The owner came to her and said, "I really appreciate you as an employee, I will pay for it, now quit moping, you're bumming out the customers." And that was that. Problem solved.
Roll her eyes at me, will she? This is my best subject, folks.
I think something else that is important is knowing why you have chosen the studies you are pursuing. I am a huge commitophobe in many, many ways, and something that always bothered me was how often I just change my mind about things. I am beginning to settle down more lately, I have been somewhat disturbed to notice, but for a good long time it just did not seem I would ever be able to focus on one thing long enough. Now I begin to suspect that if I hold out till I'm done being young and irresponsible I might just be able to have a lot of fun with that.
But there are a few things that need sorting before I'm there.
I have a lot of respect and admiration for people who have the discipline to pursue the education they really want, whether for the sake of a career doing something they really care about, or for the sake of the knowledge alone, as more than one person I know has.
The best education of all is experience, and opening to experience.
Ok 3raser, check and check. Anything else you want to know about? I like this game. Guided learning, see?

Small Change

Now that all the unpleasantness is quite over with, 3raser has made a couple of requests for posts of a loftier nature. Thank you 3 for the inspiration. I wrote this in the last two days, at your suggestion. You want passion?
This is a love poem for my greatest inspiration, my artistic hero and idol, whose brilliant work has been an integral part of shaping my approach to poetry, music and theatre, and whose songs i love to sing more than any others.

*

Tom
your goddamn
fearless weirdness
fills me with a wild delight
and comfort
crazy Tom
who digs
the beauty in the dirt
night streetwalker ballad maker
loves the hawkers and the hustlers
loves the two bit hard luck gangsters
freaks and ordinary monsters
rusty chains old hats and roses
the ocean and the sailors
and the whores
are all his muses
tattoo parlor poetry
graffitti in an alleyway
ground up in the gravel
of his voice
he makes the devil sing
his gritty soul
plays kick the can
with God
and with the garbageman
unwashed hangdog fallen angels weep
and he can brew a potion from their tears
a splash of bourbon
and the sweet reverberation
of a lonely guitar howling/grinding
and an old piss tank piano
with the prayers of ugly circus children
cursing God before they sleep
distil it in a bucket
serve it in a skull
I listen till I’m drunk
I drink till I am full
I sing till i can laugh
I laugh until I fall
deep
under the dancing spell
of an old man
whistling through hell
merrily, so merrily
rattling the bars and chains
setting all the sinners free
setting music to the painful
dirty sweet reality
dirty streets beneath a grinning moon
old cynic hollering
his ancient tunes
and Tom can hear
the music in the rumble of a train
the voice of broken men
and women lying
underneath the dogpile
smiling killers slyly sidle up
and stab the fragile

notes
full of holes
and Tom just smiles
right at me through the tattered shroud

his eyes laugh out loud
he clearly sees the human soul

rising sun rise/crow shadow fall

one final word on the subject of jeremy, and then it is closed.
i have forgiven very terrible things of many people. many of my readers who are old friends are among those. i have been forgiven similarly terrible things. i will continue to forgive, and to seek forgiveness for my wrongs, because it is my way. now.
in the year and a half before renewing contact with him, i suffered from and awful hate which was like a living thing in me. it stemmed from the intense pain of having been misunderstood, misjudged, and treated as something without value by someone very important to me. when i finally sought closure and release, i found reconcilliation. i unconditionally forgave and was forgiven, and we wiped the slate clean so we could mess it up some more.
sounds a lot like life, doesnt it?
i do not regret this, i do not regret trusting, i do not regret loving. i feel very sad, and afraid, because in spite of all i see him as someone important to me and wish not to lose his friendship, if indeed i ever had it.
this may sound ludicrous to those of you who read both our blogs and know the extent of the wrath and disrespect he has been feeling for me lately.
each of you, old friends, has the same regard from me. most of you are considered to some extent underserving of my love and commitment by the others. there are some exceptions, but there is an extraodinary division between all those i love.
i make no excuses. i have made lousy choices.however they are my choices. this is my heart. love is not a thing i make choices about, it is a thing that happens to me whether i will or no. i choose my actions. they have not been faultless in this.
we are all of us capable of dishonesty.
what i regret is the mess, and the hurt.
jeremy, i am sorry.
the rest of you quit bickering and being so cruel to each other. it was very amusing during the haiku war, but this does not even have the merit of a poetic excercise. i will not speak of him again, and i would like everyone else to please respectfully do the same.
oh, and cunning linguist, while i can appreciate that you were annoyed at having your literary tastes mocked, i find your response disproportionate.
its not the first time, frankly, that i have heard such things about ayn rand. i wouldnt know, but surely you have worthier uses for your time and energy than this.
i sincerely hope in the future i will see such ethusiastic commentary on the posts that are actually about something important. i work pretty hard on someof thse you know, not to mention the poetry.i know you are all capable of reaching higher than these squabbles.
and so am i.
the subject of jeremy is now closed.

the smoking crater...

i apologize to those caught in the crossfire, my hapless readers who come here for entertainment to find yourselves confronted with a most distasteful soap opera. it was the juiciest thing thats happened around here yet, eh? but it does not do to trumpet my personal life, and so having served its purpose, yesterday's controversial and revelatory post is removed. sorry to disappoint anyone. heres the sonnet again anyway.
-

The solitary life is all I crave
to crave. I wish I could like many do
isolate my heart, and all my self save
for just myself, and by myself renew
my lonely world. It seems to me a shame
that I alone with all my gifts cant live
contentedly, creatively, the same
or better than with unappreciative
companions that don’t want me or my truth
but want some other girl to wear my face
some sweet, compliant, naïve, blushing youth
who needs no trust, no dignity or space
Alas that I, who could reach high above
so often am laid low by lying love
-
but i dont plan on letting that happen again either. to know you are an idiot is the beginning of smartness.

The necessity of suffering

Now that we have covered love, lets talk about pain.
I see you cringing already.
People spend a lot of energy in avoidance of suffering. When we cannot we often make it worse with obsessive self pity. We spend our lives hiding our talents and wishes and true selves for fear of the pain of rejection. We refrain from taking adventures we dream of for fear of dangers on the journey. We avoid love and intimacy for fear of its loss. We spend huge amounts of money on pain relief medication. Understandably so, pain sucks.
What I noticed most about that paragraph was how much fear has to do with it. I think in many cases the pain is actually easier to cope with than the fear of more.
Regardless, no matter how we avoid it, and work to find ever more elaborate ways to prevent it, suffering is a fact of life. When everything is perfect, there is always some little thing lying in wait to hurt you. I cannot think of one aspect of human civilization that did not arise from the desire to decrease pain and suffering, or at least make sense of it. Religion, art, architecture, agriculture, politics, etc.
This has led me to the conclusion that pain is not only unavoidable but also necessary and, I will go so far as to say; desirable.
Pain is a driving force. Suppose we never experienced a moment’s discomfort. Ever. Would we ever learn to walk or communicate? The world has formed itself by crushing and grinding and mutating and pushing and shoving and fighting. Things just get comfortable in one shape and the earth heaves a sigh and swallows up an entire ecosystem. Out pop some new mountain ranges, a few hundred species die, and the world goes on turning like nothing happened. As far as the world is concerned nothing did. All that anguish and suffering and death, and we just have sandy beaches where once there was rock.
What happens then is that life is forced to become stronger, more adaptable, more creative. It is forced to surpass its limitations, or die. It is forced to live intentionally, alertly, fully experiencing. Yes it is forced, but it is lazy and wouldn’t do anything otherwise.
Pain is furthermore a tool of spiritual teaching as we learn to rise above it, move through it, and continue accomplishing our objectives in spite of it. It shows us our true power as divine beings when we can continue to work, think, love, in spite of terrible feelings. The way to overcome pain is to find the center of your being and operate from there. This is a place that pain cannot touch, the place of quiet, steady Will. It is the best place to make decisions from in any case. This may not mitigate the experience of pain, but it will enable you to maintain self control in spite of it.
Physical pain stimulates the release of endorphins which assist in attaining altered mental states. Willingly accepting pain, controlling powerful instinctive reactions in order to do so, makes a firm statement to the psyche. It says, "I am in charge." It eliminates the use of pain as a weapon or tool of manipulation. If you no longer fear it, if you can control your reaction to it, it cannot be used to control you.
Pain is for evolution, just like love. Love gives us something to run toward, pain gives us something to run from. If we can keep our heads, in pain, in love, if we can hold ourselves steady and think clearly no matter what other forces distract us, we rise above the mechanics of our humanity and become sentient in a new way..
When you have reached a point of tolerance where you are firmly in control, you begin to see the pain for what it really is, which is raw energy and power. You can ride it, like a surfer on the ocean, instead of being swept away and drowned in it.
What’s kind of laughable is that I am holding back from possibly hurting someones feelings by saying what i really want to say which is;
"Everybody please stop being such fucking wimps, crying your frailty to an uncaring world and expecting the world to change! It will not change because you cry. It will not change because you are frail. In your cringing fear you debilitate yourselves far more effectively than ever pain could. So pick up your heads, assert the authority of the Self and get past it, or you will be slaves forever!"
Whew, that feels better now. And i dont mean to be (too) harsh, but i have spent my whole life pushing myself beyond pain and discomfort, creating happiness in spite of it, and watching people who couldnt. Of the two, I am better off, I think. Its not easy, but if more people did it it would be a saner world I say.
I am not trying to say that we should pursue painful activities (except the really fun ones but thats a whole other post) or abusive relationships in order to learn either, but only that we accept that we will frequently experience these things, and the part we have a choice about is our own response.
I have spoken more of fear than of pain, but pain is at the root of fear, and fear causes a great deal of pain. Life is a process of learning self control. Pain is an excellent teacher.
But it is not the only one.

No one is sure of the integrity of his own contrition...

Thanks to Martin Luther for my title. It is irritatingly true, for reasons he was probably not referring to there. Its funny how meaningful certain things can be to me, all the while meaning something very different to others.
However, Mr. Luther, I believe that man and god (woman and goddess?) are one, and inseparable. All that separates humanity from divinity is consciousness and intention. So man can be god and God can be god at the same time and theres room for everybody because GOD is BIG.
But thats just what I think.
In other news, life kicks ass right now. Everythings coming up peaches, in fact. GOD smiles at me, and I smile back.

-

inspiration sings
grace bestowed on open ears
magnified, returned

-

And here is a special haiku for D. Siondrake

-

wowie kazowie
golly gee egad oboy
my word oh my gosh!

-

And one just for me.

-

damn, i love haiku
i write one every day
sometimes several

splelnig

this is for the grammar police in the haiku war. yes you can read it. so tehre
I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid. Aoccdrnig to rscheearch taem at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm.Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Such a cdonition is arppoiately cllaed Typoglycemia :)-Amzanig huh? Yaeh and yuo awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt.

stars belong to none
wind submits to no ones rule
spider weaves alone

retort?

midnight laughs at death
dances tragic pageantry
darkness knows no fear