This I know


“I see us giving love to each other in a time of quiet between storms. It’s what we were meant to do.”  Frank Herbert, Dune

Yes, I am a storm lover from way back. That is not “way back” as in Mister Peabody and Sherman, although I would happily give their time machine a spin. Just imagine. The again, one timeline holds more than enough trouble than we humans can handle. Maybe, better not. My bad. It’s 29º degrees outside, and still dark. I’m minutes away from my third bout of stepping out the door. The sub-freezing air has so far been refreshing. The stars are looking pretty good, but they hang up there, a tad pale. At least the skunk will be hibernating. He walked past a few nights ago, a black and white wonder in the night, and shocked me into instant stillness. His tail was erect and I just had to wait for him to go away, which he did. I love everything Nature does, but I have limits. I’m like yeah yeah yeah dude, yer all pretty and stuff, now go away. Life should be so simple. Can you say stuff like that to humans as well? I can think of a few right off the top of my head. My chosen villains are cartoon versions of villains yet villains nonetheless.

Another beautiful day is at hand. First light is close to revealing the sun. My misery this morning is from a sinus infection. So, yeah, I did the urgent care thing yesterday. Doxycycline. We’ll see. And the doctor, Nurse Practitioner, whatever, was very pretty. I love that in a health care provider. And she was very good, very thorough as well. That’s another thing I like. Solid eye contact with a very pretty woman made me feel better on the spot. I know it’s not polite to stare but we were having a serious discussion about the inside of my head. Don’t take that the wrong way, k? Boy howdy, some things just come along in the most serendipitous ways. Yeah, I feel better.


So  .  .  .  today is Samhain. New Year in the Celtic tradition. It marks the final death of the God, and the beginning of the birth he has coming. Round and round. It’s a neat system. I’ll be hangin with the Ancestors all day. Tonight I have the honor of hangin with the dog as well. My ex has a place to go so I am on dog duty. The dog is on hospice; renal and liver failure. He’s taking it very well, for an old fella. With my interest and experience with death I find myself oddly calm and of good humor. This little fella is my bud. So, yup, tears happen. I hope to be there when he passes. But not tonight. He’s a mamas boy. He’ll wait until she’s there. This I know.

Peace out, y’all, goof gloriously.

The Generosity of Clouds


“I was born on the night of Samhain, when the barrier between the worlds is whisper-thin and when magic, old magic, sings its heady and sweet song to anyone who cares to hear it.”  ~  Carolyn MacCullough

Flat cloudy sky, maybe gray, maybe blue. It’s backlit by the moon, and it is giving rain, on and off. No stars, of course. I’ve been up since 2 AM, yet I got a respectable seven hours of sleep. My sleep patterns are fairly regular, but they will have to be reset if I am to go back in to society by getting a job. It is just a matter of when. But not today. I’ve been waiting for this sinus infection to go away. Today it has doubled down on me. I may have to visit urgent care today. We’ll see. Meanwhile I feel weak and heavy. Poor me. Four cups of coffee have only gone so far. The body has received them with a “yea, right” attitude yet the mind/brain has been somewhat supportive, a fact for which I am grateful. Likely I will have some more soon, before sunrise, which is well over an hour away.

I am well aware that I am giving a rather mundane account of my morning. In my heart I know it is the right thing to do. I’m all about magick today. A fair amount of magic is harbored jealously within the structure and applications of daily mundane reality. Meanwhile the generosity of clouds is lilting gently, a gift of rain. Rain, regardless of the severity, has a cleansing affect on psychic residue that has gone sour. This means a lot to me this morning. I’ve burnt a sage stick several times and I’ve got a single candle flame going, over on top of the bookcase, reason being for both is that someone is seriously broadcasting bad juju my way, and a large portion, if not all of it, is on mark.

A psychic attack need not be a conscious thing at all. Someone who is way pissed at you can rattle your energy field in a big way; and I suspect that quantum entanglement is the medium. But I think that this attack is conscious, and a followup of one I had to return to sender nearly two months ago. This stuff gets tiresome, and it is even entering my dreams, which is a rude violation indeed, so I must say  .  . .  dang it, woman, a friggin nuff already! Don’t make me come down there. For my more pragmatic readers I want to mention that skepticism is welcome. And for any New Age leaners I’d like to mention that I am not bringing this on myself. Dark magick needs no cooperation to hit the mark. Meanwhile I am grabbing hold of the assault and slinging it back home, from whence it came, a little more forceful this time. Twas a scene from a dream, that followed me into waking consciousness, as I awoke at 2 AM, that tipped me off. My Guardian Angel nodded her head in agreement with my assessment of the bad connection going on. She rarely steps in to a situation, but when she does, effectiveness is the word of the day. This one I will handle myself. I’ve seen her in action and it was equal measures of terror and blessing. Spirits of her type hold awesome power. The time that a van came through the wall of our house in Talpa she showed up to help me avoid serious harm. She may have saved my life. The van very nearly struck me! My point is that to behold her in action was emotionally, mentally, and physically overwhelming.

I just stepped outside of the yard to better see the sky. First light is flowing in. It looks like there is significant snow up on the mountains. The air is humid and close, rich with moisture. And the moon is showing slightly through the clouds. I feel the beauty of the day. There are errands to run in town, and, as I mentioned above, I may go to urgent care as well. I hate being sick. Who doesn’t, right? All of that negative psychic stuff can be a big energy drain. Writing about it helps me bring my feet back to the ground, because problems are rarely solved when you don’t have your feet on the ground.

Peace out, y’all, goof gloriously.

Bromides and Cartoons


“The usual duty of the “intellectual” is to argue for complexity and to insist that phenomena in the world of ideas should not be sloganized or reduced to easily repeated formulae.”  ~  Christopher Hitchens

Much to my amusement, I watched the Republican debate last night, finding myself waxing iconoclastic, and wondering just when the concept fell into use, that truth becomes truth simply because somebody happened to say something out loud. This is, of course, high convenience for folks who spout without what is usually rather basic to speech: thought. As a result of that line of reasoning I found my nearly spinning mind focusing on ‘talking points’, a term that seems odd to me since talking points are more like regurgitation than speech. It seems I have given up on my suggestion that I would avoid writing about politics, which, it appears, was an empty aspiration, and as Sen. Marco Rubio (R – FL) is so fond of saying: here’s why. It is, you see, my love of language, instilled in me by my rascally Grandma Olive. I can fairly accurately be described as a Liberal. That term, as well as the term ‘Socialism’, have somehow been demonized, an effect that gives the term ‘delusional’ a bad name. Now, don’t y’all go on and tell me that both sides do it, because that ain’t even remotely true, and I will be then hard pressed to avoid you to some degree. That’s nothing but an old bromide at this point. I’m not going to go all scholarly on y’all, not here, not anywhere, although I admit to possessing that ability. All of this spouted shit reminds me of when a business acts corporate and says otherwise. Numerous philosophers, throughout time, have used language in an appropriate manner, to say that actions speak louder than words. I used to work for such a business. It was the damnedest thing. It reminded me of cartoons.

I just went out and watched the sunrise, gave the chickens and the turkey food and water, and in the process my mind told me to stop writing about this stuff for now. It’s kind of dizzy making. And it tends to get my level of anxiety cranked up, and if it gets maxed out I end up hiding in my rooms for two days. My anxiety level is high to begin with. I simply must do my laundry today. Go buy fresh cat litter. Swing by the clinic to make a doctor appointment. Stuff. Just stuff. My morning meds are kicking in. That’s good. And then what? It’s a beautiful day. Nuff said.

Peace out, y’all goof gloriously.

Full Moon Mystery

Full Moon

“We all shine on…like the moon and the stars and the sun…we all shine on…come on and on and on…”  ~  John Lennon

Happy Full Moon to each and every one of you. I seem to be at a loss for words this morning, probably because I got a call from the State Medicaid provider, two days ago. The young woman asked me a lot of questions. I answered to the best of my ability. The upshot is that it seems I am at a moderate to high level of needing special resources. Go figure. They will send a case worker to assess my room, my home, to see what may be needed. This is a life buzz. A general WTF. I seem to be able to do everything needed to take care of myself, unless they can remove the writer’s block that keeps me from working on my serious, non-blog, projects. Do I need a caregiver? No. Wish me luck, right? I’m at a loss for words. This is all a mystery of ample proportions. Onward.

Peace out, y’all, goof gloriously.

Pit Stops, Platitudes, and Paranoia

Lucas 031

“I think nature’s imagination is so much greater than man’s, she’s never going to let us relax”   ~  Richard Feynman

Edgy morning. I could blame it on the moon, but I think it’s just me. I had something happen yesterday that really brought my life situation into clear focus, as much as is possible anyway. I’ve pretty much coasted through life, but that is likely not a good idea anymore, for any number of reasons. No praise, no blame. The things I have to do to begin fomenting changes, to tighten up what needs tightening up, are no-brainers. Getting moving is the sticking point, and that obstacle lies smack in the middle of depression and anxiety.  Oh, if you are uncomfortable with this, just stop reading. I share my process sometimes. That’s what I do. Anyway – it’s seriously hard to describe how anxiety and depression make getting moving so hard. I mean, first motion isn’t bad, but any further motion gets sidetracked, hijacked, commandeered, whatever. I think it is partially an artifact of the racing mind. Note: I don’t like it when people call it ‘the monkey mind’, because the rise of Eastern thought has been so pervasive that that one little phrase seems like a platitude by now. I’ve long called it ‘the magpie mind’ and even that rankles me some at this point and place in time. How about the human mind? Why not, right? Of course with the Bipolar disorder the racing mind is on overdrive even at the pit stops. Shit, I just push in the clutch when I need a break. I’ve long practiced mindfulness as a “walking prayer”, which means that I use the details and actions of my everyday anyway life as a practice, that way I don’t have to sit down. That last part was a joke, by the way. The walking prayer reminds me to keep close to the sacred nature of everything I see or touch. Bipolar and PTSD are in there somewhere. I think it was the great Jimi Hendrix who said “Everything is everything”. Dude rocked. But, back to the getting in motion thing – it’s not space case stuff, it’s not an absent minded professor thing either. There is a strong element of crestfallen resignation involved. I’ve had a lot of that in the past two years, nearly to saturation point, most of the time. And it was amplified, peddle to the metal, when the animal shelter booted me two steps this side of useless. People may say that I take things too hard. Really? Ya think?! It’s like one of my coworkers at the shelter told me one day “the trouble is that you take things too personally, even when they are personal”, and I was like then why ya talkin’ to me anyhow sister. You’d think that life is just one long self-growth seminar. Oh, by the way, I strongly disagree with that former coworker. It sounded all too disingenuous for my taste, like what was being said lay behind the words she used, disguised in the way she strung ’em up, and the message was a simple reminder to stay in my place and not interfere with the actual power structure. Hey! Looks like I am healing – there was a time when this all would sound like paranoia. It still does. But paranoia is, as I see it, essentially pattern recognition. Time and space have been a friend in showing how things were connected back then, back when I was up to my brain in cat shit and newspapers. My spirit guide’s done a fair amount of whispering as well. She’s like dude, nice work Sherlock, ummm, I mean dude. I just had to get that out. I still love ’em all. We worked for a noble cause, together, as a team. I say this sincerely.

So, today it’s recycling, a nap, then some Spring cleaning. The nap? I’ve been up since 12:30 AM. Simple prudence. I could tell by my hair that sleep was fitful. Anxiety dreams. By now, with suppression in the past, the truth can be faced, even if anxiety remains. The anxiety is biological, a fact I have yet learned to live with, even though I’ve come a long way toward that goal. When people cheer at me to move on, bounce back, I don’t argue. In a depressed person the hippocampus can shrivel up. That’s where the resiliency comes from. Resiliency does not come easy for me. I’m not making excuses. I can still bulldog my way through these conditions, when that is appropriate. But sometimes acceptance is needed.

Peace out, y’all, goof gloriously.

That Which Needs Tending


“It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it.”  ~  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

I was tempted to walk out where I could get a clear shot of the full moon, but it caught my eye through the trees, and through the sagebrush up on the ridge. The effect was one of sparkling; large jewels of light in the trees. It’s a great way to start the day. So what’s up with that? I have no idea what I will do today. My mind is looking toward my spirit this morning. Whatever it is I do it must being soul enriching, and nurturing to my rattled emotions. It’s just that kind of day. The sky has offered to be my guide today. It’s a good offer. Maybe I’ll just go with that. It is the season of my mother’s death, November 5th is the anniversary. It’s all about grieving, which never ends, it just shifts, much like the moonlight through the sage and trees. It’s sometimes hard to admit to myself that I have consciously learned about grieving instead of just letting it flow, but I do that at times anyway. Having PTSD makes it sometimes interesting. The disorder has responded well to my efforts at managing the inner storm. The storm grew so intense as mom slowly died that, I guess, I became accustomed to endurance. Not bad, right? But I also stepped out, a 2 AM, into the storm, as Hurricane Andrew was peaking. It was flattening a good part of the mainland, south end of Miami, but I was down below the damage zone, where I could stand on the middle of US 1, arms spread in gratitude at being able to embrace such power. Inner storms or outer storms, they both carry the same dynamic. The bigger the storm, the more learning to be had. I’m thinking about healing today. There is always some of that needs tending. Today I look to the sky for wisdom. Bring it on.

Peace out, y’all, goof gloriously.

Soul Mates


“Having your head in the clouds is not a bad thing… as long as you take advantage of the inspiration you find while you’re there.”  ~  Misty Dawn Seidel

It has been a weird morning and the computer is acting up. Full moon, right? My mood has been truly strange as well, and I know that I have a strong effect on the computer when my energy is running high. It’s an electromagnetic thing, an effect that was with me when I came out of my NDE visionary journey. My ex-wife has been on my mind this morning, and I realized that I’d love to see her again. It’s been a little over 20 years. The divorce was 36 years ago. Lori Mellon is also on my mind. She was the love of my life, but both women were my soul mates. Full moon one week before Samhain, Halloween. Both events make the Veil thin. It’s going to be one helluva ride all week long. With these women on my mind  .  .  .  well, I know something is up. There is a reason that Spirit is holding them before me. How the heck should I know? Lori passed over back in ’95. That scar is my biggest. But Shannon left a scar as well, just not as big.

Moody boy here is going to keep it short and sweet this morning. There is big sweetness blanketing the worries that have been hounding me, so I’ll go with the sweetness today.

Peace out, y’all,goof gloriously.

The Skeptic and the Science Geek


“Time flows in strange ways on Sundays, and sights become mysteriously distorted.”  ~ Haruki Murakami

Tomorrow is Sunday. I don’t like Sundays and I haven’t a clue why. And so it goes. Therefor I usually feel blasé about the day. Maybe my Sundays as a child were blasé, reckon? We learn so much in childhood, you’d think that most of it would be helpful. Nah, scratch that. Queue the self-help guru. You make things helpful. I think it was comedian Stephan Wright who said that if you go into a bookstore and ask where the self-help books are located you are defeating the whole purpose. Purpose is another thing that we make happen. Right?

“The seven wonders of the world he’ll lay before your feet,
In far-off lands, on distant shores, so many friends to meet.
Are you sitting comfortably? Let Merlin cast his spell.”  ~  The Moody Blues

Samhain, Halloween, is but one week away. The Veil is opening early, me thinks. I also think the thing about pagan leanings is that paganism is mostly a metaphor. It doesn’t have to be “real”, if you don’t want it to be. The goal is to get back to the Earth. Then you can look back to then heavens. It’s always good to keep your feet on the ground, if only for a moment. Such mooring is altogether too rare. I always, each year, listen for the spirits of ancestors, Elementals, Gods, and Goddesses. Remember, metaphors. I see them as neither real nor unreal. I see them as imaginal, which in its very essence require neither condition. It would muck up the works. Plain and simple. This year I aspire to gain the help of the many Spirits, or rather the ones who agree to help. I felt the spirit of my mother yesterday, so strong that it took my breath away. I’ve recently written about the fresh proof that quantum entanglement exists. Therein you would find strong suggestion that entanglement is responsible for contact with the after death world. You’d need Heisenberg’s Many Worlds Theory as well. We live in a strange Universe, and to say that we have nearly any of it figured out is at least silly. I personally believe in the after-life, but the skeptic, in the true definition of the word, and the science geek, in me can’t put it into the ethereal realm, like that of New Agers, not without failing altogether at having it work at all. Understanding, or healthy questioning, is worth horse feathers if it does not come from an integrated mind. Says me. Hey, it’s almost sunrise. I gotta get out there where I can see the mountains, and I gotta take my camera with me, lest I see something good. That’s the whole point of what I’m getting at in this paragraph. Nothing is any good if it ain’t no good. And nonsense holds a noble place in human affairs.

Great sunrise! Now, I will not write about politics today, k? I learned a lot about stress management from watching Hillary Clinton fare the barrage of horseshit from the Republicans on the Benghazi Committee on Thursday. It was pathetic, but I saw Ms. Clinton do the stoic thing. I’ve got some serious PTSD going this morning, and I mud go into town for a therapy session. It’s a 20 minute drive, so I always show up symptomatic. That’s a big help. Buy cat food, crunches, a bottle of wine at $2.99 a bottle. A box of microwave popcorn. It might well all work out. It always does. Worries are largely phantoms. Ya done gotta be a warrior to keep anxiety from commandeer your friggin life. A Peaceful Warrior. Tension is not your friend. And on that note I shall publish this and move on.

Peace out, y’all, goof gloriously.

Of Dragons and Rain


“PTSD is a whole-body tragedy, an integral human event of enormous proportions with massive repercussions.”   ~  Susan Pease Banitt

We all have our dragons to slay, right? I think of that wonderful, horrifying scene in Terry Gilliam’s “The Fisher King” where Robin Williams, bless his soul, meets his dragon, in the form of a way spooky Red Knight, on a back street in Manhattan. His character has PTSD, in a very bad way. Robin inhabited that role, and now we all know why. Back when I first saw that film, which you really oughtta do if you haven’t, I was unaware that I had PTSD. It stemmed from a terrifying bicycle accident in 1984, in which I tore my face up in a big way and placed a touch of brain damage in my rather large head. I knew neither about the brain trauma nor the psychiatric disorder until within the past two years. Call that a 29 year wait. Funny thing: the attending physician to my case, at the Jackson Memorial Trauma Center (University of Miami), assured me that no neurological damage had occurred. Dude said there was no concussion, so case closed. Silly man. I have Doctors William Wangs and the lovely Debra Solomon to thank for providing me with the truth. It doesn’t make the damage go away, but truth gives a little more wiggle room, which provides a little greater level of perceived freedom. One of the first benefits I derived from this truth is that the PTSD, along with the also recently diagnosed Bipolar 2 Disorder, likely ended my hopes for retiring from Cid’s Food Market, but I didn’t know how these disorders affected me, I didn’t even know that I had them, so I lost my job, and  .  .  .  well, let’s just say poor me. That was one of two valued jobs I’ve lost since moving to Taos, just by being me. Dude like what’s up with that dude? I’ll let it go at that, first saying that I am in treatment, for all that’s worth. And  .  .  . and  .  .  . the other job was at the animal shelter, where at least I had daily therapy richly provided by animals. People? I came out of the traumatic accident with a calm fear of people. Please make note of that term: “calm fear”. It is not an oxymoron! I’ve learned to keep calm, but the fear never goes away. Shit, I’ve learned to keep dry when it rains, but that doesn’t stop the rain. It’s not that different. You’ll have to trust me on that one.

Long as I remember the rain been comin’ down
Clouds of mystery pourin’ confusion on the ground.
Good men through the ages tryin’ to find the sun.
And I wonder still I wonder who’ll stop the rain.   ~  John Fogerty

It rained overnight, it ain’t all that cold, first light sneaking over the Sangre de Cristos, coffee all gone, yet it all comes together after all. I’m finally on the rise after a notably bad week. Lucky me. When the dark side lays siege, a positive attitude sits in wait, hunkered down in a safe place, hiding out from the storm, a seemingly thankless task, but you end up saying thank you anyway, but only when the storm abates. It helps, no doubt, to stay positive. No doubt. But pain is pain. I’m in a reflective and contemplative mood today. I might just carry this load of aluminum recycling into town. I’m afraid when driving. With the trees flaunting peak color it’s not so hard to drive down there, even when tailgaters are so ubiquitous as to seem justified in their ridiculous affronts to the laws of physics. Friggin science deniers!  How do you expect them nitwits to consider climate change when they are all over your friggin ass on the friggin road?!! Where’s Neil deGrasse Tyson when you need him? Just sayin’.

Peace out, y’all, goof gloriously.

Several Difficult Concepts



“There’s no coming to consciousness without pain.”  C. G. Jung

What’ll it be today? I seem to feel that I have little to write about lately, or maybe I am simply going through a period of being somewhat tired of writing. But I try to do it everyday regardless. Practice, practice, practice.  I’ve actually been finding interest in the political shenanigans and general dynamics lately. It’s seemingly a study in human relations. I’ve had two jobs since I moved to Taos, 21 years ago, that evoked an interest in the larger dynamics of these relations. Personal day to day one on one dynamics are much easier, for me anyway. But when a group of any size, where working to any extent as a team is required, I get baffled. Clique mentality is such a tenacious force that any softening of the force is hard to come by. But people do it anyway. I think it’s mostly a natural human characteristic that softens without too much effort. But this only goes so far. I have no answers, I’m just rattling, prattling, whatever. It happens when I am baffled.

I’m stoked about the snow on the mountains. I’ll go out in a few minutes to see if the mountains are visible yet. The clouds have been dissipating for three hours now. There is yet hope. The cat is laying at my side. She was restless earlier this morning, and I suspect that it was because of the wet deck. She wanted to go outside but she didn’t like the conditions out there. Speaking of conditions, my favorite news lately is that Dutch scientists have proven quantum entanglement. Granted, it is a difficult concept to wrap your head around. What I find exciting about the discovery is how it may be applied to parapsychological research. Clairvoyance is the first thing that comes to mind. This applies to seeing at a distance, or feeling at a distance, but it also is used as a term for seeing into the future. There is already strong evidence of backward time flow, so   .  .  .  well, I’m excited is what I am trying to say. The work of Dean Radin, of Edgar Mitchell’s Institute of Noetic Sciences, comes to mind.

The sunrise is gray, more so than my mood. The air is moist and cold. The past few days, mood-wise, have been as hard as they get. Some of it is situational, but mostly it’s the illness, yet all of it knocks the crap out of me when it gets bad. Cranky spine as well. The MRIs of my spine show a lot of glitches and other nasties. Of course the weather gets in there. A soft pillow and a chair is the best medicine. I always remember, when weather comes in, the suggestions from Seth, the non-corporeal entity channeled by Jane Roberts. Seth said that weather also contains emotional aspects, thus our moods are altered in ways that are not totally of the mind, especially not driven by opinion or personal taste. We are affected regardless. I know that some folks have little interest in considering that an entity like Seth is real. But bear in mind that Yale University keeps a full library of Jane’s work. So, it is significant nonetheless, real or not.

There’s some sunlight showing and the cat is over here mumbling in her sleep. I’ll meander on into the day. See ya.

Peace out, y’all, goof gloriously.