“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.