“Everything you can imagine is real.” ~ Pablo Picasso
“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” ~ J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan
“Don’t part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live.” ~ Mark Twain
Having been up since 3:30 AM, I just realized that the morning is somewhat preternaturally quiet. I love it when that happens. In attribution I must give the Full Moon full credit. She hangs in the southwestern sky behind a fast moving, somewhat filigreed army of clouds. The effect is stunning, to say the least. There were pastel coral and lavender hues bleeding in and out of the pure black void behind the Moon. And occasional flashes of brilliant violet light. Very dreamlike, and seductive in a special way. I remind myself that a Full Moon cracks open the Veil that separates the world of matter from the world of Spirit. It would be easy to go traveling off into the Other World for a spell, a jaunt into a place where magick runs free. Call it the Faery Kingdom, the Imaginal World, the Other Side, the plain old Side, the Nagual, Hilbert Space, psychedelic delusion, whatever. It’s a place that we artistic type know pretty darned good, and we kinda sorta rely on being able to go there at the drop of a hat. I’ll have a looksee, for certain, a few times today, but my afternoon, after my weekly psychotherapy session, will begin with Cousin Willy’s microwave popcorn. Movie theater style, lots of butter; with natural flavor and other natural flavoring. What the . . . what does that even mean? “And other natural flavoring”. Twas but a lengthy day yesterday, beginning with a truly wonderful massage (!), and ending with my parting with my pet-sitting friends, Gertie and Took, when their facilitator returned home. Don’t say owner when referring to fur kids. We facilitate their lives, we give them a lovely home and keep them off the streets and mesas. Adopt shelter animals. Give them a good life. My point here is that I am going to proffer to myself some profound rest. The massage therapist stirred up and broke loose a shirt load of toxins. Lots of water, my son. Lots of water. The high from the massage lasted many hours, but came a point when the the muscles all teamed up on me and said “Hey! What’s the big idea?!” PTSD and entropy are greedy little schemers, processing Life energy as pain and tension, and they get riled when challenged. Habitual momentum is the nemesis of change, growth, and development, not to mention that it is also the scourge of evolution. No pain, no gain. Plus, the massage therapist is really really pretty, and she has a great smile. Skilled hands, and knowledge from copious experience. My level of self-care has been barely adequate for several years. I am changing that by beginning with a massage. I will repeat that every other week for a spell. Boy howdy I may even take a jaunt down to Ojo Caliente for a soak in the mineral baths. The therapist called it a vacation in one day. And the drive down the west rim of the Rio Grande Gorge is simply stunning, a feast for the eyes. She expressed concern about my left shoulder, which has been aching like the bejeezes for a few days now. And my neck. Microwave-safe neck wrap. Duh. Those probing fingers touched on some deeply painful knots and stuff, and there was one tendon that seemed thoroughly pissed by the intrusion. All said, I am going to find a good movie to watch this afternoon, just hang and chill with my homies, the Ancestors. If a pooka also happens by, I am down with that dude. I know that pookas have a dark side dude, but I lately realized that Trickster Coyote is a kinda sorta pooka of America. You can’t get away from magick, once you plug in, there is no turning back.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.