“There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep.” ~ Homer, The Odyssey
Today’s opening photograph is an image of spring runoff on Taos mesa, back in 2013. It was quite a show, especially the sounds of a river running by the house, for however short a time. Music. Having lived within crawling distance from the ocean for so many years, I have a soul affinity for water. Love of the ocean is an unspeakable, translingual, whatever, sort of thing; it envelops the heart in a kind of primal, soulful song. Music, yes. A very odd thing happened last night. I was up and awake, for a brief time, from about 1:30 to 2:00 AM. Then back to sleep. I slept right through the iPad’s attempts to wake me. Hey! Did I just anthropomorphize a computer device? You betcha. Anyhow, I woke about 5 AM, in a state of wonder from this odd occurrence, and also with, in, whatever, a state of calm nourishment from the dreams that carried me through this tardiness. Tardy? Yes, I like to get up around 3 AM, read a fair amount of news, then get to writing these here blog posts. I would say that I needed the sleep, and that may be true, but what I really needed was the dreams. Dreams are essential to magick, and ever since my NDE in 1984 I have been all about magick. Many experiencers of NDEs report that they become a much more spiritual person after an NDE. Well, buddy . . . I became magickal. Needing the dreams last night stems from that conflict in my life that is playing out in part on the magickal level. Someone is throwing shade my way. Sometimes I bat it off aikido-like but the most fun approach is to take one of these magickal beanbag projectiles, surround it with love, then drop it on the floor at the other person’s feet. This all happens on a metaphorical, imaginal, liminal, level. Hey! I just used an Oxford comma there (the one after the word “liminal”). Them commas are all the rage in this new millennium. Words, as well as how you arrange them, or line them up, are magick: you spell a word and then you cast a spell in the way you use it. Spoken language informs the other person’s brain what you intend to say, be it direct, or covert, or simply the mutterings of an asshole. That asshole can be anyone from the guy in the checkout line at the corporate supermarket right on up to the president of these here United States. Just sayin. That . . . ummmm . . . guy is fomenting a potential war on liberals. The reporter who was brutally assaulted by a newly elected congressman up in Montana is a good soldier. The congressman is an asshole. Hey! I’m being rather crude, it seems. You betcha. It is a sign of the times. Goddess knows I can be urbane. I will not offer justification for my crudeness. The term is merely descriptive, and it is always best to choose the best words. On that note I’m a gonna mosey on off into the workday. It’s gonna be a quite busy retail experience for this cashier fella. I love my job.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.