“There is in all things a pattern that is part of our universe. It has symmetry, elegance, and grace – these qualities you find always in that the true artist captures. You can find it in the turning of the seasons, the way sand trails along a ridge, in the branch clusters of the creosote bush of the pattern of its leaves. We try to copy these patterns in our lives and in our society, seeking the rhythms, the dances, the forms that comfort. Yet, it is possible to see peril in the finding of ultimate perfection. It is clear that the ultimate pattern contains its own fixity. In such perfection, all things move towards death.”
“When you have no real power, go public — really public. The public is where the real power is.” ~ Elizabeth Warren
My best friend, who is a soulmate of a unique kind, once told me that the birds sing to bring up the Sun. Ya know, in a way, I believe it. We were walking along a trail, along the shore of Browning Pond in central Massachusetts, a bit toked up, and bathed in the beauty of it all. That is a magickal place; both the pond and the state of mind. I’m all (well mostly) about magick today. Perhaps it’s the quickly approaching Full Strawberry Moon, which will become exact come Friday morning. I won’t say I can’t wait because I pretty much have to wait. Linear time is like that. Yet the depression, what David Foster Wallace called “the Bad Thing”, is at me bigtime this morning. I’ll manage, I always do. I’ve got coping strategies and all that happy horseshit. Did ya just notice something about David Foster Wallace? As much of an accomplished and prodigiously qualified writer (and professor of writing, English language, whatever) as he was “the Bad Thing” is the best thing he could come up with?! If you ask me, that is an exquisite expression. It nails it. That dude could write! Don’t worry about me. Just because I write about it don’t mean it’s gonna get me or something. It’s just hard, that’s all. It is always lurking, that’s why they call it ‘clinical’. Sometimes, like this morning, it pounces. Depression is feelings of powerlessness, and anger turned inward. Some say that it is the product of what Kurt Vonnegut called “bad chemicals”. I think Mr. Vonnegut was being ironic there. He watched his son, Mark, go through an episode of screamin’ psychotic break sorta depression. I’ve never even been close to an episode like that. Mark wrote a fine book about that, The Eden Express, then went on to become a pediatrician. He wrote a memoir as well: Just Like Someone Without Mental Illness Only More So. I soooo know what he means by that! Both books are excellent. He’s a fine writer, although his style is nothing like his dad’s. That part about style should be an important life lesson. As a Baby Boomer I have heard way too many guys say “I’m turning into my dad!”. To that I can only borrow a line from Monty Python: Stop that! That’s very silly. To any Millennials who may be reading – if you hear your grandpa say he’s turning into his dad, just stop and think about what that means in relation to your father. Don’t let that hurt your brain too much, k? Thanks, yer a pal. Hey! Did I tell you I ran into the goddess yesterday? It was the darnedest thing. I’ve been asking for a sign from her for several days now. Affirmation, don’tcha know. Yesterday at work a woman came to my register to make a purchase. Pretty lady. Mellow demeanor. As I turned my face back to her, handing the receipt over, I looked back at her face. I saw this young, stunningly beautiful woman, with fiery red hair, and blazing blue eyes. I felt the flush of magick run through my being. As the stunned energy quickly wore off, her face morphed just a tad, and I then noticed she was not all that young after all. And her hair was indeed red, but not the fiery stuff I had just witnessed. Her eyes? Blue, but not blazing. I looked back at the register for some reason – shyness, I think – then back at her. We locked eyes, both smiling, and I’ll be darned if she didn’t morph back into the glowing young woman I had seen before. My spirit guide, Brighid, has attributes just like that. I asked for a sign and she gave it to me. I feel stronger for it all. Still depressed, but I have been given a sign, and I am sticking to it. Magick is like that: it’s there but it ain’t. First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.