The Daily Raven

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“The true philosopher is a man who says “All right,” and goes to sleep in his armchair.”  ~ P. G. Wodehouse

“Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present.”   ~  Marcus Aurelius

The Daily Raven just flew over the house at sunrise, telling me that the coming day is full of promise so don’t fuck it up. Ooooo, crudeness in the very first sentence. WTF. No, of course there are more than one raven passing the house each day at dawn. That’s besides the point. The point is that I am seeking to establish some of my own totems, archetypes, whatever. I’m not sure if I am allowed to do that. Perhaps I am taking a risk here. Depending who ya talk to, Raven is a Creator, a giver of Light, and/or a Trickster. I’ve only recently begun to hear ravens squawking before sunrise. It could well be that I have simply been so wrapped up in my own little world that I simply did not hear them before. Reckon? I have no proof of that, but the mere consideration of such an explanation does things to my mind that likely need doin’ anyhow. And what about the spiritual transformation, ascendence, whatever, that I have been yakkin about for quite some time now? Yeh, what about it? The thing is that it has only recently kicked into high gear, or by necessity around these here parts, shifted into four wheel drive. In my rise from the depths of clinical depression I was not getting too far on foot, so I had to get me a spiritual Subaru. I’m not kidding now, this is going to happen. Two things broke me open this year, back around New Years: massage and a colonoscopy. Colonoscopy?! What’s that got to do with spirituality? Purge, duh. The first massage came a couple of days later. The physical benefits of massage are a no-brainer, k? What really struck me about the massage is that I right out of the gate chose the perspective of soul release as a goal. We all make our own straight jackets. Our souls become strapped. For most folks it ain’t a problem; a certain amount of restriction of the soul is necessary to navigate your chosen path in life, like ya don’t wear flip flops with Brooks Brothers. Just sayin. But for those of us who bear mental disorders, we can end up like Gulliver, all staked to the ground and stuff. Or left quivering in the corner of some deep dungeon that was recommended highly by numerous well-meaning yet misguided people, along through the years. So, anyway, I told the massage therapist up front what my intentions were with her. I have found since then that the exchange and sharing of our energy fields is the key to my intentions. I just let that happen as we chat away the allotted minutes. Massage is an intimate thing. In my quest toward healing I set my archetypal parameters through visualization, then step out of the way. A male therapist could never do this for me. The archetypal gender dynamics are a powerful tool. The Celtic goddess Brighid is my archetype of choice in this endeavor. I’ve not time to describe how this works for me, nor am I certain that I could adequately do so if I did have the time. The therapist, as a trained professional, serves as a conduit for the healing energy from the goddess, yet she is a good conversationalist as well. The next session happens next Wednesday, and it should be an interesting experiment because I’ll do it on my lunch hour, generously extended by my boss, due to scheduling restrictions at work. I’ve always chosen to have the massage on my day off. I’ve got a good feeling that this will be a very interesting experience, and possibly a great one. I’m all about profundity, so bring it on. But for today it’s all laundry and psychotherapy and stuff. Laundromats and psychotherapy have certain things in common, chop wood carry water sort of stuff. Wash, rinse, and dry. Life, because of time restrictions, runs in cycles.. Just sayin, k? And now it is time to go out and do the Sun/mountaintop thing.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

 

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