A Smack on the Back


“Ravens are the birds I’ll miss most when I die. If only the darkness into which we must look were composed of the black light of their limber intelligence. If only we did not have to die at all. Instead, become ravens.” ~ Louise Erdrich

“It is possible that the city of London was initially named for ravens or a raven-deity. According to the Oxford Companion to the English Language, the designation comes from “Londinium,” a Romanized version of an earlier Celtic name. But the word closely resembles “Lugdunum,” the Roman name for both the city of Lyon in France and Leiden in the Netherlands. That Roman name, in turn, was derived from the Celtic “Lugdon,” which meant, literally, “hill, or town, of the god Lugh” or, alternatively, “…of ravens.” The site of Lyon was initially chosen for a town when a flock of ravens, avatars of the god, settled there. Whether or not “Lugdunum” was the origin of “London,” ravens were important for inhabitants of Britain for both practical and religious reasons.” ~ Boria Sax

 “Put a tray of cookies out and the Ravens were like a bunch of eight-year-olds, not a clubhouse full of hard-ass bikers.” ~ Laura Kaye

There isn’t much to say this morning. Or is there? There have been times that I didn’t think I had much to say, but I was wrong. Never can tell. I pretty much wing it most every day anyway. Yesterday I wrote a bit about ravens, because I had a conversation with one recently. Today I open with a few quotes about ravens. What’s up with this? I can’t rightly say, only speculate, and even that might take some time. In my years long and daily search for magick I sometimes come across signs that lead me to the magickal state of mind. I’m feeling that with this raven thing. Trickster? Check. Explorer of the darkness, on a quest to find hidden light? Check. A god? Check. There is more but I think you get the point. I’ll either figure it out or I won’t. Sometimes when some magickal reminder comes to me it is really no different from when a Zen Master smacks a student on the back with a rod, to remind the student to get out of his, or her, own head; to return to the present, the here and now that Ram Dass recommends. No, he’s not the only one. It kinda goes with the facts of life, the territory, whatever. And I could use some of that, most days. In continuously dealing with chronic depression there is always the threat of borderline-chronic rumination. I find that easy to do. So far, all I can do is to break up the chronic part into smaller pieces, which I then feed to my Inner Narrator, who in turn chews them up then feeds them to the novelist in me, so that he can get some use out of them. Works pretty good. I’m just riffing here. Turns out I don’t have much to say today.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


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