“Fiction is an illusion wrought with many small, conventionally symbolic marks, triggering visions in the minds of others” ~ William Gibson
“Music, this complex and mysterious act, precise as algebra and vague as a dream, this art made out of mathematics and air, is simply the result of the strange properties of a little membrane. If that membrane did not exist, sound would not exist either, since in itself it is merely vibration. Would we be able to detect music without the ear? Of course not. Well, we are surrounded by things whose existence we never suspect, because we lack the organs that would reveal them to us.” ~ Guy de Maupassant
Yesterday delivered a rainy morning, as a gift, I suppose. I saw it that way. We only get maybe a half-dozen of those a year. It seemed perfect ambience for my early morning massage. This body was in bad shape this time. Can you call it attrition? Well, of course, that’s what it is. A couple of weeks ago my psychotherapist told me I am “strongly introspective”. That’s true. I know it to be so. The past couple of weeks it is everything I can do to get my assets out the door, into town, then poking my employee code into the software at work. Note that this is not because there is anything inherently wrong with what it is I am obligated to do. There’s not. It’s a fact of life kinda thing. No praise, no blame. The thing is that it is either profoundly draining, or painful, or both, to spend all day with other people. See me and you’ll likely not notice that I have my brave face on and happiness app in the on position. I will simply look as if I am at ease and enjoying the situation, which I do, because . . . ummmm, I am. Does that sentence make sense? Seems kinda clunky to me, but in a good way. Of course. Without going into detail, I can note here that certain issues of spiritual and emotional healing are the culprits here. Some healing requires a higher level of solitude if you hope to make any kind of proactive progress. Grieving is the basic undercurrent: a job, my mom, my soulmate sweetheart. It’s a good time of year to be walking this healing path, and hopefully I can do it without flowery language. We talked about the seasonal and astrological forces yesterday during the massage. Why wouldn’t we, right? The Equinox has done it’s thing. The dark Moon is now waxing. And Mercury – that rascal – is retrograde. It was a good conversation. Always is. My theory is that in conversing along with the bodywork – for me, as a strong introvert – the stories that are set into muscle tension like a lockbox are given the option of kinda sauntering, if not out and out running, out of their archetypal prison. Freedom is good. Cultivate it; that’s what I say. A little rain doesn’t hurt either. A pair of good strong hands both hurt and help. It was a good session, and I told her so, thanked her for it too. Sometimes it is simply that simple.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.