A Blend of Compassion and Surprise


“Looking from the window at the fantastic light and colour of my glittering fairy-world of fact that holds no tenderness, no quietude, I long suddenly for peace, for understanding.” Daphne du Maurier

“It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are still alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger for them.” ~ George Elliot

“It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.” ~ Samual Beckett

“One of the deepest longings of the human soul is to be seen.”  ~ John O’Donohue

The Greater Bear, Ursa Major, rules the day. No, not Jack Nicklaus, he was The Golden Bear. The bear I am taking about is the one in the sky, the one that has Orion and his dogs all ruffled up. The Greek myth of Orion is compelling, as Greek myths usually are for me. At one point, when all sparked up while hunting with the goddess Artemis and her mother, Orion declared that he would kill all the animals in the world. The Earth goddess got all pissed off at him, and she sent a giant scorpion, which dispatched his ass from this world. I don’t know. I’m into the mythos of life. The Greeks were great at myths. Anyway . . . the fake rooster has begun to crow; timidly, as usual. A raven squawks in the distance. As of yet the morning is mostly about quietude. No traffic on the highways even. I’ve got a workday ahead, after two days off. Yesterday I had my monthly massage, and it was better than usual, so I feel all loose and stuff. She, the masseuse, hit on several levels. Energetic, emotional, and them good old muscles and bones. We usually chat on through the massage session. Yesterday was different in that while she was working on my back, several times, she would dig in a certain way, or rub something the right way, and it would stop me in mid-sentence. Each time I lost my vocal facilities it was because some primal energy was released to flush throughout my whole upper body, which is seriously banged up from a few bicycle crashes. That rush simply overrode speech and language for a minute or so, simply because the body notified the mind that something more important had come up, so shut the fuck up. There were also several times when I quietly cried, briefly, as some muscle memory – from the crash that nearly, or actually, killed me – emerged with a mission. PTSD stuff. Memories from trauma events can be stored in the body. Each time you awaken one of them memories, watch out. Trauma creates a powerful memory that initiates PTSD. Those brief periods of crying were also silenced, they had no soundtrack. That too was overridden, just like the yakking. It was in a way fun. Why? Because the rush also stuffed the monkey mind in a box, while the emotional stuff has it’s way. Each time this happened I could hear a non-verbal sound from her, some kind of a blend of compassion and surprise. A caring, sharing, release of empathy, Her voice, non-verbal or not, sometimes gets very close; I suppose she is leaning over. It happened these few time yesterday. The closeness had a profound effect. Massage therapy is cool because there his so much going on. She talked about my angels as well. Could they totally heal me? I told her that some scars from injury might serve needed feelings – part of who we are. I didn’t get into the Wounded Healer thing, who in Greek mythology was exemplified as Chiron, the centaur; considered to be the greatest and wisest centaur. What’s it all mean? So what, so it was a good massage. That’s what you pay for right? No. Let’s just say it’s not about the money, and leave it at that. I’ve got to, at the moment, get on with the day. I’ve got Joseph Campbell’s myth of the Hero’s Journey on my mind. The medical marijuana has opened me up to the worlds of mythos and Dreamtime. I’m kinda liking it. I’ve heard of one psychiatrist who said that the jury is still out on the efficacy of cannabis indica in treating PTSD trauma, and I’m like all “dude, I don’t need no stinkin’ jury, k? Just sayin”. Perhaps I’ll write about it one day. I’m thinking a slim volume, with color photos. This stuff is fast becoming an important part of our culture. It bears watching is what I’m sayin’.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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