“Most of us are moving through such an undergrowth of excess that we cannot sense the shape of ourselves any more.” ~ John O’Donohue
“A large part of our excessive, unnecessary manifestations come from a terror that if we are not somehow signaling all the time that we exist, we will in fact no longer be there” ~ Peter Brook
“The world is full of people who will help you manufacture tornados in order to blow out a match.” ~ Shaun Hick
“There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the appearance of it.” ~ Jane Austen
Yesterday’s post was lost to sleep and history. I’ve needed lots of sleep for at least a month now; the speculation being that the processing of psychological issues – which unavoidably includes hormones, neurotransmitters, and chakras – is the culprit. We’ve started to go deep in psychotherapy. Because the brutish looming of trauma stirs up inner issues you never can tell when a trigger might trip, or fear might come clawing out, looking for a foothold. This is unavoidable. It is also exhausting. Very much so. So, yesterday morning I was awake for a couple of hours then went back to sleep at 4 AM, which is the time I usually am involved in setting up the blog post for the day – format, photo, quotes, and general tone. I was awakened by a gentle nudging at my cheek; the pat-pat of a little paw against my skin. And she was like “dude, it’s 7 AM and you haven’t made a move toward feeding me, dude”. She was right as well: 7 AM is her general mealtime. Fourteen years ago the cat’s waking me would not have been so gentle, but she is 15 years old now, and we know each other well enough to cast a respectful mammalian decorum across all we do to interact. Lucky me – there is rarely any blood involved. Anyway, by the time I got out for a few minutes of fresh air, and put on a pot of coffee, it was 7:30. I was just in time to watch the press conference wherein the pretend Attorney General did some skeevy spell-work on the American public, as a prefacing for the release of the Mueller report. I was locked in for hours. This political scandal is fascinating. Luckily the AG’s attempts at a Jedi Mind Trick did not take hold except with peeps who are pretty much chained to preferred outcomes to begin with. As for those chains, I am seeing Michael Cohen as Jacob Marley to Trump’s Ebenezer Scrooge. I’ll not carry that analogy any further. It’s time for me to go look at the mountains, get a feel for the vibes of the day, and to shake loose any sprouts of romantic daydreams from my immediate awareness. You can never get rid of them because the mating urge in us fancy top shelf higher primates is pretty much locked in to our DNA. Between that and my opening up a can of worms over the loss of the love of my life, Lori Mellon, I was kinda sorta gobsmacked after Wednesday’s therapy session. My revelation there was that the tragedy and loss of Lori is now serving to inform; almost as if she is visiting me, from time to time, across the Veil between the world of the living and the world of those who have moved on. She does that, of course, but this is something new, to choose to see her as a teacher. Well, she taught me a thing or two on the pinball machine. I’d love to get her feedback on a woman I have been fascinated by for some time now, but likely she would get on a riff about how I am a freak for believing in life after death. Maybe so, my dear, but why exactly are you here, babe, if there is no life after death? She tells me she is not dead, she has simply moved on to a different world among the many worlds that are open and available to our participation. Yeh, there is that. I haven’t time to go into the quantum physics of her claim, like perhaps the Many World’s Interpretation. Not now, ciao.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.