“Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under, it will lift you up. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers and philosophers who really counted, who really touched the alchemical gold, this is what they understood. This is the shamanic dance in the waterfall. This is how magic is done. By hurling yourself into the abyss and discovering it’s a feather bed.” ~ Terence McKenna
“Chaos is what we’ve lost touch with. This is why it is given a bad name. It is feared by the dominant archetype of our world, which is Ego, which clenches because its existence is defined in terms of control.” ~ Terence McKenna
Sunrise – or almost anyway. 49º F, fresh. Earlier the stars were flirting with brilliance, as they sometimes do when Summer comes. Clear skies? Drive out to some remote place in the dark. No lights. The sight will turn you humble on the spot. I did this down in the Everglades one night. Stopped the Cadillac Fleetwood convertible, dropped the top, and turned off the car. My buddy D. J. was with me. The sight terrified him; out in the middle of the great swamps. I was thrilled deeply. I still am. We hiked through the Everglades on a Full Moon night, tripping on shrooms. No words. But that’s not today. Today I am a much older man. Have I aged well? The question is meaningless, k? Don’t even go there. Tools at hand, dude. Ya gotta go from where you are ’cause y’all ain’t got a choice, my friend. Tools at hand. I think we have an incomplete image of what memory is and how to use it. They say it ain’t accurate, and is open to interpretation. We’ll, yeh. Duh. Those memories of a Magical Mystery Tour in the wash of a Full Moon Everglades mystical wonderland are fresh and will feed me and nurture me throughout the day today. It’s a workday. The cat has been mercifully quiet this morning. The bruja has been poking around lately, and be she metaphorical, archetypal, liminal, imaginal . . . it just don’t matter none to me. Anyone who’s lived ’round these parts know how real a bruja or brujo can be. Anyway . . . the cat protects me from such intrusions into my Dreamland access. That’s how I know she didn’t come around, so the cat had the night off. I just had three days off, and got ample rest. I certainly am grateful to see that my nocturnal friend gets some of the same. But my mind and heart are all about transformation. I encountered two snakes by the gate from the deck yesterday. I like how they say hey by slowly wiggling their little tongues. Totem-wise they told me to get ready to shed my skin. So in the big picture I am turning to Jung and McKenna, Jean Houston, Braden, Lipton, Raymond Moody, and others. The world has changed. Some say it is ending. Yeh, well . . . ? How would you know? These days ya jest gotta look ’round to see that it ain’t never gonna be the same. The question is what is it gonna lead to. Transformation. I’ve got work to do. Yesterday I was reading from Peter Levine: “Waking the Tiger”. It’s about trauma and whatcha gonna do about that PTSD, dude. Levine gave an exercise in somatic reconnection. It is way easy for me to go all dissociated and stuff. Use the shower to touch every inch. Shower? Ooops. it’s time. Big day ahead. Thick with Mythos and promise. There I go.
All is well. Goof gloriously.