The Malleable Texture of Perception

“Magic doesn’t sweep you away; it gathers you up into the body of the present moment so thoroughly that all your explanations fall away: the ordinary, in all its plain and simple outrageousness, begins to shine — to become luminously, impossibly so. Every facet of the world is awake, and you within it.” ~ David Abram

“In her novel Regeneration, Pat Barker writes of a doctor who knew only too well how often the early stages of change or cure may mimic deterioration. Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly, a fit emblem of the human soul, for those whose cast of mind leads them to seek such emblems. No, the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.” ~ Rebecca Solnit

“For magicians — whether modern entertainers or indigenous, tribal sorcerers — have in common the fact that they work with the malleable texture of perception.” ~ David Abram

Perception Management

Yesterday was a lost day; so lost, in all actuality, that no coffee was made in the morning, nor at all throughout the day. Drifty, nappy, diffident. Sometimes I get overwhelmed. There’s no telling what that was all about. No, wait, that’s not right.

It’s all about story-telling. All of it. I try to remind myself that we live in a story, and if we relinquish control of the narrative someone, or some system of belief, will deftly narrate for you. That’s what my inner disturbance was about.

I’d been watching tens of thousands of people taking to the streets, throughout the country, rising up in the midst of a gnarly global pandemic, to change the narrative. How profound is that?! I admit, it got to me. It was a helluva use of a good Saturday night buzz.

Yes, I’ve always settled for the basics here at EyeYotee blog, but this software platform offers a lot more. I don’t know what got into me this morning, but I found myself curious as to what else is offered. This post is me doing what I do as a blogger. It’s play and exploration. Today’s format may seem whacky or unaccountably random, but that’s just me in a nutshell. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk. Sometimes I crack myself up. When ya have a nut and ya wanna to get to the meat ya hafta grab the hammer, dude. Period. Full stop. I prefer a velveteen hammer. That’s what I used yesterday.


Cloud-Hidden, Whereabouts Unknown

The compelling silhouette of the ruins of an old adobe well-housing against the pale light in the northwestern sky. The eerie stillness and silence. Especially the silence. No birds singing. No traffic on the highway. It is Monday morning, and I would do well to keep in mind that it is an explosive world out there. I awoke with a sore throat yesterday. Trauma Boy, my darkside Trickster, immediately went all Corvid-19 on me, yet I knew that the soreness was a combination of awkward neck posture, gnarled by fatigue, and working behind a mask, re-breathing my own exhaust for the better part of all friggin day long. Not enough water. Talking loud behind clear vinyl sheeting around my work station. Eye strain. Brain strain. It is actually, on some deep level, humorous. I have to look at it that way. As much as the national disturbances and disruptions pull me down into my personal shadow . . . well, let’s just say it’s time to start pumping Light. Find a video of firemen putting out some of the fires over the weekend, pan in on the hose nozzle. Just like that. Pumping Light. It’s Monday. A workday. I’m still aching from Saturday’s workday. Cortisol, don’tcha know. The struggle is real. The danger as well. Trauma resonates with other trauma. Regardless – I feel fine, and I plan on having some fun today, k? Don’t try to stop me. Tis the malleable texture of perception that is my palette and canvas.

All is well. Goof gloriously.

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