Changing Intentions

Posted On August 14, 2013

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It is my hope that I will be able to reinstitute blogging as part of my daily practice. My experiences of the past several months have been instructive, and they have also seen me move away from technology, for good and for ill.

I have been exploring how people live in intentional communities. This journey sort of began last year, when I went to my first Rainbow Gathering in Tennessee. I came away from that experience hopeful and optimistic that there is a way for this unusual soul at this potent time in humanity’s adolescence.

Rainbow led me first to the Shawangunk Nature Preserve in Cold Brook, New York where I lived for four months, until it got too cold to live in the cottage I inhabited. I learned a lot—mostly about my bad habits. I attracted a mouse or two, and that is not good for country living.

I started a job as the Managing Editor of The Utica Phoenix, and while I was grateful for the work and for its varied aspects, I came to the painful conclusion that I’m just not meant for offices anymore. This is a stressful state of affairs as I am getting older, and usually it goes the other way: people who have worked outdoors all their lives realize it’s time to move toward the cushy desk job. Oh, if only it were like that.

In November, the need to relocate to a standard dwelling became apparent, and I found some cheap digs that were more than amenable for my cat and myself. I lived in a decent place for the next 4 months. Due to economic considerations at the company I worked for, I got laid off in February and started to collect unemployment. I decided to take the opportunity and continue my exploration of ways to transform myself out of being a mere consumer/resident of vEmpire shenanigans, and see how I can become the man I seek to be.

So I went first to Twin Oaks in Virginia for their Visitor Program, and then off to Short Mountain Sanctuary for a 2 month stay. Twin Oaks is quite structured. They have been around for over 40 years and have had a lot of time to iron out the kinks. It’s not a perfect place, but I can see myself staying there, perhaps for a long time even. The hard part is that it is a working collective, and one must meet quota. There is something to be said for this. There is something to be said against this too. It depends upon one’s relationship to the notion of work. A long-time member of the community observed that so many of the interactions at T.O. become about the mercenary need to meet quota. “Can I get work credits for this?” is a common question asked there.

It is what it is, and at the end of it all, I did apply for membership. They would like for me to visit again.

From there, I went to Short Mountain Sanctuary via Asheville, North Carolina. I have long wished to visit this city. Disappointingly, I must say that I was not favorably disposed to it on first impression. It feels like Whole Foods if it were expanded to city size—well-heeled “sustainable.” However, I have been informed that people can be poor in the town and get along with good fortune, so I shall keep an open mind. I traveled to Asheville in part to visit Earthaven in nearby Black Mountain.

While Earthaven is an interesting place, with a lot of natural beauty and some gorgeous structures, that model is decidedly not for me. One of the things I’ve discovered over time is that my body is quite hostile to the idea of rent. Really? One has to pay to have a place to live? One has to justify one’s existence beyond what Our Creator provided? Huh. Count me OUT.

Earthaven is based on the idea of a Homeowners’ Association, so rent is intertwined into its very fiber of being. Oh well. It sure is pretty. But, moving on—

I got to Short Mountain Sanctuary next, to help out with its Beltane Gathering. I do enjoy pitching in and helping out, and the nice thing about SMS is that one can pretty much set his or her own terms of working. It is a Sanctuary, which means it’s a place people go for healing, and since it is a Radical Faerie establishment, it’s primarily for gay men and women and other queers.

I will probably write more about this place at another time, but I can say that it did get under my skin in both positive and negative ways. I learned a lot about how IC’s can get into murky territory based upon the personalities of the residents there. It’s just a human tendency, and a community must be vigilant. There is a certain cultural element at SMS that will interfere with such awareness however, and one must accept it. As I learned what I could affect and what I could not, I have come to the conclusion that the place is not for me. It’s too bad though. There’s a lot about the place that is splendid indeed.

Keeping an open mind about the “gayborhood” surrounding SMS is also a part of my current mindset. However, this aromatic cultural element also extends outward to include the neighbors, and I have come to the conclusion that my sobriety and my abstinence are vulnerable to this particular circumstance.

I went to Rainbow again this year, and spent the majority of my time with the sober people. 2 Meetings a Day! Yea! Just what I needed.

Then I left the Gathering on July 6, and traveled to another part of Montana where I was to meet up with a friend from one of my fellowships. While there, I discovered that Unemployment had not been paying me. Evidently I missed a questionnaire, in part due to some of the structural difficulties with mail at Short Mountain. I made some goofy choices regarding the post, and it ended up costing me.

In short, I found myself with no money and having to acknowledge that I needed some help. It’s been a humbling stay in Montana. I’m still here, not that I’m complaining. It is a beautiful state.

Still, I am conscious that it is both “home” and “not home.” And I will most likely write about this in the future as well.

But I must now end this little episode, as I now have a cool job as a Psychic Chat Specialist with an internet media company. It’s time to start my day!

Many blessings,
Frostwolf, aka Azimuth

Capricorn 2012 Explorations in Consciousness

Blogging has come to be difficult of late.  It’s been difficutl to know when to picdk up my journal, when to pick up the computer and open a word processing file and when to sit “live” with whatever is happening and to put it up online for all to see.  “All to see”–that’s hilarious really.  There is so much out there, how does anyone find anything?

I was sort of hoping I’d blog once a week, but with the schedule I’ve developed since moving first to Cold Brook, then to Oriskany, and working as the Managing Editor of a small paper, I don’t really have a lot of time.  Perhaps this means I will be a “Holiday Blogger?”  I don’t know.

My desire to blog from the forest up in Cold Brook turned out to be short-lived.  Basically, I’ve been too acculturated by “the Babylon Matrix” (pace Jonathan Zap), to really be able to try a strictly natural existence.  It’s not really even possible to live on a Nature Preserve without having some sort of connection to the vEmpire.  At least not for this “landlubber,” as it were.  I feel like I failed.

And being on the other side of the new bakhtun, which happened as I suspected it would in a totally uneventful manner, I feel a real hollowness in my being.

Gode Herself’s wlil for me seems to be to attept to find guys to dae.  It’s been over 2 years since I broke up with Jody, and it’s time I get out there.  The luxury problem here is that I will have to wade through a lot of people who are unconscious and for whom my explorations will prove discomfiting.  Guess it’s not a big surprise that I’m sort of dicking around here.

These past few months, I’ve also been painfully aware of an intolerable contradiction in my approach to life.  Seeking simultaneously to be free of the vEmpire/Matrix and yet to try to find a way to live within it and see some of the residual cash and prizes I sought when I was in the booze, sugar and flour, to come my way.  To some this doesn’t seem like a contradiction, but I can’t simultaneously move toward and away from the Matrix, can I?  I can’t move away from a drink by going into a bar.

Each day is a new undertaking.  My Winter Solstice 2012 experience was not a good one.  I went against God’s Will for me.  The card I drew for the day was the four of swords.  It was like the heavens and the earths were telling me “REST!” And I went ahead and went to work anyway.  Things did not go my way that day, and before I knew it I was feeling a lot of stress.  I could feel myself sinking into an ulcerous feeling in the Tan-ti’en, and yesterday, I had for the second day in a row delayed my lunch to a place of harsh hunger, and after I ate lunch I wasn’t right still.  Later, I set up the computer in a library and was all set to sit and type when I felt like I was going to upchuck.  It appears I can’t go for a couple of days with delayed lunches.  In fact, even one day is too much.

Today, I knew I had a chance to go more quietly about my day.  I guess Sundays will have to be sacrosanct.  If I wish to blog, I’ll blog. If I’m called to something else so be it.  But I sat with my journal, and I felt that I needed to put something up online, and I feel further that, even though I’m in the midst of struggle to understand, I need to put it out there that I’m seeking my path.

A couple weeks ago, I sat in a cafe and wrote that even though I know that I’m a writer, I still haven’t found that nexus on the Venn Diagram of “My interests and foci” and those of the populace.  I haven’t found that soft spot yet, and when I wrote that down, I started bawling.

Recovery makes me aware that I have to live life on life’s terms, and that means I get to understand that I don’t want the same things most people want.  I don’t need a plasma screen TV.  I like to read, but I had to divest myself of 90% of my books recently.  The 10% I have left I feel attached to, but I also know that they nonessential.  On some level people do understand me.  We are all connected, and we are all one.  I accept and encourage others to want what they want, and to work within Divine Timing to get that.

But now that I’m aware that I can’t really have what I want, that I can’t be famous in a nonMatrisx universe, then I need to cast this Precious into the Cracks of Doom–to use a nifty metaphor.

I guess I’m getting to a choice point of what Divine Will for Frostwolf Azimuth looks like.  Perhaps I will go ALL-MATRIX-ALL-THE-TIME?  I don’t know.  Bret Easton Ellis seems to have cornered that market quite well, thank you very much.  I don’t need to follow in his footsteps.

All I really have is the Steps and the Traditions and the Tools.  People who have long-term abstinence and sobriety understand what I speak of and they smirk when they hear my struggles.  It’s all in my head.

Life really is better than great.  It’s the tortured junior high school student in me that’s writing these words.

I still want the jock I had a crush on in high school to like me.  Like that’s desirable for a guy pushing 50.

Bill Wislon spoke of Emotional Sobriety as being able to let those things go that were the focus of a younger man.  And I’m doing it, but these Precious plural are sticky.  And I guess I’m utilizing the dramatic crucible of a blog post to ascertain where I need to go now.  Another way of saying that I can’t go toward the Matrix and away from it at the same time is that I can’t simulaneously regress and grow up at the same time.  I can’t scheme to get what I want and be love at the same time.  I have to make a choice.

And I guess I see I’m having to choose love and trust whatever comes.  It’s been good, really.  Even though I feel a bit of pain at the moment, it’s about growing up.  It’s about recognizing how I set myself up for disappointment and frustration, and then getting a sense of what actions I take to create that pattern.

And even if I get like ZERO people looking at this entry, it still has helped me to get it out of myself.  And to share it as if I was in a qualification for Matrix Anonymous.

I guess that’s really how I want to look at my blog entries.  I’m qualifying as a member of Matrix Anonymous, and acknowledging that my life is unmanageable because I’m powerless over the training I received K-12 to go after things rather than be happy just existing.

And as I show up to the Manitou, to the Great Spirit, the Life Force that underlies all Creation, I seek to find the power that lifts my spirit and my awareness of the soul.  I need to let go of my judgments of the matrix, for they help no one and only hinder myself.  It is a signal that I am entwined in Maya as well.  And the way through this is just like Harry Potter in the first volume, when he, Ron & Hermione are caught in the clump of devil’s snare.  The thing to do is to not struggle and become like a pebble to fall through to the bottom of the lake.

I turn it over to God Herself then.  To work with how she feels it needs to go.  And in the interim, I will list out what my issues are, and turn them over to another person who will hear me out.

As I go forward from here and understand some of the difficulties ahead of me, I will pray that I at least attract others who can hear my difficulties and offer a positive way forward.  Jonathan Zap says people can access the waters of life in the Babylon Matrix.  I know it’s all about the tiny actions.  The “hi” to a clerk, the listening to someone going through it themselves.  “I like your outfit” goes a long way to raise all the spirits in a room.

Cleaning up after myself, being helpful and cheerful.  And taking care of myself, especially.  If I don’t do that, like I did the other day with my delaying lunch, out of codependence and “decorum,” I will perform worse disservice later.

The I Ching describes where I’m at pretty well.  The Wanderer.  I’m not “a part of” in the same way others are.  It doesn’t mean that I’m “apart from”, even though I’m a distrusted outsider, and that’s as it should be.  I have experienced pain about this, and the little boy inside me still feels it.  But the adult knows that this is just and true.

Today, I try to release my attachments and to find the ways of being of service, trusting that this blog entry is one way I’m doing that.

I’m conscious that some people will feel hurt by these words.  “Who does Miss Thing think she is?” In finding how I’m like others, I need to ironically go toward my differences.  The long way to go the short distance correctly.

I don’t owe amends to these people.  Instead I owe amends to those I’ve hurt because I tried to manifest the contradictions and got angry and hurtful when things inevitably failed or exploded.  Others have done the same to me, and i have compassion for that.  I think of one fellow I know in my current life who is trying to do exactly what I’m doing.  He’s as much a mess as I am.

Thank God Herself for him.

This is what’s called carrying the message, and it comes through acknowledging my part, cleaning hosue and meditating on Divine Will.  I get to detach from the results now.  Because what someone else thinks of what I’m saying is none of my business.

To those who get it:  Help me to practice these principles in all my affairs.

Status Report

Posted On November 7, 2012

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I’m not really sure what to blog about these days.  Lately I’ve been coming to terms with feeling like I’m walking around with a blanket these days.

Feel like I’m on Prozac or something.  But all it is is work and trees.  I like what I’m doing, but this drug-awareness is bothersome.

I will do the best I can with what I’ve got.


Working with Pines, Appropriately Enough

Over the weekend, I worked at the Nature Preserve, to help them with their big money-making enterprise for the year–workshops in balsam wreath construction.  This requires some materials, most notably pussy willow stems and evergreen tips.  The pussy willow stems form the foundation circle and the evergreen tips come together in the stems.  (I’ll be learnign about this myself, to teach a class in Clinton, New York next week.)

I was not in the best of moods yesterday.  I had my reasons, and I can’t say they were all about my ego.  The Easer Outter of God inspiration did rule my roost in my dang head yesterday, however.  Sometimes when King Baby runs my show, all that happens is “I wish I was dead.”  These things together with the considerations of the thinned veils all around us combined with some other personal craziness in my life made me a bit insane.

It was as a relief that I spent 4 hours snipping the edges of evergreens–pines mostly, but cedars as well I think, and perhaps fir.  (Definitely no spruces.)  Pine is a happy tree to be around, and the scent of it gave me a lot of uplift.  It was still a deep place of ick, but I feel a lot better today.  Thank you pine!


OK, now for a Reboot

Posted On October 25, 2012

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Though I didn’t really intend for it to be a period of mourning, I guess I had to put some space between Troy-Albany Tranceformations and myself, now that I’m living at the Shawangunk Nature Preserve in Cold Brook, New York and working as the Managing Editor for “The Utica Phoenix.”  It’s been a while since I’ve attended to any personal sorts of writing, other than an occasional musing piece for the paper.  So I’m turning my thoughts back to blogging right now.

I’ve had an adventurous time since relocating here on July 15th.  The three months prior to the move were themselves rather rocky, as I had discovered I had turned into an indentured servant and had to surrender to my reality as my codependent ego had attempted to construct the matters around me.  Truth be told, I see this as an ongoing character issue that will have to be continually vetted and discussed with trusted advisors, which is ironic considering that the issue is “Stand on your own hindpaws, Frostwolf!”

I moved into a room provided by a man in my church, and the less said about that particular arrangement the better.  Suffice it to say that the relationship ended in 3 difficult months, with the fellow basically informing me that he would be most happy if I left prior to the end of the time I had indicated I would leave, essentially letting me know “don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

During that time, I went to the Rainbow Gathering in Tennessee, and I enjoyed myself immensely.  It reinforced for me a few things, not the least of which is the importance of sobriety and abstinence and sometimes to have the foresight to prepare in advance for difficulties.  Still, I enjoyed reading tarot cards for people and trying to screw up the courage to walk around naked in the woods.

(I saw lots of people do just that.)

I came back with some new resolve, and I didn’t really go back to live in Scroojheesville, staying instead with a friend and I went back and got my stuff out and went through it, and got rid of a lot more stuff, and moved on to Cold Brook.

These past three months have been a bit of a whirlwind, and I’m in a happy and grateful place in spite of everything.

But more to come.  I just want to get this one out there, and try to get reminders from friends to keep up the blog.  Maybe no one is paying attention right now.

I trust that will change, may I know God Herself’s Will for me.

Yellow flowered herbs

Posted On February 5, 2011

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I seem to be in a phase where I’m craving the yellow flowered ones – dandelion, calendula, elecampane, elderflower. Somewhat chamomile, but I’m feeling more like the summery ones. Perhaps it has to do with Imbolc and/or goldenrod energy. Wonderfulness.

Posting Under the Influence: Chamomile

Posted On January 23, 2011

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First off, I notice her familiar sweet taste, but in chewing the flower, I also taste a metallic subtaste.  Today I feel warming, but I wonder if this will be true in other times of year?  I feel chamomile also to be a relaxant, drying herb. 

I always think of flowers and spring with this delicious one.  She puts me in mind particularly of the Taurus zodiac month.  I feel a sunny energy course through the veins.  A little like black walnut, I feel C. is dispersive, that she brings an airy quality to my thinking process.

Body parts I notice:  Attention is drawn to the upper chest, the internal area above the lungs but not quite to the shoulder bones.  The upper lungs may be so included, but it’s the entire region.  In keeping with the Taurus thematic, I’ll include the throat as well.  (Taurus rules the vocal chords and the voice.)

I have the sense that chamomile in terms of magickal practice could offer a potent assist in creating spellwork to draw funds to me based upon what I desire to do in the world.  Perhaps bathing a candle in essential oil or a teac, or burning the dried flowers in a cauldron while lighting either a gold or green candle to attract wealth.

Taurus also is a fertile sign, so I have a strong feeling that this de-lovely could also assist in procreation or libido issues in general.  I know that it’s got a reputation of being a calming herb, and I feel that the energy it kindles is of a quieter vintage than say ginger or cloves.  It puts me in mind of the Empress card from the tarot, which represents Venus (Taurus’s ruler).  Perhaps it’s more a focuser of energy or a grounding of it rather than calming in the strictest sense?

(Odd to feel dispersant energy while pondering whether it is a focuser of energy at the same time.)

 According to Scott Cunningha, chamomile is connected to the Sun and is also utilized to remove curses and to protect property.  (I also see confirmation as to the money/sexual aspects as well.  Gamblers evidently like to wash their hands in the herbal tea to increase their winnings.)

I shall have to try to burn it next.  Evidently, even though it is connected to the Sun, it is also tied to the element of water.  Both the Roman and the German chamomile are considered Masculine in Cunningham’s cosmology.  I actually did wish to call the herb “he” so perhaps I second-guessed myself there.  Interesting about that.

As I sit here with fingers poised for information, I become aware of the root chakra.  That it has dilated and is eager to receive terrestrial energy.  So it causes both an awareness of the uppermost torso and the perineal area in a circular movement as well as a slow back-and-forth undulation.

 Also aware of my sinuses, perhaps not in a good way.  Shall have to observe that more.

“Chewing Black Walnut Leaves” – Poem

Posted On January 20, 2011

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Chewing Black Walnut Leaves

Tornado, you!  That did choose to earth
yourself.  Found yourself a goodly spot
after the whirlwind dance, and said
“This is where I’m going to land!”
And ZUT! You planted your roots down deep.

Tornadoes don’t play well with others
hence few other brethren can take
the changes you wrack in the dirt below.
Oya’ sees to it that inadvertent seeds
end up in her cemetery all right.

Still, you hold the potency of black
in all your being.  Protection and mystery
weave together and spin out breezes
in blood and breath and bone.  Oh heal
my weary soul, powerful friend…

Posting Under the Influence of … Black Walnut

Posted On January 19, 2011

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As I begin this post, I am chewing a smattering of black walnut leaf and letting it speak to me.  I can sort of taste a “black” energy in it, one that grounds me and makes me think of decaying matter in the earth’s topsoil.

I have awareness of a whirring in my head, a mild sense of dislocation.  There is a sense of some coolness in my lungs that has just appeared as well.  Interesting because I have put in my materia medica that black walnut is warming and dry.  The dryness is certainly there, of course.  I definitely taste astringent under the bitterness.  Also a tang of the sour.

I have kept black walnut near to my computer for the past couple of days, along with a couple of other herbs.  (Rosemary, yellow dock, scullcap.)  The black walnut is the only one in a plastic bag however, the others in brown paper and therefore behind cover.  They exude a certain influence that does not rely on the visual, whereas black walnut leaf is “looking” at me as I sit at the Netbook and type.

I sense a witnessing that takes no sides in black walnut’s energy.  A curiosity, a perceptiveness without judgment.  If I were to give black walnut a Myers-Briggs test, I would assume it to be INTP.  Introverted, intuitive, thinking, perceptive.  A “Ravenclaw” sort of herb.

I know from lore that if one has had a heartbreak, that a bath with black walnut leaves will cleanse the aura of negative energy.  But it’s for extreme measures, when the love was so toxic that only something as powerful and long-lasting as black walnut could work.  It’s said that the bath will keep a person alone for 7 years.

That black feeling I had relates to protection.  I wrote in a monologue in my 20s about a guy who wore black, and he said “it keeps away all the vampires out there waiting to get into my system.”  I sense that black walnut also sends out a “don’t F with me energy,” but it’s quite subtle and packs a delayed punch. 

Black walnut… what would you have me know?  In your metallic, basic taste, what is the wisdom you wish to share?

The image of the Cosmic Tribe 8 of cups emerges.  In the Thoth deck, the 8 of cups relates to “debauch.”  In the C.T., it may have a similar theme, but the card shows 8 cups with a sickly green liquid pouring through them.  All of the cups have holes below, so the liquid flows through them.  I have of late taken the card to indicate releasing of toxins and letting go of poisonous and sickening and sickly crap.  It is a card of purification and releasing.  I don’t sense it is a vomit-maker.  I sense it release more through other processes that act closer to the source.

There is a creeping electric energy that starts in my shoulders and radiates down through my arms.  Down through my lungs as well.  I feel black walnut has an affinity with the element of Air, perhaps is an herb of the East.  Oya dancing a blustery rhumba on the ground under black walnuts branches.  Tornadoes perhaps?  Perhaps the tree is a sympathetic tornado of a sort, one created in wood and branch.

Could black walnut be vasodilatory?  Just a question.

My lungs have become the dominant body part as I sit in his juices.  I feel black walnut’s got a lot of masculine energy.  Perhaps yin-masculine.  I think it was Charles Eisenstein who noted that yin and yang describe a very different set of energies from masculine and feminine, and that when we think of the yang as masculine we’re only seeing one side of that.  Yang masculine is the penis, while yin masculine is in the testicle  Yin feminine is the ovary and the vulva, while the yang feminine is the process of giving birth.  (I paraphrase, but it’s an essay from the Daniel Pinchbeck 2012 anthology from Reality Sandwich essays.)

Black walnut is air, masculine, East, contemplative, dispersive, lung-emphasizing, sparking a desire to communicate spirit-based thought perhaps.  It has indicated an interest in assisting me with the screenplay I’ve started.  I honor his contributions.  I guess he’s also a 5th Chakra sort of herb.

My heart and lungs now feel a sort of peppery energy, that electric thing.  I guess if I was to think of a zodiac sign for black walnut it would be Aquarius.  Electric, airy, gets things stirred up.  Maybe there’s a bit of Capricorn though as well, because it’s much more grounded.  A Saturnine sort of Aquarius perhaps? 

Lungs and shoulder muscles emphasized right now.  These also indicate Gemini and Mercurial influences.  However, the Uranus-Saturn of Aquarius “tastes right.”

Just for today, this is what comes to me with black walnut.  I will follow up on this some time future.

Heart Awareness 1/5/2011

I draw a tarot card every day, and I was eager to see that I had drawn The Magician.  My first Major Arcana of the new year!  Interestingly, I’ve drawn 3 aces in 5 days (the Magician being card #I as well).  Huh. Solo journey. Well, that explains a lot.

This is the year that I get to trust spirit to guide me forward through the difficulties.  Yippee-skippee.  I have faith, mostly.  I see a short window of dire-straits but I know not when it will arise.  Perhaps not until 2012?  There’s a gap coming up where I know I’ll need a lot of help, in this plane and in all the others as well.  I have a feeling it will come at more or less the same time for the rest of us, perhaps through a black swan event.  More will be revealed.  Still, I sense that if I put my relationship to Source first and foremost I will be taken care of.

Still, the ego gets in the way.  And this morning, I had this wrenchingly emotional dream about my deceased Dad.  He and I were sharing a bed together, and he woke me up saying he needed some help.  He tried to get out of bed, and slid onto the floor.  He ended up with his head gliding softly toward a floor fan sitting under some sort of portable stand.  He was wearing only his pajama top.  I helped him up, and he padded off to the bathroom, and I stood there and watched his form recede into the darkness.

On a walk today in this delicious place (Rensselaer? Delicious?  Yeah, who knew?), I walked past this park I’ve discovered near my house.  On my way back home from the Stewart’s, I realized my heart was aching.  I need to cry.  I know  I do, but I’m not sure why the tears are hesitant right now.  Guess there’s a struggle with ego again.  But my heart, even though it felt stupendous and joyful this morning, feels sad and hurt.

A couple of slights took place today.  One involved a laxness on my part regarding transferring funds from savings to checking to cover some checks.  I knew I should have done something about that yesterday!  Easy to correct, but still I went through the indignity of having my debit card declined as I acquired herbs, of all things!  And then I responded to an email from someone who, yet again, is having to miss my book signing.  I realize she has a difficult situation, but she didn’t say that in her response.  I had blocked that from my mind, evidently.  Still, I can’t help but feel that as a playwright, I’m battling in the War of Art, and I seek comrades in arms.  This person I think is not an ally for whatever reason, and I registered awareness as such.  Her response was to one up my pain with hers.  Whatever.  She can win the “my misery is worse than yours” contest for all I care.  Nolo contendere.  Guess it’s for the best.

Still, all this was in my heart as I approached one of my local pine allies.  The tree has an odd history, for it has seen branches cut in order to make way for telephone lines.  Amero’n has the oddest shape due thereto.  I think she has character because of it, but it must not be easy.  I did appreciate her rather placid kaphaness though.  I much needed it, and I asked for assistance.  Of course it helps with trees to establish relationships with them.

(Btw, my willow friend still sits in Riverfront Park, but alas, the landscapers have not come by to clear up the triple trunk that fell to the ground.  I felt sad and disturbed at that.)

So, my heart today feels quite sorrowful.  This too shall pass, I know.  But I’m eager to get on with the work now of creating my own Materia Medica based on my personal interactions with these delicious plants that surround us all.  It’s a full heart too.  As I walked down Central Avenue toward the river, I took in a ha prayer and sent the energy to my Godself.  Beauty is afoot, my friends.  I opened my eyes and there it was.

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