Heat 15 Roma Vincit, Populus Patitur

HEAT 15 – Historical Fiction, Subject: A duel; Character: A cheating husband    

I apologize for the format. I don’t know how to create the screenplay format in WordPress. :(

(Rome Wins, The People Suffer)


Synopsis: During the Romanization of Britain, a contingent of Soldiers led by Vaginus “Womb-Wrecker” Constantinus fight against a Pictish village. The wizened village shamaness, Cünty Maeve, challenges virile Vaginus to a mystical duel where her imaginal pictures remind the soldiers of how civilization has robbed them.




The MEN have blue skin, thanks to use of Woad. Very few wear more than a loincloth. The WOMEN carry themselves with great care, lustiness and honor. But they wear clothes! THE CÜNTY MAEVE, an ancient shaman from a nearby village, sits over a cauldron of a potion and she feeds it herbs and supplications to the Star Goddess.


Kruach, take this and put it on the fire.

KRUACH, a blue warrior of about 19 years, hoists the kettle on his shoulder and carries it proudly away. The Cünty joyfully regards his beautiful ass and sighs—it’s been a long while since she’s had some nookie. SULIS, late 30s, a war-weary chieftan, strides toward the sitting shaman. She regards the priestess.


Portents are ill. These Romans are made of stranger cloth than we’re used to.


They have already enslaved the villages to the South.


What the fae tell, their gods have all gone insane. Poor daughter of Metis…

The Cünty picks up a cup and shakes it. Runic stones inside rattle, and she pulls out three in rapid succession, throwing them on the ground. She reads the runes and shudders. She sees

A panoply of the future, including the demise of her village, the fall of Christian Rome, the Middle Ages, the Inquisition, the Renaissance, the colonies, the rise of the British Empire, flash images of iconography of the 20th and 21st centuries (including a clip from “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town”), and further into the future when tens of millions of people choose to commit suicide on a wintry day 3 days post-Solstice, to “Protest the Slavery.” Their departing souls form the glyph for “Awen” which is a celebratory signal for change.


Potion 7 leaves and dirt.


Oh, my word, Cünty…


Open the inner conduits to our serpentine brethren across the sea.


ROMAN SOLDIERS attend to the camp, industrious and focused in contrast to the Picts who were much more at ease with their self-expressions.


Most of the soldiers ignore her plaints. One or two look off at a tent with yearning and maybe a tinge of envy.

A TENT, its cloth walls a-rumbling.



You want it, harlot!


VAGINUS CONSTANTINUS, a hypermasculine icon of a man, rapes an unwilling WOMAN. FLAVIUS and ANTONINUS, two Roman soldiers near naked, hold her arms during this.


Your groin holds my namesake. Fucked by Vaginus Constantinus. Wombwrecker! All glory to Mars.

He thrusts and the woman screams.


The woman lies on the ground, either disassociating or dying. Vaginus and the two Roman soldiers leisurely attend to putting on their armor.


Another day, another village to enslave.


All in a day’s work.


Hope there are more ladies to overpower.


We must be judicious, my good Antoninus.


Bah. Get all the fertile juices as we can, make as many bastards as possible.


Really, my good leader? Even after your good wife sent her last scroll?

Vaginus scowls. Quick as a whip, punches him in the gut.


Careful warrior. One would think you were a Druid.


What’s to be done with her?


Same as the rest.

Antoninus looks over to the prone woman, with an evil leer in his eye.


The Cünty, Sulis and other VILLAGE WOMEN gather in a circle with the CHILDREN. The Cünty blesses each woman in turn. She smiles gently at each, conferring grace and divine empowerment.

She stops in front of MARI, a young mother, who holds a suckling CHILD.


Is it really this far gone, my good Cuntah?


The people of our Great Lover Island are in for an interminable hibernation.


I have been dreaming.


Me too. About a red people across the waters.


Kin to the far west. Even beyond the green shores of Eire. Another whole land thousands of leagues away.

NIMUE, a young girl of 13, looks at the Cünty as she approaches with the cauldron.


So, are all to die then?


Let me apply this potion and become very quiet, Nimue, you will survive.


Sad about the menfolk.


All we can do is love our brothers before they go off to battle.


I wish they’d don armor. Protect themselves.


True. But they’d become our adversaries soon enough.

All the women regard each other with sadness and they look At the BLUE MEN who are readying themselves for (slaughter) battle.


The best thing we can do is to render you safe, so that you might proceed safely across the sea.


Still, I must issue a challenge to these cheaters and dishonorables.


I thought we talked about this, Cünty.


You will not be the only woman to sacrifice herself today. The Mother of All has plans for me too.

The Cünty applies the potion to the face, arms and hands of the last WOMAN in the circle. She steps back, and she picks up a special broom. She sweeps the air with the broom inside the circle, and one by one each woman vanishes.


Still have some potent magic, Cünty.


I had to earn the “Cünty” Maeve title when my teachers deemed me ready. Maybe someday, I’ll be able to make reindeer fly.


There merit to this idea?


I’ve read the future, Sulis. These times are beauteous in comparison. The smart ones will choose death ere they reach 20. A time might come when the souls of many will mutiny.


Your lips to the Star Goddess’s all-hearing Ears. Well. Time to go say goodbye to all our menfolk.


And I say farewell to you, love. May the journey into the Summerlands be joyous.

She holds Sulis in her arms, sharing smiles and tears.


The Romans stand at the ready. Vaginus is on a horse, and he scopes out the opposition.

A line of the BLUE MEN, all naked as the day they were born, hold their spears aloft. Behind them Sulis and a fellow MALE WARRIOR sit on horses.


Yet another easy win, men.


No honor? They don’t even try to protect themselves.


They regard this as just another life to toss in the furnace. Baffling.


The more there are to slay, the more my own bloodthirst gets slaked. Bring ‘em on!


Antoninus, there is something amazingly and joyfully wrong with you.


Vaginus looks up and out. Smirks.


Now the dreaded onslaught.

The defenseless Blue Warriors all rush toward the line of Romans. They willingly take the sword blows and arrows to their bodies as some Soldiers laugh.

Sulis rides behind them with her broadsword and gets a few choice kills when she too is taken out by an arrow.



The soldiers find The Cünty and no one else. Vaginus takes control and looks around.


Where is your chieftan?


An archer killed her in battle, O craven Vaginus.

Vaginus ignores her. The Cünty watches him.


She “sees” his spirit, a black hole of darkness, a keening maw of need and angry despair.


Who are you? The priestess who makes things right?


I am Cünty of this area. I challenge you to a duel.


I would never fight an old crone like you.

She displays her powers to Vaginus. It’s as if all the trees begin to chant his name with an addition:


Vaginus Cowardice.


Vaginus old ladies to fear.


I’m not impressed by your parlor tricks.

She sweeps her staff and twirls it.  A MURDER OF CROWS descends upon him, and flutter their wings in front of him. Once the flurry of wings has left, Vaginus is revealed to have been adorned with makeup and jewels. The other soldiers laugh despite themselves. Antoninus laughs hardest.

Vaginus, angered by this display, viciously runs him through, and hoists Antoninus’s dying body up as a warning to his cohorts.


No one makes me into a girl


Fight me then. I fight for the honor of that wife Claudia you left behind to come kill, pillage and of course, rape us kindly women. A cheerful cheater and abuser of my sisters, none of whom are here beyond myself, not that you can have this body either.


We’d just as soon kill you as fuck you.


Well, I can be grateful that minuscule blessing.

With as much dignity as he can, he wipes away some of the adornment and throws off the bedeckings.


You ready to die, old Cünty as you call yourself?


It seems telling that the Cünty should meet Vaginus for the duel of the millennium. What an odd sense of humor to name you Vaginus. Toughened you up, as if you were Lucia, eh?

Vaginus nods at a Warrior. He charges at her, and she takes her staff toward his blade and causes it to bend backwards toward himself. He thrusts himself on his own petard.


If you want someone in your stead, a priest of Jove would be more my speed.


They are worth much more than I am, my good Cünty. A vile word to speak. Cünty.


A truth you speak there. One day the sacredness of the female cup will return.


So what is this duel to be? Staves? Hand to hand?

She throws her staff away.


Pictures and words. I intend to win through my prodigious singing and imagination.

The Soldiers all laugh, and Vaginus laughs the hardest.

As they laugh THE CÜNTY ’s eyes go soft.

She “sees” the spirits of the Roman soldiers, several of whom are still luminous and innocent. The ones who have greyer spirits begin to fade away.


By all means. Regale us with your powerful stories.


Well, an empty sheath as you should then easily engorge to the pretty pictures I paint. Look, here come some of our friends. Don’t shoot your arrows into them, for now.

The animals of the forest begin to appear. The soldiers who had the greyness in their spirit wince in pain and groan. They fall into unconsciousness. A DEER walks up to one SOLDIER and licks his face. Two Mourning Doves float down to another SOLDIER and coo in his lap. He pets them.


Years ago, in your woods, these interactions happened all the time. These are not simply animals that we would consider a choice addition to our plates. Our winged brothers, the sister with the antlers.

The trees and flowers being to sing in unison a hymn to the delight of their existence. It brings tears to the eyes of the soldiers. The soldiers all look at each other. They look toward The Cünty

They see two of her for just a second.

They shake their eyes, and she seems to have but moved over to her right a few feet. Other forest creatures who seem like little WINGED HUMANS appear.


We lived in a friendlier world then. Knew our place.


Sees relatives from his Celtic lineage walk through the forest. They smile sadly at him, nodding their heads. They speak in Gallego-Portugues to him and he starts to cry.

A SAXON SOLDIER, tough and grizzled,

Sees his young dead SISTER AND FATHER, bound towards him and land in his lap.


Well, how is my boyoh?


Miss you in the meadows.


What infernal, awful magic—Cünty you must stop this!


Oh, it will be stopped. Violently so. Witness the beauty. Do you wish to leave it behind? My words are nothing in comparison to the Divine Alignment that She provides, the Lover that is this grand land we all inhabit.


Enough, you evil sorceress.


Your leader calls the end. Remember that which is lost one day it will return.

Vaginus grabs his sword, and he walks up to the Cünty. Slices off her head for her good pictures.

Her head on the ground seems to smile a saintly grin at the men.

The Forest goes silent. The soldiers who have been able to stay awake, mesmerized by The Cünty’s pictures, look out into the trees which now offer only their hollow witness. No words, no music. Just inert green matter. Again? Or was it ever? Vaginus, in a rage, takes his sword and starts slashing at everything in sight.


They begin to back up quietly as he slashes his pathway through. They can see each other, and they nod at one another. They silently move towards a path they know and leave.

The other soldiers who fell asleep start to wake up. They grunt and groan with awful headaches.


This is an evil place. We must make it vanish.

The headachey men stand up and woozily seek to grab their weapons, while the sad and mournful soldiers rock back and forth, keening for that memory of home that haunts them.


If you simpering men don’t get up and join me in the purification of this wretched space for Rome, then you shall be joining in happy dirt yourselves.

One by one, the men get up and they half-heartedly join in on destroying the space. Most turn numb to accommodate this plan, but Flavius can’t go on. He takes his sword and runs at Vaginus, who gladly slays him for his troubles. Flavius falls down dead, one more body to be burned in the wreckage.


I want every so-called wise woman, or Cünty rounded up and dispatched. Cunties, your name will be forever a filthy epithet. Forever a vile name for any woman who dares to stand up to male prowess. So decrees this Warrior for Mars!


Death to the Cunts!


The Pictish women and children have now become visible again. They emerge from the forest. A boat awaits them, and there already on board is The Cünty.


Cünty! You beat us here?


The Mother knows–that’s all I’ll tell. Come! The people of Bran await us.

They board the vessel as we


Happy New Year

Well, I don’t really blog much these days, and I just got a note “from my blog!” (LOL!) that I’m missed. Evidently this site had 2300 visitors over the year, and I didn’t know this. Life has been quite intense.

To catch up: I am now the Manager of the Experts Section of astrologyanswers.com (which see!). I help people with their astrological and divinatory needs and now I’m managing a staff of 17 other experts as well. In this job, I’ve also had the opportunity to draw up some articles about various topics including gratitude, Saturn in Sagittarius, the theme of giving, Yule 2014 and the significance of Chiron in the birth chart. Also about the Chiron Return.

I’m going through my own Chiron return right now. Or rather it’s largely over save for the ramifications. It will be moving off my natal Chiron in the next few days for good. Saturn in Sagittarius will be squaring my Mars then my Sun, then eventually my Chiron. That’s how it goes. Life will issue up some challenges.

I’ve started taking a screenwriting class online. I hope that with Uranus transiting in Aries and hitting my Venus-Jupiter conjunction and squaring the Moon that some progress in art and love will be made. We shall see. The 12th house demands some selflessness and I will attempt to proceed on that.

Life in Laramie, Wyoming continues to be wonderful. I really like it out here in the West again. Life is good. I have little to complain about, though that doesn’t stop me some times. Still have the compulsive personality to deal with as well as all the various ways in which I’ve been wounded by the vEmpire society.

Leave a note here if you like. I’d love to hear from people. Just another Vox Clamantis in Deserto. (My college alums will know what that means.)

Forgiveness Sets Me Free

Over the weekend, I participated in a workshop on anger and forgiveness. It’s so easy for me to call up those feelings of anger. We all like to think of ourselves as being able to rise above this feeling, but honestly there are those times when I can acknowledge the enjoyment of feeling aggrieved. Over time, this becomes a drag though. 

In considering forgiveness, I simultaneously felt ready to move into that space, and totally fearful about this possibility. I have invested a lot of identity, for example, in having been hurt by my family for being gay, for being the lavender/black sheep if you will. Who will Richard/Azimuth/Frostwolf be without this grievance?

When I was heavy, I was afraid of feeling like there’d be nothing left to me if I let go of the weight. Using my spiritual tools, this idea of losing my identity is just one way my ego tries to control matters. I got to a place where I had to make a change, I was desperate. I’m not really desperate in this situation where forgiveness is concerned, but I’m aware that I need to let things go because they are keeping me stuck. I hesitate to put myself out there as an available fellow, as someone who can be present in a relationship.

Part of the issue with the family-of-origin is that old dysfunctional saw about the roles we got to play along the way. I was mostly the Hero, but also Father Confessor and then, with the understanding that I was gay, the Scapegoat. I have been aware that the family-of-origin set me up to be a human punching bag. The one relationship I’ve had featured some of this dynamic, but it was very subtle. I didn’t really live authentically from myself in that relationship. Over time I saw I really had  no choice but to try to find my authenticity, which is a struggle. In an alcoholic/compulsive eating/compulsive indenture home, one can not really see who one is in reality. There are these different roles to be slotted into, and if one doesn’t want to be slotted into a role, there’s always the Rebel. That’s a role too! The Rebel sees other elements of their personality chopped off and given to someone else in the family, because the last thing dysfunctional families want are whole people.

We have to be broken in order to live in that reality. 

My journey last year into Intentional Community living revealed to me the difficulty in setting up an I.C. that could stand the test of time. There are all sorts of ways invidiousness can subvert process. As much as people want to live cohesively and coherently, the ways in which each of us has been broken shows us the long road ahead toward creating a better life with others in community. It’s not going to be an easy way forward for any of us, and if we seek to find a way to build bonds with others who have similar viewpoints, we still have to find out how each of us has been hurt, and whether or not we have the strength, resilience, honesty and ability to accept others that will enable us to support others in their healing processes, as well as seeing if they can be allies in our own.

When I was at one of the IC’s last year, I saw that two people formed a tag-team bully relationship. People walked on eggshells around these two individuals, and they knew how to speak the lingo that made them seem like they were the reasonable ones. They were quite adept at shifting burdens and blame onto unpopular individuals. I never felt comfortable around these two people, and saw them as people with problems. The interesting part of this consideration for me today is that I don’t want these people living rent free in my head. I’m actually grateful to them for showing me how hard it is to really live with other people. 

They made me appreciate my time in a tent in the forest when I needed to be by myself.

I see that I have some rankle about these two people, as well as some of the other experiences I had in IC’s more generally. The disgruntlement is really more about myself though, how I have this stupid and self-obsessed ego that wants to control matters, that believes it has the answers. I tell myself that I don’t, but the ego has this little hold on me. In my body, I can feel it’s wedged just in the top of my heart, right where the aorta feeds the pumping muscle. I wish that the ego could unclutch at times, but that takes some awareness and a bit of self-talk.

Today, though, that person I am when I’m in my ego is not really who I wish to be. I see that forgiveness will be worth it.

And as far as the fellow who emerges as I release these bits of unprotective armor? I’m curious to find out who he is, and what skills and abilities my lack of forgiveness thus far has been keeping from me.

It’s time to see another layer of skin to be shed in this time of transformation.

Been a while

I have been on quite the journey since I started this blog. Since 2012, I have lived in several states. I tried out Virginia, Tennessee, Montana and now Wyoming. Laramie, the home of the University of Wyoming and the site where Matthew Shepard was attacked several years ago, is my current abode. I met a new friend at the Rainbow Gathering last year in Montana, and, after getting stuck in the Treasure State with no treasure of my own for 2 months, I found a job with a Canadian media company reading people’s charts and answering their burning questions of the day, and then decided to try to find some other place to go to. Laramie was supposed to be a way-station on my way to Colorado. I have friends in Loveland as well. But I ended up here in the Gem City, and for me it is a gem. I truly love it here, which is a total surprise to me. I have been considering where I need to put my focus as a writer, and I must say that the old, angry “Richard” is now needing to move toward the “happy, joyous and free Azimuth.” My directions now are to sit with Gay Orgasmic Daddy–aka GOD–and discern my actions for the day. Most days that is going to be showing up to my work as the Manager of this website, and dealing with the day-to-day concerns of the place. Mondays and Tuesdays are my days off, and it occurs to me I might be able to start blogging again, at least once a week. I want to chart a journey now away from being the angry writer, to one who somehow finds a way to write about joyful things in an interesting way. One of the truisms of narrative structure is that no one wants to read about the Village of the Kind and Happy People. Laramie is not necessarily that–though I find a neighborliness I’ve not seen in many a year. Laramie is also near enough to Fort Collins and Denver, that I might be able to find a relationship with a likely fellow some day. It’s all up to GOD. I’m also thinking I can post some observations about astrology, tarot and other media of divination here. I do love that element of life, and I have become rather adept at these things. So we’ll see where this goes.

It’s interesting now to consider my place

Changing Intentions

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.