"
the saddest part
of a broken heart
isn't the ending
so much as the start
"
- Feist

often
people's aspirations aren't evenly matched with their apptitudes

that doesn't keep them from achieving


.iP

saying the name of a dæmon
proves that it exists as something that isn't you

unless that name is the same name as yours

no one truely forgets their name...
but what of orphans?
their true names often occluded...
and those who trick themselves into believing with court of law

it is often believed control can be attained with posession of one's true name
ah, more so if you make the other forget it and give him another

maybe some dæmon has
have
always there
driving every move
clearly visible
in the blind-spot of the self




(written three days ago)

you are for missing
I am for forgetting
(in the follies of your new amusements)

the moon is reflected light
reflected from inside me
some distant star
so far away as to be unreachable
yet always there
and I seem to know
what it would feel like
to be the moon
staring down at me

being me
feeling myself watched
by me as the moon
which is only visible
by the light that shines from within me
that come from unsayable distances

most everything true
and important
is unsayable

I want to give myself overvto the moon
to let that self have all my self
arbitrarily
anything could be the one source
bur death creeps in to quickly then
and we musnt let that
life only happens with the tension of separation
to feel the pull
the yearning
to receive the gift
and to give abundantly
to drink of it
and nourish

to say the name of the posessor
that Wichita make anything
alive
to spit it out
cancels the posession
leaves one free
and empty
for another hand
mortmain
to move us

ten thousand years in waiting
ten million
the light of the sun
someone else's forgotten smile upon the earth
the plants
the animals
the weathers
long gone out
pressed down through time
under countless layers
of other days
stories
dreams
wakings and forgettings
into impenetrable darkness
which has been dredged up
pressed through taps
set aflame
consumed and transformed
to animate the lights upon your face now
that makes these pixels dance
reflects off this page
from a lamp in a room
up into your eyes
reminding you of endless things
you'll always ever been




.iP

a guy i know sent me this today:


Happy Celtic Memorial Day, today we honor those who died this year,
whose spirits walk the earth one last night with Hecate before the new
year begins, before their spirits go to Somerset to be protected by the
dark father; Cennunos, till Selene, goddess of change bears them into
the arms of the mother goddess; Diana

and you might get some candy too, although there are other treats and
Celts found sex an appropriate manner of honoring goddess(es) and/or
god(s)..


---
i replied:

yeah, but the celts didn't use this arbitrary calendar
i don't really know if they used astrology
but they used season
and the day of Samhain is the mid-day between the equinox and solstice
which would be 15º Scorpio
which would actually be NEXT sunday
so if you're doing a ritual for yourself
know that the magic is THEN

the magic is always
the magic is whenever
and even though it can be bought from hallmark and wallmart
it's better when it comes from the imagination and the heart.


---
he replied:

The Celts, who lived 2,000 years ago in the area that is now Ireland, the United Kingdom, and northern France, celebrated their new year on November 1. This day marked the end of summer and the harvest and the beginning of the dark, cold winter, a time of year that was often associated with human death. The term "Samhain" derives from the name of the month in the ancient Celtic calender, in particular the first three nights of this month (November), with the festival marking the end of the summer season and the end of the harvest.

Celts believed that on the night before the new year, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred. On the night of October 31, they celebrated Samhain, when it was believed that the ghosts of the dead returned to earth.
Samhain was also called the Féile Moingfhinne - ie "Festival of Mongfind". According to Cormac's Glossary, Mongfind (mod.Irish spelling Mongfhionn) was a goddess the pagan Irish worshipped on Samhain.
Old Irish samain "summer's end", from sam "summer" and fuin "end") Oct 31st-Nov 1st, the Celtic festival of the start of winter and of the new year. Samhain and an t-Samhain are also the Irish and Scottish Gaelic names of Novemeber respectively.
Although, in the 1600s, 10 days were added so the day following September 3 became September 14.
Therefore calendars might be considered to be 10 off. Does this make November 1 actually 10 days earlier or 10 days later?

---
i replied:

yeah,
their months were based on moons
so it varied every year anyway...

the oghams were half-months
though I don't this this calendar in question was oghamic...

and..
the celts were from far more areas than those listed...

we are as we are now

hurrah to all of it!



----

so now you know.

the wheel of medicine must keep turning

one proud hand forcing it forward
to heal the sick
slacken the suffering

but the wheel, now
is so slowed
by the strong hand of comerce
that holds it back
to collect every drop of blood it can feed off
squeezed from the flesh caught in the mill



.iP

I dunno
we noticed old men
every day
in Ireland

was it from working in a factory?
ate there factories there?
fishing? farming?
some common accident befalling them all
or just the wear of toil...

my first thought was Football. Rugby.
violent physical men
out for a game
having fun
til someone gets hurt
and only those that haven't yet get to continue


but I dunno
I keep seeing it here now in new york too
so many more people
and not just men here
more women...

is it from falling down the stairs?
being beaten?
gang fights?
from the endless walking, schlepping this city demands, offers?
being overweight?
downtrodden?

oh I'm noticing mostly brown people here
and in Ireland we're all poor now
whatever that means now a days
comparitively...
but the day to day can always be a struggle

for me
to witness it
it's painful just to see
everywhere
dragging a leg behind
hip swinging it over
or a flinch with each step

living in constant pain

seeing pictures of the tenements and child labor factories of new york only 100 years ago

almost forgotten by the benificiaries
until someone invented the flash pan
and all the pictures got published

but our generations of bloggers
are they telling the story online of how we all ended up limping?
am I just missing it?
or do mat of us censor our own wounds when they aren't glamourous because we believe we can never do anything about them?



.iP

a guy i know through the internet posted something on my facebook wall saying:

"to someone who seems to live life to the fullest - what happens when one does not know what his "Passion in life is"? - just looking for some wise thoughts from one who seems to know what passion is"

i responded saying this:

Dan, thank you for asking. Thank you for your perception. It is not, of course entirely true, but...
the short story is "passion" is what we lay back into. it's most common usage is that of the story of Jesus. the "passion" of christ is his knowing and accepting he has to die for the whole of humanity and not only letting it happen but working with it.
Many people lose their Passion by Trying Too Hard.
I have learned mine... Am Learning Mine...
by ease. by flowing with. by listening and following.
attempting, struggling, giving, pushing, DOING... then falling back into flow and following, listening, flowing with. being easy.
it has to be a balance.
Ego wants one thing, the entire world wants something. some times they clash.
You're still alive: so you're not done... but sometimes the best way to learn what you should be doing is to dis-engage from what you Always Do and notice what of that is necessary to you, and find ways to start doing the things you always know you should be doing but never give yourself the space for.
once you click into it... you'll know it and do it.
to doubt it is normal
to have faith in it is blissful.

far enough isn't far enough
the sky has too much haze

I remember nights in California
new Mexico

canadians:
can you see the stars?

i like the city
the street lights
but I want to see the stars talking to eachother again
winking at me


all with a velvet cape on


North
the idea of North

I really need to head Out


.iP

these last few days
such feelings of sacred attention
gratitude
clear intentions

to hold a glass of water
if course
to fill it with praise and intention
drink a healing brew
then, there
to feel my whole body activated with power and love
wholeness

slow yoga
full embodiment
powerful
honest
slow
present
full

already
today it's fading

pushing flesh in the clinic
I stare at the skin twisting in my fingers
stare at the white walls
wire with glass baubles on it
and feel a missing for it already
-where did my presence go?
now I just feel sleepy

and skip emotions
to two weeks ago
months
at least two months
feeling...
feeling si sensitive and so strong
tears at every finely crafted phrase in the book
songs by kids
preceeding protection by their grandfather for their siblingly
intercourse
crying
scared by it
but so grateful to have a full spectrum of feelings
all of them so affective

oh
that's gone too...

am I left with nothing?
being left with...

and passing past that thought
walking through the cold rain
for a moment of passion with a beautiful married man
to rest my head upon his chest
and listen to him tell stories of the intimacies and live he has with
his own children
how beautiful they are
how they trust him
know that he loves them in all full ways
practical
supportive
compassionate

and he learned to be such a good dad by flipping his own father's loving
every corner his father cut on him
he gave to his kids a full plate
and they know it
they feel it

I feel it eminate from his chest

and I imagine my own brother as a father
the struggles he has against my dad
what an example to push off

and me
my Gemini love affair with myself
my ability to be a lover for myself
my own father and son
so yet undependable
letting down all my poor boy friends
siding too much with my wounds
and not with the healer

as she said today
I have the potential
it is a gift
as he said
it's a lot of work

and worth all the effort

.iP

why such a strong feeling?
hunt him down with your eyes.

heavy
I loved the way
when he sat down
he fell back into the wall
then slid down into the seat
with a solid sigh

oat straw
tulsi
red raspberry leaf
colt's foot & damiana I found in my herb travel bag from... many years ago
skull cap
passion flower
Melissa
catnip
mediteranean sage
mullen
plantain

then
yoga tonight
starting at 6:30
finishing at 8:30

slow
slow
relax
let go
moving like seaweed on opium
yum yum yum


.iP

we're leaving.
an Irish priest took this picture
we just got all together
yay...
see you next week...

Quick

most people worry how fast you can put our a fire; keep it from spreading

just before I woke
I was looking through a magazine (paper? Internet site?)
of my neighbours

and was shocked to read of one
next door
who had plenty of hay
and other incediaries
packed around the place
so he wouldn't have to worry about suffering in a fire:
it would all happen so
Quick


. . .


earlier in the dreaming

some party
or place i was living
or reality tv show I was on
or scripted fiction
with plenty of space
for improvisation
I was wearing a costume
simple
dressed in All White
(my mother, yesterday, saw a picture of me like that and said I looked good)

and I figured out some way
through electric shock
to swap personalites ...
to swap bodies

holding onto speaker cable
connected to an audio amplifier at the house
and shorting it out
while...

it did it with a girl, of course
a red haired...
like Lesley, England

thinking about my now-red pubes

then, no
dark hair
a vampire

not a fiction
but confused how It should feel
not even noticing I don't have a dick anymore
how would I feel if I looked?


and days went on...?
and Zeus...?


and I figured out the way to switch back
without the need, now, of electricity
because I had it in me
the power necessary
and she, of course...

( so strange to see my body moving around, looking out through different eyes
knowing I was Right Here
and that was Someone Else)


we did our ritual
and swapped back
everyone was amazed
I, a little, as well

we were OK
but I was so tired...
I wish I could have drank just a smidge of her blood...
I had to rest...






.iP

to find out
after all these years
that I was really Left Handed

That's why everything has been so difficult

i'd just never realized before...

i am an agent of mystery

and whenever someone wants to reduce supernatural occurrence
to events easily explained by science

they are my enemy

as those who, through fear
attempt to convince me why everything they don't understand must be
controlled into homogeneous familiarity
-the contemporary truths obliterating all unknown options of history

to truely live the life here
magic must be foresaken...
must even the possibility?

now
still
I'm only comfortable living here
with ample space for surprise and wonder abounding me

perhaps I'm yet an embryo...
what fascinating creature
in what astounding world
might I be born?

.iP

I'm sure I'm not the first person to feel I lack some vital obvious link that would allow me to connect with people in a more satisfying way...
I often get the feeling I want someone to like me
and they're not
yet they're showing patience and tolerance as one would to someone else's child
( is that what keeps the world going? )
and there are others that seem to like me a million
though there is still some sort of chasm between us
we smile over
and sometimes pass on

I'm sure it's not rare
yet it is my own

.iP

i am turning my head
into a dæmon

what of that sex, then?

falling in love?
transformation?
exhaustion?

obligation.duty.
failure?

of course!
tell the story
live it
it's who you are

what is that feeling?
of Indiana?
of tedious obligation?
the chorus of lack-love, absent of the spark of life... only moved by the wake of its passing.

a use
a fear
a politeness
beyond the heart's reach

death.

starts the dying in your breast
the energy seeping down
passing out

everything gunked up
foul yellow humours
settled deep in the body

yesterday
tell me
was it the needles?
or the physical action of loving?
the heat created through the bodies
smart, clever, wise that neither of you came fully to orgasm
imagine 20 years of loving with out ever crossing that gap
for
of course
that gap is what Makes the spark
gives it reason for being
keeps the yearning for loving

what if this were the recipe of a healthy love for me?
a man who I could live with many years
always excited to see his beauty
and wonder at his being

the seeing if seeds in another is an anchor
usefull
roots
to settle into eachother
certain questions always answered

but if that breeds only discontent in temperments such as me...

what if I never came again?
would monogamy be worth it
with a yogi?

what if I found my feet
very strong
and had a few men
in the age old fashion
needing to give their excess life force
because they aren't practiced in the arts of keeping it in
but keeping it flowing
through the bodies of different dimensions

is celibacy true if no orgasm is reached?

what if he does and I do not?
is it a needle pierced through me?
binding me to his story
as he strives, triumphs, fails and falls?
we all do anyway
Vine
knitter of the forest
ample task
blessed duty

knowing the place
knowing one's place and function

like the challenge and rewards
of giving up the ability to forget
what burdens, what powers...


still
companions are needed
benefactors and wards I am to mentor myself

oh, what a choice
what a blessing...





.iP

oh, I got new glasses today.
new lesbian hippie librarian in town.
I'll kick your ass, bitch.

maybe the Art
of this celebicy
is to transform sex
into an act of loving


.iP