Categories
Astrology Charleston, West Virginia Writings

Another Storm…

Well the last astrological storm was as bad as predicted with all those special 8th house touches- sluts, crime, violence, financial catastrophe, etc. I survived although I’m now unable to walk since I kicked a door in a fit of rage.

This is not typical for me. (Well once I did shatter a glass candle.) But pressure was building. Two days earlier I spontaneously set a pair of underwear on fire. Please don’t judge. The planets can bring anyone to this point.

Anyway, the bad part is another storm is beginning now. Through around the first week of August. And unlike the last one, this storm may impact YOU- especially if you’re already dealing with Uranus transits (this may be the case if your life feels crazy and erratic.)

Basically Mars, Uranus & the North Node all join together in the sky. So for those having Uranus transits, this is when the earthquake cracks a nuclear power plant. But maybe it will be great, who knows? Perhaps you’ve been trapped in a prison, the walls break free and you start running.

The point of this transit is to supply you with extra energy to transform those areas of your life which feel stagnant and oppressive. To help you be more alive, independent, & free. To help you become more real.

There are a couple pitfalls you want to avoid however.

  1. DO NOT suppress yourself. (This was my mistake.) If you are sitting on a pressure cooker it will find a way to blow. Take a stand even if it causes some friction. If you can’t take a stand, do whatever you can to let off steam. Exercise, do physical labor, act crazy on social media, etc. Don’t hold things inside. Find people you can spill your guts to.
  2. DO NOT give yourself permission to be stupid and destructive. This is the other extreme people go to. You have to find a meaningful way to create change & freedom in your life. Yelling at your boss, attacking your spouse & snorting a line of sluts will likely make matters worse.

    So THINK for once. Come up with a meaningful way to break out of your rut. Don’t destroy the things you need and value. Don’t flush the baby with the bathwater.

And keep in mind this transit may be about things happening TO you. Explosions most likely. The same advice still applies. Be bold. Be brave. Don’t be a dumbass. Find ways to release pressure. Look for opportunities to gain freedom. And above all, to thine own self be true.

Two rows of corn flanking the walkway to our house. I have strong feelings about corn, as I do for all the Staffs of Life who modern people so disrespectfully call “Carbs.”








Technically the st

Categories
Astrology Charleston, West Virginia men My Life Story Writings

Mommy I’m scared!

I’m scared because tomorrow an astrological storm begins. It’s in James’s chart, not mine, but those are the worst. My transits tend to play out more internally- I draw a black cloud in my journal- while his involve car chases, explosions & wild animals.

Maybe it will be okay. My current strategy is to try to talk about transits as much as possible before they happen. “By the way James, tomorrow at 2 pm you’ll have an explosive rage transit.” He still feels the energy, but expecting it makes it less likely to be randomly projected at the nearest target (me).

This works well for little moon transits, which only last a few hours and are mostly about feelings anyway. But the upcoming storm is about 8 days long. The sun will ignite an underground river of slut fuel. A couple titans duke it out in the house of sex, death & money. It may be okay. Storms happen all the time. I just try to worry about them as much as possible before hand in case it helps.

As I shared before, I’m currently having a Saturn square Mercury transit. It’s basically shining a spotlight on all the negative thoughts I hold, all the things which bring me down. So while the voices are telling me I suck day and night, the good part is, it’s also giving me a chance to change some of my problematic thinking.

For example, I’d like to retract a blog post I wrote a few days back, expressing my love for the book ‘Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.” I’ve decided it’s a crock of shit. And this is after 4 years of devotion. I even put the author on my top ten heroes list.

Cause when it comes down to it, what the book is really saying is suck ass constantly and you’ll have less friction in your relationships. Which is true. But is it a good way to live? Cause all those aspects of yourself you suppress just pile up behind you like ghosts. Eventually they cause problems of their own. Suppression of self is an emergency measure to use when kidnapped- it shouldn’t be a long term marriage strategy. It can’t be the ideal.

Although things are going pretty well with James. We found a new hobby. Watching movies. In the theater, where popcorn is $5 but refills & melted butter are unlimited. It’s the best thing ever. I like it when he chooses the movie so I am immersed in a world of foreign, exotic energies.

Not to sound schizophrenic, but it really feels like these movies are being handcrafted by God and filled with special messages just for me. I learn so much about astrology, the future, men, myself and everything really. It’s great.

So far I’ve seen…

1. Top Gun. (As mentioned here.)

2. The Black Phone. This perfectly expressed the third decan of Pisces we are now in. A time when people must be willing to confront the darkness and finally gather courage to stand and fight.

3. Jurassic Park. Traumatic. People getting eaten triggers me. I ran out of the theater crying, but James used logic to calm me down. He said the dinosaurs were CGI and not puppets. Therefore it would be impossible for them to eat anyone. He also explained that watching bad guys get eaten is good for men’s testicles. (I’m paraphrasing.) So I returned to my seat and watched the rest of the movie. It made me feel tough actually, and getting tough in preparation for 2024 is one of my goals.

4. Elvis. A beautiful movie. I didn’t get to extract its meaning though, cause at the end when I was crying and letting it all sink in James began whispering in my ear all the clues that Elvis was gay. I felt his theory held water but the mental processing erased the movie’s emotional impact on me. Using intellect to dry up emotion is the gift and curse of Virgo.

Slipper’s cookie jar.
A towel with blue roses.
A bear made of glass.

The river.


Categories
Charleston, West Virginia men Uncategorized Writings

A Meducation

Have you read “Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus”? It is insane. The author describes my conversations with James word for word. He states the exact words I am hoping James will say, then the exact words James says instead, and explains the reason for the disconnect. It’s incredible.

I was going to share some muggets I learned, but decided I must first read it over and over, every day for an hour or so, until it becomes a part of me. The principles make so much sense while reading, but in real life you get lost figuring out how to apply them. I just need to simmer in this wisdom until it becomes part of my bones.

The basic gist though is don’t wear yourself out doing nice things for men. They don’t like this because it reminds them of their mother. What a man really needs is:

A) Permission to be emotionally unavailable so he can do man things, like think about problems. Men go into robot state to recharge and they must fully recharge before they are capable of bonding.

B) Approval and acknowledgment. But this doesn’t have to be as exhausting as it sounds. Think of the man as a robot. He only needs a straightforward acknowledgment of tasks completed and problems solved. “Thank you for taking out the trash.” No goo, no frills.

The most important mecret though is that men hate criticism. And they hear criticisms in statements which females would find loving. Because their core insecurity, is “Am I powerful? Am I capable? Am I being viewed as powerful and capable?” Females, on the other hand, are wondering “Am I lovable? Am I loved? Do I have care and support?”

For this reason, females love it if someone offers to help them. They share ideas and advice as a form of affection. They like being fussed over. Offering a man help, advice or fussiness, however, can easily be construed as an insult. You are telling him he is a pathetic little boy who can’t do anything right without mommy’s help.

So never offer to help men. Don’t give advice or suggestions, unless they ask. (When men DO ask for advice, however, this means they truly want it, whereas females may ask for advice when they are actually seeking care and affection.) And avoid criticism as much as humanly possible.

Now I’m still not 100% sure what you are supposed to do in cases where you are riding bucket seat in a car that a man is driving off a cliff. Is there some way you can suggest he turn left that won’t mortally offend him and cause him to press the accelerator harder? I can only hope multiple readings of this book will reveal the answers to me.

Still, the good news is- give less. Save your care for yourself. When you make yourself happy, that will make your man happy too, since he will take credit for your happiness. Likewise, when you are unhappy, men take credit for that. Hence, the expression of natural emotions like sadness and anger can be construed as insults by a man. Your tears may be telling him that he sucks as a husband and you wish you had married the neighbor.

This is the other tricky part. Females thrive on expressing the full range of emotions. If we emit happiness all the time, we become frayed and brittle. Negative emotions are our healing waters, where we go to regenerate. They give us depth and wisdom. But to men, they are threatening. And an insult to their competence as husband.

Women talk about negative feelings to heal and create bonds. Men don’t do this. If they express negative emotions, it means they are trying to attack or blame someone. So when they see women being negative, they feel attacked. And they counter-attack. Then women go into shock because they don’t understand why they are getting attacked when they were looking for love and bonding. Degeneration begins.

Now, the book says that if men can truly understand that expressing negative feelings is part of female nature- and not intended as an assault- they can gradually restrain their defensive impulses. They can learn to just listen and even say things like hmmmm, oh really? and tell me more. Then they discover that by simply listening, the female’s negative feelings magically transform into positive feelings, including love and appreciation for the listener. This gives men the sense of accomplishment they crave.

So the real challenge lies in convincing men not to be threatened by female style expression. How to do this though, when there is no chance men will read relationship books themselves? * I don’t know, but it must be done. Cause even if a female does everything right- gives space, appreciation, zero criticism etc- if she can’t express the full range of feelings there is no chance she will feel satisfied. She will either pop or fade away, and the man will be left with the very sense of failure he was trying to avoid.

A picture James took of his fingers. This is supposed to reveal something about his manhood. Isn’t it fascinating how we are basically living with a foreign species yet go through life imagining we inhabit the same reality?
Male and female. Living in happy harmony. (Slippers has a shaved leg since she had an operation for a sports injury. The truth is, I am afraid she got the injury from Patton humping her. Something for which I feel a lot of guilt. It was so easy to train Slippers that I didn’t realize what a challenge Patton would be. But I think he has been successfully trained out of this and she is recovering well.)

* I just read this to James and he said you could get men to do this by simply explaining it to them. However, you may need to be patient and remind them over and over that you only need them to listen until they are able to retrain their defensive reflexes.



Categories
Astrology Charleston, West Virginia Writings

Jupiter is Idealism

Big Stuff is one of the Giants I wrote about in an earlier post. But he looks pretty Jupiterian to me, so I will place him here.

When you are a child you desire to be awesome- to have exceptional abilities that make you shine to those around you. Growing up is about realizing that no one wants to watch you shine. It’s annoying. What people want is for you to add value to their lives. What society wants is for you to add value to society.

Enter Jupiter. In traditional astrology, he is the bringer of wisdom, luck & riches. In modern astrology, he is frequently associated with weight gain, overspending & all forms of excess.

If I had to sum up Jupiter in one word, I would call him Idealism. He is the first planet who causes us to look beyond our personal goals to see how we can benefit the world around us. And as we become *for others* others become for us. They now have a motivation to help us. Society now has a motivation to reward us. People can open doors for us which we could never have opened for ourselves. This is luck. People invest in us and introduce us to new ideas & ways of seeing things. And so our world begins to expand.

But will our waistline expand as well? Possibly yes, but not because Jupiter is a pleasure seeking lush. In my opinion, every planet is a correcting force to the planet preceeding it. The Sun is hot and the Moon cools it. The moon is mushy but mercury is crisp. Mercury is too mental so Venus opens the heart. Venus is weak so Mars is strong-willed. Mars is shielded and independent, focusing on enemies and threats. So Jupiter opens up, to see the good in the world and also the good that COULD be in the world. You will never hear Jupiter say that humans suck. He fucking LOVES humanity.

But this new openness and love for the world naturally leads to a softening of personal boundaries and willpower. Jupiter will eat more, drink more and buy more just because he is more in touch with the goodness around him and lacks the will to resist. His personal bank account is not the most important thing to Jupiter anyway. He is externally focused. Just as the moon focuses on children and Venus focuses on her boyfriend, Jupiter focuses on society, seeing it through a doting golden glaze. He is the true believer in humanity’s potential and this excites him more than personal glory or owning buns of steel. His mind and emotions are mixed up and swirled with the world around him. If this goes too far of course, his generous optimistic spirit can be his undoing, which is why he is followed by the correcting force of hard & crusty Saturn.

And I believe Jupiter’s altruism is responsible for the high spirits he is known for. Our personal cares often dissolve when we develop an outer focus and fall in love with something beyond our self. Jupiter is about falling in love with our human tribe or even humanity. The world becomes brighter, more interesting, filled with meaning and purpose. Suddenly we matter because there are always things we can do to benefit and romance our new love interest. This does not necessarily mean we will be volunteer at a soup kitchen however. Depending on the sign and placement of Jupiter, this altruism can take many forms. Maybe we are Batman and do the dark works no one else has the stomach for. Maybe we are a clown working at a gas station, bringing a laugh to all the customers. We could be a writer, a hater, a bragger or a dancer. It isn’t the actions themselves which are Jupiterian but the motivation behind them. Jupiter’s motivation is to give to humanity. Idealism.

My Jupiter is in Aries for example, so at times when I am overtaken by altruism I become more fiery & belligerent than my normal personality. Almost as though our idealistic self is a genie kept in a bottle, a separate spirit who can possess us and provoke us into action our regular self would not take. My idealistic self tries to place myself in the line of fire in the hopes of taking a few bullets for humanity. Perhaps since I am cowardly by nature, being brave seems like the most idealistic thing I can do. I can only be brave though when this spirit overtakes me. A spirit of gratitude and awe for everyone and everything that has gone before. We all have this spirit and you can see its presence marbled throughout history when over and over again people devote and sometimes sacrifice themselves to transform the world for the better. It’s beautiful.

And in you this spirit, this altruism, may take any form. You may become maternal and start baking everyone muffins. Maybe you give hand jobs while expecting nothing in return. Lock yourself in your tool shed until you invent a better pencil. Or perhaps just lie on your sofa and dream new dreams that will one day come true for all of us.


Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Writings

Where is my Venus?

(Warning. This post may contain gross words.)

I am a female. I am an artiste. Why can’t I can’t relate to Venus, beautiful goddess of women and the arts? Ruler of money, comforts and social graces? Why can I only relate to Aries, god of blood and gore? Why do I turn to him when I have problems? I started wondering about this today and then vomited out the following words. I don’t know if they will shed light on the issue or not.

*

Growing up I wanted to be a boy. Or at least a tomboy. Not because I liked boy things. I didn’t. But I wanted to like boy things. I felt incredibly guilty for not reading the sports page, watching sports games or learning sports statistics. My ultimate dream was to be seen by others as someone who was obsessed with sports. My ultimate ultimate dream was to be the first female professional football player.

I wanted to be a great athlete, but was held back by my dislike for sports. They were smelly, dull, tiring, abrasive, and lacking in color.

Still, the world I grew up in was 90% sports, so even if you disliked them you were playing them anyways. Swimming, t-ball, tennis, gymnastics and ballet when you’re little and later volleyball, basketball, tennis and track. In half of these sports, being tall made up for the fact that I was spaced out and apathetic.

It wasn’t enough to just play sports though. Unless you wanted to be an absolute loser in life you needed to force yourself to do sporty things in between playing sports. Time between sports could be filled with competitive ping pong games, shooting pool, practicing freethrows or going for a bike ride. If there was a time lapse between swim practice and tennis practice, you should arrange to hit balls with a friend. Failing that hit balls against a wall or practice your serve. But do not sit there munching a grilled cheese like a lazy piece of shit.

I knew some people from public schools who would sometimes play sports in a silly way, like hitting ping pong balls against the wall and giggling. This shocked me. My husband grew up in a religion where pure thoughts & sexuality were moralized. In my world, sports were moralized. Sports and exertion. If you chose to relax when you could be playing sports, exercising or doing something strenuous, then you were a bad person. A lazy piece of shit, to be exact.

Also on my shoulders was the weight of needing to save the female species from disgrace. They were a disgrace because they were bad at sports. The superiority of men at sports was a favorite dinner conversation. My dad liked to discuss how one day my younger brothers would surpass me in sports and this filled me with dread and humiliation. I had to stop this from happening. I had to prove that females can do everything a man can do. And so from the beginning, I was at war with nature.

But the possibility of being a worthless piece of shit was not the worst part. On its own, I could have dealt with being a loser. The real problem was that if I did not become a professional football player I would have to become a regular woman. I knew I didn’t want this. Based on everything I heard they were absolutely disgusting. They used only one thing to get through life and that was “sexual wiles.” Whatever they appeared to have achieved it was those wiles that had done it. I didn’t know exactly what wiles were, but I knew they sounded gross like smooshing your body against someone else’s while wearing a silk blouse bulging with boobs.

And since I had three brothers and no sisters, I was the only one who would have to grow up and use sexual wiles. It made me feel humiliated. They would just get to grow up and be normal people. Beating me at sports until eventually my wiles took over. This sucked.


***

Fast forward to when I’m 18 and decide to legally change my first and last name. Of course I chose a man’s name. To me, a man’s name meant I would be the person I was within, not someone who played a role to please others. Males were subjects. Females objects. A man’s value came from his accomplishments. A female’s value came from what men thought of her. Unless she could beat them in sports. But I couldn’t. By this time I was just a series of injuries and could barely walk without pain. Dreams of becoming an athlete were over. Sort of.

Now I’m 19. My first boyfriend/spiritual guru/husband and Jesus have agreed. I should be a stripper. The reasoning has something to with achieving enlightenment. I agree I should do this. Why? Because it is my greatest nightmare. You must do the thing you fear. Or as my dad liked to say “That which does not kill you makes you stronger.” If you do what feels good to you, the ego wins. If you torture yourself, the ego starts to die. Then you will finally become free to fly past the Eagle in the sky and live forever. That is literally how I thought of it.

Some people see stripping as a feminine expression. Dumbasses. It is the most manly thing in the universe. No one with a feminine side goes near those places. I can only compare it to a man working up the courage to stab himself in a nut.

It is about as sexual as a man pulling down his pants to be examined by a doctor who happens to be his uncle. But I was honor bound to do it because it combined all the things I dreaded most- being on stage, dancing, acting ‘sexy’ and worst worst worst of all- not wearing clothes. I can’t really convey in words the extent to which I did not want to be without clothing. Would you like to be naked and carved up in the middle of a Thanksgiving feast? Would you like to be hog tied with your head buried in mud and your bare ass pointing towards the sky as friends walk by pointing and laughing at you? Cause that is how it felt. Disgusting but also like a horror movie. “Guts” was my name. But the disgust and the horror were why I had to do it. Only the ego has those feelings. Unless you kill the ego you will never fly past the Eagle.

This is also the time I decided to become a Professional Body Builder. This was probably a way of trying to turn my body into a suit of armor since I really didn’t want to be naked. I was not looking to become toned. I wanted to become absofreaking ginormous like those men in magazines with veins popping out of their forehead. I wanted to be a three hundred pound monster. I was convinced that if I ate enough canned chicken and spent all day at the gym, I would become just like those men. I didn’t realize this was as unlikely as becoming a professional football player. In the summer I spent all my time pumping iron and packing down protein. When I got back to school the teacher had me stand up for the class as an example of a body type that would never be able to gain muscle mass. I was confused because in my mind I already resembled those giant men.

But that one statement popped my dream. And if I couldn’t be a successful professional male body builder then I wasn’t going to be a stripper either. The two things went together.

***

Always people were breathing down on me, sculpting me. My psychology was built around finding ways to fend others off while also seeking them out for protection. But every new protector would become the one I needed protection from. Normal, healthy people probably steered clear of me, I was so weird. Or maybe I steered clear of them. To this day, I feel very uncomfortable around nice people. When people tell me I am the dumbest person they have ever met, I feel safe, like Briar Rabbit in his briar patch. When people gang up on me I feel at home. Nobody in my family liked me. I was surrounded by invisible cooties and you could see the disgust in their faces.

***


I don’t trust men who try to pretend like men and women are the same. My first husband was like this. He would wear women’s clothing and mascara. He would decorate my room with pictures of women carrying guns and knives. And naked women making weird expressions. To me they looked like men in those unnatural poses, their faces scrunched up as though (trigger warning) they were trying to take a crap. But to the males that came around they were hot and sexy women. I never knew what they were seeing.

Husband would wear my shirts and perfume. He would buy me knives whose handles were carved into skulls. He bought me swords. He gave me a stolen gun and told me to keep it in my backpack as a symbol of female empowerment. He called the cops and told them I was planning to murder someone. A man who had recently crushed my skull but whom I had no plans to murder. It is hard to explain the full extent to which murdering people was not on my mind. It really hit me from left field. The cops took me to get psychiatric evaluation. They looked at my dorm room, the walls covered in collages and posters hung there by my husband. Violence, nudity. The big black pirate flag he had hung in my window. I had thought it was funny and weird the way teenagers think it is funny to turn a sign upside down. It was better than naked women. But when you are a potential murderer these things take on a different glow. The collection of knives on my desk. It made me feel special when he bought these for me. He wanted me to be safe and powerful. At any rate, I hadn’t had much say in the way my room was decorated. Each new piece of decor was hung while I was out and then presented to me as a surprise, a gift filled with complex existential meanings which would be laboriously laid out. Usually something along the line of female empowerment or getting past the Eagle.

Aesthetically I didn’t care for his decorations but it never occurred to me to view them through the eyes of police men. Although this wasn’t the first time police had shown up in my dorm room. Once they came because there was a gigantic naked man handcuffed to the stairwell outside my door. My name was written over his naked body, presumably by my husband. He was rattling his chains and wailing my name. I don’t know why. My roommate and I were pretty scared because this was the middle of the night and we had been sleeping. But it had become normal for my husband to do weird things in the middle of the night, like pulling the fire alarm, sometimes repeatedly forcing everyone in the dorm to evacuate. It was so loud & startling & cold & then the nightmare of having to get out of bed in a panic and be around boys without real clothes or makeup on. But he said I needed to learn to go without sleep to get past the eagle.

So when a naked guy was chained to my room wailing my name it was not totally out of the ordinary. I was usually in a state of semi-horror. The cops came and I was hid from them because I didn’t want them to see me in my nightgown with no makeup. I couldn’t look at them and I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know why he was chained there and why my name was written on his body.

My husband would wear my clothes and give me his. Sheer mesh shirts from International Male that reeked of permanent b.o. He made fun of my clothes, saying I dressed like a gigantic baby. He bought me new ones. He said he needed me to be a classy elegant lady. This had something to do with existentialism and Apollo vs Dionysus. There were always very complicated explanations for things. Classy, elegant ladies wore cutaway tops. Cutaway tops were shirts which covered up one’s entire torso except for the breasts which were left bare and exposed. I said I had never seen a cutaway top and it made no sense that elegant ladies would wear these. But that is when he would start screaming. Really really loud, just like the fire alarm. I guess his pattern was to make a false or absurd statement and then start screaming until I accepted it. He especially liked to scream in public. It seemed as though the more he screamed at me in public the more our friends would come up with psychological theories as to why he was actually a good guy, just someone with problems. Which caused an ever increasing flow of kindness and generosity in his direction.

He liked to humiliate me in public. Screaming at me until I would take off clothes or dance. Taking off his clothes in a fancy restaurant. Telling me I had to say sexual things to people, including family members, or saying sexual things himself. Giving people inappropriate gifts that were supposedly from me or threatening teachers in my name. I became accustomed to living in a state of permanent humiliation. I was horrified to be associated with myself and the dark, perverted, murderous freak I was supposed to be. But this made me cling to him even tighter. He was the only one who could love me.

People say it is your fault if you are in a bad relationship because you didn’t leave. I don’t care. I don’t know what fault means anyway. There were reasons I was with him. For starters, even before him I was very confused. I remember running around outside at night screaming “Help!! I can’t see!!!” I felt there were things in my mind I couldn’t get to. I was confused as to what was real and what wasn’t. I was always looking for people who could help me make sense of things. Nothing ever made sense in my world. My parents would say things that didn’t make any sense either. They would project strange things onto me.

Even moreso I was with him due to fear. I was terrified of my parents. I still am. I preferred being escorted by cops as a potential murderer to being alone with them. And for all his faults, my husband had the virtues of being insanely brave and bold. He wasn’t afraid of anything. He would bite the head right off of a live snake knowing it was poisonous. It was insane.

I suppose my core flaw was not being an independent person. That is my core flaw to this day. Everyone is expected to be an independent person ready to handle life completely on their own at a moment’s notice. But it is hard to be independent when you can’t trust your mind to know what is real and what isn’t. The terror, the confusion & the dependence became this Bermuda triangle, each point playing off the others so there wasn’t any clear way to escape it. He was the only person willing to step into that mess.

Nothing has really changed. I am still confused, still terrified and still dependent. But I try to be a productive person to make up for my flaws. I don’t want to be a net drain on the world.

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Charleston, West Virginia Uncategorized Writings

Hi, how are you are?

Hi, how are you? I have been feeling weird, as though I have reached the end up some rope and there is no rope left to move forward with. The person I am used to being feels foreign to me.

Recently, I lost all my friends, probably due to Mars- the God of War- making his way through my House of Relationships. This forced me to detox from my relational self and once the detox was complete, I couldn’t relate anymore to my personality. I am, once again, a person without a personality, a crab without a shell.

And I feel aimless. Life feels dry and pointless. All I want is an adventure. But it is this restless feeling that usually leads me straight to the hospital, rather than standing atop Everest, an intoxicating breeze through my hair.

Everything is a swirl. I have written a million blog posts recently, but by the time I get to the end, my thoughts have shifted so far I can no longer relate to anything I said. Then I delete it. This will probably be deleted to, we will see. Word salad.

It feels like I have already done everything there is to do. I know this can’t be true, and yet every road *feels* like a road I have seen before. Why is this?

We all live in a reality, I guess, and that reality has parameters. Eventually, you get a sense of where the parameters lie.

Sure, there are books I have yet to read, but I feel like anything they say will fall within the parameters of the world I already know. Boring. I want to open a book and have a dragon pop out. He will  whisper in my ear where I can find buried treasure. I will go to dig it up and thus begin an adventure of epic proportions, dissolving my sense of reality and replacing it with something magical & expansive.

I know it can be done. To step outside the walls of your reality into a world that is fresh and new.  But how? I’m sure I could figure it out, if only my brain could step outside this swirling wind.

Here is a picture, for people who can’t stand words without pictures. These are some deadnettles I picked from the yard to make into deadnettle vinegar. I don’t know what I will do with it. Some people say it cures allergies, or maybe I will use it to clean the house. But deadnettles were covering the whole front yard this spring and I felt like it had to be a sign. Don’t you believe that the plants with the physical or magical qualities you need the most will find a way of making it to your door?

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Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Sky Blue, Ether, Flags, and Fairies The Pine Fairy Videos

Pine Trees Fall (Video)

 

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Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Red, Soldiers, & Fire The Pine Fairy Videos

The Red Door (Video)

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Hurricane, West Virginia Music & Songs Plants and the Emerald Kingdom

I am Nature

 

 

Rose. She likes the feel of your nose.
She knows that everyone knows her, chose her, sigh.
Brown. You like the feel of the ground.
To feel it blow all around you, down you, sigh.

Don’t let me slip through.
Don’t let me walk invisible by.
I am Nature; I get you high.

Green. Too many places unseen.
Too many footsteps behind you, bind you, why?
Stray. Seek everything far away.
Don’t let nobody scold you, mold you, try.

Don’t let me slip through.
Don’t let me walk invisible by.
I am Nature; I get you high.

Burn. Too many pages to learn.
Too many pages to follow, swallow, sigh.
Strive. You always fought to survive.
You always fought them to conquest, multiply.

Don’t let me slip through.
Don’t let me walk invisible by.
I am Nature; I get you high.

 

MP3 (Free): I Am Nature