i couldn't tell if it was mystic knowledge i'd divined from the astral, or something i just decided, but as god i figured it probably didn't make a difference. beginning and end, mouth and tail, chicken and egg; all the same thing.
so i told myself as i looked at your corpse, hanging there in the bush. it was not the first time i noticed it there; rotted, decaying, but suspended too far away from the ground to return to the earth as nature intended. who could say how long you had been there before i noticed, how much longer before i stopped to really look.
and that's how i knew that you, proud psychopomp, would not be the one to ferry my soul this time. i focused my energy and encircled myself and you, capturing your restless spirit. the spirit of a dead crow, this necromancer thought, would make a decent familiar. but i realized something important: i needed your consent.
i sent my intent to the crows. i knew that they were more than ordinary birds. your murder would communicate between you and i. if you wanted to pass on, they would ferry your soul and it would fade from my possession. otherwise, they would leave me a sign. and so i waited.
but not for long.
there it was. a single black feather on my path. i encircled myself and it, and gratefully took it into my possession, returning home to plan the ritual spell.
the first thing you needed was a name. the name of your old life no longer mattered. this was a resurrection, a reincarnation. to bind you to me, i needed to give you a name. and with that name i shaped a sigil, unique to you, to meditate on. that sigil, and the paper it was bound to, became your new body. and your spirit merged with mine.
a journey is one's day to day travel. A journal is a daily account. In a way, then, a journal is an accounting of one's journey; the root of both words being the French “jour”, ultimately from the Latin “dies”, both meaning “day”. The word “diary” comes from the same Latin root, and means the same thing as “journal”, so if anyone ever asks you what the difference is, now you know: it's neither in the origin nor the destination, which are both the same—
—it's in the journey it took to get from one to the other.
and ultimately the same is true of all of us. All of us wanderers, sharing a source and headed for the same destination, differentiated only by our individual journeys through this in-between space, this liminal world, this golden spiral.
a story isn't much like a journey, in this sense. A story has a set beginning and ending. And in this way, a story is just a segment of a journey, defined by arbitrary (but necessary) boundaries. So the question, then, is...
where does this story begin? And where does it end?
and who are the characters? The protagonist of our story? The antagonist? Who pulls the strings? Who weaves the threads?
we had trouble getting out of our head this morning. Too many internal distractions; sore knees, grumbling belly. We got there eventually though, to that place where it feels like we're floating just outside and above. In my mind's eye I can look down and see myself sitting there, eyes closed, legs crossed. It's comfortable out here...wish I didn't have to be tied down to this corpse.
3/25 morning diagnostics report.
I don't know if this is a common experience or not, but I volunteered at my church a lot growing up just because I kind of didn't have any choice. My parents were very involved, my dad being a pastor's assistant, on the elder board, and eventually a pastor himself. If he said I needed to volunteer for something, I didn't really have the option to say no. Besides, my whole family would be there anyway.
so if you've ever had to herd kids around, and especially if you've ever needed to get a group of kids to stay quiet and sit still for an extended period of time (say, during a lesson or a prayer) then you know what it's like trying to meditate while plural. I could be the most focused dead girl in the world, but if the others in here get bored and restless...it can be hard to stay in a meditative state!
but on the other hand, developing the skill to be able to keep everyone in here quiet and still when I need them to be quiet and still is a good thing, and one of the benefits of regular meditation, I'd say.
today was the first time since I started this meditation thing that I did a meditation unplanned, as a response to something happening in my life instead of part of my routine. In this case, I needed to cool my head and calm my emotions in the middle of my work shift; I'll start from the beginning, of course.
I guess it all started with my dab pen. Yesterday I forgot to take it with me when I left the house in the morning. I managed to make it through my whole shift just fine, but my head was feeling pretty off by the time I got home. I thought I was just exhausted from a long day of work, but I took a puff on my pen as soon as I got home and that made me feel a lot more normal almost immediately (although still tired, so I took a nap).
I was actually pretty proud that I made it through my whole shift, though, and didn't realize the lack of weed was affecting me until I got home. The last time I tried to cut back on the weed, I cut back too much and got some suicidal thoughts. I'm trying not to rely on it so much, so if I can make it through work and not use the weed until I get home to relax, that'd be a healthier balance.
Mondays and Tuesdays are my early shifts, so there's not much time to meditate before work. I've never really been much of a “morning person” as they say, but I actually enjoy my morning shifts. For one, it's a break from the usual work routine, which helps stave off the ever-looming burnout.
there are fewer customers to deal with in the mornings too, so I can just keep my head down and focus on my work. But obviously the best part about morning shifts is getting off early and having the rest of the afternoon free. Normally there's no sunlight left by the time I clock off, and I hate that.
so to make up for the fact that I have less time to meditate in the mornings, I think what I'll do instead is use (at least) one of my two morning shifts to find a cozy spot outdoors somewhere to meditate, to get back in touch with my father the Sun and my mother the Earth on a regular, weekly basis. Today I just went to the park right next to the store I work at.
I walked through a shady patch of trees while trying to find a cozy spot in the sun, and there was a murder of crows hanging out there. Coincidentally, I happened to have some of my magic peanuts in the car, so I brought them with me to toss to the crows. I'll have to remember to bring some more with me next week.
we cut our meditation a little bit short because even though it was sunny, there was a breeze picking up and it was giving us a bad chill, but it was a nice meditation all the same. Afterwards, morrigan took us out on that date he promised waayyyy back before the pandemic closed everything down for a while. We were exhausted from our morning shift, so it was hard to enjoy ourselves, but it was nice. :>
I can always tell when the oven has been left on in the other room, even when nobody else in the room seems to be able to notice. In this case, it was actually the coffeemaker, or the hotplate that keeps the pot warm specifically. But ovens and stoves and heaters and other electronic warming devices work the same way. They have two states: on, and off.
but they can't be always on! Otherwise they would just keep getting hotter and hotter until they burn themselves out. So a thermostat keeps track of how warm it is and turns the element on and off to regulate the temperature, simple enough. Whenever the thermostat turns the heating element on or off, it makes a sound.
it's not a very loud sound. It doesn't happen very frequently, and it's not rhythmic; just a single, solitary, soft click! Most people miss it, but for some reason I always notice it and my oven doesn't get left on too long.
you're stuck on the title. Just come back to it later.
it's not just the title, though. It's a question of where to start. The title is a red herring; not knowing where to start, the obvious place would be the beginning. But it is a folly to try to set the tone and topic of a piece by the title; the title should be made to fit the piece. And not knowing what sort of work the piece is going to be, nor the topic of discussion, it is difficult to fit the title to it.
so we will just have to come back to it later.
first things first—what happened to the morning diagnostics report? And should it be “diagnostics” or just “diagnostic”? The word is beginning to lose all sense of meaning...it probably doesn't matter anyway.
well, you know what happened to the report. We didn't finish it, and now it's hardly “morning” anymore. Besides, plenty of things have developed since then anyway. I think it would be more worthwhile to discuss that than to worry about the report.