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Occasionally I wandered in where I was not wanted and gave truthful answers.
Sometimes I even did it deliberately. A little disruption now can prevent disaster later.

Journal 15May2018

Thinking by blogging
This is both my Tuesday entry and a journal entry.

I've had three deaths in the past month. One a friend, one an uncle, and one person who I did not get along with.

I really don't think these "poor little me" bits are healthy, but my blogging took a hit and I wanted people to know why. Since my companion passed last fall, I'm not dealing well with people I know passing.

The friend wasn't a close friend, just someone I had known for a long time.

My uncle was my mother's older brother. You know that old story about the oldest son being allowed to get away with anything because he was the older son? That was my uncle. He was the troublemaker. Still, he did things mostly right. He gave the world two sons and laid the groundwork for many grandchildren. He was a party guy, but he'd bend over backwards and jump for family and his friends. This was the guy who'd take you fishing and hunting and then help you bury bodies.

And then there was the other person. We kept bumping into each other over the years. There were a few epic arguments. I can't blame it all on her. She did win in the end though. She left special instructions that I be invited to the funeral. What was I supposed to do with that? Say no? Tell her family that I couldn't be bothered?

People passing makes me think of mortality. I'm my mother's caregiver and I worry about her. But I worry about me too. I can't hike and walk like I used to, my feet don't like me and I don't like them. I can hear my joints rubbing against each other, especially in my neck. My handwriting has gotten worse. There are days it hurts too much to type. I spend more time than I should coughing up phlegm. I don't sleep particularly well and that makes me even more paranoid. I'm getting older and I don't think it will end well. My family is long lived but I'm not sure.

These toxic politics have made things worse. I see pagans more interested in making their mark than in nurturing the Earth. I see devotion to the gods replaced by tribal identity. I see the endless oneupmanship and "gotcha" attacks. I see us concentrating on our differences rather than what we share. And I think I have been too big a part of that.

The sun still rose this morning. It was particularly gorgeous, but I only noticed after I took the trash out. I stopped to think then, I had not greeted the sun in more than a month. Thoughts of death pushed thoughts of dawn out of my head. Only happenstance made me notice. That's not who I want to be. That's not what I want to share.

I still have time. I do not know how much. But some.

In the still of the night

This is a page from the third version of Technopagan Yearnings. There are some formatting differences. Originally published at www.neowayland.com/C65989237/E20060525233957

My journey to and from a funeral reminds me of the world outside artificial light

I did some driving in rural Arizona and New Mexico this last week.

One of the big differences between urban areas and rural areas is the amount of light at night. Depending on the size of the town or city, even as little as thirty miles is enough to reveal a whole other world.

Headlights are visible for miles if the road is in view. The shadows wrap around you so you feel like you could just reach out the window and gently stroke it. The desert night air has it's own scents and promises. The plants rustle in your side vision which seems a notch or two sharper. The land hints at it's shape rather than revealing.

And then the stars. Oh gods, the stars.

In a city, you see a few twinkles of the stronger stars, but that is nothing compared to what you see when you get away from the city lights. Suddenly the words "Milky Way" make sense. When I have been away from all the stars, my first instinct on a clear night is to strip down and bathe in all that silver starlight.

It's not just lights. In the desert and away from the roads and cars, you swear you can hear every single sound for miles around. Maybe it's just psychological. You're away from the normal stimulus so you pay extra close attention to the ones you do sense.

There are times I am very much in hermit mode and there are reasons for that. I can't tell you the name of the American Idol contestants. I have no idea what the Top 40 is these days. I have no interest in having Dr. Phil solve my problems on national television. More importantly, I've no real desire to think about these subjects. But they wrap themselves around you, insidiously. It's all that most people talk about.

It's the same with religion, at least for the people who want to get noticed. Folks are so busy making noise for their gold stars that they don't pay attention to the "stillness of the soul." The Blessed recognize that as the place where your inner journey begins, the gateway to your higher selves.

So away from the churches every block, the people mouthing the noise they think the Divine wants to hear, the flood of television and radio evangelism, and away from all those bits that we humans like to wrap ourselves in, that is the where the inner soul can wake and the outer soul can sleep.

I need to go camping again soon I think.

Posted: Thu - May 25, 2006 at 11:39 PM


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A narrow slice of life, but now and again pondering American neopaganism, modern adult pagans & the World.

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