I just sat down to write. I logged in, clicked Blog Posts, then read a draft that I thought I would go ahead and post, posted it, and have promptly forgotten what I came to write. I forget a lot of things. It is starting to concern me, how much I forget things. Now it seems, I have an empty mind. When I sat down, it felt so full I needed to unload it. Unpack the burdening bits. Now they have flown away.
I have danced with the demons in the shadows. I have walked willingly with them. I have run in sheer terror from them. I have been stalked by them. I have pitied them. I have drunk Southern Comfort under bridges with them. I have been padlocked into dirty studio rooms with them. I have jumped from windows to escape them. I have rolled under a train, thrillingly, with them. I have toasted and boasted and become them. I have bedded down in sooty garage floors with them. I have huffed and eaten acid with them. I have smoked and jeered and been cruel with them. I have woken with only stutters for words with them. I have seen and done much with them, and they, with me. These demons are very close to the surface, and they can become our allies if we understand how to reveal their brilliance into our souls. But rarely do we. Usually, they take over, and are allowed to run roughshod over us, and then, we are but slaves to their will. One merely has to reach over and take the reigns. Trouble is, infrequently are we even aware there are reigns to be held and guided.
I started this some time ago…
I’ve been thinking about what I need to do in order to up my game in living shamanically. Number one, I know that I need to take better care of my container. The body is the temple, the only temple, that matters. I realize now the need for actual energy clearing, like QiGong, as I think this will help bring some of those pesky unseen issues into better balance. Eating and sleeping better are constant goals of mine, and strengthening my meditation practices. These I have been pretty good about, though I’ve noticed my weight went up as I took a break from eating my usual amount of meat. I sing and pray each morning at my altars, and at the swing where I sit before work which has become a sacred place to me where I feel I’m developing a relationship with the spirits of the land, the animals and birds of the area. I have also noticed how little my “inner critic” speaks with such harshness, if at all, these days. While I was plagued this past week or two with my familiar suicidal thoughts, they have grown into a different thing, and not stemming from my own self-belittlement, a practice that I have finally, blessédly, ceased. They seem to be at once the result of my aging hormones, but also aging, in general. The growing understanding of mortality. The realization that at the end of the bodily struggle is death. It is no more complicated than that. I feel that snake-ever-eating-its-tail of time, ready to consume me and set my consciousness free into some other thing, and taking me away from this gorgeous planet I have grown to adore so. I do not want to go.