Do you remember?

Ghost in the graveyard,
now run and hide.
Or join her
at the Devil’s side.

Light strikes at a slant. The air is heavy with the familiar. Deja vu, like a seizure, rocks my brain and then I feel it. The old feeling that I thought had been long forgotten in some dark nook of my past.

The sad sickness over my chest. I clutch at it. All those times I thought I was okay unravel and there at my feet, in a rats nest heap, is my spirit. I feel so empty, abandoned, alone.

I need to work on myself and not feel sorry for myself. Whose fault is it I am where I am? After eighteen, my destiny became my own and while I can point out the myriad of, say, confounding variables, at the end of the day I am responsible for my behavior. If we tend to hold psychotic, retarded, and other compromised people to this idea, for what reason should I receive an exception? Do I dare hope for anything other than an opportunity to sweep up the pieces and start again elsewhere?

When midnight comes, it’s not too late.

I have been working on myself instead of sinking into self-pity. I’ve done what my therapist tells me to do. I’ve accepted the fact that maybe I need medication, at least for awhile. So I’ll probably be on some sort of SSRI here in the next few weeks. It was something I was hoping to avoid, but I suppose when you’re sick and haven’t recovered on your own, then you just have to bear it.

It makes me nervous to go on those meds. What if they completely block me off from the spiritual? Oh well, I guess. I need to get better. I need to take responsibility for myself. Not everyone is meant to be. . . to have . . . well, you know what I mean?

I can’t be an agoraphobe forever. I can’t count things repeatedly forever. Some people do — and I have for almost twenty years now — but that’s all she wrote for me. I can’t take it anymore. If nothing else it would be nice to not feel like the world is caving in every time something remotely bad happens.

If I take care of my anxiety, I can move on with my life, one way or another.

Do you remember
(it’s just a game)
the flowers for the dead?

And don’t you forget
(it’s not too late)
flowers on the grave.

I had another dream.

Oh, thank you brain for fucking me up this morning. Just . . . fantastic. I’m going to blame the dextromethorphan–I’m recovering from the dregs of a flu/bronchitis combo. And yes, that is exactly as brutal as it sounds.

In this one, I was looking for Bast. I couldn’t find her and broke down in front of my locker. I wasn’t in a school or anything. There was just this random locker of stuff that I don’t recall. Some person was right beside me, too, but I don’t know who. All I’m even a bit certain of is that it was a dude.

Anyway, so I broke down in front of my locker and then, suddenly, Bast stepped out of the locker. Or the middle of nowhere. Hard to remember.

She said something and I unfortunately cannot remember what it was. Something comforting. Something like I didn’t need to find her or whatever. Maybe. I don’t know. Hope it wasn’t important.

So, thanks for that, brain. Kind of messed me up this morning, but now that I’m sitting here, thinking about it, it kind of makes me smile, too. When these sorts of things happen, I suppose it’s better to enjoy it as much as you can and, when the moment passes, let it fondly go.

You’ll remember.
Forget me

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Need to get the fucking fuck out of the paganism tag.

Edited for spellinh. Am  a bit drunk.

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Now there is none at all

I hope that our few remaining friends
give up on trying to save us.
I hope we come up with a fail-safe plot
to piss off the dumb few that forgave us.

I hope the fences we mended
fall down beneath their own weight.
And I hope we hold on past the last exit.
I hope it’s already too late.

So, I finally did it.

Finally managed to get in contact with someone who doesn’t suck in order to deal with my anxiety. It’s become overwhelming given my spiritual/”woo” breakdown, work concerns, family concerns, and health concerns.

But I won’t rant about health problems and what not. This blog has been, more or less, a chronicle of my failure as a spiritual human being so I see no reason to expand the misery and talk about my other failures. I mean, I’m not a failure; however, my inability to do anything right has been well documented at this point.

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow.
I hope it bleeds all day long.
Our friends say it’s darkest before the sun rises.
We’re pretty sure they’re all wrong.

I hope it stays dark forever.
I hope the worst isn’t over.
And I hope you blink before I do,
and I hope I never get sober.

What I’ve been pondering on and off for the past couple of weeks is what I’m going to do once I get a grip on anxiety and work on myself a bit more. I’ve come to the conclusion that, in dealing with the exhausting reality that is anxiety, I’m left with no more emotional or mental spoons to deal with anything but myself. Even now I’m sort of toeing the edge.

Maybe I’ll just go the atheistic route, like Buddhism. As sure as shit stinks I haven’t done well in the theistic arena. Oh, let me count my fucks up. . . but don’t make me account for them again. The flogging concluded ages ago, thank you.

It would be great to find some sort of elder or at least someone who isn’t a complete dumb fuck to help me along. Why anyone would mentor me, of all people, is the question.

I wish I didn’t have some sort of inner drive to do this sort of thing to myself. But I’ve always been interested in “woo”. There’s no denying it. There have been years when I haven’t touched it at all only to find a latent interest reactivated at random. So might as well see this trainwreck through once and for all. At least now I have the benefit of emotional and financial stability, along with some experience and a big helping of wisdom that I could have used like two years ago.

I miss being Kemetic.

I miss that wildly optimistic time where I thought I’d found somewhere I belong.

There’s the matter of the extended psychotic breakdown. Didn’t help with working with people, definitely didn’t help with Bast and the rest. Not to mention my dumbassery. Honestly, I’m surprised I even got a chance at all beyond the first few months.

And then, as I emerged from my psychotic breakdown, I realized that modern Kemeticism is largely like every other movement: massive amounts of fart-huffing and ass-kissing. Disagree with a BNP? Not part of the clique? To the gallows with you! Also, massive hypocrisy involving Ptahhotep. And let’s dress the gods like Barbie dolls. ‘Cause Kemeticism is soooooo zany.

Ecks. Fucking. Dee.

I mean, obviously there’s a load of humor (ranging from quite intelligent to pretty bawdy) in Kemeticism, it’s just . . . there’s a limit in my opinion. Don’t agree with me? Go fuck yourself back to your Tumblr hugbox. Or wherever you’re all congregating these days.

If I could go back in time to give myself some instructions–a sort of modern-day Wisdom Text situation–I would tell myself to stick with Kemeticism. I would tell myself to be an ardent Bubastite, to the exclusion of other Netjeru. I would tell myself to not associate too much with other Kemetics. Read what they have to say, absorb the information that seems relevant, ask questions related directly to academic/Kemetic texts, etc., but do not interact with them beyond that. Do not try to join the community.

They are not your people.

And I hope when you think of me years down the line,
you can’t find one good thing to say.
And I’d hope that if I found the strength to walk out,
you’d stay the hell out of my way.

I am drowning; there is no sign of land.
You are coming down with me,
hand in unlovable hand.

And I hope you die. I hope we both die.

March 3 is my local date for the Festival of Chewing Onions for Bast.

Doesn’t that seem fitting? I can’t, for the life of me, remember what, if anything, the chewing onions is for, or if there’s even onion-chewing involved. Doesn’t really matter, does it?

Onions have what’s known as astringency–basically a sharp, spiciness of flavor that most palates can’t handle (thus most people cook onions at least a little bit).

An onion describes close to perfectly how I’m feeling about life, the universe, and everything. Throw in some goba for the bitter disappointment and we’ve got a party going on here.

And oh, let’s peel through these years of layers of fucked up shit.

I miss Bast.

Or maybe I just miss the certainty. I really don’t know anymore.

A couple months ago, I had a dream where she told me to kiss her. Thanks, brain. That is exactly what I needed in order to pick up the pieces. You are a prize among gray matter.

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You are only coming through in waves

So here I am with a long dark tea time of the soul. Green tea, decaf, a bit of milk, way too much sugar.

Everything is lost. There are no stars by which to guide this boat. The sun set and then decided to never rise again. Instead of navigating my way through the increasingly stormy sea, I dashed myself upon the rocks. First, it was out of sheer carelessness and ego. Then it was out of spite. Despite my best efforts, I have always been the type to cut off my nose to spite my face.

Of course, none of this ever happened.

That is, while I ought to have been navigating the seas in search of–who else–Bast, maybe Shiva, I was lounging in the study, sipping green tea. Did I mention I hate green tea? All teas, really. They smell delicious but taste like heated water unless you dump in a bunch of sugar.

So that’s what I did. Kept pouring more sugar into this nasty, cold cup until I flung it in disgust and at that moment, the battle was lost. I kept looking for some magical fix to my problems. There were no magical solutions. There was no need to look elsewhere, to ask new questions, or to go through some antagonistic mentally-unbalanced phase. What I needed to do was learn how to steer.

I needed to learn that it’s okay to dump out that cup of fake juice we call tea and have some water instead.

It doesn’t help that I was legitimately having a mental breakdown starting in 2010 and not truly concluding until roughly 2014. It’s no excuse for my behavior, as I am still responsible for it even when sick, but I sure hope the gods, spirits, and people I rammed with my barely functional face don’t hold it against me too much. I should have sought help somehow. But I didn’t.

I didn’t learn to steer, didn’t learn it was okay to drink something else.

Even if there was some way to get back on track, I would have to work through my latest block. That is, I need space. Mind the yellow vest.

And I need a more “equal”–for lack of a better term–relationship with whoever I work with. It gets old being the doormat everyone scuffs their feet on, which is why I can’t stand most of the pagan and polytheism community. I’m here to drink some water and sail the ocean, not to suck your dick.

I hate green tea. Why did I insist on drinking it? Why did I not have the fortitude to say, “I think I will have something else.”? Why did I not try to steer my ship? To where have the stars gone?

Everything has now come to a standstill. This is before the First Time. This is before Vishnu woke up. This is before Chaos opened its gaping maw. There is nothing and with my hesitancy to make a move, there will continue to be nothing.

Life was easier when I was an atheist. Atheism does not require self-reflection of this sort at all.

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A Bitter Gourd

The universe spoke.

It said a lot of things, but the gist of it was as follows: fuck you.

Fuck you, fuck your feelings, fuck your thoughts, fuck everything that makes you who you are.

Fuck you for being here, and fuck you for having to die someday, thus burdening us with your putrid, fucking fuckness.

We hate you and you hate us back. You got your new start–and we put you as far as humanly possible from us. We are already impossibly remote to you. We are the glimmering star at the far flung side of the universe

Goodbye. Good riddance.

I am alone. I have been alone for a long time in a universe in which I was not meant to exist. And for the first time ever, I am truly okay with this. If I cannot be accepted for what I am, then I will learn to be content alone.

The only thing worse than being unloved by those around you is hanging around those people in the hopes they will change their mind.

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Enlightenment Achieved

Yes, I’m alive (not that anyone cares). No, I will not be posting here any time in the near future.

I figured it out. Only a few months and I figured it out.

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Before I Fall Down

This week has been utterly fucking exhausting, although I will say I used my energies to better effect this week. I’m so tired it’s going to be a close one for me to fulfill all my responsibilities for the day. So far I have to turn in my letter (needs proofreading, but pretty happy with it), read scripture, meditate, and do mindfulness exercises. At least the meditation and mindfulness can be done in bed, as a prelude to sleep.

With that preamble out of the way, it should be no surprise to anyone that I’m very happy that this week’s reading comes from the Anubis Oracle.

As usual, the question is: “How should I approach the coming week?”


Tree of Life                  Anpu

Sopdet just shows up all the time, eh?

O, Sopdet. O, shining Polestar.
There you are, and here am I.
If only I could be a faithful dog
tracking you across the sky!

For my chosen Polestar is a binary system. In Hinduism, I believe that would be Shiva + Parvati. For those of you who are Kemetic, that’s Aset + Anpu. Or it can be Bast + [Unknown]. I would guess Anpu, depending on if you can accept that Anpu is, in certain contexts, child of Bast. Which just sounds weird to me. Good, but weird. Moving on.

This is the first time Sopdet has reappeared alone. She’s shown up with Right Timing and Direction a couple times and of course she’s also appeared in other guises. Sopdet points out places that are ripe for renewal or resurgence. She is the healing after the pain. She’s the one who brings plenty after want, but remember that she is also the one who brings want after plenty. In general, the appearance of this card is very positive. You just have to remember that there’s always a flip-side with the Netjeru.

Sopdet reminds us that it’s always darkest before dawn. Her appearance in a reading indicates that you are not currently lost on whatever path you’re on. . . although I don’t know if that means you’re, y’know, actually on the right path!

Sopdet is in the Nekhbet-Mother-Mut position, meaning it’s her energies that are at play this week. As someone who’s been feeling worthless and beat down for the past couple of weeks, Sopdet is a very welcome sight. Like water to the thirsty, food to the starving. I love my Polestar and will continue moving toward him. I get a nice, fresh start this coming week.

The card in this position also hints at where your ego needs to be during the week. When things are fresh, new, and unknown, you need to remember to remain humble. I think this ties in with the rest of the reading, which I’ll get to here shortly.

Anpu has shown up in a reading before. He indicates the need for surrender. Now, I didn’t look into this much when I first pulled Anpu, but this time I read up a bit.

It depends on the religion you follow. From the context of mine, here it is:

Surrender is when you accept everything–good and bad–as divine grace from god. This doesn’t mean you don’t try to better yourself, or the world. It doesn’t mean you don’t try to help others. It’s just, whatever the outcome is. . . that’s grace. And on the dark side of things, sometimes grace is really fucking awful. And other times grace is really fucking great.

Sometimes this means clinging to god as hard as you can. Other times, it means letting go and letting god take care of you.

Which brings me to the subject of trust. Which I lack. Almost completely. I trust gods to be gods. In the context of human-immortal relations. . . my trust–you could say my faith–is greatly shaken. So much has happened I don’t even know exactly what shook my faith to pieces. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I just made the mistake of clinging to the wrong things, or letting go when I needed to hold on.

In the AO’s Anpu card, you see Anpu hanging upside down, gaining a new perspective on life. There’s a serpent twined around his feet and crawling downward. Yet Anpu looks serene. Not scared. There’s a certain degree of trust (or faith) that you must have when you’re hanging upside down to get a new perspective on life.

Beyond the concept of surrender, Anpu also helps us learn how to know when it’s time to let go, and then how to do it. He indicates that you can receive or give emotional/spiritual guidance. He is about making a transition and, in the process, letting go of old perceptions.

In my case, I feel like the surrender part is more important for the spiritual side of things. That’s what’s resonating the most with me this week. For the mundane, I think the letting go of old perceptions is important, because it’s my perceptions of how things should operate that’s made work for the past two or three weeks so awful and exhausting.

Anpu is in the Nebet-Het position, meaning I can rely on Anpu for the more intuitive parts of the week.

The last card, which is the crowning achievement of the reading and the connection between the earthly and spiritual, is the Tree of Life. This card incorporates Bast, Anpu, and Ausir in one beautiful image. Bast, as holy longing, ignites Anpu’s desire to know more, and Ausir waits for Anpu to die and live again in knowledge.

The Tree of Life asks us to consider the concept of surrender. It asks us to take a moment to be in complete stillness, in meditation. And in that moment, we should ask ourselves, what do we want to discover or renew?

The Tree of Life can also indicate a rite of passage.

Given Anpu’s earlier appearance, this week is going to be about surrender, what that means for me, how that’s going to change my spiritual (and maybe mundane) landscape, how to put that into practice, how to deal with my innate mistrust, etc. I think I need to try to move a little closer to god. It’s been four months now since I started on my year-walk. While I’m technically getting a little more than a year since I started last November, four months in is not that far from six months in, and I need to think about where I’m at.

Confucius says that it does not matter how slowly you go so long as you don’t stop, but I don’t think he envisioned somebody moving quite as slowly as me!

The longing is the there . . . the ability to be reborn is there . . . would I hang upside down?

I also have to wonder. . . what do I want to discover or renew? Long term and well as short term (this week).

Oh, I have some ideas. There are some things the soul never forgets. But will I admit it? And will I face the consequences? There’s the rub. The consequences could be very good or very bad for me. It’s only human to consider them. Perhaps that’s where surrender comes in. I don’t know. I need to sleep on it.

Whenever I hear that song
I get nostalgic.


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