
Things are rarely
what you think
they pretend to be.
Do not mistake
a perception
for reality.
Surviving and thriving
are two different things.
Entirely.
only the tidbits
The intolerable tyrant will meet a mighty end.
The worst of fates Beset
those who dismiss and abuse
children.
Boys who want to be Gods
pretending to be men.
will be cast in stone
and tossed below
for their sins.
Artemis is hunting.
Caireen is crying out.
Stylianos has abandoned refuge
and Jizo is awake.
Nicholas of Myra is a
Patron on the take.
There is work to be done
for the cause of the soul.
A child kept
in a cage
destroys
us
all.
Ask Bes to keep you.
The storm is quick to rise.
Time is watching now
and it’s ready for a fight.
Notes:
Beset- Female counterpart to Bes
Artemis- Diana Nemorensis
Stylianos- Hermit/Saint
Nicholas of Myra- Saint Nicholas
Caireen- Cailleach’s Irish Counterpart (although I believe they are two different imaginings)
Jizo- Jizo Bodhisattva
We have no one to blame but ourselves. Well myself actually, it was my idea. My plan to avert the jungle outside for a walk indoors. My plan to work out every day without the excuse of weather to fall back on. My grand plan to fight resistance and get serious about fitness. It was expensive, but it would be worth it. We work hard, we deserve it. So we combined our research efforts, split the costs, and ordered it.
It arrived on a Saturday and came to life on a Monday via the rigorous toil and dedication of my faithful man mate, David. In its containment it did look large, once built however, it became huge. This beast of a machine is a mammoth in our tiny home. It is a giant commanding our attention. Large with life and a console that looks like a replica of something from Star Trek, this machine is dominant.
All I wanted was a defense mechanism against common resistance. A simple way to make progress and sustain it, instead I got a war machine. Why would you simply ignore resistance when you can destroy it? In the shadow of this mighty dinosaur, there are no excuses, you have to walk, you have to run, and you have to obey it.
Throughout my speckled and turbulent history with body confidence and self improvement, I’ve tried various methods to stay on course and motivated. There have been diets, twisted ankles, and gurus along the path but time and truth changed my approach. A little internal deep dive and I realized that progress masked as punishment is an effective illusion and the size of it counts. The enormity of this new Overlord in our little life is as humorous as it is intimidating and for the first time ever I have no doubt that it will all work out.
Every single day.
Do not live on the fringes
of your fancy outside life.
Nothing of substance happens there.
It’s just a show.
Look within and hold truth tight.
Life takes shape unseen
deep down
in the soul.
I make these lists year by year of the lessons I’ve learned and the truths that I’ve found. I make them in order to track my age and forge an alliance with myself. This little annual inventory is taken from a year of scribbling my thoughts down:
Note: My notes are personal truths. A collection of the reminders I write to myself and my Bird.
Sometimes when I am in the past,
I can see the things that were meant to be.
A shrewd and subtle foreboding persists there, collecting dust.
We all played our parts in it,
made sacrifices and surrendered endlessly to it.
Greedy for attention and simple recognition of
how special we really were.
Everyone watching and waiting then,
learning how to survive.
Slaves to ambition,
slinging drinks and talking shit.
We were deep in hope then,
tremendously alive.
Rest easy old friend, when you need to find me
I’ll be in solace tucked, quietly away.
Sidelines, garden sheds, corners in the shade.
A place where the noise can’t touch
in the light of day.
I never did fit in quite right,
awkward and aloof.
My mind, simple and demanding
collecting stories and sorting truths.
I have always been an apt pupil
at ease in solitude.
The translation of this has long been mocked
and called by many names:
Lack of confidence,
severe shyness,
a consequential guilt.
Fear,
arrogance,
and my favorite mishap, shame.
I call it self-possessed
by my own name.
Rest easy old friend,
for time has surely shown,
I will be here in the end
just as I have always been.
Embedded in a quiet
of the mind
I call home.
I never did fit in quite right
and you are not alone.
All of these old mishaps,
unlocked doors with a chain of keys.
Rotted out to retire,
made to forget.
Shame’s trusted companion
will always be regret.
The dung twig sprouts
and the spotted Owl sings.
There is joy to be had
in old beginnings.
Seven crows, seven poles
digging in an open hole.
Into the red mud,
down through
the centuries recounting.
This is my final turn
to begin again.
Drenched in the red
of this sweet Earth.
A new life planted in the dirt.
Seven rows for seven new souls,
the last of the firsts.