I just realized that the last two posts here are about mostly the same thing. I feel extremely redundant. It's there, and I'm promising myself not to delete it. Apparently, I agonize about this more than I thought. I'd totally forgotten about that one from December.
Luiz just called leaving my mistakes to speak for themselves a taste of "humble cake" So there we have it. Now that I've thoroughly whined this to the ground, I can move on, amirite?
Also, I see a lot of posts about feeling "meh" and not taking up the cards much. At least that block is clear. I've been reading more, reading the cards more, and the movement is flowing again. I've got plans, and ideas again. It happens in a cyclical manner, I always go through a phase of freezing.
2.02.2011
I use little words. I feel dum.
I'm having a minor crisis of communication. It was triggered in part, by trying to explain the philosophy/non philosophy of Thelema to the uninitiated, then by listening to one of Joseph Campbell's many awesome and inspiring lectures. Luiz pointed out some part that correlated with Thelemic/Qabalistic belief, and I was like "yeah, I know, I've been playing along in my head" He apologized for insulting me. He didn't insult me, at all.
The other night, we were with friends celebrating Luiz's birthday, and C. said "Now we should go through Liber Resh, for the birthday boy" or something, then Luiz countered with the fact that he never memorizes anything. It came about because we were joking about birthdays, cold weather, invoking the sun, and other weird shit. I froze and gave him the O.O look. Now, in my head in response to Luiz, I thought "dude! That's a short one! HAIL UNTO THEE ABODES OF THE DAY...or somesuch." I could have said that. Instead we have this. O.O
I keep it in my head. I keep it all in my head. When it comes out, I can't remember names or dates, and I can barely cite books I get them from. If I wanna find some random correspondence, I can march to my bookshelf and pull out the exact book, and maybe flip to the right section. If someone asked me, I'd be like..."hurrr...Google it?" I understand Aeons, and I know how and when they flip over. I feel the dying god everywhere. I feel the bottom of the earth and I reach for the highest star, the HGA that's inside that little infinite center of me. I've drank from the Cup, swam in the Cup, soiled the Cup, am the Cup. I get the Abyss, the need to cross it, and what it might be like on the other side, and have explained it using analogies, but to present what I know in an informed intellectual sentence is where I stumble. I'm having a hard time making sense right now. I'm concerned that I come across as a total shallow dipshit. Listening to Joseph Campbell explain something like that so eloquently and perfectly simply makes me clench my fists and squeeze back huge tears of stupid. I'm dumbstruck.
It makes reading tarot cards difficult. Well, not reading. Explaining to people. Sometimes I get so toungetied and frustrated, I just point to the card, and say things like "LOOK! It's ALL RIGHT THERE!" I often resort to analogies, and like, bullshit self-help speak, because I often can't tell my sitters the real nuts and bolts of the card. I know what every bend, star, lobster, leaf, and everything that is and isn't on that card means. I know what it means historically, astrologically, numerically, runically, in many different systems, and I know what it means pertaining to any question. I can't tell it out loud. I'm like "look..donkeys, ooh." . I feel like a hack. Every time I talk about philosophy and spirituality, I feel like a hack. I'm lucky, with Luiz, because he'll ask me a question, and I can say something like "Oh man. Pfwah. No! Look." Then I make mouth noises, and flip the card at him, and he understands.
In my own rituals I have been complicated, virgin beeswax candles handmade by the light of a full moon, star charts, robes, proper astrological houses in line, down to the hour of the day or night, with the wind blowing in the right direction, ritually charged implements made of the properly vibrating and resonating materials, chanting, learning whole alphabets and languages, I have done and ritually practiced all that shit. I have been simple. Throwing a circle of table salt and praying. Scrying into a campfire or a kitchen bowl of tap water. It all works. It. All. Works. When I speak, I lean towards the table salt and tap water language, I guess. Sometimes, I worry that it doesn't work to get things across to other people.
Sometimes, I want to use big words and throw around names and numbers. Now I just have to figure out what it will take to discipline my thinking/communicating centers.
The other night, we were with friends celebrating Luiz's birthday, and C. said "Now we should go through Liber Resh, for the birthday boy" or something, then Luiz countered with the fact that he never memorizes anything. It came about because we were joking about birthdays, cold weather, invoking the sun, and other weird shit. I froze and gave him the O.O look. Now, in my head in response to Luiz, I thought "dude! That's a short one! HAIL UNTO THEE ABODES OF THE DAY...or somesuch." I could have said that. Instead we have this. O.O
I keep it in my head. I keep it all in my head. When it comes out, I can't remember names or dates, and I can barely cite books I get them from. If I wanna find some random correspondence, I can march to my bookshelf and pull out the exact book, and maybe flip to the right section. If someone asked me, I'd be like..."hurrr...Google it?" I understand Aeons, and I know how and when they flip over. I feel the dying god everywhere. I feel the bottom of the earth and I reach for the highest star, the HGA that's inside that little infinite center of me. I've drank from the Cup, swam in the Cup, soiled the Cup, am the Cup. I get the Abyss, the need to cross it, and what it might be like on the other side, and have explained it using analogies, but to present what I know in an informed intellectual sentence is where I stumble. I'm having a hard time making sense right now. I'm concerned that I come across as a total shallow dipshit. Listening to Joseph Campbell explain something like that so eloquently and perfectly simply makes me clench my fists and squeeze back huge tears of stupid. I'm dumbstruck.
It makes reading tarot cards difficult. Well, not reading. Explaining to people. Sometimes I get so toungetied and frustrated, I just point to the card, and say things like "LOOK! It's ALL RIGHT THERE!" I often resort to analogies, and like, bullshit self-help speak, because I often can't tell my sitters the real nuts and bolts of the card. I know what every bend, star, lobster, leaf, and everything that is and isn't on that card means. I know what it means historically, astrologically, numerically, runically, in many different systems, and I know what it means pertaining to any question. I can't tell it out loud. I'm like "look..donkeys, ooh." . I feel like a hack. Every time I talk about philosophy and spirituality, I feel like a hack. I'm lucky, with Luiz, because he'll ask me a question, and I can say something like "Oh man. Pfwah. No! Look." Then I make mouth noises, and flip the card at him, and he understands.
In my own rituals I have been complicated, virgin beeswax candles handmade by the light of a full moon, star charts, robes, proper astrological houses in line, down to the hour of the day or night, with the wind blowing in the right direction, ritually charged implements made of the properly vibrating and resonating materials, chanting, learning whole alphabets and languages, I have done and ritually practiced all that shit. I have been simple. Throwing a circle of table salt and praying. Scrying into a campfire or a kitchen bowl of tap water. It all works. It. All. Works. When I speak, I lean towards the table salt and tap water language, I guess. Sometimes, I worry that it doesn't work to get things across to other people.
Sometimes, I want to use big words and throw around names and numbers. Now I just have to figure out what it will take to discipline my thinking/communicating centers.
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