I talk a lot about “going down the rabbit hole”.
If you’re going down the rabbit hole, you should totally use protection. Who knows where that thing has been?!
It’s something I’ve been able to do at different points in my life. I’m just not cut out for Shamanic work, not in the long term. It’s something that I only do when pushed by Special K and Persephone in her black not-so-Kore-feeling veils.
All this is happening because I am still keeping Eris on ice. Maybe Our Lady of Chaos is an influence to be controlled and wielded when needed, but kept at bay at other times? She is my Wildcard.
Sometimes the Wildcard is the best card you can have. Other times it just weighs you down.
I’m in a weird place of perspective where I can clearly see the changes I need to make, and I am empowered to make them. For the better and for the longterm, not just my usual brand of cause-du-jour fuckery. This is different. I don’t feel a sudden push of Erisian Madness sweeping me up, pulling over me rocky rapids to my catastrophic doom. I can never finish anything I start because I tend to overthink things. I get caught up in going out too far with the amazing potential possibilities, and end-up exhausted by the amount of effort it will take to live up to that seemingly unattainable end-product. It’s hard on a person to fly so high on a wave of creativity and productivity, only to crash and burn in a pile of rubble before any progress can be made.
I am tired of the cycle. Sinking. Rising from the ashes. Taking some time to recoup. Enthusiasm sparks somewhere. HAVING ANOTHER BRILLIANT IDEA! RIDING THE WAVE! FUCKYEAH! ZOMG! I COULD DO THIS OR THAT OR ZOMG AWESOME!!! FUCK YEAH! Oh. Wait. I need to do XYZ before I can do that. Hmmmm… a lot of detail for that XYZ, eh? Hmmmm… Well… Can-Do Attitude! Tighten-up your bootstraps, Pollyanna! Hoooooo-ahhhhhh! You can do this… at least for a while! Oh. This is harder than I thought. I’m bored of it. I’m over it. I collapse. I crash. I feel guilt because I can’t finish what I started. My physical health usually suffers in someway, whether it’s just a flare-up. I sink again.
I see that I’m only hurting myself in the end. I do this in almost everything, and while I love the possibilities I just can no longer handle the the soaring highs and crushing lows. It’s too much for me. When I hit a low, I am invariably sucked back down the rabbit hole again, kicking and screaming.
I don’t enjoy Shamanic work, which for me is all about the Underworld. I’ve gotten more comfortable about working within it’s context, for sure. I can do it. I always learn from it. I just don’t like it. What I get from those Dark Ladies is inseparable from those deep, dark reaches. No one wants to voluntarily look deep within their psyche to have it staring back at them, startled and taken aback to even be seen. I have. I’ve decided to accept what I see and work with it, rather than being repelled by it. Shamanic work is transformative work. It takes you through the lower, darker, more loamy places deep under the bullshit and the baggage. I happen to enjoy the web of bullshit that I spew with poetic frequency, so this wasn’t easy.
Admitting that my OCD was a *real* problem that I did not enjoy having and not a bullshit problem was hard. I have what I need to get through this. I wasn’t always this way and I know I can change. I am already starting to. Kali makes you answer the tough questions. She does not give hugs or warm fuzzies. She gives you what she knows you can handle. She doesn’t want you to fear the dark, especially the darkness within yourself. OCD is simply Bad Order run amok.
At this point, I’ve done that work, or the start of it. I floated back up from the rabbit hole in a shiny, pink, irredescent soap bubble. Right now I’m in the bubble. I am at a place where I can see things more clearly. I’m at a point where I am lucky enough to make some choices. I’ve chosen the path of least resistance. I just want peace. Peace is all I want. These last few years have been a whirlwind of spiritual insight and crazy.
This pretty pink soap bubble is swirling with light, yo. It’s pretty badass. I can’t stay in the bubble forever, but I’m going to enjoy it while I can. It’s a good place to be. It’s sort of like Glenda the Good Witch’s cotton-candy pink colored ride, but more classy.
I find it’s easy to make the choices I need to make, simply, quietly, effortlessly. No big display of showman ship is needed to convince me to do them. I’ve been eating better, and I’ve been trying to seriously do what I can to make my broken body feel better. I feel cleaner. I feel invigorated. I feel a rightness in this. Even just letting my practice sort of go a more organic and less structured direction is a part of this.
I am taking the pressure off myself. I don’t function well under too much pressure. Bad Order Bears.
If I want to make a positive change of any kind, this is the time. I’ve simply become receptive to it in a way I wasn’t before. I’m still learning.
It’s small things. It’s more gentle. It’s more latent Kwan Yin stuff, I think. Kwan Yin is a sleeper goddess.
To know her is to let her surprise you with her subtlety and breadth. I thought we were done, but I was wrong.
Face the dark. Bounce back in a bubble. Take stock of your life. Make things better in a small but simple way rather than embracing THE HIGHS AND LOWS OF THE ERISIAN MADDNESS POSSIBILITY TRAIN!
My bubble will not pop. It will gently sink to the ground when ready, and will slowly dissolve when I don’t need it anymore. It’s here in this strange interim time where I walk between one ending phase, and look to a new one beginning. Maybe I just need a little bit of extra padding in a time where I am most vulnerable to change. I didn’t ask for this, since I didn’t realize I needed it. Perhaps I do.
I embrace the bubble! If you try to pop it, I’ll totally kick your ass! Oh. Wait. Yeah. Path of Peace. Sorry… I will highly encourage you to be kind, rather than mean, and to kindly NOT POP MY BUBBLE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH YOU COCK PUNCHING DICKBAG! Uh… Remember… Peace, dude. Peace. Let’s not call those bubble-popping MunDane-O-Tards “cock punching dickbags”, Dick-punching cockbags, or bag punching cock-dicks. Either way, they’re dicks and they probably already know that.
“Don’t pop my bubble, bro!”