Aries 25° (April 14)
The list grows in both directions. There is so much that needs to be done and so much that gets continually checked off the list. I will read another five days of Blagues past (I’m doing this every day during this, my sixth year, to get a handle on and catalogue my content my first five years of content to date). It is first thing in the morning and the farmer is already here about to bang away. I will let him do that. He will probably disrupt me with his radio but I will have to ignore that as well. My body is itching and ravaged. I miss, now, the bond I never had and never will. There is an opportunity to create, to use the time effectively, to make art and magic. To go through every nook and cranny; and again I need to guard my lungs against situations that might trigger allergies in the extreme. This might include going through the attic and basement—this is not metaphor—clearing out and cleaning up. I hear a car ignition. I feel the pull toward practical responsibility, and yet I want to stay here, as if in a dream, but it is already fading as I write this. That’s okay. Reading a book shouldn’t feel like an item on my list of chores. It should be what it is. Television is the real culprit, the time waster, but it is the perfect salve and perhaps ones only anesthetic salvation that remains. This is day two of no wine entering my system, which will be an embargo in place for at least the next thirty days. I pray for a miracle not that we can be friends again but that I have learned my lesson on how to choose loving friends who are right for me. That is my main objective at this juncture, really. I shall make each day of every coming day count for something. Smell the roses and blow out the candle. This is good advice. While all the wisdom I need I get from the “Soundscapes” Music Choice channel. Feel the sarcasm.
I don’t know what will happen. Everything, eventually (is one of our mottos). I would like to dip my body in the ocean today, I mean it. Let us print out the tide chart and let the walks begin. Daily constitutionals. There are indeed enough hours in a day and we needn’t try to rush through any of them. I keep telling myself to go deeper into myself. Let this time be worth it and productive. People are dying and you awake with other unrelated afflictions for which you should be grateful. Everything will shake out. The worst of this was never meant to happen. We can now say the fuckwad in chief is a murderer right? Okay I need to get my shit together and my ass in gear. This is going to be a busy day and I have an hour to get all my little bits and bobs accomplished. What is the feeling that I am feeling? I don’t quite recognize it anymore. I do know that there is an entire ociean beach waiting for me to walk on today and I’m going to enjoy the absolute fuck out of walking and breathing deeply. I am now in the zone and there can be no stopping me. I do want to cancel all my subscriptions. I do want to make the world as I knew it go away. It wasn’t that great anyway. I can’t believe people have to die for us to understand what is important and real. I still can’t bring myself to watch the news. I’m still not over the Challenger exploiding let alone 911 or the past twenty years of pain and drama. Part of me would love to buy a house in Maine and slowly move my crap there. I don’t know I have to get stronger and clearer. We are no longer trying to figure out ways to extricate ourselves from weird relationships. I do get to Instagram today. And hopefully there will be an outdoor shower in my very near future. Given the amount of text below I’m afraid this is going to have to be enough for today. I know it wasn’t poetic or in anyway transcendent but I have to leave it there.
The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 121-125. I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:
I’m not good in crowds. I naturally stay on the periphery at parties, quickly dipping in and out, making a “French exit”; and I’m terrible with tight groups or cliques, their collective energy being overwhelming, and, mostly, negatively so. At times, my need to avoid certain people or groups of them has overriden my affection for individuals and I’ve had to sacrifice relationships to save myself from the effects of such negativism.
Recently, as often happens, I was gathering together a group of people, some of them close friends, for an occasion where the focus was on showcasing the one person’s talent. Others, one character in particular, who is used to being showered with attention bordering on worship, entered into the scene with an attitude and behavior they have exhibited before: attempting to set themself apart from the rest, taking an exalted position, instead of just participating in the same way all the rest of us were. Apparently just being one of the crowd wasn’t good enough for them. I’m taking license here using the third person plural.
Immediately I felt infected by this person’s vibe and it infiltrated my being. It’s near impossible for me to shake, which I’m loath to admit—I wish I had a better filter. For the same reason, I seem to get lost sometimes, even here in this blog, in what seems to be complaining about society at large. I just don’t understand why it is we live in such a selfish world, everyone driven by greed. Greed for money and greed for attention; I’m not even sure which is which. Self-reliance is a wonderful thing. Self-serving-ness feels, yes, like a disease. And I think most people give in to it, probably, initially, as a means of combatting it. It’s sad to me. And I hate when I fall into it, myself, which I sometimes do in my own attempt to get some sugar, an exclusive diet of which so many around me seem to live on. The irony is that those most in need of worship tend to give off what seems to be charismatic air, drawing others in, when in fact it’s not charisma, it’s narcissistic need.
When narcissists aren’t given the bulk of the air, they will suck the oxygen more and more out of the room. And they will often do so by telegraphing to the rest of us that they are doing you some kind of favor just by being there. You know what, don’t do me any favors. Why not just sit and listen for a change. Take in what others are saying. Just this past year I sat and wrote out a list of people I call friends; and then I aimed to put a check next to the names of those whom I thought were good listeners and truly interested in what was going on in my life. There weren’t many checks. I realized—holy merde—that most people I had listed had the same metaphoric mumps: it was always all about them: If I met them for dinner or at an event, I was mainly in for a running monologue consisting of self-aggrandizing events and anecdotes and posturing and it terrified me at first. People are supposed to have friends, right? Everyone else seems to like these people. In fact many people worship them. That was the problem. I’m the problem. I don’t worship anyone. I’m incapable of being the person that carries your purse. I will only do that for one person in my life and you can probably guess who. And she isn’t someone who seeks worship and she’s the best listener on the planet.
So I’ve made a conscious effort to ghost, quietly removing myself from relationships and, guess what, most people, the check-less from my list, scarcely noticed. People with metaphorical mumps will easily and quickly replace you with a willing devotee. This symbol is ruled by Taurus in a twelve-fold sequence and it does speak to the shadow side of that sign. The sign is fixed-earth and it is akin to a garden or a flower, and the main archetypes are the nymphs and flower gods like Adonis, Hyacinth and Narcissus for whom the -ism is named. The energy of Taurus is subjective and there can be an obsession with self and the image in the mirror—how we are seen by others and what worship we can amass. This also speaks to the choice of mumps, being a child disease. Taurus rules the ages 7-14, the age of innocence leading to certain temptation. The mumps affect the glands in the throat and neck, the body part ruled by Taurus. And, secondarily, it affects the sex glands. The female nymphs and the male flower gods are innocents who, like flowers, attract attention and then certain seduction.
Stop wasting your precious time on this planet trying to look young in this life time. Do what you can for your immortally youthful soul, and that of the collective spirit of this world within worlds. See the big picture. See over the expanse of Time. See all eternity now in an instant. And just be a good person. Nobody cares how many invites you have or followers on Facebook or pairs of shoes you possess. Possessions are so last millenium. Make a change. Contribute your money. And if you aint got none, then contribute your time. Make sacrifices. Gravitate toward the good and the lasting and ditch lousy people, places and things. Especially the faux self-helpers; oh lord, Mary, they’re the worst.
Over the past few days we’ve seen symbols about trying to stay young and self-aggrandize. I kind of love that these are happening in the sign of Leo and, in a double-whammy, today’s symbol is ruled by Leo in a twelve-fold system. We are dealing with the negativity of that sign’s energy: Pride and tyrrany. And, life being the greatest symbol of them all, we have collectively, as a world (thanks to the good that social media can do) we have seen the sacrifice of an actual lion whose death will have been for naught UNLESS you take to heart the lessons of this sainted creature: Worldly achievement is not only ephemeral it is often the cause of great evil. Let’s eternally wipe out all that stands for. Let’s have our efforts be as clearly defined in the future as those towering cliffs are over that deep canyon. We are the carvers of reality and Time is of the essence.
To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°, for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360 degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.
Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
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