Being Dead

To quote from Magic Without Tears by Mr. Crowley:

1. The Ego is attracted to the Solar System.


2. The Child experiences Birth.


3. The Man experiences Life.


4. He experiences Death.


5. He experiences the World beyond Death.


6. This entire cycle of Point-Events is withdrawn into Annihilation.

I now sit on the far side (just barely) of step four. At this point I have no desire to go any further. No, Sir! I am going to plunk down my travel bags, sit my self down on them, and have a long righteous sulk.

Side Question: When the O.T.O. created the requirement for a Body Master to be III Degree, did they really think it through? "I know!", says Mr. X degree, full of vim and vigor, "let's bar control of local bodies from people who are in the growing and living stages of life, and hand it over to a bunch of rotting corpses." (Yes - I understand and - mostly - agree with the 'real' reasons. But I need to vent.)

But to be serious: I am not moving out of this degree until I an damned good and ready. I think two years is what I should have spent in 2nd, and it was a mistake to be pushed into taking 3rd early. I will not make this mistake again.

The Ides of March was an initiation, Gnostic Mass and an Equinox celebration. My day started at 6:30 AM and ended 20 hours later. Very little of that time was spent off my feet. I am not happy about this. There is a part of me that is more than willing to just fire off a few scatalogical e-mails and walk away from the whole thing. This is supposed to be about spiritual growth and flowering human potential. It is NOT supposed to be about 'Lift the barge. Tote that bale.'

As for my last post, I settled for myself the questions of Normals and Nermals and the O.T.O.. What will be, will be. I will follow my course and not waste energy casting wary glances at my fellow travelers.

Where from here? I am going to make YET ANOTHER attempt to establish a daily spiritual practice. I am going to ONCE AGAIN stop worrying about things I can't change and gently prod things I can change. I am going to 'keep on keeping on.' But this time I have a new tool in my bag of tricks...

Evaluating the Nermal

Why are there no Normals in the O.T.O.?

I had a 'Stop And Think' moment last week regarding the O.T.O.. It was actually a combination of several moments that built on each other. I keep running into problems getting Horus Oasis to 'work' that trace back to people who - in various ways and for various reasons - just don't have all of their marbles in one bag. Instead of focusing on the events, or on their consequences, I did some thinking about the people involved. I concluded that there are no "Normals" in Horus Oasis.

Start with all of the members of Horus, standing for inspection, as in a police lineup. Even keep the ones who rarely show up and never contribute. Identify those who have persistent non-normal neurology and ask them to leave. The lineup is now much smaller. Now mark those who have a fair claim to normal neurology, but are prone to episodes of histrionics - who blow up just often enough that you never feel good trusting them with an assignment. The crowd shrinks again. Finally, of the few remaining, identify the ones who are in temporary non-normal space because this thing called "life" is busy working them over with a rubber hose. What you have left right at this point is a small group of normals who, each and every one, belong to the crowd that never contributes. They don't want to contribute, or they are too busy, or the are just lazy, or whatever.

And standing in the middle of this thing, assigned the task of making this work, is me. So far it is working, because the non-normals and the rubber hose people put in what effort they can.

When I first looked at this, I was wondering why the O.T.O. seems to attract such a crew of freaks. Where are the normals? Why aren't they playing with us? Then I had to stop and check my premises. I am assuming the following points, and I should be asking if these points are valid....

• There is such a thing as a "Normal" and...
• Normals make up the majority of the population.
• The O.T.O. should attract normals just as any other organization should.

There is no such thing as a Normal. This isn't so much saying that everyone is non-normal. It is saying that Normal is flawed and artificial construct. The Pinks create an image, a cardboard cutout, of what is Normal then convince the masses that there is something wrong with them if they don't conform to it. The masses respond not so much by conforming, but by hiding the non-normal parts of their lives and pretending to be normal. And what of the rebels that claim to live outside the mainstream and present the finger to The Pinks? They are just looking to a marginally different definition of Normal and conforming to it in the same way. Think of the Hot Topic girlie-bopper who shows how different she is by wearing the same offensive t-shirt as the other 35,000 rebels who purchased the same shirt. Oh my....we are sooooooooo impressed.

If you want to give the word Normal an accurate definition, you would have to admit that what is truly normal is to be totally fucked up - and to be fucked up in a manner that is unlike the up-fuckedness of any other person.

But there is such a thing as Nermal. I stole this word from an old Garfield comic. "Nermal" is the name given to "The World's Cutest Kitten", who made sporadic appearances in the strip, mainly to annoy Garfield and conspire with Odie. In my private vocabulary I use this word to refer to a person who, while living in the world or so-called Normals, is perfectly aware of his or her deviations from the Norm. If not privately treasuring and nurturing these differences, the Nermal at least recognizes them, respects them, and makes allowances for them in the living of every day life.

That takes care of the first two assumptions. The third then falls apart. To be attracted to the O.T.O., a person must usually be either Nermal, or on the brink of becoming Nermal. This states the heart of the issue, and why it isn't the issue I think it is.

I think.

Maybe.

What is the role of the O.T.O. in the lives of its initiates? (I was going to use the word 'members' instead of 'initiates'. But I change my mind. Initiate = begin. We have many initiations. We are always beginning. Fodder for a whole new rant.)

I will propose the following...

1. For those few souls attracted to the O.T.O. who haven't already done this on their own, they make you realize that you a not a Normal, but a Nermal.
2. To help you reconcile your current Nermalcy to your desired Nermalcy. This can be phrased as "Finding out what the heck your Will really is."
3. To aid in coming to your true Nermalcy.
4. Finally, making your true Nermalcy interface constructively with external reality.

I will stop writing at this point. I need to review what I have written and revise it as more brain cells are sacrificed to the cause. Additions and revisions to follow...

It's in the Cards

As part of being recruited into the role of Body Master at Horus Oasis, I am having a third degree initiation pretty much shoved down my throat. You have to be third to be a body master, therefore...blah, blah, blah.

Here are the internal factors at play. First, I don't want to take an initiation until I feel I am ready. Second, I never feel ready for anything until I have prepped, analyzed and scoped it out far more than is reasonable. So, by these two points, I never feel ready for anything. Third, I took my second degree because it was a prerequisite for something else I wanted to do. Fourth, I really want Horus to succeed, and I am the only hope the body has (right now, at least), so.....

Crap.

Crap, crap, crap.

After talking with Holly and Beverly, I determined to consult The Oracle. I put forward three choices, and did a simple three card draw on each choice. Here is how it fell out...

Choice One: Tell the O.T.O. to go to hell and I'll take third on my schedule, not on theirs.
The Moon, Two of Cups and The Empress - All reversed.
Not good. Deception, breaking apart, then loss and infertility.

Choice Two: Submit the paperwork, then arrange for things to get delayed until I feel ready. In other words, lie to them:
Ten of Cups, The Lovers, Page of Swords - All reversed (again).
Not good. Rug pulled out, miscommunication and strife, an effort falling flat before it can go anywhere.

Choice Three: Hand in the paperwork and just do it now:
Eight of Swords (reversed), Death, Justice.
Release from bondage, transformation, and things being set right. And we won't EVEN make that connection between the Death card and the focus of the Third Degree ritual. No. Not us. No way.

So I grabbed the paperwork, filled it out, and will ask the outgoing Body Master what in the blazes to do with it (assuming he shows up at Mass tomorrow).

A bad case of Shingles

This weekend, I went from the top of the world down to the very depths. ...from replacing shingles on the roof in Tooele to dealing with raw sewage in the basement of my mother's house.

A few weeks ago a storm blew through Tooele. And blew, and blew and blew. The wind separated many small things from the houses they were attached to - such as shingles, siding, doors and windows. Fences were blown over. Trampolines were tossed about. Trees were uprooted. Across the street from the Tooele house, three grand old pines were toppled like dominoes. A string of telephone poles south of town were snapped in half like matches.

I was initially told that the shingles in the yard came from the neighbors place. Wrong. The repairs cost less than $40, but it took a day from my life and left a raw patch on my butt cheek. I learned that I am not quite over my fear of heights, but that I'm not as bad as I used to be. I learned that wind torn shingles like to fold in the middle then tear off - not blow off in one piece. I learned how to carefully pull nails under existing shingles, then slide the replacements up underneath them. I learned that repairing roofing is a helluva lot more work than installing roofing.

And I learned that if you spend the day with one butt cheek supporting your weight on asphalt shingles, it will be pretty and red and raw and it won't let you sleep for two nights in a row.

This was on Saturday, January 19th. Two days later, we got 6 inches of snow. For once, the universe arranged for things to happen in the correct order.

Before leaving for Tooele, I noticed the drains backing up in the basement. I hoped to ignore it for a few days before dealing with it. Poor choice. So on Monday, the plumber was there to root it all out. In the past the problem has been the line out to the street, with access from the driveway. This time, it was in the house under the concrete floor. It was rooted out, and toilets could once more be flushed without fear. But when I went to clean the floor (ick), the floor drain.....didn't. So out came the snake, and I got to clear that one on my own. Either I had two blockages that just happened to happen at the same time, or one blockage that was where the two lines join. Either way, it works now. Between the "roof tar clothing" and the "raw sewage clothing" I had an interesting load on laundry to do.

Tour Report - The disaster that was the 10th

If the universe was trying to use the events of this year's Existential Angst Tour to send a message, something to frame the coming year, that message would be, "Just give up now."

I spent the entire day working The List and got only a few things done. Those few things took an ungodly amount of time. Then I burned two hours playing taxi driver for Kathleen and Shannon.

Today has some "gotta do" diversions that will eat up at least three hours (I'm guessing closer to five). It is maddening.

Somewhere in all of this muck is a lesson or an answer or something. I'll look for it when the In Baskets are cleared.

Tour Update - Numero Uno

Existential Angst Tour 2008 has passed the mid point. I am wondering if it really going to accomplish anything. What can be salvaged?

The point....
...was to process my living space as if it was one large In Basket - which is what it is. Like many people, I collect things, drag them home, then dump them - telling myself I will deal with them later. The collection builds until both physical, virtual and psychological space is heaped high, with narrow paths that connect bed, bathroom and front door. (Is it really that bad? Whether or not, it still feels like it.)

Monday, the planned first day of the tour, was devoured by the Road Trip from Heck.

Tuesday, the planned second day of the tour, was spent clearing the decks for battle: Laundry, cleaning, daily tasks, unpacking, etc.

Wednesday, the planned third day of the tour, was the first actual day. To cast eyeballs on my living space, it would be difficult to see change. The fact is I am not happy with the effort put into it. But there was change, and there was effort. There were several physical In Baskets assembled in anticipation of The Tour, and at least one of them was taken care of. Another quite large and old In Basket is well under way. So there is progress.

Today. I burned about an hour dealing with Horus Oasis business, and it looks like the same business will take a large block of time tomorrow. But at least I am handling these items up front, getting them out of the way, and not allowing them to either turn into emergencies or attach to the tail end of 'the eternal list' and never get done. This will be an important thing for me in the future - handling new issues up front instead of allowing them to become lost.

And with that, back to it.

Road Trip from Heck

On Thursday of last week, Melinda and a friend got in Michael's car and headed to New Mexico for a conference. Melinda was presenting a paper. The paper part went well. The rest of it was a non-stop fiasco.

Thursday:
The car broke down in Flagstaff. They got towed to a shop, took a taxi to the airport, rented a car and finished the outbound leg of the trip.

Friday:
Kat and I - as planned - leave at 6 AM to join her. But instead of taking the short route, we head to Flagstaff. The mechanic tells us, "The car works for me," followed by "I can look at it sometime next week." Not an option, so we have to find a place to park it until the return trip. A local LDS chapel, in the far corner of the lot.
Arrive in Albuquerque late and drop to sleep.

Saturday:
Conference. Four papers presented in the session. A dozen people listening. Papers were 1) Jews and pressures to convert and/or assimilate into medieval xtian culture, 2) A comparison of the Maleus to the Demonology by King James, in light of the case of Anne [can't remember last name], 3) The Maleus Malificarum and the Making of a Witch (Melinda), and 4) Martin Luther labeling the Pope as the Anti-Christ.
After conference the girls set sights on spending money and eating too much food. I broke off halfway through this quest and stayed on the Hotel, listening to the Hour of Slack, reading and swilling mediocre wine.

Sunday:
Travel home. Meteor Crater. Return rental. Broken car works fine until just north of Flag. Tow back to town. Rent U-Haul truck and tow dollie. Drive through snow until on far side of the San Fransisco peaks. Hit snow again south of Cedar City. Park it all in the Wally World lot and spend night at Melinda's place.

Monday:
Get car to mechanic. Return rental truck. Go home. Drive Kate to Ogden. Drive back home. Collapse.

The total money damage from the freaking car thing is about an even thousand dollars. That is without the repair bill that will hit us in about a week. I'm pretty pissed off. I voted for Michael to buy the Camry. But no! He wanted the HONDA. Oooohh. Honda. ...that cost 600 in repairs within a week of purchase. Happy, happy. Joy, Joy.

I'm pretty disgusted because so much of what went wrong would NOT have happened if Andy hadn't been ignored or bypassed. Melinda took Michael's car because she didn't know if hers would make it. Was my opinion sought? No. Michael's car was the one I voted NOT to buy, and that has been a pain in the ass from day one. I'm further disgusted because I am the one who had to make the choices on how to dig out of it, who bore the brunt of the extra work, and who will end up having to pay for it all.

End of rant. My next post will ignore this and speak of Existential Angst Tour 2008.

Being Priest

To wrap up the last post - the piano is moved. Did you know that a small upright piano will (barely) fit through the side doors of a Nissan mini-van? It was amazing. Loraine has her piano, Lisa has a chance to achieve peace of mind, Liz has residence in another state (thank the gods) and Lorna has no clue. The L's are covered.

Last Saturday was gnostic mass. I was priest. I started the ritual "playing the part of priest", which is not the same as 'being priest". After entering the tomb and having needed preparations take place, I closed my eyes as one who is dead. Then I was alone for a brief instance in the temple, and I opened my eyes. Through the cloth covering the tomb I could see the candles on the fire altar, great altar and super-altar. 23 candles in all: 22 beyond the great veil and one in Tiphareth. It was gorgeous.

The ritual went well, but it was "Andy acting the role of priest", tracking the script, registering the next line or action, wondering how to perform each step for best effect for the congregation. Then it happened. A few lines into the Anthem I was wondering: Is it too fast? Too slow? Too loud? Do this? Do that? And something in my head told me: Andy - Forget about the congregation and sing the Anthem only for yourself and for your Priestess. And I did. And in that moment I became Priest. For the rest of the ritual there was no tracking, no thinking, no worrying. Lines and actions just happened, in proper sequence, all on their own. The magick was there. It was just plain freaking great.

But I have to be careful. Coming out of the ritual feeling like the king of the world, there is a temptation to interact with the world as if you are king of the world. This can be good and bad. Being willing to do my Will, with much less fretting about the world, is refreshing. But there is a danger of running roughshod over the unwashed masses - of becoming a jerk. Care must be taken to hold onto the good and manage the bad. Which leads to the next item...

Matthew Murray, Liber OZ and finding balance.

A little over a week ago, young Mr. Murray grabbed his guns and sauntered off into the headlines. The only good thing that can be said about this is that a young woman with the proper training and the proper tools put an end to his rampage after only four lives had been taken. (Only..."only" four stars snuffed out, "only" three families devastated, "only" two congregations jolted into shock, "only" a nation once again appalled and moving closer to being jaded.) About a year ago he found the O.T.O. and was accepted as a Welcomed Guest of the Ad Astra Oasis. But he was not accepted for full membership. In one of his postings, Mr. Murray mentioned meditating on Liber Oz. Great. Wonderful.

Liber Oz has been on my mind lately. Then this happens and really pushes it to the forefront of my psyche. So what about Liber Oz?

On first reading, the common reaction is to assume the rights of man apply to me. Me, me, me. And I get to get gothic on anyone who gets in my way. But then you realize...

1. It might just apply to other people too. This means the I have no right to abridge the Will of the other, under penalty of death.
2. It says "Man has the right..." When the word "man" is used in this way, it refers to humanity as a whole. In this light, the document becomes a polemic against abridgment of rights by church, by state, or by foreign powers. Can you say, "American Revolution"?
3. "Will" is not the same as "want". (Not to be explained here.)
4. "thou hast no right but to do thy will. Do that and no other shall say nay." Look at this one closely. What is says is this: If it is your "will" (not want, but will in the largest sense), then you have every right to do it. But - it is the only thing that you have this sort of right to. "Want" has no place in this document, or in the true rights of man. I know I explain it poorly. But it makes sense to me, and that is all that matters.
5. "Man has the right to kill..." Ouch. This is what raises hackles and makes murderers of people who JUST DON'T GET IT. Having a right doesn't oblige you to exercise it. Having a right does not allow you to abridge the rights of others. And - most important - THINKING that you have a right does not make it so. Pity the fool who is so short on imagination and resource that he feels the need to resort to violence. Pity the fool who is so short on understanding that he dismisses the rights of others. When, and only when, the rights being abridged prevent the Great Work - When, and only when, all other options have been exhausted - then is the Mage allowed to consider the option of violence. And even then, wisdom often says "no" and the universe opens another way.

End of rant.

Brought to you by the letter "L"

Lorna, Loraine, Lisa, Liz.

Listed in order of appearance in my life.

Lorna - Met her at a few PUC (Pagan Utah Cooperative) events. 12 years my junior. A work in progress.

Loraine - Utah valley pagan. Held the "Art of Understanding" meetings. Don't really know her that well.

Lisa - The not-girlfriend. Met her at work. Carpooled. Turned into something more than a carpool. I love her, but it is a love full of pain.

Liz - A 26 year old ship that crossed the wake of a 42 year old man. Things happened. There was pleasure. There was pain. There were lessons learned.

Each of these women was met in a TOTALLY SEPARATE VENUE and at a totally separate time. And yet.....

Liz introduced me to her friend Art. Art was a musician. Art died in an automobile accident.

Loraine was also a friend of Art. After Art died, she bought his piano from the family. Then she moved, and didn't have room for it. So, through her fiance Matt, she found a place to keep it. In the home of the mother of Matt's friend, Drew. But Drew doesn't go by the name Drew - he likes to be called Lotus.

Lisa didn't want a freaking piano. But her son Drew dumped it on her anyway. Darn.

Now I am moving the piano back to Loraine's storage unit.

Matt, before he met Loraine, was engaged to marry Lorna. As you might guess, it didn't work out.

This all goes to show that Utah County is just to damned small.

Checking in with Warren Jeffs

Long time no post.

For starters, I am creating a separate blog for the Body Master portion of my life. This will begin life in the Wordpress blog on the family web site - www.thedisposable.net/wordpress. [ed. - the masters blog is now defunct] As I get the web site fleshed out, and as I get the new Horus site up and going, the URL and such will change. For now the Body Master blog will also be my experiment in figuring out all things Wordpress.

My older sister made a comment to my mother recently, and it filtered back to me. She said that, except for the sex part, I was living a good polygamist lifestyle. I laughed. Taking that and running with it, I'll now update my life based on the women I am putting my energies into. They will be dealt with in alphabetical order.

Holly and Beverly
The girls did not-Gnostic Mass last night, with me as Deacon. It was good to spend time with them. It was good to feel that Mass energy again.

After mass I surprised myself by having a typical monkey reaction to a small event. Dylan and Holly sat next to each other, front to back, and did the hug-you hold-you thing. I do believe a bolt of jealousy struck my soul. I acknowledged the jealousy, gave it the honor it was due, then released it by confessing to it. But it still surprised me.

We are getting back into the swing of routine, not the least of which is working on The Eternal Kitchen Project. In the last few weeks enough was done that I may have to drop a word and just call it The Kitchen Project. It was with great gusto that I drilled holes in the pure pristine wall so we could mount the shelf supports.

Kate
Nothing much to report here. She is all about school and arranging repairs and improvements on the house. This leaves little time and energy to spend on other things, so there isn't much to report. This is as it should be. But there was some hinting of a car needing to be delivered to Glendale. Maybe I could hitch a ride and say hello?

Kathleen
She has a couple of good job prospects in the works. The least attractive of them all is still better than what she is doing now. Unisys really needs to buy a clue. If they aren't making money on Dell warranty work - and I know how much Dell is paying them for each call - then there is something massively wrong in the overhead. So, like any good corporation, then try to solve the problem by investing in more overhead and squeeze the difference from the people who do the real work.

Lisa
Ouch. My back, my legs, my feet. Hurts so good. Three cheers for structural integration. But she and I seem to be growing apart as friends. We need to reconnect. I was going to make a stab at it this weekend, but there is just too much to do here in Provo.

I did try calling and talking to her, but she was busy. She would call me 'right back'. Not likely. Maybe trying to reconnect would be a waste of effort. But I'll try anyway.

Melinda
She's presenting a paper in New Mexico in January. Wow. I'm stunned. I asked her a bit about it. I forget most of what she told me, but I remember vividly her enthusiasm as she spoke. Wow.

Shannon
She is still having a hard time interfacing with the universe. But nightly check-in seems to be helping. She got a really nice edition of the Egyptian Book of the Dead as an early birthday gift from some friends. She let me actually hold it and look at it.

Did I leave anyone out? Probably.

Call me "Master Wombat"

Yesterday was the member's meeting of Horus Oasis. The reigns were passed, and I am now acting body master of Horus Oasis. It was a good meeting. I think this is going to work.

More later. Tonight is all about cleaning up my messes and getting my head back together.

Getting things done

IDEAS
I'm a task list junkie. Like any good Capricorn, I build TO DO lists that are long, complex, ordered, dated, subdivided, etc. Once they are made, I brood over them, I care for them and feed them, I review and revise and play and prune and fertilize and rearrange. But god forbid that I actually DO anything on any of the lists. No - we can't have any of THAT (says the Wombat through clenched teeth, the irony leaking like drool from one corner of the mouth). And, to this end, I downloaded a marvelous little program called TaskFreak http://www.taskfreak.com/ . Just what I need - another way to make lists. Another place for them to die and become entombed. But then I ran across a reference in the programmer's notes to GTD - Getting Things Done - a book and philosophy by David Allen. http://www.davidco.com/ I was sort of curious, so I looked into it. But I am also a cynic, so I expected little from it.

I was wrong.

Loath as I am to praise anything on this planet, let alone something that might inhabit the same realm as Steven Covey or Hyrum Smith (of Franklin Planner fame), this turned my head. Within the first chapter I was hooked. I haven't finished the book yet, but I have already put some of it into practice at work (and to a lesser extent at home). It is paying dividends. I will, as is my habit, take the second week of January off work for the annual Existential Angst Tour, but it will not be a road trip. Instead, I am going to turn this horrible mess that is my life (living space, projects, desires, etc.) into one big freaking In Basket and allow Mr. Allen to guide me through the ordeal of processing it.

So there.

(And while I'm at it, I'll have to actually buy the damned book so the man gets the royalty payment he is due - or maybe I'll just send him a check.)

I finally finished the Collected Works of Aleister Crowley. It was an experience like most magick - boring, boring, boring, ugh ...then you find a small gem that you tell yourself made the rest of it worth the effort. There were one or two passages of poetry that were good. The rest was turgid. But what really shone was the one or two essays that made it into the volumes. It was nice to end the ordeal with the Epilogue and Dedication at the end of volume three. Here it is if you want to read it. http://www.geocities.com/nu_isis/eleusis.pdf

Another book recently completed is The Way of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman. http://www.danmillman.com/ I read it because of an idea in the book that a friend relayed to me. But then I never found that idea in the book. (Was I just not paying attention?) The book struck me as cliche, as having big things happen in small spaces (not in a good way), and requiring too much suspension of disbelief. And yet, at the same time, it is pretty good. The cliche may not have been true when the book was written, and this book may be what made it cliche - an odd evidence of success. And the author may not have been able to say what needed saying without the other sins listed above, so I will give him a pass. So, in short, I would recommend the book. There is much to be learned, the chief idea being this - Stop worrying.Why? Because it really doesn't matter. (Or to quote Rex Gardner, "In fifty years, who will care?")

PEOPLE
Playing with people as energy continues - with mixed results. I'm handling Lisa well, but I think she is seeing me as aloof and and angry when I am not. In fact I once had to convince her, with some effort, that I was not angry with her on some trivial point or another. The other side of that was when I was helping to find something that had dropped under the seat of her car. She remarked rather snippishly that she was getting cold from the other car door being open. I closed it then stood in front of the car for a moment, looking at the sunrise (mostly) and reminding myself not to react to her sniping. When I got back in the car she made a point of thanking me for at least trying to help - implying an apology for her behavior.

I cut my hair about a week ago. I was just tired of it. I needed a change. But then a few funny things happened. First, I caught myself in in odd behavior. At least twice I encountered a person and assumed some thought or reaction on their part based on their presumed perception of me as the long-haired hippy. Then I remembered that I had no hair. Oops. I learned that I was engaging in "bad ego" and that my hair was a large part of this. I was - gasp - normal. I am now, much to my horror, normal - nothing special - just another bloke. It is really hurting. This contrasts to what happened when I had to drive a rental car for a week when the Hippy Flower Painted car was in the shop. I was suddenly anonymous - I could drive like an asshole and no one would remember me the next day. Freedom!

Odd contradictions.

THINGS
But then the universe tests my resolve by tossing a few Kat grenades at me. About a month ago, I got a heads up that our debt load had spiraled and that action needed to be taken. A week ago the tally came in at $12,000 - and that was accumulated in less than one year. But to make it worse, Kat now tells me that her car needs $2500 in repairs. I ran the numbers and learned that we are backed into a corner - getting rid of the car and replacing it is dead even the same cost as just swallowing hard and pouring more money into it. Of course this wouldn't be an issue if she had purchased a REAL car (Toyota) instead of a TURD ON WHEELS (Suzuki). So I resolved to dig out of it by the end of 2008. In round terms, 14 months to pay of 14 grand. In order to do this, I get to sell off my stock (there goes the money I was going to use to replace may car), give up my bonuses (again - I gave it up this year too, for the fat lot of good it did), and any chance to chase any of my small dreams this year - again (and again, and again, and again).

Up periscope

Too damn busy to make a meaningful entry. Mostly "good busy", so no whining allowed. Maybe I'll do a brain dump this weekend. In the mean time...

Some friends are back in town.
Lisa is re-arranging my anatomy (Structural Integration).
Kathleen is - finally - jumping from the sinking ship that is her current employer and getting a new job.
My job is getting interesting.
Green tomato relish.

Just call me 'Master'

Before I get to the main focus of this post, a few minor points.

I played a bit with two concepts this last week: 1) Treating my interactions with people as dealing with energy emanations and 2) dismissing expectations in dealing with others. In a way, these two point the same direction. The results were interesting.

Thursday I showed up at Lisa's to deal with trees and dishwashers (only got around to the trees). She wasn't there. Surprise [deadpan]. I found out later that she was at school waiting out a few people to get her grade in a 'problem class'. She forgot to call and tell me what was up. Another surprise [want some droll with your deadpan?]. BUT.....I wasn't dealing with a person, I was dealing with a bundle of energy. As soon as I reminded myself of that, I recalled what this particular bundle of energy was composed of, and it all made sense. All was cool - I dealt with it.

From another angle, this all seems to be an exercise in not personalizing things that have nothing to do with you. "Don't take everything so personal." But I digress.

For my trouble, I filled the trailer with tree clippings and got a pretty good massage.

And now, in the center ring, we have.... The new (in a few days) body master of the Horus Oasis (or at least the acting body master...something to do with not having died yet). The short version of why I was NOT wanting to accept the job is...
- Too damn busy.
- Fear of failure (I have past history on this, darnit).
- Disgust with some people and things in the local O.T.O. (I said "local", OK?).
- I was getting ready to leave it behind and focus on personal work and magick.

But here is why I said "Yes".

Gnostic Mass. This is my best option for participating in Mass, especially as an officer. There were other options out there, sort of brewing (a few folk in Salt Lake who have it in mind to do Mass outside the umbrella of the O.T.O., sort of like the Thelemista group out in the bay area). But that is all vaporware at this point, and there is nothing to keep me from doing both the official and rogue activities.

Development opportunity. It will be a challenge, I will have to learn and do new things. It will (if I pull it off) equip me with skills that will serve me well in other parts of my life.

Paying back what I have received. I lot of people went to a lot of effort to pull me through my first few initiations (both formal and informal). We have a few Minervals that deserve the same, and this is my chance to pay it forward.

And, of course, the fact that I just can't say no. Sort of. Just kidding. Sort of.

But I have my reservations. The only one that deserves mention is that some people have it in their head that I'll just have to get that pesky third degree initiation out of the way so I can be a real body master, not just a bloke acting like a body master. "So let me check my calendar. How does the next equinox sound?" Blech. Initiations should happen when the initiate is ready, not on an external timetable. I feel like someone is trying to shove something down my throat. The other side of that is that, left to myself, I tend to let things drag out far to long. This may push me out of my rut. But if it does, how do I know if the time wasn't really right? What are the consequences?

Acting lessons

Short version:
Call from local O.T.O. official. Wants me to take over as acting master of local body.

Initial reaction:
Crap.
Crap, crap, crap and double crap.

Longer version to follow.

Still thinking

Musings first....

So I've had the "doing by non-action" of the Tao rolling around in my head. Rolling with it are some of the other pairings of thought posted recently. In this state of mind, while reading from Magick Without Tears, I run across definitions...

"To fill the mind entirely with one thing, to the exclusion of all else: This is Magick."

"To empty the mind of all: This is Yoga."

(I paraphrase.)

I didn't read any further (mostly due to external circumstance). But it all fit together. There was this little collision where I thought, "But in the O.T.O. system of MAGICK, the first instruction and practice is YOGA." And before the dust had time to clear, I understood. The mind cannot be fully filled with one thing, until it is FIRST emptied of all that is not the one thing. Yoga is the door to Magick. Didn't I write in one of my journals years ago about the need to banish before one can invoke? And also of the futility of a banishing that isn't followed by an invocation?

Musings are done, now the Monkey Politics

The angst of a few weeks ago has mostly either subsided or transformed. In the case of Lorna, after realizing that I needed to polity tell her that she needed to either go away or bring something to the exchange of energies, she managed to go away.

With the grrls in Salt Lake (the one where I have no freaking idea what to do), I had to cancel a last session before they went out of town, and now I have until mid-October to stew over it. This is a relationship I want to keep (duh), but some of the dynamics need to change. I've known this for a while, and I've also known that much of it has to do with me, and a little with them. Alas, even small change can sometimes be large.

As for The Woman in Tooele......
I reverted to the position that Kate tried to convert me to some years ago. Expect nothing, then you can't be disappointed. On my last visit, I did just that. And it turned out pretty good. Externally, it was a little better than normal, only in that Lisa was a little more communicative about some things. (How much of that originated with her, and how much was allowed by my change of mood and response?) Internally, it honestly did the trick. This even extended beyond the human interaction thing down to wrestling with the dishwasher. Instead of being a 2 hour 20 dollar job, it ballooned into a 5 hour 35 dollar job. But having flushed the expectations or desires to do other things on the list, it was just cool beans.

Court Report

In the case of the State of Utah vs. David A Rendon, on September 24, 2007 the court imposed the maximum fine for each of two misdemeanor counts of 1 year in jail. This is for two counts of sexual assault against a minor, originally filed as felonies, and reduced in a plea bargain agreement. The prison terms are to be served consecutively and credit is not being given for time served on other unrelated convictions.

Mr. Rendon was extradited from Colorado to Utah to face charges in an unrelated felony case. After Mr. Rendon completes serving any sentences imposed by the Utah courts, he will return to Colorado to serve two years remaining on previous convictions there.

Known in the local pagan community by the name David Medicine Eagle, David is best known for his association with the now defunct shop Mystic Dragon once located on 11th east in the heart of the Sugarhouse district.

Musings - Hold your fire (with apologies to RUSH)

While engaged in aerobic thinking (combining chores with philosophy) I returned to an old idea that instead of dealing with things and people as if they are “things and people”, deal with them as if they are emanations of energy. Then handle the energy as it comes in (reflect, absorb, shape, reshape, deflect) then act or interact by sending out a measure of energy.

That which acts or reacts originates from thought – from the mind – from electrical impulses – from fire.

All things are fire. All interactions are exchanges of energy.

Fire is not a thing. Fire is a release of energy.

Energy is released when molecules come apart then recombine. Fire IS change. Fire IS shaping, reshaping, recombining. To exist, fire requires fuel and fire.

Hold your fire.

[A two hour break goes in here, ending with...]

...a short phone call to Kate. She asks if I am doing anything to celebrate the equinox today. Then she talks of it being a time of balance – an equal of light and dark. I respond that while all is in balance, it is also when the change in daylight, day to day, is at it highest.

Maximum balance implies maximum change. Change is fire.

The Tao teaches that in non-doing are the greatest changes made. Only in perfect balance is there perfect fire.

Do not lust of results. Simply know that the results ARE.

Hold your fire. Hold it deep inside.

Chewing on it

I spent much of the day mulling over the events for the last week, my reactions and emotions, and what to do about it all. Nothing to report yet. The process of writing it out has caused mild surprises and consternations. I am not done. It may take a few more days. It may take all week. It may provide more - and larger - surprises.

Or not.

Is it worth it?

It wasn't a pleasant night. I only got about four hours of sleep, in two short shifts. All from trouble having to do with a friend. None of it is her fault, none of it is her doing, but trouble just has a way of finding that woman, and too much of it splashes onto me.

So here is the dilemma: How much of this should I own? Do I walk away from the friendship saying it is just too much? Do I hold my nose and jump into up to my ass? Do I attempt a middle course, choosing where my limits are and not going beyond them?

If I walk away, and if the other person in the drama gets angry or gets buried in trouble, I stand to get stuck with a some larger burdens that I don't want to own. If I jump into it up to my naughty bits (or higher), then this phrase comes to mind: "I'm living with your problems, I might as well move in and live with you." This is NOT a productive and healthy course of thought. Finally, past experience shows that drawing lines just doesn't work. I draw lines only to get sucked past them.

My current mood is to just bail out of the friendship and do my best to protect my financial interests. If I take that route, I am likely to do it in a systemic manner: Make a list of people that are current or recent drags on my life and politely request that they lose my numbers, my addresses, my name and my face. How many friends do I have left if I do this? Only three that I can think of, and two are people I haven't spoken to in years. (As an odd note, they are all three connected in one way or another to the Phoenix area. Maybe when I burn my bridges I will have to move south.)

I am bitter and angry. I will likely soften my attitude. But then again, I may not. Or I may think it through and find a softer way to do it.