Wicked Wanderings: 12/01/2006

An old Indian Grandfather said to his grandson who came to him with anger at a friend who had done him an injustice.

"Let me tell you a story. I too, at times, have felt a great hate for those that have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do. But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It is like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die. I have struggled with these feelings many times."

He continued...

"It is as if there are two wolves inside me; One is good and does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way. He saves all his energy for the right fight.

But the other wolf, ahhh!

He is full of anger. The littlest thing will set him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing. Sometimes it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit."

The boy looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes and asked...

"Which one wins, Grandfather?"

The Grandfather smiled and quietly said...

"The one I feed."

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Bad Internal DJ!!

I may have to drown him in whiskey and murder ballads tonight.

Sarah Mclachlan...

dude!

no!

mythic musings

It amazes me how often I forget that myth weaves through my life. How often it goes unnoticed, until it hits me squarely between the eyes and I am forced to look at it, rub my brow in pain and then consider it as only a map in which guides my existance.

The myth always seems to be accompianed by its patron dieties or archetypes and in my worldview of the moment, colored by one myth or another, those archetypes infuse me and make themselves known to those who pass by me. Whether they catch the Venus weeping or "Ishtar Rising", they will go the extra step to say hello and gooday. But only if I am aware of the archetypal behavior I am experiencing. Perhaps it is only coincidince, but I'm tending to think not.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Despondency

I am still struggling to find the words to express the anquish I feel as I stare into a chasm void of the malty goodness of the velvety king of ales on tap.

Friday, December 01, 2006

peeking in

It seems that when I have nothing to do, I can not focus. Yet when my cup is overflowing, I tend to become keener, even driven to step back from the conscious mask of the self. Then I become sloppy and forgetful when ducking the bombardment of stimuli.

There's a need to set aside the labels and release the creature lurking where only the lunar rays can reach. But there is no time...yet time is at my fingers tips.

This is my dilemma until the spout on the cup unclogs itself. But then everything will be flowing again, and my overflowing vessel will be empty.

What sustenance will I draw from then?

I'm thinking goat sacrifices. Unfortunately, I dont know where to get a goat in this town. Maybe the yellow dog will be up for it.

Wicked Wanderings

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