A wayward weirding of magic and soul
(Or: Down, down, down we go)
Tuesday, we spoke to the strange and unusual.
Now it’s time for the weird.
(Yes, yes, we said this would drop yesterday, but it was feeling forced… and we do not force the magic.)
Sometimes it can feel as if the Wilds are pulling us allllll the way down.
Into what, we don’t exactly know.
But, we are certainly no longer being permitted to remain on the surface of our own life.
And we kinda like it.
The howling.
The madness.
We kinda sorta asked for this wayward waypoint, where we would have to choose.
We kinda sorta backed our own self against the wall so there’d be no other way but free.
No other choice but freedom itself.
Sometimes it feels like all the atrocities in the world require us to stay on the surface.
As if, somehow, remaining at the edges of our magic will help others break free.
But, it doesn’t, you know?
It only makes it so that we are less able to respond to the burning of the world.
Because if we are not willing to make this descent, we never get to the moment of our rebirth.
And the rebirth is what burns the burning.
Meaning:
The genocidal and oppressive fuckery running rampant in the world will only be healed by something that burns even brighter.
And what burns brighter than hate?
Love.
Not just the bypassy, whitewashed love that steps over the people that such love claims to hold so sacred.
No.
This is about the weirding of love.
A love so holyfied and free, that we cannot help but to also remember ourselves as free in the face of that love.
A love so dark and primal and mysterious, that we have no choice but to surrender into Great Mystery Itself.
There are things you can’t NOT say in this lifetime.
Not without sacrificing pieces of your soul.
Watching those pieces slough off in the banality of a falsified love and freedom.
I know this.
YOU know this.
But the invitation now becomes:
Are you willing?
To lean in.
To become the yes.
To let go of the encoded ideations of perfection and “enlightenment” and get your hands dirty.
Are you ready, willing, and able to get…
Weird?
To say things they might not yet understand.
Things YOU might not yet understand.
But things that you know must be said, nonetheless.
And, if so, how weird will you let it get?
How deeply will you allow yourself to free fall, to remember who the fuck you are?
As always…
Here’s to your untaming,
N
P.S.:
I recorded another quickie for the Musings.
And then let me know what comes through for you.
P.P.S.: