Seems to me that all kinds of things are just ringing clearer for me today, and I kind of need to log them here, so's I won't forget.
First: Was listening to the NASA recording of the rings of Uranus being "played" by the solar wind, mentally comparing it to tibetan singing bowls once again. For some reason was compeled to put on one of the Nordic Roots CDs, and while listening to one of many pieces by various Sami throat singers from Finland, had the first of these ah-ha's roll through my brain. Throat singing happens mostly in Arctic tribes, across both the European and american continents. Why? Ok, the Tibetan monks also throat sing, but it is quite different. Why are people above the arctic circle singing in a similar manner without having necessarily interacted with one another? The Northern Lights.
No, I am not crazy- the lights make sound! Granted our ears probably cannot hear all the tones of the sounds, but we can perceive them, not unlike the singing bowl reflecting the sounds of space. The human vocal ability to imitate sounds is known throughout the speaking world, from animals to mechanical sounds. When the world was much quieter, it is probable that we heard all sorts of stuff now drowned out by things like the constant drone of highway traffic near my house. It seems to be our nature to imitate, especially when we were in better touch with Mother Gaia and Her many consorts. Now I hear in the Samis' singing and the T'lingt and Inuit, and many others the call of Nature Herself. Those who came before might not have understood that the songs came from the heavens not this little bit of solar dust....or they just might have. Their knowledge, often spoken in parable, has surprised me before.
All the more reason for me to be where the Northern Lights shine, that I might be moved also to sing their songs.
(the other thought went to sleep during this diatribe. I will be back with it later)
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
What Goes Around....
sadly it seems it all comes back around, the good and the bad. Right now, I mean the use of heroin. I remember the really bad times of heroin abuse back in the late Sixties and early Seventies. Hell, it nearly killed a lot of people in the music industry, and DID kill a lot of others. Nasty stuff- friend to no one, whatever it feels like when one is high. I am lucky that examples convinced me early enough that I would never, ever put that stuff in my body. I must have some real internal strength that I am not always aware of, because I never fell into the pit of despair so far that drugs seemed like a solution. I was suicidal, but obviously strong enough to survive even that. Strange, isn't it, where one can find the will to live, even when facing one's own mortality......not meant to be funny in anyway.
A new friend's girlfriend's son died from heroin overdose last week, just before 2010 started. He was a child -seventeen- and mom is a wreck understandably. What floored me more than this one death was the knowledge that this is apparently the 11th local teenage death from heroin in recent months. My first thought was that the drug was being cut with something lethal, but I will have to let the police figure that one out. Pure smack can kill, but smack cut with something indigestable is guaranteed to.
In the case of semantics, does causing someone's death by cutting an illegal drug with a lethal substance constitute murder? That kind of made my head hurt to word....I think I will leave that to the legal philosophers.
As a woman who lost a child many many years ago, I can relate to this poor person's state of mind and heart. She is little more than a stranger to me, but the Goddess is telling me to reach out. Goddess love Michael for caring, but no man can understand what it is to give birth, nor what it is to lose what has been in your womb. A piece of my heart was ripped away from me that day, hence the tattoo on my left forearm. Everything changed in me that day- forever. Nothing anyone says or does for me will ever change that- it was a wound to the soul. I know this is what she is going thru, but it is particularly fresh. I should make the offer of a ritual of passing directly to her, but part of me is not willing to possibly step on toes. I am going to have to dig down deeper thru meditation to learn what is right to do. I could touch her remotely, but knowing what I know, one to one is what will help her bust the bubble of grief, and start what healing will be possible. As I said, it will never fully go away. When something this deep happens it is vital to remind theose left behind, especially a parent, that one is not alone, and that life can work again. Psychiatry tries, religion tries, but frankly, it is people, not idealogies, that will ultimately make the difference.
More later maybe...this subject is pestering my brain, to the point of distraction, which is why I am both compeled to write, and concerned with what action I should take. I do not think I am supposed to stand idly by, that much I am certain of.
It is things like this passing into my life remind me vividly why I myself am still here. As much as I loathe people half the time, I am compeled by my office as priestess, and my own compassion to reach to those truly hurting. It can be an overwhelming experience frankly, which I believe is also why I do not like being in crowds of people. I am too sensitive to emotions around me, and it wears me out, drains me. It is in the one on one position that I can do the best work for those in need. It is perhaps too soon to ask her to trust a stranger with the gash in her heart, but I have a feeling she and I must cross paths
A new friend's girlfriend's son died from heroin overdose last week, just before 2010 started. He was a child -seventeen- and mom is a wreck understandably. What floored me more than this one death was the knowledge that this is apparently the 11th local teenage death from heroin in recent months. My first thought was that the drug was being cut with something lethal, but I will have to let the police figure that one out. Pure smack can kill, but smack cut with something indigestable is guaranteed to.
In the case of semantics, does causing someone's death by cutting an illegal drug with a lethal substance constitute murder? That kind of made my head hurt to word....I think I will leave that to the legal philosophers.
As a woman who lost a child many many years ago, I can relate to this poor person's state of mind and heart. She is little more than a stranger to me, but the Goddess is telling me to reach out. Goddess love Michael for caring, but no man can understand what it is to give birth, nor what it is to lose what has been in your womb. A piece of my heart was ripped away from me that day, hence the tattoo on my left forearm. Everything changed in me that day- forever. Nothing anyone says or does for me will ever change that- it was a wound to the soul. I know this is what she is going thru, but it is particularly fresh. I should make the offer of a ritual of passing directly to her, but part of me is not willing to possibly step on toes. I am going to have to dig down deeper thru meditation to learn what is right to do. I could touch her remotely, but knowing what I know, one to one is what will help her bust the bubble of grief, and start what healing will be possible. As I said, it will never fully go away. When something this deep happens it is vital to remind theose left behind, especially a parent, that one is not alone, and that life can work again. Psychiatry tries, religion tries, but frankly, it is people, not idealogies, that will ultimately make the difference.
More later maybe...this subject is pestering my brain, to the point of distraction, which is why I am both compeled to write, and concerned with what action I should take. I do not think I am supposed to stand idly by, that much I am certain of.
It is things like this passing into my life remind me vividly why I myself am still here. As much as I loathe people half the time, I am compeled by my office as priestess, and my own compassion to reach to those truly hurting. It can be an overwhelming experience frankly, which I believe is also why I do not like being in crowds of people. I am too sensitive to emotions around me, and it wears me out, drains me. It is in the one on one position that I can do the best work for those in need. It is perhaps too soon to ask her to trust a stranger with the gash in her heart, but I have a feeling she and I must cross paths
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