January 17th 2024
There is so much flummoxing about, that these words will only be spent in relieving the mental pressures that currently exist in the mind. A practice of slowing down, paying attention, and grounding once again. The taste of a nootropic coffee lingers on my tongue, ensconced with the plastic braces that cling to my teeth, as the bad breath does from a lack of current-day mental hygiene. Distracted by something, frustration of this simple truth. The device is not what I expected, and should not serve as a replacement nor a reconsideration. It is entirely alright to have two devices now, but be smart: what works best for the moment of creation? The Ace of Wands energy is here, and wants to go forth and act on the energies in the air. Whatever celestial body is particularly influencing you right now does not matter as much. There is a flow coming in, let it speak.
The trip began with an early morning alarm, and a quick haste to sneak in some writing and a coffee. The birds haven’t awoke yet, the dog still hiding underneath his old blanket. The weather of the universe at that time was crispy cool, so I wrap myself around a baby-blue blanket, half scarf, half protection. The coffee machine grinds against capsules not meant for this world’s current climate crisis. The steps towards the living room are made tip-toes as the amber streetlights creep through white curtains. I sit. I drink. I write something about this or that, but these morning page delights are simply guilty pleasures in forms of expression. There is nothing worthwhile, the same feeling that exists right now; who are you writing for? For yourself or for others? What is the point of understanding that what you crave is inspiration and importance, yet can not even bring together any forms of writing. You are overwhelmed, full of indecision and the tyrannical consequences of the choices you’ve made towards accumulation. This is not the world of action anymore.
Hell, oh yes. The ghost so hungry and ravaging for the Right Thing, wants nothing but more and more. Is this the final nail on the coffin? Will you finally admit your defeat and begin letting go. Could the Ace of Wands come to you in the form of Right Action, rather than Right Ideas? The Big Thing which can only come to fruition within the little reaped rewards caused by the detraction of Stuff? Isn’t it worthwhile to just let go of it all, and admit your defeat that you do not have some kind of system (nor do you really need one at this point, you are gone in a few days!) So may as well just write a little poem here or there, write out journals, learn a bit more about intuitive Tarot, and spend time with Lydia whilst you have them, and just say goodbye to this incessant control?! Maybe you draw a bit, but surely that’s enough. Stick to the digital pads for writing, it’s entirely more fun! And then you’ll forget about this worry, this confusion, and you’ll go on about your day with some kind of reprieve, some respite in this technological trap you’ve settled in, where you now believe: aha! I have the tools I am ready to complete my magnum opus! So naive, so mispelt about your circumstance.
The truth writing can come from a few lines here or there. A poem. This new “creative tool” of yours. And then, practice drawing when you have some little free time. Just a little bit of drawing! Have a little fun, and relax. Calm yourself. You silly mutt. So ecstatic and unintelligent, it’s okay my little baby. We’re going to make something out of you yet. What is your rush? What do you need to be doing? You have a silly boy in you, so silly. It’s pathetic your thoughts at times, so may as well enjoy them. What is this writing all about anyways? Just wanting to confront yourself eh? Where is your reason? What emotions can you possibly have for anyone, anymore.
Seek me out when you’re quiet. It’s a very simple thing. You stop when you start searching. Don’t try. Forcibly underwhelm yourself, comrade, and then you can see what it is you’d like to write. A book is out of the question anyways. Talk about Courchevel. Talk about how silly it was of a trip. How strange to spend it with a friend, weird people, how unlike it all was to a “proper” New Year. Goodbye, for now.
IT’s coming for you.