I just feel like I’ve got to get out of the studio. Out of the comfortable mess. I need to be out. Its 5:52. I’ve got 8 minutes before the thrift store closes. I dash in and find two colorful shirts. Step into line. Look up and there’s Barb. We are the last two people in line. I tell her I’ve just gotten back from BM and she says she was just talking to Kent and Farion about that, about how it could be the perfect faces, an amazing place to experience all those personas.
That was exactly my hit. What if we crafted an incredible experience out of this? Especially as next years theme is rites of passage. We are ready. The world is ready.
What if I trust that there are no coincidences? That this is divine experience? That this call is divine, is spirit. I don’t have to go looking for it. It comes to me. I must only listen and fulfill its instructions by asking for guidance.
I do not know how to live in anything but a spiritual world. Otherwise this place overwhelms me. The cars. Metal pulled from mountains. Streets over farmland. Faces painted over their faces. Hamburgers for 1.99 and a thousand acres of rainforest burning only in my dreams, in an awareness that has not seen but knows, has been told, can feel the dissonate tug between all the moving parts of this world, my world, and all the burning crying parts of that one.
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Saturn Returns in the Year of the White Tiger 