The surface meaning of The Tower, the 16th trump of the Tarot, can be an incitement into fear with its depiction of exploding chaos and collapse. The card’s violent imagery seems a pretty accurate rendering of society’s current nose-diving systems and the resulting collective trauma that keeps unfolding in 2020.
A lightning bolt blasts into a crumbling tower tossing a young couple mercilessly over the side. Are they falling to their physical deaths or is it a jolting ego death? Either way, the card reflects the relentless storm of loss pounding at us.
The crown that had topped the tower…
I came across a chalk drawing of an asshole in a parking lot.
It was a humble drawing, consisting of 4 lines intersecting at a central point. You could argue that it was the drawing of a simplified star. But I knew better. I’m a Kurt Vonnegut fan. His novel, Breakfast of Champions, is filed with artful doodles. One of the doodles is an asshole. It looks exactly like the one I stumbled on.
One of the greatest presents I ever received was a signed first edition of Breakfast of Champions. Back in the Eighties, my girlfriend at the time…
My wife, QT-Pie, and I recently enjoyed a magickal journey that began by just stepping outside our door. It was a spiritual pilgrimage that didn’t require a specific holy site to visit, specialized esoteric knowledge or any manufactured ritual. Although all those things can be fun, as long as they are held lightly. This was a journey about seeking transcendence with empty hands.
While our pilgrimage wasn’t to a specific sacred place, it was aligned with the recognition that all places are sacred. It was a journey of randomness, inspired by the Randonaut community found on Reddit.
A Randonaut’s intention…
We’re taught stories about the meaning of life, the origins of the universe and what happens after we die. We cling to these stories to feel secure about the future.
We believe in the stories because the alternative is living in ground-less-ness. And that’s way too scary.
We build patriarchal institutions around the stories and we revere them, putting them above us like they’re the almighty truth of things.
What would our experience of reality be if we acknowledged that the stories were just stories, that we hardly know anything about life, infinity and the meaning of existence?
The cancerous patriarchal worldview boils everything down to money; especially time.
We are taught that time is money, and the clock is ticking.
In our bewildering modern age, it turns out we can accomplish quadruple the work in only twice the time, making the forty-hour workweek a wistful memory of less productive, simpler times.
Leisure time has become an extravagant luxury while hard time is now commonplace.
The old flatulates in charge keep us on our toes by ensuring we have no time to lose and even less to spend. …
The Universe seems more womanly than manly; a grand birther, creator and transformer of all living space, energy and matter. She is an intelligent, self-organizing and infinite principle, always on the go! The Universe is who we are and the crux of all things and no-things.
Intuitive guidance, which is a decidedly a feminine offering from that grand intelligence, is our birthright, though the Universe won’t reveal it in thoughts, words or ideas. She is very particular about Her transcendent approach towards Her creation.
The depth of feeling is at the core of intuition. And it’s hard to misinterpret a…
Carson, New Mexico is a teardrop of a town about a 90-minute drive north of Santa Fe. There isn’t much development beyond a post office and paved road that provides a thin, black ribbon of civilized access to the otherwise untamed space.
My friend, Kevin, who everyone called Kev, lived in Carson on a twenty-acre parcel. He had built a small cabin with his wife, Diana. They shared their home with a cat named Cat-Head and a dog they never got around to naming.
Kev was a poet, artist, cosmic adventurer, and contractor, doing odd construction jobs throughout Rio Arriba…
When did the howling infinity of Love become reduced to a dripping, delusional sentiment? Who the hell programed us to believe in the mirage of movie theater romance as Love’s bottom line?
The true depth of Love is the unbending center of the great cosmic spiral, the deepest root of the tallest tree and the ultimate, mysterious breath of Creation all wrapped up in one sacred bundle of the most intense and authentic feelings available to us!
The true depth of Love waits for our simple recognition with infinite patience; all warm, juicy and sanctified, like the turning of Life…
Water is the foundation, fabric, and fuel of life. And untamed water, that wonderfully feral, flowing wetness filling our oceans, lakes, and rivers, is the perfection of life’s dynamic power.
Wherever we look when in the wetter, wilder places of our world, our oceans, lakes and rivers, we witness every element of the ecology naturally surrendering into every other element in an eternal, living dance of yielding, merging, emerging and releasing.
I am instinctively drawn to the magical sound of the ocean’s stirring waves or a river’s consistent advance. …
My first glimpse of spiritual enlightenment happened when I was seven years old. My friends and I were engaged in a feverish game of tag. I was running full out down a steep, grassy hill to get away from Paul, who was it. My little legs barely kept up with my plunging momentum as the grade grew steeper. I remember smiling wide and feeling as free as I ever felt.
The rush of speed and the release of freedom are one and the same in the simple mind of a child. Maybe that’s why fast cars are so popular among…
Finding, losing and finding again my way through the thicket of the Great Mystery; seeking the best route to Life’s magickal punchline.