March 26, 2020 [Making Meaning in the Mayhem]
[Page 1] I am knowing a deep sense of intuition. Accessing a much higher realm of understanding than ever before. The mysteries yet still a mystery, a great detective story but I am both Watson and Sherlock. I am putting together the pieces of the puzzle, unleashing the magic of this mayhem one day at a time. As I sit, the air fills with smoke, the thick scent of vanilla, amber, and bergamot. The smoke winds its way from the floor, to the altar, to the ceiling, and through to the heavens.
A sacred offering, a blessing far above. The haze of scent and magic rolls over the spread of cards, cards that have been anointed with oil and wisdom from the crown.
We are preparing them. Laid out like suits of soldiers awaiting their orders, the cards soak up their blessing, powered up by prayer and intention
[Page 2] A brightly colored story forged from an ancient game. What stories do they have left to tell, What mystical mantras and cryptic incantations will spill forth from these decks.
Two decks, one in the language of pure imagery another in the language of words and affirmations. Pick a card, pick a deck, pick a life path. Shuffle and make a choice on [the] past, on [the] present, on the unforeseeable future. A hint, a hidden, a secret to tell.
We are oh so very well, thank you for asking. Please ask more about us, what are we doing, how's it going, where have we been? We are intertwined, never-endingly destined to be together again and again, drawn together like a moth to so many lifetimes of flames. What is it about us? What is it about you? What is it about me that we are so meant to be.
[Page 3] Destiny, as they call it, are we destined to keep playing out this karmic dance. From the South to the North [Node}, from the North back down South you can’t escape destiny.
It is written in the stars, a chart on the horizon of all that is and all there is to come. These women are my heart, given freely to each one in order to satisfy this hearts deep longings for love and acceptance. Maybe it wasn’t always possible for us, but it has to be possible for you.
What could possibly be stopping you in the fruit of the future, in the wildest dreams of the slave, of the freed man. This is no picnic, but it is certainly no picking cotton.
Unburden yourself, What you carry is not yours to hold, get rid of it, clear it out, throw it away, it's far gone, so far removed that it has no meaning, no memory, no true resonance. It is done.