Maps

The gods have a great sense of humor, don’t they? If you lack the iron and the fizz to take control of your own life, if you insist on leaving your fate to the gods, then the gods will repay your weakness by having a grin or two at your expense. Should you fail to pilot your own ship, don’t be surprised at what inappropriate port you find yourself docked…. The price of self-destiny is never cheap, and in certain situations it is unthinkable. But to achieve the marvelous, it is precisely the unthinkable that must be thought.

Oh haha! The sun nap did not manifest, but I went out to sit on the porch and read, with wasps, of course. I told the wasps that they could not see nor smell me and that if they bothered me I was redeclaring jihad. They started swooping around my head and my neck was getting hot from the sun, so I came in for some nicotine and water. I returned outside, to the north stoop this time, slightly shaded and came across the above gem.

Well luv, I did ask for this, did I not? Either way you look at it, whether it has been me at the helm or the gods, I still should have ended up here, for now. And perhaps you are right, I shall have to seize my opportunity should you ever let your guard down. It’s just a question of getting you into my territory. In the forest, your defenses will be lessened. Near a wild mountain river I will be in my own and no power you will call will be able to undo my manifestation of my heart’s desire on my own ground. Whatever were you doing with the maps anyhow?

I still believe it would have been better for you to have come to Arcata, and yet Northern Colorado seems a nicer dream, doesn’t it? To go somewhere I have spent lifetimes on this earth, rather than the ancient alien forests I began transmutating into Neira?

It’s such a thing to encounter a living thing that has existed longer than your dream. Breathless awe. And then the allure of the smokies, greatly tainted by the collective in these past decades. Just now I am remembering when our eyes last twinkled and danced in the space between before we found ourselves at the confluence. Our same tears, this yields the inexplicable magnetism you hold, an explicit understanding of that pain, that collective wound of being torn from one’s homeland.

And always the energy seeming to fall back to geography, hence the maps.

Luv, you promised to teach me patience, and thus far I have gained bounties of grace, abundance, and compassion. I lean away from the prisons of empathy to practice the art of listening. I was to grant you hope, joy, enthusiasm, faith, adventure, and freedom. I feel I am greatly failing on the faith portion and you are greatly failing on the listening portion. If you will believe these things I am saying, I won’t feel compelled to repeat myself and it will go along so much more wonderfully.

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