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I was tired all day yesterday, and looking forward to getting home. My plan was to do dishes (they are *all* dirty right now) and other housekeeping. But instead I nurtured myself in other ways. First, I took my time going home, visiting a couple of really good bookstores I haven't browsed in a while (one metaphysical and one big independent new/used store), and found some lovely things. I browsed the chakra books at both places, including the recommendations I found here, and none of them spoke to me, so I left them. Instead, I picked up a like-new used copy of Pronoia, by Rob Brezsny, the guy behind "Free Will Astrology", which is going to be delicious reading, and -- rather to my surprise -- a six or seven inch tall gargoyle collection gryffon. He just really wanted to go home with me.
At home, I made some nachos and sat down with my notebook to explore an erotica scenario that had been whispering in the back of my mind all day. It's based on characters in my Journeys personal myth saga, including one of my primary daimonic characters, and while it's not something I would submit for publication, it was so full of love and mutuality and passion and sacredness, it was a complete 180 from what I've been writing for the past couple of years. When I could write at all. I spent hours writing in longhand, going where the characters led, surprised by what they showed me. (The Child was with her grandparents last night, or it would never have happened.) And at the end I was happy.
Much happier, I suspect, than if I had spent the evening studying a book about chakras and doing the exercises. That will likely come, in some form or another, but writing last night was the heart therapy I needed -- and a glimpse of hope.
And in other happy/healing/hopeful news: I spent yesterday in an email correspondence with an old gaming friend about my visiting him (and his wife) some weekend in the near-future and doing a one-night appearance in the D&D game he is running, just to get my feet wet again. No high drama or angst, no pressure to do finely-tuned roleplaying, no old baggage with the other players, just the fun of submerging into Story, and then hanging out with one of my favorite people for a couple of days.
At home, I made some nachos and sat down with my notebook to explore an erotica scenario that had been whispering in the back of my mind all day. It's based on characters in my Journeys personal myth saga, including one of my primary daimonic characters, and while it's not something I would submit for publication, it was so full of love and mutuality and passion and sacredness, it was a complete 180 from what I've been writing for the past couple of years. When I could write at all. I spent hours writing in longhand, going where the characters led, surprised by what they showed me. (The Child was with her grandparents last night, or it would never have happened.) And at the end I was happy.
Much happier, I suspect, than if I had spent the evening studying a book about chakras and doing the exercises. That will likely come, in some form or another, but writing last night was the heart therapy I needed -- and a glimpse of hope.
And in other happy/healing/hopeful news: I spent yesterday in an email correspondence with an old gaming friend about my visiting him (and his wife) some weekend in the near-future and doing a one-night appearance in the D&D game he is running, just to get my feet wet again. No high drama or angst, no pressure to do finely-tuned roleplaying, no old baggage with the other players, just the fun of submerging into Story, and then hanging out with one of my favorite people for a couple of days.
