I can no longer work the old magick. Matters not. I have new magick now.

Where I've been seems so distant now: a different time, a different place in a different world. A different me. I am the shadow of what was come to find its own life. However, I know I am where I have always been, I'm just looking from a new perspective. The perspective of now.

I still hear the winds. When I no longer hear them, I will know they have finally taken me. Until then, I have my small place here in the Happening that is the Becoming. After that, I will go wherever the wind takes me.

While I was sitting on a bench on the shore Spy Pond last week, I found myself looking down from above at Spy Pond and the autumnal trees of Elizabeth Island. Whether this was some sort of spontaneous out of body experience or a product of dissociation combined with vertigo and a high aptitude for spacial transitioning, I do not know.

Regardless of how I got there, it brought my thoughts to the budgies. The budgies get a lot of out-of-cage time. They fly around a lot in Lake's apartment. But it's not the same. The room has a ceiling and walls. The room has limits and I wish I could give them the sky. They are birds, that freedom is their hatchright. It seems unfair to keep them contained, but there is no realistic other option. To set them free in New England, especially on the dawn of winter, would be to give them death sentences.

We do our best to give them the closest to what they deserve as possible. We try to give them what we hope is a better life than they would have in the wild: providing a constant food supply, healthcare, and freedom from predators. It might not be enough, but it is all that we have to offer.

tagged by dan4th (changed wording):

Post 6 odd or weird habits/things/facts about you. Tag 6 people who you'd like to see do the same.

1. I regularly pick up things with my feet.

2. I speak Squirrel. Sometimes squirrels gather around me and random passersby take pictures.

3. I walk around in robes carrying a staff.

4. I do not live my life in chronological order.

5. I buy 5 gallon buckets of pickles for personal consumption.

6. I know a wide variety of obscure facts, but not as many obvious ones.

goldmourn, likeamermaid, purpleglitter, recoiling, vagrant, xhappyx

Doing better than I was this morning. Dissociation is a good thing.

Sometimes, fleetingly, I think that I should like to live my life in chronological order. It would be simpler at the very least.

Other times I don't even notice that it's not in order.

Or that bits are missing.

Nothing's amiss until I look at it.

It's like a dream in that way. In fact, I'm not throughly convinced that it isn't one.

I have not met one person who is free from hypocrisy, and I will dare to say never will. Of course I, myself, am most definitely a hypocrite as well. I would note, however, that there are two flavors of hypocrisy: intentional and unintentional.

Unintentional hypocrisy is the hardest to avoid. As subjective beings we cannot truly judge ourselves, and therefore often will not always notice that we are sometimes guilty of the very things we rail against. We have no true mirror and therefore avoiding unintentional hypocrisy altogether is impossible. That does not mean that we should not work to minimize such hypocrisy, as it is a source of suffering for both us and those around us. Introspection and meditation can help reveal some of our own unintentional hypocrisy. The best we can do is a partial solution, but it is one worth striving toward.

Intentional hypocrisy, on the other hand, is more akin to lying. It is fully possible to avoid this sort of hypocrisy as it only takes discipline to do so. However, whether it is wise or best to always do so is another question entirely, the morals of which I'm not entirely interested in discussing in this post.

From a subjective point of view, it is often hard to tell if someone's hypocrisy is unintentional or intentional. We cannot know what another is thinking nor can we truly understand how their mind works. The hypocrite in question could be dissociating or otherwise forgetful of their own activities. Alternatively, what seems simple and obvious to you might not be as obvious to someone else. "Should know" does not intention make, although perhaps one could forge a middle-ground when the hypocrite in question is intentionally ignorant.

The easiest way to minimize hypocrisy is to call yourself out. To admit to your own failings as you would point them out in others. I attempt to do this, but again I am not perfect and I fail sometimes. Is this an excuse? No. It just is.

I'm completely scatterbrained. Always have been. I'm often not aware of what is going on right in front of my eyes. I often don't know what I'm doing or where I'm putting things. I even lose track of where I am. I can't keep my things in a consistent place, because I'm often not there when I put them down. I often have to look to tell someone what I'm wearing.

I get lost in things and lose touch with my surrounding. Sometimes I get lost in my surroundings and lose touch with me. People have suggested this as being symptomatic of ADD or autism or even just of generic dissociation. Some think I'm just lazy or don't care. People like to diagnose me, but their guesses have never proved of significant assistance.

I just don't keep track of reality very well sometimes and reality is only occasionally useful anyway.

Mental "disorders" I have been "diagnosed" with over the years by either close friends, close family, or mental health professionals (bold indicates a mental health professional provided the diagnosis, italics indicate more than one person has given me the diagnosis):

Anorexia Nervosa Attention Deficit Disorder Autism Bipolar Disorder Body Dysmorphic Disorder Borderline Personality Disorder Bulimia Nervosa Dissociative Disorder Not Otherwise Specified Dissociative Identity Disorder Fictitious Disorder Gender Identity Disorder Major Depression - Recurrent Narcissistic Personality Disorder Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder Panic Disorder Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder Psychosis Not Otherwise Specified Schizophrenia Social Anxiety Disorder

I've been in a sour mood lately
I'm fighting the demon eyes.
The demon eyes are too easy to retreat into into and so hard to take off.
I do not like the demon eyes
I do not like myself when I wear them.
I must work on not
I must find my center again.

the days are long now
i still drift among the lost
wander still

if i trusted psych people at this point
i might consider checking myself in to a psych ward
i'm doing that badly in my head lately
it is time for me to refocus
to work on bringing myself back to balance
i've lost touch with the big picture
and when that happens i am lost
mindfulness is hard to keep
and i need to go back to that mindspace

My mind is too many places and too disorganized right now to do Project Schedule. I'm not spending enough time feeling present in the right now, I don't feel real or connected to anything. At the same time, I seem to be increasing my productivity without Project Schedule.

I don't think this is the time for Project Schedule, perhaps I'll take it up again at a later date.

i am in a dark place tonight
i do not like this place
i am a big mean evil nasty bitch
i don't like me right now
i'm moody and irritable
quick tempered
i need to calm down
get a grip
ground and center
but i cannot find me
and if i cannot find me i cannot center me
i drift away
not in my body
not in my mind
outside of my own existence
but still a part of it
i wander always
tomorrow i'll be somewhere else

I'm lucky to be alive. I mean that in the most real sense.

I'm lucky. I'm so fucking lucky that it's practically unbelievable.

I lived in my car and then on the street when I was constantly losing time and I somehow managed not to get killed. In fact, I was still able to use my wits to l get out of several situations where that was a likely outcome.

I was completely lost, and didn't really have anyone close to me for most of that time. If I had fallen in close with a junkie, I would have become a heroin addict. I would have done just about any drug that was put in front of me at that point. But somehow, I managed to avoid getting an addiction.

My luck didn't stop or start there. I was severely burned as a child, but not only survived but miraculously avoided serious burns to my face. My roommate on the burn unit, Alfonso, was not so lucky, he didn't make it.

I lost a lot of time and almost flunked out of high school. But I made it through by the skin of my teeth. I passed without turning in most of my homework. Somehow. Graduated 313th out of 317 students.

I fell in with purpleglitter and her friends, who took me off the street and gave me the means of learning the skills that lead to my short stretch of decent employment which in turn has allowed me to collect ssdi instead of ssi.

Being able to get assistance without ending up again on the street is another stroke of luck. And at this point, my still having a place to live is astounding.

And I'm still here to live in it. I've tried to kill myself too many times, and came very close to succeeding on a few occasions. But I'm still here. Somehow.

I have seen my share of bad things and been my share of bad places, but I am blessed. It's utterly amazing that things turned out so well for me. I'm so very incredibly lucky. I feel I must have one of those guardian angels like the characters that won't die regardless of how much you shoot at them on Star Trek.

I feel very good right now. A lot less dissociated than I have been for a while. I had a cigar then went down to Spy Pond. I sat near the shore and meditated. I have drifted back away from mindfulness in my life, and I have forgotten how wonderful it is to find that place. To look at the amazing that exists all around me.

I do better with short to medium length meditations spread throughout the day than I do with longer ones. No matter how hectic any day is, no matter what else I have to do, no matter where I am, I must do these meditations. They are better than any psych med ever was.

My mind gets lost in loops and I lose the path. I become distanced from myself, those around me, and the Everything. But, it is okay that that happens. It is the way I am. The best I can do is keep to the path as best I can and accept my limits. I am the way I am for a reason, and I must take my problems with my blessings.

I arrived back in Boston yesterday afternoon. The trip home was relatively uneventful. My flight left St. Louis at 7:05, and I have found that morning travelers tend to be far less eager to strike up a conversation than evening travelers.

I saw my Uncle Dizz for the first time in many years, Thursday. When he saw me he exclaimed "Haven't seen you in a long time. You've got breasts!". He's a very nice guy, who is apparently doing quite well these days. It was nice talking to him again, even if my visit to his house was brief.

That evening I stayed up until 2am talking with my mom on the back porch. We discussed many difficult issues and I still feel a bit not-here, but I'm glad we had the talk.

purpleglitter, zarthon and I were planning to go to a reading by Augusten Burroughs yesterday evening, but I was far too exhausted having only slept 2 hours the previous night. Maybe some other time.

i am in the dark places now
split apart from where i feel is what i know
i know these dark places are not all there is
but i feel now that i shall not see beyond
farther down, i know none of this is real
but it is there still
and there is nothing else

i must learn to see the always beauty
even if it is always hollow
i must learn to merge what i know with what i feel
even if neither are true
i must accept that the universe is infinite in wonder and bliss
and infinite in darkness and despair

there is nothing good nor bad
there is nothing wrong nor right
there is just experience
forever and always
never ending and never beginning

to wander below stars
and try reach them
some day to be them
they are where we're from
and where we're going to

nothing more is here than was here before
and nothing less
it never changes and never stays the same

again i meet the riddle here
the truth which is the lie
forget this all as nonsense
muttered by the mad
i cannot tell you where this is
but only that i will never leave

i am worried
i am worried that i won't be able to stay above the waves
i am worried that i will be sucked back down
i do not want to go back to where i've been
i do not want to return to those roads
but i often feel the darkness closing in
there is much i am keeping inside right now
and telling no one at all
the world does not feel real
i am far behind the window eyes
i look out the window
and i hear the winds
the same winds that are always there
i do not know where i am going
but i do know that in the end the winds will come for me
i ask, what i am here for?
my eyes look upon what is before them
i note the what is right before i forget it
the demons are still with me
i do not think they will ever leave
i walk through the mud
and reach for the sky
i cannot take in these things
i am not a great person
i cannot make long sense of what is here
only in passing does it match
every angle changes
forever
no paradigm can stick
flux
change
eternally
nothing constant
i wander still here
i walk still here
i forget still here
what is coming must soon come to pass
i have trouble staying in the body now
more and more
i leave it behind
i am not going mad
i never left mad
soon the sky will be yellow and the grass blue
for reality never was where i am
adrift in a sea of dreams
always forgetting where i am
and never find the shore

Why do I care?

It's not like anything is real anyway.

I am not of this world.

This is not my place.

There have been times I have allowed myself to believe is my home.

But it never was and I've never truly been here.

The eyes I look through are distant from me.

They are windows to a place apart.

What purpose is there in visions lost?

I no longer see the light.

I wonder ever there ever actually was a light.

Or if it too is an illusion.

Through the winds, my queen calls for me.

Home.

Far away.

All forgotten still.

Echoes of what never was.

Tomorrow I be turning 100,000 years old.

And yet, I often feel as if I've never really existed.

While I generally like my therapist, I think we've been losing connectivity as over the past several months. Part of it has been that my life has been moving faster than can be adequately worked through in one 45 minute session a week. I end up spending most of the time simply bringing her up to speed.

A large symptom of the lack of connectivity is the fact that she believes I am getting worse while those around me in my day to day life tend to agree that I am doing much better. She has no idea what my life is actual like, which limits the usefulness of her counsel.

What really drove home the connectivity problem for me on Monday was her telling me, "I think you're broadening your thoughts too much.". She was critical of me spending too much time thinking about larger spiritual and philosophical issues, because doing so could be causing a "break with reality". She is wise enough not to suggest psych meds at this stage, as such a suggestion would have been met bitterly; however, I am sure she has not changed her view that I should be on them. She doesn't seem to understand how I need this spiritual process to go forward. That caging and limiting my thoughts was a major problem. That dissociation from the larger issues was a major problem.

I explained to her that although there has been more definable switching in the system lately, that switching is a lesser form of dissociation than the form I am experiencing significantly less often now: exanimate dissociation. I was dissociating from existence. I was not real. While she acknowledged what I said, I am unsure if she was actually willing or able to grasp the concept I was trying to get at.

She has had a habit in the past of accusing me of "disorganized thinking" whenever I bring up a topic she does not understand and the accusations have been occurring at greater and greater frequency the last several months, which has only served to decrease my feeling of connectivity.

It is worth noting that connectivity and trust are not the same thing, and I still trust her. I trust her in large part because she both proven herself to be against forced psychiatry and been a motivated advocate for me on several occasions. If I did not trust her, I would be very seriously considering leaving therapy, while right now I'm just lightly contemplating it.

I accidentally banged my staff against the curb, and in the winter's cold it snapped roughly in the same place that it broke last time. It is a reminder to keep mindful and not to take things for granted as this happens again when I am becoming lost.

I will put my staff back together again, as I have put myself back together so many times. I have again used gorilla glue, and it is setting in the playroom clamped with the færie wire. I plan to put a bolt through the fracture in the very near future to better secure it. My staff will then be a merging of the city and the wild. A unity in nature.