Solve for x

come! thou stalwart edge of dawn

and break this calcified intrigue

which day denies

a sightless sigh into the sweating sheets

break, o break the sky


all things you made


encase me so that I may break as well






Manifesting despite yourself

I’m not one of those meek, retiring kinds of ADHD.  I’m of the “you wanna start some shit?” variety, with high scores for Defiance Disorder and Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, meaning I’m always on the hunt for a bridge to burn. I’ve quit jobs to make sure I had the weekend off.

I also think magic is in a way very real.  Not that handwavium, turn you into a frog/newt/beddable-monster movie type of magic, but the kind where you deliberately reprogram your own brain to perceive reality in a different way. Practitioners might believe they’re reprograming everyone’s reality as well, but as the only reality you have access to is the one that your brain creates inside itself, I find this a bridge too far for even me to burn (see above.)  Let’s just say that the world contains more information than any brain can compute, and if you point yourself at different parts of it, your experience is often that of having created something from nothing.  The opportunities were always there, you just maybe weren’t looking directly at them.

So when I see the rise in popularity of “manifesting” to reach one’s goals, I suppress my inner cynic who says it’s a bunch of neo-hippy woo.  As a pantheistic pragmatist with a taste for Spinoza, why should I care how people do their magic, as long as they’re getting results?  The crystals, the candles, the Burning Man vibes, the binaural beats: my only objection is aesthetic, as in I don’t like cottagecore and my high flicker rate ADHD has *issues* with delta drone.

I’d be a sorry sort of Discordian if I gave anyone lip over how they conducted their spiritual business.  Heck, I routinely beg my deity NOT to intervene: “lemme have this one, ‘kay? You can do what you want with me after.” 

This never works, by the way. What we want and what The Universe wants often has nothing to do with each other.  I find myself infested with its merciless directives, seething with manifestation, which in my case takes the form of my favourite characters from my books taking up permanent residence in my head. I can’t complain, because (ahem) I get results. Their energy, their imaginary love for me sustains me as if they were real people standing beside me, even when I’m at my worst.  They both are and are not real.  What matters is that it works.

So I will gleefully cling to my belief that no sane person holding a quartz while they meditate seriously thinks the rock is doing anything other than being something to pay attention to.  That’s all magick is.  Paying attention like never before.  Paying so much attention to some stupid shiny rock in your hand, glowing in the flicker of beeswax candles, that you don’t notice everything you’ve ever wanted sneaking up behind you, waiting for you to properly open your eyes.

death and a certain man

I lost a dear friend this year.  He was widely agreed to be one of the most frustrating individuals to ever walk the earth.  There was no hiding from him.  Your foibles, your feints, your fake news: absolutely fair game, and he brought everyone who cared for him to the point of hair-tearing hysteria at least once.

I learned the lyrics of the Gatchaman theme song for that son of a bitch.  In phonetic Japanese.

He was also one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and voraciously devoted to his goals. I think about him a lot, as I did while he still orbited in an embodied form.  He was deeply aware of mortality, of the fleetingness of life, and the need to use your time passionately. 

What I feel, in grieving him, is that there truly is no meaning in existence beyond what we ourselves provide. Some may want his death to be a ‘message’ from ‘God’ to value your life, but he was passionately secular, and would have fought you with every ounce of his prodigious logic to prove that his morals derived from anything beyond the human need for belonging and connection.

We cannot satisfy this need through cruelty and restriction. We all belong to the human family. We all belong to the earth. Our walls are false. Created by human minds. If there is a divine, it does not pick and choose which of Creation is most glorious. How bold of us to assume. How unhelpful, when the dented little spaceship we call home is closer than ever to being pushed out of the narrow span of livability.

Adam would have known what I mean. He hated that essentialist bullshit. Worked up until the end of his life to make our world more fair.

What else is there to be done?