Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Doing What I'm Told, Singing To The Sky

I am not really that good at doing what I am told. Things have to get really radical. Even my boss struggles with me over this issue. He will fairly routinely point out that if I would just do things his way, so much would go better. Actually that might not be true. But it doesn't matter. I would actually do more of that if I could. But if I don't do things my way, I can't do them at all. This reached a tipping point some years ago. All the forces led to a sort of splitting the sheets. That meant I still worked for him but on contract. Since I owned a rental (part of the property, in the back yard) I was technically legal as a contractor. He however was not really legal.

The thing was, we both liked it better. He needed the distance to deal with my ways. I needed the distance to deal better with his tendencies too. We have been professionally related since 1983, and on my part, not really willingly. But as a contractor, he was forced to kind of remember that I was not his tool. I was forced to remember he was my client rather than my boss. There is a difference.

Finally, after several years, he got mellower, and me too, and we agreed to come together once again. I have been working direct for him now for going on three years. This was very very good just a few weeks ago, when I had that small heart trouble. Without the Kaiser insurance we carry, that thing (even otherwise insured) would have cost me several thousand dollars. As it was this thing cost me 250 bucks.

He still can't really tell me what to do. However, we both agree that I am to follow his lead as best I can. The thing is, he is catching up to me in this thing and he is finding his own hands letting the reins loose a little. Heh. Age just is a helluva mellower. Yes. He is younger by eight years or so, but now he looks older...

Doing What I'm Told

Before the sun sinks,
Before the creek rises, floods
Through the open gate,
Before I lose myself
In the sense of losing you,
I will nail my heart
To the northern wall
So I can stand here on watch,
What he said to do.

January 10, 2009 2:44 PM


I have a penchant for witchcraft and shamanism. I know that the spiritual impulse went there first in the history of man. I believe, since it lasted such a long time, most of the time that humans have been on the planet by far, that this sort of spirit walk is probably best suited for the human spirit. But there is a caveat to that. It is not egalitarian in this sense. Only a few people really practice, often one to a band, with an apprentice, or perhaps a couple of shamans. The rest do a variety of things.

There are the societies however, both men's and women's in many bands, and so many do participate in some sense, but the full meal deal usually is the province of one or a couple people, and the rest know this. This tendency for minority participation continues to the present day in the shamanic spiritual walk. Witches have covens. There is good reason and a heritage in this need for privacy. Witches and shamans can be misunderstood and that misunderstanding is deadly at times, the way things have been and in some sense still are.

Nevertheless, the great religions have been around at maximum for five thousand years in some form or other. Man's spirit walk is at least 40,000 years old. This is beyond question. Shamanism is the forerunner, and is the spirit walk prior to history and the artifice of civilization, hence is the spirit walk of the natural man. I suspect that had I survived childhood and was born 20,000 years ago, I would have been a shaman. Hmmm. I probably have been one. Many times.

Singing To The Sky

If the sky asked me
I would reply with a song
Of how the moon, clouds
Need a dwelling place.
I would sing in keys that change,
Modulate blue moods
To gray and silver,
And back again to sky blue.
I would howl and bray
At the moon's track line
And bare my chest to the sun.
Then I would dance, dance.

January 10, 2009 7:58 PM.


  1. singing to the sky
    dancing to the tune of stars
    as i'm nailed to the wall
    this is the magic i know... of all

  2. I have no doubt Christopher, that even in this life you are Shaman....this time round you got words as your tools :)

  3. I can't do as I'm told unless it fits the lines and whorls of my thought, the set of my Nature...but then, so often I have been told to do things that were plain wrong, perhaps I am simply used to thinking, examining, and deciding carefully.

    Should you ever find yourself down here in the buckle of the bible belt, you're welcome to pound a drum and call out to the sky with some like-minded folk...we're always glad for a new voice.

    Shade and Sweetwater,
    K (wandered over from Waxing Moon, sister of my soul who has never pointed me in the wrong direction)

  4. I will nail my heart to the northern wall. I keep saying it over and over. I like the ridges of those words, the texture against my tongue. I will nail my heart to the northen wall. It is so beautiful, somehow, without me knowing why. Maybe, because it is so true in so few contexts for me. I would nail my heart on a nothern wall for very few, but those I would...I would crucify my heart in a second, and stand by proud to watch it bleed.

  5. Wow. What a line up. Grand Slam. I must be sending big fat pitches over the plate.

    Human Being, thank you for your response.

    Michelle, You are kind to say so. I am glad you do not follow me around and see me for the buffoon I am...

    Kyddryn, Rachel is sister to my soul as well, pretty much whether I like it or not...because there is something deeply paired about us at least in the poetry.

    Kelly, I only know that at one point it is exactly what I did. It was required and I am proud to say I measured up to my task. There was a price to pay. I paid it.

  6. So you'd nail your heart to the wall, forcing yourself to stay and do what you were told to, fighting your very nature. Do you know what your Myers Briggs type is by any chance?

    I love the energy in Singing to the Sky, just love it.

  7. You've done it again, Christopher. Thank you.

    My shaman's song

    My love, I said;
    this world is fine
    thrumming, alive,
    but stagnant.
    I need a moon to call my blood,

    so he sang a fresh
    new moon for me;
    he sang one into being.

    Curved she was,
    smooth sliver of a fingernail
    at her hesitant beginning,
    barely cradling one small corner
    of the light-enchanted sky.

    His song, it grew from croon to howl
    as vines stretched long
    and strong, reaching tendril arms
    swaying, stirring life-sap
    secret night secretions

    and that moon-sweet sliver
    swelled and grew, coaxed tenderly
    in guttural chants and lullabies
    older than bedrock and ocean’s swell;
    coaxed tenderly
    from sliver into orb.

    My love, I said;
    this world is fine
    thrumming, alive.

    Blessed be this moon
    that calls my blood;
    Blessed be this song enchanted.

  8. Rachel, I would only go against my nature with some other part of me aligned precisely with my nature and overriding. Like for my child if I had one. Like for my lover, which was indeed the case. For my wife, another earlier case. I would do it for love, not sure what else. Maybe something, like a shooting war. I was on the line in a couple ways against the war back in the 60s.

  9. Rachel, I thought you would like to know

    The Cost Of The Work

    After raising moons
    I drink gallons to replace
    the fluid that steams
    from me, rising up
    to then coalesce, become
    overhead tidal
    objects with craters,
    more than one at any time,
    otherwise too much
    work is in this dance.

  10. I have no idea of my Myers Briggs analysis.

    Astrologically I am Sun at about 21 Scorpio with Sag. rising, at 23, I think, and Moon 13 Pisces as a bucket focus of a T-square chart with Mercury Sag 12th and Uranus Rx Gemini 6th as the opposition squared by Moon. Neptune in 9th house conjunct Midheaven and Jupiter in 10th house. That Neptune is as I remember widely inconjunct Moon as well.

    This could be a shaman's chart, but a covert one...Libra Midheaven goes somewhere else. Heh. My chart has no earth by planet or angle.

    I don't really do astrology any more.

  11. Damn, nothing comes cheap these days, does it? At least nothing worth having.

    As for the Myers Briggs, I've been told my type is independent-thinking, and is uncomfortable following directions. Yep, that's me. I thought perhaps it's another thing we have in common.

    Astrology I've never been able to get my head around, no matter how many times I've been told who/what/where I am. I'm not sure why that is. Maybe there's some sort of leak in my ability to comprehend it.

  12. Astrology is not required :) It's an elective. :)

    Astrology is really an alchemy for astrologers, not so much a service for clients.

    All you see in public of astrology is basically coyote at play. It is carnival. The real work happens elsewhere.

    And astrology won't work unless you're called to the fire of it.

  13. I think a lot of men, perhaps women too, could learn through your negotiations with your employer. Not negotiations of funds, but of spirits. It is never easy to simply listen to someone.

    I am singing to the sky
    even now~

  14. Sitting Bull (Lakota: Tȟatȟáŋka Íyotake (in Standard Lakota Orthography), also nicknamed Slon-he or "Slow"; ca. 1831 – December 15, 1890) was a Hunkpapa Lakota Sioux holy man, born near the Grand River in South Dakota and killed by reservation police on the Standing Rock Indian Reservation during an attempt to arrest him and prevent him from supporting the Ghost Dance movement.

    Sitting Bull became a Sioux holy man, or wičháša wakȟáŋ, during his early twenties.

    His responsibilities as a holy man included understanding the complex religious rituals and beliefs of the Sioux, and also learning about natural phenomena that were related to the Sioux beliefs.

    Sitting Bull had an "intense spirituality that pervaded his entire being in his adult years and that fueled a constant quest for an understanding of the universe and of the ways in which he personally could bring its infinite powers to the benefit of his people."

    Sitting Bull also knew techniques of healing and carried medicinal herbs, though he was not a medicine man.

    Because of his status as a wichasha wakan, Sitting Bull was a member of the Buffalo Society, a dream society for those who dreamt of buffalo. He also was a member of the Heyoka, a society for those who dreamed of thunderbirds.

  15. Erin, I am afraid I may have made this boss thing sound too easy. He is my ever present zen moment. There are big ways he creates his own misery and I am unfortunately one of the tools on his toolbelt to do it. He talks me into stuff I know better. Very much like Charlie Brown and Lucy and the football. I bought it again. And so today I took my lumps again.

    Ghost, thank you for offering up a genuine shaman for contrast. A while back, I went to a homeopath, and during his assessment he asked for my dreams. I told him I rarely remembered any.

    I wake often in the night, and my most regular memory is a kind of static filled muttering that is meaningless, small snippets of things without organization. When my dreams do organize they are never about my home. I am always somewhere unknown to me, though not apparently unknown to me then.

    I offered my usual explanation. My job requires my imagination. I am also creative in other ways, writing and music, and in these I run free. I basically do this all day long. I have day dreams. To his credit, he took that and it became one of the key elements leading to the remedy he offered me. This remedy worked remarkably well.

    He was right and it leads me to believe that my explanation was right too. I should add that I have a benign form of the old man's prostate. So I get never more than 2 hours sleep at a time. Ever. Haven't for fifteen years.

  16. OOOhhh...I should add to that never more than 2 hours...that I go back to sleep very easily most times, so getting up isn't the torture that it might be for some.

  17. I'm so glad I stopped by. You have made my morning that much brighter.Beautiful, you.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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