perzephone: (Default)
For Coyote...

1. What was your first exposure to the animal in question? What were the first emotional or symbolic associations you formed to the animal in question?

Honestly, my first meeting with Coyote was when I was watching the Bugs Bunny Show... Wile E. Coyote, Supergenius, is not too far off from many southwestern stories involving Coyote - trickster who tricks himself the most. I identified with Wile for some reason, maybe because I was a misfit & things never worked out right for me. And I fell down a lot.

The area in California where I started my life is closer to the deserts of Arizona than the beaches of Los Angeles or the redwoods of San Francisco & coyotes were common to hear at night, off in the not-so-distant distance, laughing & calling one another, riling all the neighborhood dogs up. Even though coyotes were seldom seen in western Washington, there's still Coyote in the Northwestern tribes' tales... Coyotes always had the reputation of being child-snatchers & pet-eaters. When I was 5, we had a dog that was a German Shepherd-coyote mix - Spike was the only dog I've ever met that could actually squeeze himself under a couch when frightened by a thunderstorm - and he could climb up a vertical piece of plywood like a ninja. There was no fence or rope that could keep Spike in the yard if he didn't want to stay.

For me, Coyote has always made me feel at home. When I see a coyote cross the road in front of the car, or see one in the ditches or washes, or hear them at night, I know I'm where I belong.

2. What nonfiction books have you read about this animal? Have you watched any documentaries about this animal? Did any of these provide more depth of information than the others? Did any of them conflict on the facts they gave? If so, how could you go about finding which ones are more accurate?

From the time I was a little kid, I spent more time in the zoology section of the library than anywhere else (except maybe the occult section). I wasn't just interested in horses like other little girls, I ran the gamut from marine biology to paleontology to theories about how animals would evolve in the future. There was a book I read about coyotes that I've been trying to find ever since... of course, I can't remember the title & the book must've been written in the 60's... it wasn't exactly a 'children's' animal book but it had illustrations & larger print... maybe a 'young adults' book about coyotes? I read & re-read that book time & time again. I've read what are probably the most iconic 'coyote' books, God's Dog by Hope Ryden & The Coyote: Defiant Songdog of the West by Francois Leydet, and I've got Track of the Coyote sitting on a bookshelf somewhere.

To naturalists, coyotes are not much of a mystery. I just read a book, The Daily Coyote, that kind of pissed me off. A woman moved to Oklahoma & ended up adopting a coyote puppy - and she's pretty stupid where even basic dog behavior is concerned. Even an experienced dog owner would probably think twice about raising a wolf or coyote (at least, a good dog owner - Jody is the exception), but this woman apparently only had ever really been exposed to her pet cat. She was terrified of the coyote even as a puppy when he attempted to bite her, and fell apart when he did seriously latch onto her & when he tried to pull dominance tricks on her. I kept having to remind myself that just because I was raised by huge hybrid dogs (Huskies, Malamutes, Spike, etc.) didn't mean everyone has been. Even now, at 8 months, Chelsie is only about 65lbs. but she is quite capable of biting the shit out of me - and I throw her on her back & shake her like a ragdoll when she tries to pull rank.

Coyotes aren't as much of a pack animal as wolves, but they do have a similar dog-like pack hierarchy, even though their packs really only consist of the mother, father & pups from one or two litters. The female is the primary den builder, the male provides food during whelping... coydogs are quite uncommon in nature unless someone has a captive coyote dam or sire, mainly because a stray male dog does not have the instincts to take care of a coyote bitch while she was pregnant (not to mention that the female coyote would be more likely to lead a male dog into a pack of other coyotes for dinner) & a female dog would be more likely to be eaten by a male coyote. Coyotes aren't pure carnivores and their threat to livestock is highly overestimated - it's more common to find trash in a dead coyote's stomach than lamb or calf - and they love watermelon. Northern & Eastern coyotes are larger, with thicker fur & heavier builds, and there has probably been some hybridization between coyotes & timber wolves. Southwestern coyotes are smaller, thinner & rangier, with lighter coats. The biggest difference between a wolf & a coyote, other than the sheer size of wolves, is that coyotes have a pointy narrow muzzle and enormous pointy ears. Coyotes, mainly because of their size, fall prey to mountain lions, wolves, feral dogs, large eagles & ravens, bears... and because man can't stand the idea of competition or trespassing, humans.

3. Have you encountered any fictional books, movies, or television shows starring this animal? If so, how realistically was the animal portrayed? If the animal was anthropomorphized (talking animals, animals with human societies), in what way did the process of anthropomorphism bring the animal closer to human ideals? Were the animals shown as friendly and heroic or mean and villainous? How do you think these depictions color the way our culture views the animal’s natural behavior? How do you think these depictions may have colored your own view of the animal’s natural behavior?

Wile E. Coyote was close to the mythical Coyote, but very far from a real coyote, and even as a child I understood that. A coyote in the wild would not have been obsessed over a roadrunner. In fact, a coyote would have looked for easier prey long before resorting to Acme products. The coyote in popular imagery is often shown wearing a bandanna & howling at the moon, icon of the Southwest and interior decoration, but Coyote is not nearly as popular in fiction as say, Wolf or Raven. In Carlos Castaneda's books, he mentions that Mexican diableros turn themselves into coyotes. In Native American myths, there is Coyote and there is coyote. While they are the same, they are also different. Coyotes rile up the camp dogs & steal food left to smoke & dry, Coyote riles up the camp women and steals fire...

4. When your research into an animal brings forth a fact that conflicts with your current view of it, how do you react? For instance, if you associate wolves primarily with strong, friendly family bonds, how did you react to learning that brutal harassment and killing occur within wolf packs? (If this fact is new to you, research the history of the Druid Peak pack of Yellowstone and the killing of a wolf called Number 40F.) Did this knowledge change your opinion of the animal? If so, how?

I appreciate every new thing I learn about coyotes... they live on the fringes of our cities. The harder we push them, the more they adapt to surviving alongside us. They get onto subway trains & into banks in major cities, they harass the emus out at Bonnie Springs' petting zoo... One night, in the middle of a busy metropolis, I heard all the neighborhood dogs barking. To be a shit, I went outside & howled into the night. I got the surprise of my life when I heard that yipping song coming back at me, not just one lone voice far off in the distance, but several - and quite close. It shut me the Hel up. I accept that yes, sometimes coyotes do kill livestock and sometimes deterrents aren't affective - no matter how many dogs & motion-sensor lights a rancher might have cannot always prevent a hungry predator from taking an easy meal. I know coyotes carry rabies & parvo. I know that yes, they do pose a threat to pets and small children left unattended. Animal behavior never surprises me or disgusts me, especially when it's an animal who is pushed to the limits of its natural habitat & forced to deal with unbearable pressure and stress on a daily basis. In the same light, the behavior of humans never surprises me, either, because we are animals, too. It does disgust me because supposedly we know better and we do have the ability to overcome our instinctive urges to destroy.

5. When you think of the animal, do you only focus on traits you find admirable? Are you able to objectively admit to and face the things about the animal that may be disturbing, repulsive, or uncomfortable to reflect on? Do you think you can find a way to assimilate your knowledge of the animal into a more holistic view, resisting the urge to romanticize or vilify?

I pretty much answered that question in the one above it.

6. Do you see this animal as being somehow “better” than other animals? If so, why? Does this view come from an emotional reaction or from objective observation? Even if this animal is your personal favorite, are you able to appreciate the uniqueness and importance of other animals?

Yes, I do favor coyote above other wild dogs. I like the idea that since my dog is mostly Catahoula Leopard Hound, she most likely has some coyote in her - and it's very clear when she eats carrots & watermelon. Coyotes, because they do spend a lot of their time solitary, have to be clever to eat, and they are more opportunistic and adaptable than other wild dogs. Wolves bore me. But I don't compare animals with one another. No animal is 'better' than any other animal, no animal is 'worse' than any other animal.

7. What is the relationship of humans to this animal? Are you able to put aside any anger and negative feelings (even if it may be justified) to come up with constructive ideas on how humans can better coexist with this animal? Are there any actions that you can initiate yourself that may help this animal and its habitat?

For some reason, people hate coyotes. They want to destroy coyotes, erase the animal from the land. They are seen as vermin & pests. They are reviled and some of the ways people go about trapping and hunting coyotes is stomach-turning, to say the least. I've seen some of it first-hand. Traps that are designed to snap around the dog's muzzle instead of a leg. Can you imagine having your face cut off or crushed, mangled, to such an extent? To wander, suffering in intense pain, prey to infection and gangrene and starving? I've seen huge pits of slaughtered 'downer' cattle & sheep where the piles of bodies are laced with traps & snares, an abbatoir with no other purpose than to lure coyotes (and other scavengers) to their deaths - and that's a Hel of a thing to encounter when you're 8. Muzzled or toothless coyotes are used to condition dogs to hunt & kill coyotes. Coyotes are still hunted from pick-up trucks & light planes. When the Fish & Game or Agriculture Dept. sanctioned hunters find a den of coyote pups, they dig them out & crush their skulls. At the Indiana Coyote Rescue, a coyote in a pen was shot in the face by someone - she lost her eye. Boy, that was great sport, wasn't it?

Honestly, coyote could probably peacefully coexist with us. We feed them with our garbage dumps & by leaving small pets outside unattended, we built teeming cities with plenty of hiding places, and we are largely diurnal. Unfortunately, people can't live peacefully with other animals. There is no solution.

8. Is there anything else you can do to learn about this animal, objectively and for its own sake?

If I was the enterprising sort, I could go out into the desert & observe coyotes in the wild. I could move to Indiana & volunteer at the Coyote Rescue. I could pick up some more of the books I saw on amazon.com, even some of the ones written about how to hunt coyotes - hunters are very observant of their chosen prey's lifestyle.

9. After learning as much factual information about the animal as possible, can you think of any ways to express your more emotional, personal, and spiritual connection to it? How can you integrate the scientific knowledge you’ve gained and your emotional connections in a way that is honest, healthy, and rewarding?

I think I do pretty good. I'm blessed by the virtue of not being a romanticist. I'm a practical person. I see in coyote a lot of qualities that I possess, but coyotes are wild dogs & I'm a human bean. Coyote-with-a-capital-C and coyote came into my life at a time when I needed some crazy wisdom, the ability to get out of traps & snares even if it meant chewing my own leg off, the ability to eat poison & not die, the ability to survive on the fringes & take from other people only that which was absolutely necessary to my survival & not a bone more. I also needed to learn to laugh at myself & occasionally get an anvil dropped on my head when I wasn't paying attention.
perzephone: (Default)
I stoled this off PaganForum.com

TOP TEN SIGNS YOU'RE NOT A VERY GOOD SHAMAN

10.
Your drum and chant ends with "Hey! Macarena!"

9. You find your animal totem in the other world, and it pees on your leg (It's not my fault Coyote is my spirit guide...

8. Your psychic visions are interrupted by commercials

7. You're making a medicine wheel when someone comes up and starts yelling, "Hey, give me back my hubcap!"

6. Bored with the sweat lodge, you ask the guy beside you to pull your finger

5. Your apartment manager has to come up & ask you to put out the sacred fire.

4. Your sacred wolf-skin cape starts humping your leg.

3. Your spirit guide, who did ten years in the state penitentiary, wants to know where the action is.

2. You believe you're taking a mind-altering Substance, then your wife asks where her birth control pills are.

AND THE NUMBER ONE SIGN YOU'RE NOT A VERY GOOD SHAMAN

1. You thought Soul Retrieval was a James Brown song.
perzephone: (Default)
(It smells like potting soil in the office today, but no one has any houseplants down here.)

Crazy Magic Talk )

I have been trying to do some astral projection & trying to find the rabbit-hole to the Otherworlds again, and I've been questioning any need for protection or a guardian of any kind, and I think I got an answer. Either I don't need any protection because I'm not going anywhere anytime soon (which is what I suspect) or I always have the bear-energy to call on. Bear never fears anything, except the gun and maybe a bigger bear. I'm generally not afraid of much... Yes, I have lingering fears of growing old and decrepit and losing my mind to dementia or Alzheimers, but that's more of an anxiety, one that looms large everytime I have to be around my in-laws. It would probably be different if I'd seen my own parents grow old instead of watching Rob's parents grow old from an outsider's point of view. I generally don't worry about further damage occurring to me on any other plane of existence because, well, I'm already spiritually broken. I have this feeling like there's nothing for me to offer anything. I also don't worry about possession because, hey, I've been there, done that. I know the mechanics behind possession and channeling. It's part of why I turned away from orthodox Wicca - I no longer wanted the 'magic circle' to be between me and the spiritual entities. I got some backlash while I was learning ceremonial magic - entities do not like to be imprisoned and then used, and if they get loose they will do what they can to make your life miserable, but honestly, there is very little a spiritual entity can do to someone on the physical plane.

I used to have a hard time w/a lot of the magic books, especially in Vodou, but there was some in the Wicca classes - they were forever talking about 'enemies'. I remember Robin telling everyone that it was possible to sever someone's 'silver chain', their link to their body, with the spiritual representation of an athame on the astral plane. And that you should never leave your hair on the salon floor because 'enemies' could use it against you. Same w/nail clippings. When I first heard the concept, it worried me... but then I realized that if I did have any enemies, chances were they did not practice witchcraft, Wicca or Vodou and I was relatively safe through ignorance. Maybe it was different a hundred years ago, or different for the slaves on the plantations, or in Haiti & Africa it may still be different - I mean, they still kill people suspected of practicing witchcraft in places in Africa. So maybe you do have to worry more about 'enemies' who will try to harm you through one means or another.

It seemed like most of my time in the Wicca classes was learning how to protect myself from anything and everything - negativity, energy vampires, malicious spirits and entities, unknown 'enemies' who would track my hair clippings down at a hair salon and use them against me... I learned a lot about how to manipulate my own energy, concentration and control and the ability to multi-task - one eye on the candle, the other on traffic, that kind of thing. I did learn how to protect my home from poltergeist energy and for awhile there I was still very concerned with sealing the house off from anything potentially harmful... it's funny because when we had the break-in, the theives went through & took all my crappy jewelry - except for anything with a pentagram on it or jewelry that was hanging on or around my altar. They didn't mess with my altar or my underwear drawers which are below my altar. They took all Rob's swords & knives, but not mine - which were on my altar. They didn't mess with anything on the mantle where Ariadne lives, along with Eleggua & Buddha. The house seals may have made the house a smaller target, but people still broke in undeterred. If anything, maybe I was too confident on oil and salt water to protect the premises, to the point where I never thought about the house being robbed at all. Never considered the possibility - until it happened. Since the burglary, well, we've put away anything eye-catching and put bars on the windows, but I haven't bothered to seal the place up. I haven't touched Vesta in years - even though I still threaten the cucuy in my closet with it on occasion. The house goms have gotten to be like the spiders - we just sort of live with them and the minor disruptions they cause. Now that we generally let them be, there seems to be a lot less disruption. The guy who lives in the walls still manages to break shit every now & again, but oh well.

It's kind of strange, but there's a part of me that feels protected, even against myself. It's part of why I gave up on suicide - something doesn't want me dead, at least not yet. Something watches out for me. It can't protect me from injuring myself in minor ways, like the torn cartilage in my knees, but it has protected me from a lot of the big stuff. I'm never where bad things happen anymore. When we got robbed, I was at work - pretty much stuck at work, too. I think I'd been called in because Alea called out sick. There are all kinds of smaller 'coincidences' that have had things falling into place in my life. Usually I'm so tired and annoyed all the time that I don't look at just how well things have gone for me over the past year or so, but in many ways they have. It's not quite like living a charmed life, lol, because otherwise I'd have hit Megabucks by now...

Asceticism

Jul. 28th, 2008 09:58 pm
perzephone: (Default)
I've been ruminating about certain things I've learned about spiritual experiences and the various training I've received over the years.

While living with Penny, I had to master my hunger, overcome it. I don't know if Penny cared or not, but I never wanted to show her any weakness, so the more she neglected to buy food, the more I neglected to broach the subject. I basically just starved, slowly and continually. I found I could subsist on little food, sometimes going days without it at all if there was a school break or a long weekend, or when Penny had me held hostage on some softball tournament. I became kind of secretive about eating because anytime we went out and there was a group food setting, Penny was always on my ass, watching like a hawk to see if I consumed a slice of pizza or a second helping of a potluck dish or a few extra holiday cookies. I learned to find that quiet, still center inside myself when she was deep in her drunken mania & I had no place else to hide.

From time spent in the truck I even learned to control other bodily urges - I've got a huge bladder. Of course, my kidneys didn't thank me any, but I can go a long time between bathroom breaks. It's kind of nice in that I never miss the most exciting scenes in a movie. I used to be able to go a week at a time without sleep - now it's a blessing when I can sleep.

Starvation lends itself to visions. The brain, when deprived of various vitamins & minerals, proteins, amino acids, etc. is a proving ground for altered states of consciousness. When meditating, part of the control gained is that of the physical body - going long periods of time in discomfort, mastering the creaking joints and stretched muscles, transcending the flesh. I can still handle temperature extremes

Of course, here I am some twenty years later, extremely well-fed ::pokes belly:: and definitely not as limber or as able to ignore my physical state of being. This chair is killin' my ass. The a/c is freezing my feet and hands. The television drives me up a wall since Rob & Cthulhu have it on day & night. No wonder I can't meditate anymore - I'm full of vitamins & rocks & I have no self-discipline anymore. I'm worried that I may be developing PAD and I don't want to work the elections because of the standing but I feel thoroughly obligated to go through with the pain & misery.

There's a new hitch in my life, too. I'm reading the wrong book. It's called Supernatural by Graham Hancock, and it's a theory that shamanic trance & initiation experiences, alien abductions and faeries are all one in the same, it's just cultural perception that determines which experience we see. The whole reason I started reading it was because I thought it was about ayahuasca and cave paintings and other primitive shamanic practices - but once I started to see the big picture I was halfway through, and much like the eyeball tattooing, I'm masochistically drawn to keep reading the damned thing. When I was laying there munching on datura, I started to worry about what if I did see something, specifically, an alien? Aliens freak me out, I can't help it. The whole alien abduction thing just bothers me on a deep primal level. And now I'm going to worry every time I meditate or try to go somewhere else that I'm going to have a close encounter of the small, grey and bug-eyed. I may have ruined whatever subtle influence the datura spirit was trying to offer me. I'm also kind of afraid to go to bed because the aliens like to kidnap people in their sleep.
perzephone: (Default)
Something has changed because I am seeing things again. Either that, or my Elavil has stopped working, one of the two. Or maybe some combination of the two because I've also been waking up in a raw sweaty panic every three hours. I hope that stops once I've gotten settled into the new job. Seeing things again is ok except they like it when I'm in the kitchen. Once last night my waking in a sweaty raw panic was because it sounded like something was standing over me barking in a harsh coughing way. It was a gruff lionlike noise, or maybe like a cheetah with a deep voice. But whatever it was it was standing over me like a tall wispy person. Honestly, no, it wasn't exactly wispy. It was sort of tall, thin, angular and jangled together. These are the moments when I wish I could draw. Maybe it was a tall smoky mummy-shape wearing a Thoth-head mask. Ah... here, Il Medico della Peste . That's what it looked like - a tall jangly smoky carcass wearing the plague-doctor's mask. And chuffing or barking at me in my sleep. I think I know what I'm going to be for Samhain. Thank you, bizarre barking ghost-beastie in my room last night, for waking me on a work night!

It rambles. )

Right now, for whatever reason, the house goms are loud and want to be seen and heard. I've done a lot of ignoring over the past few years, mainly out of animosity but Something has changed and I'll be damned if I know exactly what it is.
perzephone: (Default)
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Hate crying. Bawling, really. Think I need to see if my gyno can get me stronger b/c pills because somewhere a hormone has escaped or something.

Maybe it's the solar eclipse & the wind that picked up when we got home.

Maybe it's because tomorrow is the Autumn Equinox.

I think I posted this once before - it's my one & only short story.

I don’t know why Coyote chooses to come & visit me Especially considering that I’m a short, fat white woman; completely bound to concrete and sidewalks, flushing toilets, that sort of thing. I never really was a wild-woods kind of child. You’d think that Coyote would be out harassing some weather-beaten old Paiute or Apache elder somewhere. But no, he shows up on my doorstep, drinking my Guinness & looking around for leftovers.

Anyway, for some reason Coyote came to visit me, in his dusty blue jeans & sprung boots, floppy leather cowboy hat shading his ancient amber eyes. He squatted down on his haunches & scratched himself in places better left unsaid. After telling me a few of his dirtier jokes & reacquainting himself with the novelty of television and good Irish suds, he looked at me sideways & said, "You know, I’ve got a dirty secret."

Now, knowing Coyote like I do, this wasn’t a big surprise. He gets blamed for everything. And there are a few things he’s been blamed for that he really didn’t do. Before you laugh, notice I said a few things. I don’t think Coyote’s to blame for the religious right. Or Republicans. But the platypus and tumbleweeds and sticker-bushes... those are all his idea. So are handicaps and death... but that’s for another time. I wondered exactly what kind of secret Coyote would consider being dirty. So I asked, "It must be pretty bad if you’re calling it a dirty little secret."

He smiled his toothy grin, "Yeah, so don’t tell nobody else. I’ve got a reputation to maintain." At this, I laughed. A great big belly laugh came up from my toes. He waited for me to regain my composure. It’s hard to know when he’s serious or about to tell one of his nastiest cathouse stories. Even when Coyote was known as One Big Angry, he kept a grin under his nose.

“You see, once, way back when, back when there were still more buffalo than white people, I made that little joke about the rock."

“I remember you telling me how you voted Death into office."

He nodded. “I didn’t know how widespread it would be, though. Until one day I looked up & saw there were more people than buffalo. And that clued me in. Right away I noticed there was something happening. It wasn’t just the buffalo that were gone. Other four-leggeds, and six-leggeds, and no-leggeds were coming up missing every day. And more and more of your kind were taking their place." his yellow eyes glared at me briefly, and I just shrugged.

"Hey, man, this was before I even got here."

"I know, I know. But let me finish. I roamed the plains and the hills, and saw more & more people, and more & more dead buffalo. And then almost no buffalo altogether. No mountain lions or wolves. No big hunters. Only us coyotes and foxes... a few rattlesnakes. Saw a lot of cows and sheep and white folk, though." He polished off his third Guinness and held out his paw for another one. “You guys do make great alcohol, gotta give you that much. So, I’m out walking somewhere a little East of the big hills you call the Rockies, and I hear someone crying, and I go to look & see. Maybe there was something dead I could finish off, once their grieving was done," he licked his chops in reflection of road kill.

"When I got to the source, it wasn’t anything left to eat. It was a den full of wolf puppies, starving and scared. Someone had probably done away with the parents, or maybe they found poison bait or stumbled into a trap left for someone like me. I don’t know what happened to ma & pa wolf, but I knew then I was looking at the last of my cousins." He looked off into the distance past my porch, his yellow gaze taking in the early colors of Las Vegas sunset, "now you know how I feel about my family. I mean, they hate me and I hate them. But we’re still family."

"Been there, done that... So what did you do?"

"Well, I took up those pups with me, and starting them looking for sturdy sticks and twigs, and some pointed rocks, and feathers, and I started making arrows."
"Did you plan to hunt down whoever did away with the adult wolves, or were you going to have some shish-ka-bob?" At least Coyote had the decency (or pretended to have the decency) to look mildly hurt by the last comment. But what did he expect from me, compassion? Especially with my last beer in his dirty paw?

"No, ya stupid white woman, I took those arrows, and I built a stairway into the sky. I called together all the wild folk I could find to help me. It took a long time; too, because the higher I built it, the more of my help disappeared. But eventually I built that stairway all the way into the sky so those wolves would have somewhere to go. And if you look up, you can see them chasing the buffalo up there, too."

"And that’s your big, ugly dirty secret?" I tried to keep from letting him see me wipe the tears out of my eye - he’d never let me live it down.

Coyote only grinned, "Yeah, so don’t tell no one, ok? Especially where that stairway is. You & me, we might need it some day, too."


We have no symbolic vocabulary, no grounded mythological tradition to make our own experiences comprehensible to us. We have, in fact, no senior shaman to help ensure that our dismemberment be followed by a rebirth.
- Stephen Larsen, The Shaman’s Doorway


So what am I supposed to be? The shaman's apprentice, or the shaman?
perzephone: (Default)
Just a blurb from a book I started reading... thought provoking, but I'm not sure what I think about it right yet. I've got to sleep on it. Even I can understand that, while Leary was talking about drugs, he wasn't just talking about drugs. Yanno that old saw, 'When the pupil is ready, the teacher will appear'?

What if there are no more teachers?

Drop Out: Detach yourself from the external social drama which is as dehydrated & ersatz as T.V.

Turn On: Find a sacrament that returns you to the Temple of God, your own body. Go out of your mind. Get high.

Tune In: Be reborn. Drop-back in to express it. Start a new sequence of behavior that reflects your vision.

Actions which are conscious expressions of the drop-out, turn-on, tune-in rhythm are religious.

The wise person devotes his life exclusively to the religious search – for therein is found the only ecstasy, the only meaning.

- Timothy Leary

We have no symbolic vocabulary, no grounded mythological tradition to make our own experiences comprehensible to us. We have, in fact, no senior shaman to help ensure that our dismemberment be followed by a rebirth.

- Stephen Larsen, The Shaman’s Doorway

Profile

perzephone: (Default)
Rainbow Serpent Woman

August 2014

S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
101112 13141516
17181920212223
24252627282930
31      

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 26th, 2017 06:30 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios