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My Horrorscope
Oct. 15th, 2009 10:10 pm
Rob Breszny told me to tell all that I know. To not be the guru on the mountain who shares only, "know thyself" and cackles with madness. To share from the heart, from the soul.
This is what I know. It is pretty much all I know, with any certainty at least.
We are like the sun. Even though science tells us the earth revolves around the sun, the way we see it, the way we know it, the sun revolves around us. But we don't see that it revolves at all, at least not with our naked mortal eyes.
We see it be born every new day, watch it rise to its peak and fullness, grow old and dim, and sink into the sea. And in the morning, if we've been good, sang the right songs, made the right offerings, the sun returns to us anew.
Our lives are like the sun. We are born on a fresh new day, we grow into our strength and fullness, we age, grow dim and slip past the horizon.
We are like the sun in that, after a time of rest and darkness, we too are born again, and again and again.
What the sun does while it's away is Mystery.
Our loved ones are like us, as well. As we watch the sun falling into the sea with a measure of dread in our more primitive moments, wondering if the sun truly will come back, wondering how long will the night last, how long will winter's icy grip tighten around us this time, our loved ones see us begin to fade, begin to falter, and finally fall into that most mysterious sleep. They miss us, they cry for us, they truly believe we will never return. In their turns, they too follow the sun's path.
But in the new day, our souls wake again, in shining new bodies, and we behold our loved ones have also taken on new shapes and new faces. How can we recognize one another, time after time, in our new bodies and forms?
No matter where we are, no matter how many times the sun has risen and set, no matter how many times we've risen and set, when we look to the moon, and the moon gazes down at us, we can always recognize that familiar beloved face.
Our souls are like the moon. The moon may wax and wane, but the face we see is always the same, and we would know it anywhere.
This is what I know. It is pretty much all I know, with any certainty at least.
We are like the sun. Even though science tells us the earth revolves around the sun, the way we see it, the way we know it, the sun revolves around us. But we don't see that it revolves at all, at least not with our naked mortal eyes.
We see it be born every new day, watch it rise to its peak and fullness, grow old and dim, and sink into the sea. And in the morning, if we've been good, sang the right songs, made the right offerings, the sun returns to us anew.
Our lives are like the sun. We are born on a fresh new day, we grow into our strength and fullness, we age, grow dim and slip past the horizon.
We are like the sun in that, after a time of rest and darkness, we too are born again, and again and again.
What the sun does while it's away is Mystery.
Our loved ones are like us, as well. As we watch the sun falling into the sea with a measure of dread in our more primitive moments, wondering if the sun truly will come back, wondering how long will the night last, how long will winter's icy grip tighten around us this time, our loved ones see us begin to fade, begin to falter, and finally fall into that most mysterious sleep. They miss us, they cry for us, they truly believe we will never return. In their turns, they too follow the sun's path.
But in the new day, our souls wake again, in shining new bodies, and we behold our loved ones have also taken on new shapes and new faces. How can we recognize one another, time after time, in our new bodies and forms?
No matter where we are, no matter how many times the sun has risen and set, no matter how many times we've risen and set, when we look to the moon, and the moon gazes down at us, we can always recognize that familiar beloved face.
Our souls are like the moon. The moon may wax and wane, but the face we see is always the same, and we would know it anywhere.
