Attacks, Memory, & Shadows

Spring is apace at the moment. I should do something for Beltane soon—because I want to.

Something was in earlier—in the living room, then ____’s room, but I ran it off, whoever it was. Should check around the area, though.

There were two daggers/knives in my back—foot-long, single-edged blades with long, cylindrical handles

[crude sketch]

Pale, maybe bone-like

A look around—well, I think it happened on campus by whatever I found in the flat earlier. A, well, he looks like a man. Like one of the brothers from Supernatural, in fact. Short, brown hair, square jaw, tall but not too much so—broad, jeans and boots, short coat. But that’s a mask. IT’s more one-part Scaroth, one part a pile of roaches.

He’s been lurking behind me most of the time to the west (I meditate and align eastward, the flat does not face westward).

I’m not sure why, other than I may have attracted its attention while on campus.

So, y’know, deal with it.

I also realized that just as the light casts a shadow off of ______ to the shadow of the Goddess, I too cast a shadow—magical and otherwise, and grasping the nature of that shadow is important.

But I remembered a faint figment at campus—muddled by Halthaya, I’d say—but there.

But I have also been—sad tonight, today. I’m not sure why—stress, just because, no _______, or knives in my back.

I’ve been stabbed with knives like those before, though.

Straight, wooden-handled tanto?

But something else nibbles at my memory, too.

* * *

Memory—is far more important than I thought. […]—I am not some lost child, or I do not have to be. Remembering and drawing that “OverEgo” into the present—well, so many things stop being/seeming gargantuan unique circumstances.

I […] have been a dozen different things and roles, have known every humor[1], as it were, and I know, after a manner, how and what to do. The magic of the world seems closer, no—more visible. I can act more than this small part, but this world tries to keep that part, no, that wholeness, hidden. Scary.

It seems a bit overwhelming, hell—stressful, sad, threatening, but that’s me now trying to integrate and make sense of lifetimes, peoples, loved and lost.

It is a matter of a TransEgo coming up against the Ego, and this is scary to the Ego. So it may react as if the TransEgo is some danger, some demon, which it might manifest as.

Conjuring up the TransEgo—[…]—might be wise? FitE is a gateway, a key, I think.

But beyond that, there is also the matter of Halthaya, for something in/about this world, these bodies, trigger the psychic censor. Memory is a hated, discounted thing. In part, humanity has always had this problem.

Ease into this. You have TO. You can’t get the data of memories—it’s the Ego you’re more interested in. Otherwise, Enyaluvan is important because this reality wants you to forget.

* * *

My body needs regeneration—so I relaxed, stretched, massaged, and did some energy work.

I have neglected BM and HS, and both can be closer than I usually let them.

The WTAW on the Sword are the symbols I often doodle.

I have allowed Halthaya to take root in my mind and soul. My dreams.

My tendency to dream in buildings and homes constrains me and draws me into pointless banal explorations. I want to find my way outside, to cross the doors and portals, to find paths and discover what my Ego and Dream Ego have hidden from me, try to make my afraid of—the wild ways.

[WTAW] Cerithin?

Do not forget the uses of glamour. Do not “shine” through so much you can’t pass or hide. That will get you killed or ostracized.

* * *

It’s a period of quiescence. I dreamt of a strange, but interesting house last night—a house of secrets and magic, but it was distracting and ultimately empty. Hollow décor. Pointless mysteries.

I want to climb the stairs, leave the buildings, escape.

My own shadow has caught my attention. As an idea. As a symbol-thought pointing to something else. Perhaps it is my shadow as I cast it into the world—an awareness of my interconnectedness with the greater world. But that’s not all of it.

I cast two shadows. I know it’s because there are two lightsources in the room. But it strikes me as significant.

[sun] [sun] Who watches me?

[me] What do I point to?

[shadow] [shadow] What is the medium?

What casts the shadow?

These are the questions I try to consider, but the answer is not rational or immediate. [CHAOS] Sit on Chaos, pull it into yourself, channel and shape it.

How do we shape?

[1] Or, as Hal says in 1 Henry IV: I am now of all humours that have showed themselves / humours since the old days of goodman Adam to the / pupil age of this present twelve o’clock at midnight.”

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