Moon in Sagittarius

Zip Zoom My life’s been going at warp speed, and I’m so jazzed. I’ve been getting together with this group of local artists, “underground artists” as we call ourselves, to brainstorm events for promoting our own stuff, yeah, but also to promote a community consciousness. My people are those with whom I share my passions and join to interact our roles. It’s all about networking, weaving in and out of proposals and projects, learning who can be counted on for what. Integrity, being as proclaimed, may be the true coin of the realm of collegial artists.

A strong core of us are self-identified pagan women, Goddess worshippers, who have come together because of the Goddess Center, a kind of gathering hub storefront for worship, community, and collaborative projects. There’s a library, a kitchen for witchery and sharing food, some smaller rooms for workshops and crafts, and a wonderful performance space and art gallery for public and private celebrations through art. Our Goddess is a co-creative deity. She revels in our beauty as we make not sacrifice but a joyous sharing of her glory.

Magic means moving my reality into congruence with the reality I am intending to effect, reprogramming my operating system to interface with infinite probability between will and destiny. Who I have been is prologue to the story I am creating as my life.

It feels weird to think about my old memory tapes from this wider perspective. I look back on someone who was alot like me, what she did, how she coped or didn’t. When I was a snotty pagan-goth rebellious high school brat my mom was constantly harping on my great career as a creative writer/literature professor. She insisted that a liberal modern college would not be like what I thought of as evil soul-murdering school. I wanted my life straight up, no chaser, to feel the burn. What I thought I owed to my literary career were intense, vibrant real life experiences. I found or founded my own school of hard knocks. Mostly what I learned was that I didn’t have a clue about basic life management.

After I had seemed to recover from the aftermath of my real life experiences with Mark, my psycho lover-artist mentor, my mom, with whom I was gratefully staying, suggested I at least check out some community college courses. Getting out of the house, away from my explosive self-dramatizations, into some kind of structured environment, began to seem like a good idea. I even managed to get some credits, and maybe a bit of education, before falling into the dream of nonstop drugging with Brent, my drug queen real life experience mentor. Thus I explored a new lifestyle, devoid of all creative or productive behavior more strenuous than giving my mind over to those lovely visions or even lovelier stupor, to forget about reality and think myself free. When the intolerability of it all sent me again from mom’s safe haven, not into another disastrous fling, but on my own into the big, bad world, I was not highly career enabled.

Now that I am finally nurturing a fledgling career, perhaps I would be better spending my energy and time on actual assigned work. I can enjoy these forays down my lore of memories anytime now, can’t I?

I ran into Dave tonight on the street after my evening meeting at the Goddess Center. He was an old friend from when I was on the streets in a new (to me) city. These days he’s talking full of himself. He has found his talent as a gay hustler, bringing himself into a wanton segment of high society, on the arm of, so to speak. He had no time for anything I might bring to the conversation. After praising himself and primping he was off, no doubt to greater conquests. I did manage to raise myself above street poverty, no matter how meagerly, through my own talents. Who am I to complain, or judge his methods?

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