Thank you for the days,
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me.
I’m thinking of the days,
I won’t forget a single day, believe me.
–Ray Davies, the Kinks

It came to me today that people really don’t understand how my mind works. (Now I admit that a great many people also don’t particularly care how my mind works and if that’s the case then I suggest you skip todays entry.) Which amazes me because compared to a lot of people I’ve met my head seems very simple indeed. My thought processes are based around: what happens, happens.

Today is Yule…today is a day I look for patterns in the water as I scry…and I see patterns everywhere.(Those things that I’m sure Miss Marple would put down to human nature!)
I scry a fair amount I guess, the Manly Viking said I was good at divination the other day…which made me feel all happy and bouncy and oh good at something!
The thing is that I see patterns all over the damn place and I get told that it’s rude to comment. It’s not great divination when it’s people, its just knowing what happens…and what will happen. And eventually learning to keep my mouth shut.

Days I’ll remember all my life,
Days when you can’t see wrong from right.
You took my life,
But then I knew that very soon you’d leave me,

I think that thats the reason why people don’t get how I think, because I tell almost everything. Most things that pass through my mouth have been unfiltered by my brain, not a terribly sensible way to exist when people are constantly reverse-filtering with their ears. Because I don’t know anyone who is this honest, this dishonest. People don’t like the contradictions in my head I guess, especially when they spill out of my mouth like water.

But it’s all right,
Now I’m not frightened of this world, believe me.

One day I will learn to properly keep my mouth shut. But then maybe one day people will finally understand what I mean by ‘what happens, happens’. Until this year I would have described myself as someone who wanted ‘Christmas to be everyday’, someone who always wanted more of a thing. More food, more sex, more time.

This year I learnt that something can happen for a year, a day, a second, a lifetime and it’s enough. What happens, happens. It’s enough to be loved for an eyeblink because you have been loved. Its enough to love for a lifetime, because you have loved. Its enough because what happens, happens and it doesn’t matter if it isn’t happening anymore, because it happened.

There is an enormity in sheer events to my mind. That anything happens at all is miraculous.

Thank you for the days,
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me.
I’m thinking of the days,
I won’t forget a single day, believe me.

It is a sacred day today, a day when I’ll look into a pool of water and scribble and scribble whatever I see. A day when I’ll wake up and wonder what it meant, whatever I see. A day when I’ll unwrap the presents beneath my tree. A day when it is the darkest after which the light comes back.

Some people will tell you that my memory is bad, but then I think that it is rather my sense of what is important. I would rather remember a favourite colour, a birthday, a blanket from a particular bed, a look than the specifics of a conversation.

I bless the light,
I bless the light that shines on you believe me.

Everyone is at the end of my spider-light-threads and some people hate them I’m sure. But I can’t help it because there are too many feelings for me to have. There are too many places to explore. And I enjoy watching all the patterns of what happens, happening. But I sometimes wonder if I’ve left it too long to try to filter myself properly, if the constant pouring of water on the threads puts them out at the other end. I don’t seem to have the proper stop-ups and I’m not sure that I can make them now.

Suddenly you’re all grown-ups surrounding me and I still seem to be wearing diapers. I can’t stop the flow from my lips even though it deadens the threads and I’m amazed that the simple is never really considered whenever people talk to me. What happened, happened; what happens, happens. There is nothing else.

And though you’re gone,
You’re with me every single day, believe me.

5 thoughts on “Yule

  1. And the same to you John.

    Archangel sometimes friends prefer you to keep your mouth shut. Incidentally Archie, I prefer you when you tell me what you really think.

  2. Archangel sometimes friends prefer you to keep your mouth shut

    Sometimes, yes. But the friends worth having will understand in the long run why you say the stuff you do. Some of it might sting at the time, but not all that is worth saying is nice to hear.

    Don’t ever change, hon. We prefer you when you tell us what you really think, too.

  3. We celebrated Yule by opening your absinthe and toasting you.

    And when people say it’s rude to comment, they’re being assholes, trying to convince themselves that the patterns that you’ve spotted won’t repeat in the current circumstances. Arrogance, really, and a mortal fear of rocking the boat. Screw them. It’s polite to comment. It’s a friendly thing to do, is to comment.

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