magic

Farewell to 2022

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 6 Comments
Rosemary Sprigs – Photo: L. Weikel

Farewell to 2022

My intention as I write this post is that it will be read, or at least received, in the early morning hours of December 31, 2022. I’ve been thinking a lot about this blog lately and, more specifically, the relationship I feel with you, my (very cherished) readers. Some of you I know personally, but most I may never meet – face-to-face, at least. Yet in spite of that fact, I do in fact feel a bond with you. I miss the connection we cultivated over the years of writing (and you reading) my 1111 Devotion. Suddenly I felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and bid farewell to 2022 – and share it with you.

I was walking in the golden slant of late afternoon sunshine, drinking in the balmy temperatures, weirdly unsettling after last week’s hellacious deep-freeze, when a fox raced across a field right in front of me. A Great Horned Owl hooted twice in the forest to my right, just as the sun dipped below the horizon. A lone Screech Owl whimpered its forlorn call from its perch close to the cliffs, long after the light of dusk had darkened to midnight blue.

Each of these encounters felt intimate and sacred. I know, on the mundane level, that these creatures could not care less about me. Indeed, if they were even aware of me, they undoubtedly wanted to escape my gaze as quickly as possible. (At the very least, I know the Fox started hauling ass across that field as soon as it made eye contact with me – an electric moment that I must admit was palpable.) But living in the mundane world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Beyond the Mundane

And I guess that’s what made me think about this blog in that moment. In each of those moments of connection with the wild, to be honest. Sure, there’s the mundane way of approaching our lives. It’s rote and mechanistic and borders on tragic. When I contemplate how most people live lives utterly devoid of magic (and often deliberately so), I want to cry.

If you’ve read my posts for any length of time, you know I’m not referring to the hocus-pocus brand of magic, although there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, in my opinion. Rather, I’m referring to the ‘magic’ of imagining a deeper relationship with the Beings with whom we share this planet. Yes, I feel creatures might show up in my world to urge me to pay attention to something in my life. And yes, I like to think there are invisible threads of connection between all of us – and we all ‘show up’ for each other, one way or another, when we need each other the most.

Time to Show Up

So I decided it was time for me to show up in your in-box (or Facebook feed or whatever) again. It’s time for us all to prepare for another set of seasons, another round of planting intentions, nurturing them as they take root, cultivating their growth, and watching them flourish.

But before we can expect those intentions to thrive, we need to clear away the hucha (heavy, unrefined energy) we accumulated from last year. Even if we had a banner year of mostly wonderful experiences, there’s no escaping the energetic dross that’s circulating in our collective environment. From images (and personal experiences) of war and the atrocities being perpetrated in the Ukraine and elsewhere, to the everyday revulsion our souls feel when realizing how much hate, fear, misogyny, racism, and just plain awfulness is in plain view, right before our eyes, being inflicted on each other, every day. Sometimes it’s almost too much to bear.

A Sweet Ritual to Let Go

Here is something I’ve done with family and friends, and which I feel honored to share with you. If you’re so inclined, pick up some fresh rosemary at the grocery store today. A sprig for each person in your household is perfect. Tie a ribbon or piece of colorful yarn around each one if you seek a festive look.

Pair up (but you can always do this to yourself if you’re welcoming the new year in in solitude) and take turns gently caressing the rosemary from the top of your partner’s head to the tips of their toes. Your intention, which you set at the beginning of this exercise, is to ‘sweep’ all the hucha from their energetic field surrounding their body.

Once you’ve done this for each other, if you have the ability to do so, burn the rosemary and watch your hucha go up in smoke. You are now cleansed of the energetic detritus of the past year, ready to embrace 2023 clean, fresh, and eager for new beginnings.

If you can’t safely burn your rosemary, I suggest either burying it or, as a last resort, simply throwing it away or composting it.

What’s most important is your intention to lovingly sweep clean your partner – and equally important – for you to willingly release your hucha.

I bid you a fond farewell to 2022.

Sunset 30 Dec 2022 – Photo: L. Weikel

Magical Day – ND #63

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Barred Owl – Photo: Lehigh Valley Zoo (lvzoo.org)

Magical Day

Between us, Karl and I experienced quite the magical day today. We’re both feeling a bit ‘blissed out’ by it all, to be honest. It’s not that there was any heavy lifting involved. I think sometimes it’s just a matter of expanding our awareness enough to drink it in that can leave us needing to just power down and be still.

Karl began his day with a gorgeous Red Fox crossing in front of his car and then trotting confidently across a field. I wasn’t with him, but it was almost the first thing out of his mouth when he arrived home. He kept marveling at the creature’s robust health and the stunning color and condition of its coat.

Fox can signify a variety of messages, from family matters to creativity to using camouflage to keep oneself and one’s family safe and out of harm’s way. Karl’s trip happened to be all about family and the beauty of the Fox felt like a wonderful omen. His trip ended up being especially loving and sweet.

On his way home, he spotted an enormous Bald Eagle perched in a tree overhanging a road near our house. While we both know they’ve made a powerful resurgence in the area over the years, we never seem to lose our sense of excitement and awe when visited by Eagle.

Recently, most of my sightings have been along the Tohickon or the Lenape Sipu, and almost always when I’ve been alone. (Although I did see two just last Sunday when taking a walk with my friend along the Delaware!) I can’t tell you how often I’ve seen a crestfallen look sweep across Karl’s face when I recount seeing an Eagle.

So it was especially meaningful to have Bald Eagle visit Karl today. He finally felt like he was part of the club. And best of all, the raptor was scoping out potential quarry on a branch close enough to Karl that its markings were unmistakable. A powerful gift from Spirit.

Eagle – Photo: L. Weikel

My Magic

I’d already experienced an afternoon that reinforced for me how unbelievably lucky I am to do what I do. Maybe it’s more accurate to say ‘to witness what I do.’ Because really – I just create the space and watch things unfold. Anyway, it’s hard to describe, which is why I tend to dance around it most of the time, or not even bring it up at all.

Anyway, I knew I needed to walk after the session I had. I needed to ground myself; I needed to make sure I was back in my body. By the time we set out darkness had fallen. The constellations were stunning in spite of the brilliance of the half moon above.

Just short of a mile into our walk, I turned around to untangle myself from Brutus’s leash when a meteor suddenly streaked through the sky, right to left. It was surprisingly low on the horizon and large – burning a brilliant yellow with an outline of crimson. And it crossed the sky slowly (for a meteor) – it wasn’t some little blip. While I yelped out to Karl when I saw it, my gasp and garbled, “Look! Oh! WOW!” didn’t sink in quickly enough for him to see it.

There was something special going on in the cosmos tonight. Like I said, the constellations seemed especially vibrant and obvious. And by that I mean, the patterns seemed emphasized somehow. The sky was filled with stars, as usual, and often I just drink them all in with my eyes wide as possible. But tonight felt different.

Our Shared Magic

Finally, another mile into our walk the call of a Barred Owl echoed through the woods to our left. I could hardly contain my excitement. I don’t remember ever hearing a Barred Owl up here in our environs. The first time I’d ever heard one (and then heard several) was a few years ago in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina.

I stopped dead in my tracks. “Did you hear that?” I whispered.

Of course he had. It was the only sound in this silent February night. The “Who cooks for youoooooooo” call of the owl was coming from the same vicinity the coyotes had been howling a few nights ago. There must be a lot of action down there along that part of the creek.

The Barred Owl hooted another several times (one of which you can hear, above) giving me a chance to record it on my phone. It’s almost as if it knew when I had because as soon as I was satisfied, it went silent. I can’t explain why, but this encounter, too, felt…different. Magical, if you will.

(T+63)

24 Hours – ND #32

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Evil Seeds – Photo: L. Weikel

24 Hours

It’s hard to believe sometimes that I can live an entire 24 hours and not unearth a single interesting thing to write about come the end of the day. It’s sad, really. But it’s the truth.

I was just sitting here contemplating what I might write about tonight when my eye spied a hint of yellow packaging barely visible peeking out from under a smooshed roll of paper towels beside the couch. I recognized that yellow packaging and aggressively told myself to ignore it. No good would come out of unleashing that evil.

Alas, I was struggling, yearning for a topic that was not just another excuse to post additional puppy pics. Although I have to tell you, I caught some especially cute moments today that warrant sharing. And who am I kidding? We all know they’ll come out sooner or later.

But I digress.

Evil Seeds

The packaging that originally whispered my name was now starting to taunt me. “Come hither, Sweet Thing,” the evil seeds lurking within their yellow party bag cooed. “I’m not sweet,” I thought. “You’re the sweets. Shut the hell up.”

I’m not proud. I can be pretty rude and abrupt when it comes to foodstuffs, especially those that offer no intrinsic goodness whatsoever. But these nasty nuggets are especially egregious, for they render me powerless. I’m one of those people who cannot eat just one.

So here I sit. If I’m honest, my tummy is starting to hurt just the tiniest bit; I’ve eaten far too many. Compulsively stuffing them into my mouth, these evil seeds are designed to forever tease satiety but never actually provide it. Instead, they taunt. “Just one more handful. We need to be eaten. What are you going to do, throw us away? That would be such a waste.”

Ugh.

I Blame Santa

Since I never buy these (ok, rarely ever), I’m sure they must’ve dropped out of Santa’s sack. If that’s the case, it would be a tragedy to waste them. And having traveled in his sack, surely they must have a little bit of magic to them. Don’t you think? Maybe that’s even why I can’t stop eating them! It’s not that I have no willpower! Eureka!

They’re enchanted. And – poof – look at that. A blog post magically appeared. (I regret to inform you that some evil seeds remain. To be ingested another evening, I’m sure…)

(T+32)

Silent Night – ND #17

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Stockings Hung With Care – Photo: L. Weikel

Silent Night

I’m feeling rather quiet at the moment. Lucky for me, due to the puppies needing to go out before bedding down for the evening, only moments ago I was standing underneath the night sky searching for stars. It was the Christmas Eve night sky, although technically it’s Christmas Day. And all I could comprehend in those moments was how silent the night was, which of course made me smile. Silent night.

As I stood outside tonight I could feel a similar magic to that of the Winter Solstice, which is as it should be, since there is a kinship between the two. Both celebrate the arrival (or return) of the Light, one literally and the other metaphorically.

Ah, Magic

I wish I could bring some magic to our circumstances right now. We need an infusion of light again. I’ve encountered so many people lately whose internal batteries are running low. And these are the people who are usually the buoys for others.

It’s never a good thing to have the optimists lose hope.

There is, of course, something to be said for the awe that can completely overtake our loss of hope when we look up. When we look up, our physical eyes can see the potential limitlessness of our existence. We realize there is so much more than the day-to-day worries that so often ensnare us. And even if we’re not sure what our next move is, when we look up (and especially when we can see the stars) it’s not hard to find the courage to trust the Universe to provide.

That’s magic.

Works of art from Mongolia – Photo: L. Weikel

The Next Few Days

Over the next few days, I’m going to be looking for the magic.  And even as I write that sentence, I have to smile. Just look at the photo of the stockings hung on our mantelpiece this evening. They’re from Mongolia. Handmade by a collective of young people learning to make a living through honoring the skills cultivated in their culture over millennia, it feels like a miracle that I bought them there myself.

Who am I to have been lucky enough to experience life – if ever so briefly – on the Mongolian steppe? And what a blessing is it to have these tangible and exquisitely crafted reminders hanging on our mantel?

That, too, is magic.

Wishes

I hope all of you are having a wonderful holiday, filled most importantly with love, warmth, connection, peace, and good health.

Don’t be afraid to look for the magic. And I’m saying this especially to those of you who are losing hope or finding yourself feeling sad or lonely. If you ask for some magic, it will come.

Believe.

(T+17)

Unutterable Beauty – Day 1053

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 Sunset Filtered Only By Trees – Photo: L. Weikel

Unutterable Beauty

Last night I took a photo of the setting sun as its brilliant deep orange rays filtered through the trees on the edge of Stover State Park. I’m always questing to capture even a fraction of the unutterable beauty we encounter almost every day, especially when we walk. But my photos, although serviceable, only occasionally capture magic. Yesterday evening? I managed to capture a sunset akin to a rainbow, but not one.

My eyes keep calling me to return to this photo. My rational mind tells me I’ve taken a bazillion of these photos before. But for whatever reason, this particular one speaks to me in a way the others didn’t. Perhaps it’s the aubergine hues. They’re not often found spontaneously in sunsets. At least they’re not usually present in my photos of sunsets.

This photo has a magical tinge to it. That’s the only way I can describe it. Or maybe it’s not magical – maybe it’s more of a mystical vibe – almost as if I should almost be able to see into another realm if I look at it ‘just right.’

Road Trip

I had a chance to take a road trip today that took me west along Route I-80. As I passed through some of the mountains that ground and hold space for us here in Pennsylvania, I found my perspective shifting to such an extent that it felt like I was literally in the midst of a multi-dimensional work of art. The color palette selected by Mother Nature, coupled with what felt/looked like a skewed aspect to my depth perception almost made me pull onto the berm.

It didn’t look real. Or maybe it was all so acutely real that it made me ache with a longing I couldn’t identify.

I didn’t pull over. And I had no way of even trying to capture the essence of what I was experiencing in those moments. The best I can do is try to capture it with words, but even then, it just sounds like a paltry description of unutterable beauty as seen in my peripheral vision.

(T-58)

The Burial – Day 1046

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Made me do a double-take* – Photo: L.Weikel

The Burial

We buried Spartacus this evening. Our entire nuclear family was present for the ceremony, although the Boston** contingent had to attend via FaceTime. Amazingly, the weather held. In fact, when Karl and I walked before the burial, we were sure the ominous clouds building and racing through the sky cast some serious doubt on whether we’d even get the job accomplished tonight. Instead of raining on our ceremony, though, the clouds parted and – cross my heart – the stars and planets shone brightly in the sky above us.

Mama Killa (pronounced Mama keeya), Grandmother moon in Quechua, rose in her just-past-full abundance behind our house (from where we were burying Spartacus). Her light framed our house in a golden light. Of course, we buried Spartacus right beside his mother, both of them facing our house so they could always keep an eye on their people and home.

In the Clouds – Photo: L. Weikel

A Little Magic

I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have some sort of magical dust to sprinkle on our experience, right? Well, starting out this evening, as Karl and I walked, the clouds scuttling across the sky revealed a formation that was a pretty obvious reminder of Spartacus, especially his distinctive ears.

It was fleeting, but we both saw it.

During the ceremony, Cletus made a point of being with us, meowing the entire time. Cletus did the exact same thing when we buried Sheila. It’s as if he’s our designated keener. He cried and cried until Sacred Space was opened. He was silent during our heartfelt sendoff, then proceeded to cry and circle between all our legs again as Sacred Space was closed.

And speaking of heartfelt sendoffs, Tiffany sang a Patsy Cline song to Spartacus, honoring his devotion to us and our daily walks. I dare you to listen and not well up. I was blown away.

Keeping an Eye On Us

There was another synchronicity between Sheila’s burial and Spartacus’s (it still pains me to write that) involving Tiffany that I’ll share with you tomorrow.

But I’m going to leave you with the photo at the top of this post and below. What you see is what I saw when I looked up this evening, just as my son was leaving. This is the window that faces where the dogs are buried. But it looks out onto our porch. They are buried at least a hundred yards away.

If I did not know that Spartacus could not be out on the porch somehow managing to look in the window asking to be let in, I would’ve stood up right then and there and gone out to the kitchen to let him in.

It’s a moment of magic. And to be honest, one that made my heart skip a beat. Spartacus was known for his big bat-like ears.

Good grief. As I typed these words, I just turned to see if the shadow was still there. It is – and it moved. Again, my heart leapt into my throat. My mind grasps for a logical explanation and lands on, “This is a trick being played on me by the leaves of our trees.” Oh please. Who am I to explain it away? And why?

Nature conspires for the Magic Win of the evening.

Who’s Peeking In Our Window? – Photo: L.Weikel

*Ignore my dirty windows.
**Not to be confused with the Boston Terrier contingent, both members of which were in attendance in spirit, as opposed to via FaceTime.

(T-65)

Pre-Full Moon Pick – Day 1039

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Three of Wands – Tarot of the Crone

Pre-Full Moon Pick

Even though I’m technically writing this on Wednesday night (15 September 2021), it won’t be read until Thursday. So I feel comfortable choosing a card for us to contemplate in this post in anticipation of navigating the last few days of our week and into the weekend. Let’s call it a ‘pre-full moon’ pick.

As we experience the energies building up to their fullest expression on Monday (the 20th), when the moon will be full in Pisces, we might want to bear in mind the counsel of the card that shows up.

Next Week

Actually, next week will have a lot of energy associated with it, even from a very basic astrological perspective. I don’t mean that to sound high falutin’. Trust me, I’m still wrapping my head around the new and full moons, equinoxes, solstices, and eclipses – which are all fairly big, bold, and obvious. My point is that there are lots of aspects taking place ‘up there’ (or is it out there?) and I’m just trying to alert us to the more obvious ones.

On Monday, as I mentioned above, the moon will be full in Pisces. If you gave yourself the gift of sitting down over Labor Day weekend (around the new moon) to contemplate the changes you wanted to make or the seeds of new ideas or directions you wanted to plant, well… two things.

First, there are few more days left to still take some steps, big or small, toward cultivating those seeds. And that’s only if you’re on a 30 day plan. If what you want to create has a bigger agenda, then perhaps you’re on the 2.5 year plan. It’s still a wise choice to take stock and assess whether you feel the pull to actively take a few action steps over the next few days to make your dream grow.

Besides the full moon, the second big energetic shift next week is the autumn equinox. This will occur at 3:21 p.m. Eastern Time on Wednesday the 22nd of September. The equinox is another time of powerful upshifts in energy. My suggestion is to continue cultivating those seeds, and if possible, pay them some extra attention that day. But until then, we have our work cut out for us. Let’s see what my beloved Tarot of the Crone suggests.

A Card For Now

Three of Wands ~ Magic

“I set my intention                   In sacred space

I touch Creation

Together we bring into Being

What has not Been                  Before now

Three glowing red snakes arise from a cauldron fired by three yellow flames. Spirit moving in the realm of creation is magic. Magic is the manifestation of intention and the infusion of energy into matter. Magic is recognizing what you have given in what is coming back to you. Now you see how it works. So take your tools, your intent, your ingredients and your container. Bring everything together as artfully as you can, weave and sing your best. Then let it go and sit back, for if you keep your focus up forever, it means you lack confidence, either in your power or the creativity of the universe. Give it time to give back and space to bring forth. But not before you’ve given all you have.”

Seems about right.

(T-72)

Fair Warning – Day 978

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Stars – Photo: L. Weikel

Fair Warning

After writing 977 consecutive posts for public consumption, I notice a couple idiosyncracies about myself. For instance, I realize I just might have a few ‘go-to’ topics that consistently pique my interest. With this in mind, I consider it a service that I provide you with ‘fair warning’ this evening of the approach of an event that’s one of my favorite experiences of the summer – every summer.

The Perseids Are Coming

Yes! I’m a big fan of so-called ‘shooting stars.’ My favorites are the Perseids. And actually – technically – they’re here already. Even more accurately, the Earth started passing through the debris-filled tail of comet 109PSwift-Tuttle on July 14th and will continue to do so from now until August 24th.

The most active evenings for maximum oohs and aahs as we stare into the cosmos will be the nights of August 12th-13th. There’s a chance we could witness 100 ‘shooting stars’ per hour at the peak of the Perseids. And lucky for us, the moon will only be waxing at that time – so her brightness shouldn’t drown out our ability to catch them streaking across the sky.

My reason for writing about them tonight is two-fold: First, there’s a good chance you’ll see some (maybe one or two – possibly more) brilliant streaks across the sky if you look up tonight. And knowing when and where to look is a major factor to meeting success! Second, it’s helpful to cultivate a love of star-walking in the evening now. That way, by the time the most active evenings arrive, you’ll have a routine in place and be able to jump right in (or lay right down) to enjoy the show.

Personal Sweetness

The Perseids are also my favorite light show because they always peak on our son Karl’s birthday. Even before he was a glint in my eye, I knew these particular meteor showers would always hold special significance to me when I watched them from the beach of an island off the coast of the former Yugoslavia (now Croatia). I was only 18 then, but the magic of that entire experience will never leave my bones.

I see that I’ve waxed rhapsodic over my beloved Perseids for two years now (of course), here, here, and here. It’s doubtful I’ll ever stop writing about them and the effect they have on my sense of place in the Universe. Extolling the benefits of immersing ourselves in one-on-one encounters with the natural world feels like one of the best ways I can honor the memory of my son.

If you haven’t yet given yourself the experience of witnessing miniscule particles streaking through our atmosphere and creating fireballs of light that generate spontaneous gasps of delight, it’s time. There’s something both profoundly inspiring and humbling to realize tiny specks of dust can create huge fireballs blazing across the sky. Doesn’t it make you wonder even for a moment what we might be capable of creating?

It’s moments like these that have the potential to remain in our hearts long after the television shows, card games, and movies have long since faded into oblivion.

Practice. Get ready. They’ll be here in droves by mid-August.

Photo: travelandleisure.com

(T-134)

Bunnies and Bugs – Day 974

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Chocolate? Or Just Striking a Classic Pose? – Photo: L. Weikel

Bunnies and Bugs

The last few days have yielded such an abundant array of magical encounters with insects and animals that it’s hard to choose which photos I want to share. I’m excited that I managed to get a few photos of lightning bugs as they emerged from long field grasses at twilight. And the evening before, just slightly earlier in the evening, a bunny could’ve been the model for chocolate Easter Bunnies worldwide. Bunnies and bugs, an unbeatable pair.

Every now and then you can’t go wrong by taking a walk well after sundown but before all the light disappears. The temptation to do so increases exponentially when we’re enduring day after day of summer heat and, worse, humidity that can bring you to your knees.

Spartacus and I took our daily constitutional just after 8:00 p.m. last night and our efforts were amply rewarded.

Lightning Bugs Frolicking – Photo: L. Weikel

Reprieve From the Heat

Walking well after sundown was the only way to avoid flirting with heat-related complications. As the day unfolded, neither Spartacus nor I felt like keeling over, yet we knew it was a possibility. The air became so hot and close in the late afternoon that even I had to abandon my beloved porch. This was not a defeat I take lightly.

Besides the gift of a complete lack of traffic, walking later treated us to a delightful array of night sounds, primarily comprised of tree frogs, bull frogs, crickets, and catbirds. And as I mentioned above, the lightning bugs were out in full force, rising from their hiding places deep within the crosshatch at the base of the field grasses.

The batch we saw last night seemed to consist of a variety of lightning bug society. There were the quick flashers and the long zippers, trailing their names across the sky like sparklers. Some abdomens sported bold statements  – akin to klieg lights – while others seemed to barely generate any wattage at all.

I’ll be curious to see how well the photo I’m placing below is able to be seen once its published. As it shows up on my laptop, there’s a distinctive quality to it that makes it look far more like a painting than a photo. It delights me – and I hope it translates onto your screen.

Annual Urge

I’m always agog by the magic of walking in the evening. It’s almost as if I forget the loveliness of the experience, in spite of it engaging virtually every one of my senses.

Consider this my annual entreaty to each of you to give yourself the gift of an evening stroll at least once this summer. I know it’s hard to drag yourself outside once the sun is down and you’ve settled into your living room’s comfy spots. But I guarantee you will hold in your heart forever the mystical beauty of watching lightning bugs rise up and play.

Unedited and unfiltered – lightning bugs – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-137)

Random Discoveries Again – Day 951

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View From Above – Photo: L. Weikel

Random Discoveries Again

I wrote last night about two poems I came upon a few days ago, discarded in the tall grass and weeds beside the road. The question is whether these so-called random discoveries*, again, are indeed random or are somehow, in some way, orchestrated by consciousness we just can’t yet prove.

I make no secret of the answer my experiences would seem to support. And just because I can’t prove the existence of the consciousness behind such discoveries does not disprove its existence.

The bottom line is that I choose to expand my awareness to include the numinous. My life is immeasurably enriched by my choice (and capacity) to soften my gaze and thereby see a little bit more of what surrounds and infuses our world and, indeed, each and every one of us. Embracing the possibility that these discoveries are anything but random increases my risk, perhaps, of being perceived with ridicule or pity. But I’ve reached the point where I throw my lot in with the magic I know is Truth.

With that, I hereby proffer for your contemplation the other poem by Charles Bukowski that managed to find its way into my life. Torn out of a book and crumpled up. Tossed into the weeds along a single lane country road, only to be discovered by a 62 year old woman and her Boston Terrier; these words were published 55 years ago.

The Genius of the Crowd

There is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average

Human being to supply any given army on any given day

 

And the best at murder are those who preach against it

And the best at hate are those who preach love

And the best at war finally are those who preach peace

 

Those who preach god, need god

Those who preach peace do not have peace

Those who preach peace do not have love

 

Beware the preachers

Beware the knowers

Beware those who are always reading books

Beware those who either detest poverty

Or are proud of it

Beware those quick to praise

For they need praise in return

Beware those who are quick to censor

They are afraid of what they do not know

Beware those who seek constant crowds for

They are nothing alone

Beware the average man the average woman

Beware their love, their love is average

Seeks average

 

But there is genius in their hatred

There is enough genius in their hatred to kill you

To kill anybody

Not wanting solitude

Not understanding solitude

They will attempt to destroy anything

That differs from their own

Not being able to create art

They will not understand art

They will consider their failure as creators

Only as a failure of the world

Not being able love fully

They will believe your love incomplete

And then they will hate you

And their hatred will be perfect

 

Like a shining diamond

Like a knife

Like a mountain

Like a tiger

Like hemlock

 

Their finest art.

*Speaking of random discoveries, as I was proofreading this post and re-reading the link to Charles Bukowski, I finally saw that Henry Charles Bukowski’s actual birth name was Heinrich Karl Bukowski. Hence, in a manner of speaking, this literally was a message from Karl. Gotta love it.

(T-160)