Monday, December 5, 2011

Closely - some poetry

'I have changed since you knew me,
a thousand glass images
shattered heat compressed, and
my wings injured me.
Take my hand
this never comes undone
well. The slithering out
of last year's skin
feels tight and dry.
The touch of the holy
should make us weep
and howl.
-So
I don't mind being comet-borne
and criss-crossed with burning,
yet hold me true
to my course
a little longer
so that I may leave
a fire trail.
Everything is better
once the knowledge of
death touches it

closely.'

-Lee Morgan, 2011
"And so, while his flesh fulfilled its destiny as flesh in the taverns and brothels of London, the soul that inhabited him was Caesar, who disregards the augur's admonition, and Juliet. who abhors the lark, and Macbeth, who converses on the plain with the witches who are also Fates. No one has ever been so many men as this man who like the Egyptian Proteus could exhaust all the guises of reality. At times he would leave a confession hidden away in some corner of his work, certain that it would not be deciphered; Richard affirms that in his person he plays the part of many and Iago claims with curious words 'I am not what I am'...

History adds that before or after dying he found himself in the presence of God and told Him: 'I who have been so many men in vain want to be one and myself.' The voice of the Lord answered from a whirlwind: 'Neither am I anyone; I have dreamt the world as you dreamt your work, my Shakespeare, and among the forms in my dream are you, who like myself are many and no one.'"

From Jorge Luis Borges Labyrinths (Penguin, 2000) Trans. J. E. Irby.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Free-Fall

My bone-deep bruise

the blood takes a long time
to come to the surface
when the wound is deep.
Injure again my air-light bones
fracture my illusions,
so I can see you better
with my eyes closed.

Grounded with broken pinion
I'll call freedom
if my mad flight but plummets
in ill-reckoned stoop
into the thorns
of the hedge outside your home.

-Alice Kyteler 2010

Monday, March 1, 2010

Fate and the Movement of History

Recently I had some of my words on a previous article misunderstood and it occured to me that some explanation of what I mean when I use the word 'Fate' might be called for. I tend to use the word in the way it's used within the particular mystical stream I work in and forget that it's everyday meaning is a little different.

When I say something that happened historically was 'Fate' this is, within my understanding of Fate, something indisputable, if something happened then it was 'Fate'; something that manifested in the great weave of things. This is not a moralistic concept, it does not condone or condemn a historical occurance. It just says that this thing happened. This dynamic system that is made up of all things, including us, expresses itself in numerous ways, some of those ways through human wills or collective human wills. If there is a way to put one's human will toward bringing about a more 'positive' (from our human perspective) result then I believe by all means we should do so. But in the case of history where something has already occured and cannot be undone I am inclined to try and above all understand the meaning of those occurances. Often we will see things that we disagree with or consider to be evils, sometimes knowing those things about history can allow us to understand things about the current weave of things around us that may help us to become positive forces for change.

When I observed in a post (a very long way back) that the children of Europe were fatefully connected with Australia I meant in no way to condone moralistically the colonisation of another sovereign people. What I meant was: this occured let us try to understand it, and if it proves beyond human comprehension, at least let us try to be positive, fateful forces ourselves in shaping the future of Australia. I don't think that this will be easy, in fact it is hard to even inch a foot forward in any direction without offending someone else in some way. But I would rather risk offence and misunderstanding than not try to come to grips with these big picture issues. I can know history, I can feel all my human feelings of outrage, pity, empathy, anger, frustration and even sometimes despair but it doesn't free me from the need to try with my own life to create a more positive future, even if there are some people who basically think that me and people like me don't have a right to one. I don't know why Fate span out as it did, nor do I expect to, as the supra-system I give this name to is not a personal 'God' as in the Christian worldview who is meant to operate within some idea of human justice. Nor does the concept of an intelligent supra system playing itself out through it's part exempt us from personal responsiblity for our actions. But I haven't done any harm to anyone, I've just been born in a particular place (yes I was born here, despite being in England for a while as a youngster) which I now have to find some sort of spiritual peace in.

It does not seem to me that despite all the atrocities and injustices that man perpetrates against man that the land here holds me in prejudice. People who are alive who have perpetrated or continue to perpetrate injustices should answer for them, the rest of us need to find ways to call the same place 'home' in a meaningful and non-destructive way.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Global Visions, Ecology and Modernity


I have been silent for a long time on here. At first it was because of the disastrous falling apart of our initial community and some feelings of disillusionment. Lately it has been anything but, as our now smaller community is blossoming in unexpected and wonderful ways. Instead my silence has been the result of trying to solve certain philosophical conundrums.

In our previous community model we were getting back closer and closer to traditional lifestyles, growing a lot of our own food, planning to try and go off-grid with our wood oven heating our water and an eventual solar-powered electrical system. Our community was meant to be held together by Indo-European polytheistic adherence, with a few different cultures represented and my sorcery and craft workings for healing or otherwise were sort of a private thing. In fact it seemed to be a source of problems.

When everything fell apart we started from the ground up, and increasingly I noticed that the things uniting us were the spiritual currents in the land here and the mystically transformative aspects of traditional witchcraft. There was something more organic going on and it led me to think about a lot of things. I’ve always been a bit more political than a lot of people in my religious and spiritual circles and I am constantly trying to find how what I do and believe is to be integrated into the way that I live. To my mind this is necessary. As long as you are not on the very edge of being unable to eat and live, it seems to me the next thing is you have a responsibility to consider, how shall we live? How should we live so as to embody what we believe?

My answer last year was a return to a simpler more organic way of living. I still think this, I still think that there is much beauty and poetry there, but I don’t think it contains the seeds of us finding the way forward as a civilization anymore. As much as it seemed to me a sane thing, given the way our current life-style is poisoning and destroying the land all around us that us people from earth-based spiritualities claim to venerate, it seems to me as I look deeper that it cannot be. The way forward will have to involve us finding a way to be technologically advanced in harmony with the rest of the supra-system.

Previously it seemed madness to me that people would rather face ecological collapse than change their life-styles. Now I realize that there are greater Fateful factors playing out here that require consideration. The internet, for instance, is, as a dear friend of mine says ‘the synaptic system of a new world.’ Something is happening to humanity, some kind of change or realization of ourselves. Globalization is something we all must intellectually and spiritually grapple with and the possibility of instant communication around the world makes it impossible for us to ignore. I deeply and personally care about what happens in New Orleans for instance even though I've never been there. Tribalism is going to have to be redefined, we all belong to tribes of the mind and spirit that span countries and continents. But I don’t believe we can just simply rely on technology and science to save us, nor can we try to go backward. It is a balancing act we are asked to walk, and a living through the emergence of something new. Being aware of what is happening is the best way to become what we have the potential of being, the super-conscious aspects of the great being that is made up of all Life.

I am someone who lives out in the bush and drinks sky water and takes away my own garbage composting the rest, who spends a lot of time out of doors. I am not unfit nor unhealthy and ‘Nature’ is a very direct reality for me, not something I talk about only from my seat in front of the computer as it is for so many. However, I do also spend a fair amount of time at screen, both as a writer and someone who connects with their broader spiritual community online. It is undeniable and no where as tawdry as so many paint it. I still support the importance of flesh and blood community and yet at the same time I know that amid all the trashy internet speak and people writing 'r u?' and numerous vacuous ‘twitters’ there are people like myself and my few precious comrades using this wonderful technology for all it is worth. It is after all like a reclaimed library of Alexandria, back and forth flicker instant access to the classics, to political activism, to high-end correspondence between thinkers of all different types, contemporary poetry, love-letters and the society of other polytheists, mystics and witches. Part of what we are, our generation, some of the one above it, and all of the one below it, is this shared mental life of various qualities for different people. It’s making our world smaller and manifesting the web of interactions in this world in a new way.

As a female I owe my ability to participate in this world of thought and mysticism to things like birth-control, labor saving devices and most particularly the way the capitalist system provides my family with most of the food we drink and clothes we wear. Previously I have raged against this, trying to only buy hand-made goods, move toward growing all my own food. For a while I managed a large amount of this, but had little time to participate in the above mentioned community or to write the books that burn inside me to be written. I still believe that my mystical experiences were aided by this style of living and I continue to seek a lot of solitude in the wilderness and to live on local produce and favor either the second hand or hand-made purchase. However, it is not simply a question of whether I wish or whether I would be willing to give up a lot of if not all of these comforts to bring our collective lifestyle back into harmony with the greater system. Personally if this was what it clearly took then I certainly would. But the question is more complicated.

As someone who believes in Fate, I have to ask myself questions about the meaning of the way we have developed. Even agriculture has some times seemed to me a controlling of the land and nature that caused us to fall further away from our original state of integration with nature, a state we find other hunter gatherer people in. But the fact is, our civilization moved in this direction and has continued to refine the process for a long time now. Most parts of the world no longer have the kind of eco system where hunter gathering is a viable option. We are forced to practice agriculture, but we have options about how we practice it. And now we have technology it appears that we cannot live without it. There must be some reason for all of this. Some aspect of the collective consciousness that seeks to know itself in some new way through this great ‘experiment’ like behavior humans are exhibiting. I cannot seem to believe that what we are witnessing is merely our own self destruction playing out. Perhaps it is, but it seems that there is more to it than that.

We need to be ready to explore what the future holds, without being futurist enthusiasts who claim that all problems will be solved by science without the requirement of any action on our behalf, or on the other hand, deciding that the future is evil and a return to the past is needed. We will need a fusion of ancient wisdom with modern technology if we are to survive and prosper as a global community. And in many ways we are yet to imaginatively catch up, let alone mythically and spiritually, with the way that life has changed just over the time we’ve been alive. Out of the five people most important to me on the planet one of them lives in another country from where we speak instantly every day. We have to ability to see images of each other, to hear each other’s voices and to share a large number of words and yet nothing of our daily physical life. This sort of thing has the ability to radically change the way we view the world. Globalization and the concept of the global village is going to have to become a reality. Copenhagen, where the world demonstrated it’s as yet significant inability to work together to decrease it’s CO2 showed us a world imaginatively a long way behind where it needs to be to catch up with the reality of it’s situation. We simply cannot deny the same life-style that we enjoy to the developing world unless we intend to give it up also. And I don’t think we do. We no longer live in a world where we can afford to live off 'raiding' other people, our destinies are too bound up in each other's.

Daily I find myself pondering these things, while I stand in the aisles of supermarkets making my consumer choices. Do I spend two dollars on the Fair Trade chocolate or choose to ignore what I know about the human implications of the free-trade chocolate? Do I buy those extra things that I really enjoy but don’t really need or do I spend that money on the more expensive milk where the cows are treated humanely? These questions to most people who as part of our largely unconscious civilization make a habit of never considering the reality of how anything came to be where it is being bought by them, will make me sound like an extremist. But I have my own questions. I still believe all these things are important, we are conscious beings capable of making conscious decisions if people did in front of most people the inhumanity that brings to them many of the products they enjoy they would throw up!

However, if I go too far down this path I find myself forced to condemn people I love dearly as unfeeling, selfish and blind. I don’t want to see things like that, I don’t want to see myself like that on the day that I can’t afford to buy the Fair Trade chocolate but buy some anyway or feel like a different type. Sometimes it seems like so much avoiding the truth of the fact that we are all guilty, all complicit. Perhaps there is no other way to be. Perfectly good people in the past lived on the proceeds of slavery or moved into land where the previous occupants were pushed out. Some of those people, the dependents of those people, weren’t bad people they just needed something that someone else had and benefited from someone else’s misfortune without even thinking about it. But today do we have the luxury of saying we didn’t know? When all this information is at our finger tips? What explanation will our age tender for itself? Basically, that we preferred not to look because we liked to have certain things and it might make them taste bad?

Today we are not talking about need in many cases we are talking about want. We are talking about chocolate and coffee and cheap shoes. And yet chocolate and coffee are simply pleasures people enjoy, things that the less well off members of our society couldn’t afford to use if only Fair Trade chocolate and coffee were available and I struggle to see guilt in the innocent enjoyment of these kind of pleasures. What difference would it make to not have it amid the plethora of other exploitations and cruelties I see reflected back from the shelves of the supermarket every day? Can we be free of it even if we become vegan and never touch a free-trade item that exploits workers in third world countries? Even then our governments pollute on our behalf, make war on our behalf and obtain access to oils in ways that might make us feel queasy at the gas-pump, no matter what choices you the consumer make you can never not participate. We have not been given any other choice but to partake in this society we were born into. Unlike Brave New World who offered the protagonist a choice between insanity and lunacy, we have only been offered a choice between insanity and insanity.

So how does a highly conscious compassionate being live in such a world? Despair and pessimism seem worse than useless. Perhaps one must simply hold out some hope that there is something going to develop out of these birth-pains. That we will find a way gradually towards a system not so based on exploitation of poor nations, animals and the environment. Find it before we destroy our own future, and worse yet, before we deserve to have our future destroyed. But we in the West are Fate’s instruments as much as anything else and I like to think that this transformation of ‘development’ that we have started and is spreading across the world is not a cancer but hopefully a bumpy stage in the evolution of a new way of being for mankind.

There are a few things that give me hope. The place of women in the West, as I mentioned at the beginning of this article. Whether we want to pretend it’s not true or not the fact is that outside the modern world there has never been a world where a female enjoyed the independence and options that we enjoy today. The pagan world may have offered many great examples, but nothing like today. In those days our role was still tied to reproduction, and as we could not altogether control it it was not a choice but something that made us less free than males, less our own person. We needed to be controlled in certain ways so that society could control reproduction. This is not an 'evil' in those societies, just a fact of what happens when society and nature meet up and have to form compromises. This is found the whole world over to some extent, no matter how ‘equal’ the sexes may appear in a traditional society.

It may seem like only one example, but this is the self-realization and potential of over fifty percent of the species we are talking about and that is quite something. I know I have great potential to contribute to society, to have my voice heard, to have things worth saying, to love whom I love, to go where I wish to go, to help people, to travel, to influence things, so much of it would have been impossible for me in another time. I can’t imagine that only on the eve of our self destruction would Fate make such opportunities available to Her daughters. This gives me hope that something else, a different way of life which might eventually alchemically wed the best of sustainability with the best of technological progress could be about to be born. Mainly because that’s the only way I can see us going forward and I just can’t imagine that all of this, this gradual emancipation of women, other minority groups, this increasing consciousness of the needs of others in remote places, the internet and all the potential for knowledge on a world scale that it offers, is all for nothing but our destruction.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Bruny Island: A Journey Across the Waters


Cloudy Bay opens up before me like a grey and blue panorama of ghosts. The air is thick with the past and yet the purity and freshness of the place literally seems to steal my breath as old people will say a cat can do to a baby. To turn behind you, nothing but the sea grasses, and low bushes of the headlands, hissing as the wind snakes through it, before you nothing but the pounding ocean, jutting rocks and further off whistling sounds of the 'roaring forties' amid the rookeries of sea-birds. On either side mountainous headlands, not a human-soul or human dwelling in sight. This place is a sacred place for the Nuenonne people, native to Bruny Island. The majority of those people have gone beneath the surface of the land and waters now, but the veil is so very thin still. I inhale their lives and stories in the sea-mist that congregates around us. I eat them in the shell-fish of this place, where they suffered their sea-change. Nothing seems vanished, absent, I stare out to sea and the waves pound out the beating heart of the island.

A spirit of the bush, that rises some nights out of a languid water-hole, full of river-weed and stories of spirit wallaby, told me to come to the island. The people where I live used to come to Bruny, once a year to hunt mutton birds and swap girls for marriage with the tribe across the water. As I stand here I can almost see their camp-fires and hear their celebrations ring out late into the night, smell the mutton bird cooking. The story of why the water-hole man wants me to come here is all spinning into being around me. Inside a rock I picked up, out of the roaring sound inside a shell I put to my ear, whispering through the flax. Stories of a slumbering serpent that slept inside the island during part of the year and woke around mutton bird season, to uncoil it's giant being, rise up from water as shadow, as moving grasses, and snake across the land that the old people called Loetrowitter. It makes sense to me that I have to come here to bring together the story of things. I am following the story-lines back to one of their sources, asking the wind there to make the hollow noises through me it makes in the flax and in the sea shell. So that I can know where I am.

I thought I came here looking for Worreddy, the last 'clever man' of the local area and what I found instead of Worreddy was the beating heart of his land. The Land Serpent itself, hissing me into near trance as I stand quite still and a new appreciation for all the powers that have answered me since I first came here. The Grandmotherly woman with her possum skins and her basket who I met one day as she climbed to let the moon out of her basket and pack away the sun. The great Father of the Eucalyptus whose face came out of the mountain and into my life. The trixter spirit with the crow's wings who leaps up and down the sheer rock face. The Flame in the Mountain, the Lady of Obsidian through whom light passes darkly and who opens doors in rainbows. These and the water-hole man and the little girl of the cave. These spirits have made me welcome and better yet made me native to the place. Meanwhile other things are here too, something like yell-hounds, or cwn annwn, race across the land in Winter, I've heard them near their dens behind the old cemetary I used to wander in and known of their presence when I moved myself across those spirit-roads at night. So many things seethe in creative chaos now in this land, along with all the blood of the children of Europe, dogs, horses, rabbits, roots of oak tree and two hundred years of spells and charms brought here by the English and Irish alike.

Here we don't yet have in the material world any traditions of sorcery like Hoodoo, but under the surface we have a similar reality of meeting powers. And in my own practice, as I discover the roots and herbs of this land, the animal bones, the shells, the minerals and learn them, learn what they meant to the old people, or what they meant European settlers who used them in the early nineteenth century, (1) and add them to my tools of European cunning, something new is emerging. Perhaps in this way the conjury of the Mississippi has something to share with us down here on the extra-southern New World.

Van Diemen's land was "for a time a land where many dressed in kangaroo skins without linen and wore sandals made of seal skins. They smelt like foxes. They lived in 'bark huts like the natives, not cultivating anything, but living entirely on kangaroos, emus, and small porcupines'. No less an authority than John West, the first official editor of the Herald, wrote in 1856 that whites living outside of the settlement 'had a way of life somewhat resembling that of the Aborigines'." (2) It seems impossible given this history that I am the first person to begin this process. It is as Richard Flanagan (Tasmania's favourite literary son) says a 'terrible, beautiful history' which at times begins to feel like a Heart Of Darkness journey into madness, and then you take a breath and step back from the shadows for a moment, casting your eyes on the great mountain and the play of light and darkness it creates and you have to accept Her for what she is somehow.

When I got to a high spot on Bruny and could turn back to look at the main island, my home, across the water I felt I understood Her better and I thank the beautiful, untouched island across the water from us for it's visions before recrossing. Before I leave I spend a thoughtful, long time looking out in the directions of the shell-middens that are the only mark, or scarring on the earth that this land's previous occupants left to remind the future of their lives, and I wish that the evidence of my physical life could be swallowed so completely one day, vanish so utterly, so softly, into Her.

1: The Almanac of William Allison 1821, archives of Tasmania
2. Extract from a speech given by Richard Flanagan at the launch of Boyce's 'Van Diemen's Land'

Pictured: The cairns of Adventure Bay, Bruny Island.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

The Teaching Spirit of Childhood


As long ago as I can remember there was someone else walking with me. When I was a very little girl my parents called him, and sometimes they, my 'imaginary friends.' I called them nothing but their names. When I got a bit older and started reading novels I called them imaginary too. I thought of him a little like Peter Pan. He reminded me of him after all. Appearing as he did as a young boy about my age with fair hair like mine, and clothing always in green and natural hues that seemed a little ragged round the edges as though he were fresh from some woodland haunt. He only ever lived in my imagination. But then I forgot him, and the other children. My parents said it was because I was an only child and was lonely.

My Mother is quite an advocate of childhood, I realise now as an adult looking back. She encouraged my 'imagination' and set places at the table for people she couldn't see. Mum has raised a number of children on the same fairytales and magic. She looked after three girls in the English countryside as a nanny before she ever raised me. And then another family, of girls again, in America. Unfortunately, like for most people for her the magic is over when childhood ends and only returns in a space where there are children. There is a wisdom in this I realise, despite it's limitations. My Mother seems to understand that children bring something with them from another world, something she has forgotten about but longs ever to recapture. And she has always surrounded herself with children.

But something different happened for me than happened for her when I started to become an adult. Rather than being buried beneath ever deeper layers of adult numbness the world of fairytales burst back in upon me like a half-forgotten memory returning as a teenager. Maybe it had something to do with moving out into the bush and being alone so much in half-wild deserted places that caused him to come back. But come back he did. This time he appeared as a young man. Or at least most of the time. When I think about it in retrospect I realise that right from the begining there was more than one way he could show himself. Sometimes when he was in a protective or guiding role he appeared a little older than me, and he appeared as a human, albeit a human man from a long time ago. But when I was seated or lying down out in nature and day-dreaming I would see him as my own age, always teasing and mercurial, his green eyes glimmering with latent amusement and mischief. But like most boys of his age he was a boy that teased me, I would not yet have thought of him as a lover.

The strange thing is that although it took me a long time, and years in the occult never brought me any closer, only further away from that initial time of innocence when I knew he was real for the first time since I was three, it was over that time I came to love him. What is he? You and I myself many times might ask. I've had numerous explanations over the years and others have suggested many others. Jungians would suggest he is my animus, other might say my holy guardian angel, witches might refer to him as my 'fetch mate' or 'familiar spirit.' Over the years he's taught me many things but I think the most important I've learned from his mercurial nature itself. He's helped me to remember something of the flexible, continuously shape-shifting world generally forgotten after early childhood. He reminds me constantly that the Otherworld doesn't have the rigid barriers that our mind wants to inflict on it. When I ask him were you once a living man? he says: 'yes'. When I ask him 'are you my familiar spirit?' he says: 'yes'. When I say are you a part of my own consciousness? he says: 'yes'. When I say are you your own independent being he, frustratingly, replies: 'certainly!'

It is only now at the age of thirty, with two children of my own where I think I am begining to become flexible enough to truly interact with him again as I did as a small child, and that moment of early puberty. Much of it is thanks to my own children who's way of being helps to remind me daily how I need to think to understand my otherworldly counterpart. And since my flexibility has returned I continue to know him in new ways. He seems to be able to appear as a man from the early middle ages with a Welsh accent who identifies himself as being like some kind of Celtic male Muse to me (should we add love-talker to his titles perhaps?) He can also be an ageless man who gives off nothing so strongly as the sense that he is 'faerie', Other. It seems he can even be a living man that I know sometimes, in some way. Perhaps this is because his essential being exists in otherness, it is constantly on the move, breaking through all possible restrictions and divisions, pointing towards wholeness and union.

These statements may sound incredible to some I realise. That I am actually stating that my familiar spirit appears to me as a living man I know in this world. People will want to ask, are you trying to say that that is objectively true or only that that other person seems to remind you of or symbolise that being at certain times? I don't know the answer to this. I can only appeal to the logic of the fairytale and myth and say that perhaps things can be more than one thing at the same time, when looked at differently. It seems to me that in the Otherworld things that we see as mere perceptions appear as objective realities. So we might experience differing moods in this world and yet our outer body appears the same. We can even exist at several levels at the same time, different levels doing different things, some of them we are not even aware of. While you are sitting reading this and your mind, and perhaps soul, is engaged with the input your body is thinking through all it's processes, keeping the rhythm of your heart and breath all without your conscious awareness. But all of these layers of being, these differing ways of being even, that we might experience from day to day, are in this world all hidden mainly from view by one little-changing exterior image.

Well it seems to me from my experiences with it that the otherworld is more transparent with this multiplicity. The ability to do and know several things at the same time, to see in all directions at once, to be in two, usually, mutually exclusive states (such as the awareness of oneness and personhood at the same time)seems to characterise this place that is not a place. When I am 'there' in trance or lucid dream there is no distinction between kissing and talking. All touching is communication, at a much more detailed level than we are accustomed to in this world. And so I have learned the most from my familiar companion through loving him than I have at the times when it appears that we 'talk.'

For these reasons I've come to believe that all of the ways I've seen him and all of the possibilities about what he might be, are true. All at the same time. And yet in the spirit of true paradox he remains the mystery that my life revolves around knowing better, the Gordian Knot my fingers fiddle to unravel, or feel the shape of whenever I touch him with my awareness. He will never be 'solved', he is a mystery who's horizon recedes continually. And yet at the same time I already know all I can ever know, because all of his answers about himself are: 'yes.' I am comfortable with that, and yet desire continues. Perhaps this is why I am a living creature, and why he has always delighted in tormenting my awareness with his riddles. He seems to always be reminding me not to try and catch him in one place. Enjoy him when I find him somewhere, he seems to tell me, but don't try and catch me there. You can see me in a living man, if you ask me if he is me I will only say: 'yes', but don't imagine I am only there. Nor here. Or any of the places, or faces, you see of mine. Did we know each other before this life? As humans? Somewhere?: Yes. But don't hold onto me like that. That's just one way I am. Let them all go so you can hold onto all of me!

And I get better at dancing his dances I think. At holding on through letting go and all the outrages to common sense he inflicts on my frail human brain. Sometimes I still get scared and want to put a net over him when I feel his presence close, behind an oak somewhere, beyond the curtain of mist, on the other side of the computer screen, above me in the darkness. But Puck-like he slips out from underneath it. He always assures me he doesn't mean to. That he really wants me to catch him, that he's actually really showing me how to hold him close always.