Tables turn, my dears, but only when we set them spinning upon the multiverse in service of itself.
Survival is imperative and lives within the shadows. When dealt a rigged hand, we merely need to pull its Aces. When we roll those dice and take a chance, we set in motion a sequence of events that unfurl to develop our character or hide from ourselves. When we look into every shadow and dark thing and live to tell the tale, we have cheated things others only dream. Surviving is magic, my dears, have faith in yourself and in that you will always be stronger and wield more power than you believe. Just lean in to your own personal power, your own magic, your own unwavering path. But let justice, reason, and honor guide you on your journeys.
Honor the Ancestors and Those Who Came Before. Serve them in service of what is just and right. Karmic cycles flow through the current of our DNA, toxins polluting us to our very roots. And like a tree in a weakened state, we must clean up the rot and find the power to heal. And in forgiveness and understanding, compassion and hope…magic is alive and well and flowing in the blood and stardust of humanity. But we must not let dark ethics rule dark minds. The darkest minds ought forge the brightest fires, fatespun and furious.
How does one combine science and magic, ignosticism and faith? How does one balance all things precisely at once? Believe nothing and everything? How can one be a non-theistic hodgepodge of full circles and tauntings of the universe and Jungian ghosts? How can one hear the dead speak so clearly with their stories a magnetic tug from here to there in a zigzag of hungry ghosts seeking to right their wrongs or to forgive their misgivings, to see through what they’d set out on? How does one leave this world unspun, with things unsaid and undone? How many statistical anomalies can one encounter before one asks deeper questions and seeks deeper mysteries? How many historic and scientific documents must one ponder to solve…everything…all at once? What is physics but measurable magic in motion? Where is the line between science, art, and belief?
How does one seek family and follow the roots through the secrets of the hollow and down, down a rabbit hole into a chaotic carnival of synchronicity and primal instinct? How does one envision what is to come without going mad or being painted that way? How does one stand by in horror as they watch the manifestations they could feel in their bones as the bones of the dead rattle in silent shame and reticence? How did it all come to this?
How can one turn a blind eye to fate as science, an amalgam of epigenetics, empathy, and personal power? Not a mere cliché of carving one’s future, but of wielding the past, present, and future as whatever tool may be needed in any given moment as we were intended to live – wild, free, and beautiful? What are we but a world of prophets, both lesser and greater, false and sincere? Artists, singers, performers, writers, activists; those whose hearts are set aflame by passion for something greater than what is, driven by something other than mere ego or material gain.