I don't know if this blog will become a solstice/equinox thing now, but I know it is a pity I have been away from writing for so long. No idea of who to blame, and no use in that, either, but I can still hear the Inner Voice, despite claiming inability to listen most of the time.

On this Autumn Equinox, I realise I am finally approaching the zenith of my life. I am finally coming to full adulthood. I don't know if I'm mature yet, and probably not, but my relationships, my goals, my schedule and my moods have been taking less swings lately, and my attention deficit doesn't get the best of me that easily anymore.

There is much to tell in exemplifying that, but I'm leaving it all for future blog entries, and concentrating on the core: It is time now to learn how to get what I want, how to consolidate processes, and how to focus on one project, one person, one theme. And in all I do these days, that is what moves me; from sexual intercourse with other men of all ages, to the creative projects I've been dedicated to.

This blog is still one of them, renewed by the harvested blessings this Equinox.

Image from alicornarts.com/

Today the Sun God dies out to preserve the Earth and save the crops, and the Holly King takes over with His cold-ass stare and hands supple enough to help us sort through our shit and decide what's got to give. After intense personal experiences with the blinding light of the Oak King this Winter and Spring, I've already got it very clear what to burn on the Bonfire tonight. As usual.

Saturn's Return was a bitch. Still is, actually. It has actually made me confused enough to put my life a little bit on hold for the first time in many years, and it was a good thing I had already learnt about resting on the boat and trusting that downstream is the way to go. I still don't know what I'm gonna do with my professional life, but I've managed to maintain a positive attitude and outlook on the subject. And, more importantly, not to freeze.

Xmas with my family of origin back in Brazil didn't feel weird at all until I came back to Spain and began taking down on my Morning Pages all the shit I had to take in while I was there. You don't ask somebody you love to lie, to hide away or to pretend to be somebody else after they've spent one year and half away if you actually love them. I realise they don't really love me, they're just destitute, needy and conditioned to a perfect family façade. I don't really hate my parents, but I'm tired of "understanding" them, so I guess the only way out of this emotional maze is letting go.

Speaking of relationships, my marriage has slowly but steadily grown to a much more mature, solid and relaxed structure, mostly due to an ability to let go and reframe from my part. It is true that some of the evolution is set about and carried on individually and intimately, and that nobody is meant to change or stifle in order to fit, definetely not me, and that it's all very, very good when you just focus on the willingness to stay together despite everything. When the castle of cards fall, you only stay with the good stuff. This is what it means to live drama-free, and I'm enjoying the idea made reality.

Socially, I've become an unhatched egg again, but I'm very cool with that. I think I'm learning how to turn on the social butterfly when wanted, then just revelling in the shade and wallflowering my way through the night when it suits me. But in any case, it's never a necessity, and should not be one. I've let go of abusive situations and groups (more than one, yeah), and I'm feeling really good after dropping the deadweight.

Yet, I still torture myself with the accusations many people have used to control me and cut my wings. I write time and again on my Morning Pages about being considered childish, having Peter Pan syndrome, and refusing to grow up and be independent. Then I look around and find my sister, who won't move out on her own because she doesn't want to wash her own panties; my parents, who don't trust their own feelings, and then naturally don't trust anybody else around them; my husband, who won't let go of his old college buddies and find new circles and environments; drunkards still seeing natural, legitimate and creative leaders as oppressive parents and school teachers; bosses selling lies they barely believe in; needy bitches playing emotional blackmail games.

I don't have anything to burn on the Midsummer bonfire tonight other than these sick games and attachments, but they'll definetely become nourishing ashes for a future harvest. I'm free.

Image: a butterfly inside the flame. The Butterfly is my oldest and most reliable Power Animal.

I may be narcisistic and emotionally unstable, but when called for, I can be a tough bitch with a rare sense of unattachment, Spiritual strength, and a very positive instinct of moving on. I have just dropped off of the Couchsurfing group that had become a cornerstone of my life for the past few months, and I'm amazed at how good, light and proud I feel about it.

On Saturday, I grew sick and tired of moochers and drunkards with no sense of limit. Everybody else did, too, but only I decided to speak up, and on Sunday I posted an explosive open letter at the group's board, telling off those who deserved it. As usual, (almost) everybody turned against me, and suddenly I became public enemy. Not that I'm complaining, quite on the contrary. As they were angry with me, and I wanted to smack each of them on the face--the parasites for being parasites, and everybody else for being cowards--, I just hit the "leave group" button after deleting all the contributions I made as a moderator. I'm still undecided as to what I'm gonna do with the blog, 'cos that's not mine only to make vanish, but I don't think it'll remain associated with the group. If it does, I'll delete all recipes I posted there, which comprises of at least more than half of all contents.

I remember my favourite astrologer of all time and witchy-buddy Elide Cascone telling us in a lecture once, "Pluto plucks by the root". On Sunday I had taken a "what Sailor Moon character are you" quiz on Facebook, and the stupid quiz gave me Sailor Pluto.

I treasure my ability to draw inspiration from anywhere.

My husband gifted me with a trip to London for my birthday this year. Given our financial status, that was quite outrageous of him, and I certainly acknowledge that, his commitment to fulfill an old dream of mine and his willingness to compensate me for a depressing, blank birthday I had last year.

We stayed for three nights with a Polish friend of his living there, and we managed to cover a lot of the world's coolest city's attractions. I even joined local Couchsurfers on an Europride evening at a typical English pub in Euston. We saw lots of things, I managed to take pictures despite his impatience, we saw Celtic, Egyptian and Greek treasures at the awesome British Museum, and I got a kick out of the whole experience.

It was especially hard for him to join me on that, and certainly not because of lack of funds. He's the typical Spaniard, so he's anglophobic down to his last cell. His remarks and constant comparisons with Spain and his harsh criticism of problems that only existed in his mind deterred us from a truly romantic experience, but of course I'm quite used to that. So I just practiced my vibrational hygiene and enjoyed the ride: double-deck buses, wonderful Asian food, riverside walks, great live music, cosmopolitanism and being present in flesh and bones at the sceneries of so many incredible feats, from groundbreaking T-Mobile TV ads to the most interesting history of Modern Age and the 20th century. It's like I'm more part of it now.

Here are the photos of our adventure:

picasaweb.google.com/Awen1980/London09#

We spent there the International Day against Homophobia (Sunday, May 17th) together, so I didn't join any public acts, such as the Besada in Plaza Mayor here in Madrid, but today I've been watching this video and listening to this song the whole day. How funny and inspiring:

www.youtube.com/watch

Now tonight I'm having a potluck with Couchsurfers again, and this time it's a 1001 Nights theme night. Everybody's bringing a dish with a tale to tell, a la Scheherazade, and I'm bringing my stories of London to tell over a Ploughman's Lunch recipe I'm going to prepare right now.

Dr. Overtone has taught me to experience the Beat from walking. Each foot landing on the ground is a beat, and on the average human walking we learn to count like Baroque masters did: tempo 92. Because we use two feet, have a symmetrical body, and the ego functions on duality, the most immediate way to accentuate the beats is Duple Meter. In most of the Western world kids are lucky enough to study Music at school, and Doc says they all learn at the band that left foot is one, right foot is two. Doo-day, doo-day, doo-day and so begins the magic of Time Manipulation, embellished with variations of sound and gaps of silence.

Duple meter is natural. It's the music that moves wild crowds, and that uniformises men in uniforms as they drill in perfect synchronization, the beat that makes men and women who have nothing in common feel a sense of belonging to an abstract and unrealistic creation such as a "country". One foot and then the other creates Order. Doo-day is the template for national anthems, for rebellious chanting, for bulding up rage, lust and other basic functions of mind and movement.

But then Doc taught me something else. Add another weak beat before counting Doo again. Left, right, left, and Doo when right hits the floor. Doo-da-dee, doo-da-dee, doo-da-dee. Now one transcends the reality of the body, has reached for a level of understanding that isn't contained in the bicameral mind. One has been unfolded beyond one's own nature in a sense, so if duple meter is natural, triple is supernatural.

If two is order, three is subversive. Triple meter is the gateway to Spirit, the root of medieval religious music, of spaces created to stir love where love needed to be tamed. In three come the Gods of Faerie, and triune is the shining God hidden within the heavy, cold and unfriendly stone walls built ten centuries ago.

The Time element is definetely associated with the Three all over the world. The Norns, the Hours, the three parts of a well-told story. The Holy Trinity; The Twins and The Mother; the Oak King, the Holly King and Mother Earth. The Welsh Triads; Iron Age/Middle Ages/Modern Age; before, breakthrough and after. It takes three to manipulate Time. For a long time, we've known the secret--that the secret is in Time.

I'll have to get back to you on 5/4 and 7/4. I've begun trying them out just today, and loved the intoxication they produced.

Image: Zoomorphic Triskele, by Owen C. R. Pierce. www.elfwood.com/~auroch

What are each and the rest of us survivors still doing on Tribe.net??

It's been over 24hrs offline again, and hardly any action is ever seen around anymore. I did see it coming, but it amazes me how some of us have stuck around after even those who actually fought to keep Tribe running last Winter fled.

I'm listening.

I've been incredibly creative lately, which probably explains why my blog has just broken a personal record for partial inactivity period. My blog's long been a device to help me zig-zag my way around creative blocks, and sometimes blast through them. But no blocks lately, whatsoever. Not even money.

1st, I've remained a kitchen maven these past few months, and there's the brand new cookbook project I've released to the world yesterday, a blogspot blog with recipes from my Couchsurfing group, "Madrid: Cooking". I'm really proud of that, and eagerly hoping the rest of the gang will help me keep it permanently growing. Here it is: madridskitchenmob.blogspot.com/

Then, German and Music have been keeping me really busy. I'm still with the Deutsche Welle online course, and the headway is shining. Musicwise, my piano lessons with Hector are my favourite time of the week, and we're about to begin working with the full diatonic scale. The method Hector's applying is based on improvisation, so first we've played with the Pentatonic scales, then one Hexatonic, and now I've got five notes in the Dorian mode--with both hands on the keys! I'm sure this Thursday or the next, I'll be receiving either the full scale or another chord to mess around with. Also, I've signed up for the public Language and Music schools. Now let's see if I'm lucky enough to have my name picked on the public lottery that decides who gets a seat!

And now there's the brand new world that is Dreamwidth.org, which I'm not only exploring, but helping to build from ground zero. I've already created two communities there, one for the Art of Allowing and the other for Songwriting, and I'm sure that will be the next "original" for my blog--I'll definetely keep blogspot up for ppl who want to comment but don't want to join any network website to post comments, Yahoo 360º will be the place where the blog is non-discontinued, and Tribe is down again at the time of this writing. Dreamwidth is vibrant, new and full of really interesting people and a feeling of eagerness in the air. My dreamwidth address is awen.dreamwidth.org, but alas I cannot issue invites.

Hail the bonfires of May Day!

Everyday now I sit at the keyboard, more than once a day. I feel the beat, and don't begin until I'm sure I can follow it. Then, riding on it, I feel the way each note means different things as it responds to different notes that sounded just before it. The fourth dimension. Then I pay close attention, and suddenly I'm riding a tsunami of meaning, instead of merely the wave of beat.

Music might be defined as the art of filling time with sound. Music is allowing me to come back to the beginning of Time, and begin anew.

I'm not very old yet, but this is how it should've been since the very beginning.