Today I threw away a pair of navy blue Reeboks I had bought back in 2002. The 1st pair of shoes I throw away in a good while.

I don't consider myself attached to my things (except maybe a few books, a couple of CDs and of course my mage props), and I certainly don't make a lot of trash compared to the common man with lifestyle, social class and eating habits similar to mine, but throwing shoes away always have an uncannily strong impact on my emotional welfare.

This has been a good week, professionally. I got the O.K. from the boss to buy the method books and CDs for the elders I teach on Wednesday, yesterday I was met with grins and title-embellished greetings when I arrived at the school, and the manager of the center I teach on Fridays told me this morning that the students (old, grumpy Spaniards, mind you!) are happy with me. And then she told me we should talk one of these days. I felt so relieved.

But now, at the Webdesign course, I'm realising I haven't put as much attention and effort as I probably should, and as a result I'm not learning. Nobody else really is, but I've been physically, emotionally and (most especially) intelectually tired. Exhausted. The teacher being an inept who can't teach anybody anything really, refused to help me today. And here I am, being weird and unfriendly with people (not really impolite), and feeling like I don't have friends or family in this world. It always happens when I toss shoes, and I'd definetely love to know why.

My husband is leaving for the weekend with his friends and without me for the billionth time, and for the first time I feel awful about it. My vegetarian gang has organised a night out tonight and haven't invited me. I invited them for the Yoga meeting tomorrow and they all have other plans.

It's shocking and it's novel, but I'm taking it all personally this time around.

I thought of putting an image of the old shoes on this blog entry, but then on a second thought I decided it'd be too depressing. So it is gone now, and I don't have a visual token of it. It's probably better this way.

I might have missed something, but for some reason I don't completely get, over the past year I have shifted radically from a colourful brat, emanating Energy and loudness, to a very sober advocate of discreetness and lover of the Santosha life. Might have been Enlightenment.

Today is a day I cherished in every way and second, and two years ago, I'd want to commit suicide for pushing myself through it. I woke up much later than usual, and spent a long time cuddling in bed with my husband. By the time I got up, I wasted the little time I had left before lunch doing absolutely nothing interesting in the Internet. Then I ate, did a few things I wanted to do for a quite some days now (cleaned the glass-ceramic, placed an ad to give away a CD rack we don't want anymore, studied a little German) but wasn't able to, and went to teach an EFL class--yeah, but I'm not even mad that I have to "work" on Sundays. This student is a joy. Then I came back home, had a lovely warm shower and had dinner. All very slow, very low-key and very peaceful.

Then, at times during a day spent mostly on a high, pleasant vibration, I worried again about my teaching gig with the retired people. I'm going to ask my coordinator for a method on Wednesday, and there's the student who had offered to get the methods for me free of charge. I hate to go through that drama. My husband says it's a feeling of cowardice I have, but I disagree. I was feeling really good about this job until I realised I would need some planning, some structure to ground on and not feel so pressured to "be imaginative".

But I don't want that to ruin the following days, like it has made last week hell-like. I will watch one of my Pink Panther DVDs now, go to bed not too late and wake up cheerfully to a seemingly boring Monday.

Life can be very pretty after you begin manipulating Time.

In my current phase of restlessness, I've been reading Internet pages about Witchcraft like crazy. And I'm partially obsessed with the idea of finding a partner to study and practice Tantra with. Live.

Today I mentioned to some students at the Friday intermediate group I teach that I'll begin using a book for our weekly lessons. They were quick to show moderate support for the idea, and one of them offered to order with his book-dealer friend the books for all of us (my Teacher's copy and his colleagues' Student's version). I felt so good that in some way the Big U supported my decision to take the easy road and rely on a book instead of only my personal Creativity with Serendipity. Although I won't be fully relaxed until I have the book in my hands, and at least half of the students do, too (I've learned that managing groups and relying on their initiative can be VERY frustrating); but I feel much more confident for the following weeks. Basically, I feel I only need to survive and make-do until the book is around. So, I feel mentally free and emotionally serene enough to surf Witchvox's EXTENSIVE archives, scan past threads on Internet discussion boards, nibble on several covens' online Disk of Shadows and so on. Replenishing times.

I'm also finding chunks of time for practice, not just browsing and collecting theory. Last night I made a brisk session of devotional dance for my Triple Soul and worked some with Energy. Tonight I'll play some with the Gaiadon Heart techniques I learnt this Autumn.

And I'm still to find a tantric partner for live practice. Like the book, he'll come. Providential.

Image: "The Old Librarian", by Myrea Pettit (from www.fairiesworld.com)

Overstimulation when I am far from my Kala state is certainly one of the feelings I dread the most, but I will credit overstimulation as the motivation for cracking the thick ice that had accumulated all over me for the past, unfortunate months of writing deprivation and regular detouring.

Japanese charms are usually powerful. When I was in Sampa almost one year ago, I bought myself a Daruma doll, wished that I had a career to tend to and a professional identity to ground on, and painted his left eye black. One year later, my Basic Self is feeling overwhelmed with the creative rush that teaching English to retired folks has brought into my life for the past two and a half months.

The feeling is not comfortable, though. I definetely feel awake and alive, but also overwhelmed, obsessed and about to crack under the pressure that being an authority figure for five considerably-sized groups of people fifty years older than you produces.

I feel I'm all by myself in this responsibility, but I'm keen on using tricks and searching for sources of help and support. This weekend, I'm buying a book to use with them in the classroom, so I can relax and let go of the never-ending responsibility of planning and creating class activities. Yesterday I fortunately wrote Diane, and she opened my eyes to the fact that I've expanded so much with this new job that I can't even contain myself. I've managed to finally relax after understanding this.

Some plans for the long-term: a scholarship to get my Master's degree (probably in the German language), go back to witchcrafting, cull and let go of duties and obligations that aren't really mine.

So there's no more elusive dreams with Music, short-lived creative fires of Cuisine, or expectations with Webdesign for me. Next Winter Solstice my Daruma doll is gaining his other eye.

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.