Monday, September 25, 2017

A Year and A Day

So, it's been a year since I discovered I've got a fucked-up liver. So far, my health has improved, some strength has been regained, but the damage has been done. Basically, I'm still dying very slowly. Actually we all are, I just got a head start. But I wouldn't have survived this difficult year if it weren't for good doctors, good friends, strength of spirit, sheer luck, and some magic. I'm still grateful.

I'm actually fighting my battles on two fronts: one in the gut and one in the mind, which is a far more difficult enemy. I DO appreciate the words of encouragement, but when you have this kind of shit, one would prefer honesty over reassurance. Empathy over sympathy. I believe and I know that you have nothing but good intentions when you tell me, "It's gonna be OK" and "I'm just here when you need help". But "I'm sorry that you're going through this" and "How are you? Let's go out for milkshake when you're feeling better" have been the most kind and most necessary words I've heard. Also, as a friend, I free you from the responsibility of trying to cheer me up when depression kicks in. I'm happy when I'm happy. When I'm sad, just give me permission to be sad and probably let me bawl my eyes out without judgement. I promise it's a just a few minutes, and you'll be rewarded with the sight of my ugly-cry face when it's over, then we could probably have a good, awkward laugh at it.

Right now I feel perfectly fine. But my anxiety, and that elevated tumor marker, is telling me that the worst is yet to come and that I'd be a more difficult person to deal with. I'm still me: just more honest with myself and probably a bit more high-maintenance. I'm afraid that some people have given up on me once they've discovered the ugly stuff that comes with friendship. And I'm surprised by those who actually reached out and stuck with me at my worst moments. Thank you, you. You're all awesome. I love you.

I may still have years or decades or months, but I have already decided to live the rest of my days at peace with myself and with the world, even if it's a challenging time to live in.

Thursday, July 13, 2017

Finding DIRI.

Hello blog. It's been a while.

It's been two and half years to be exact and I've got so much to write about but for now, I just want to pick up where I left.

In case you haven't caught up, the last few entries of this blog have been about my exploration of the Enochian magical system. After a series of missteps and experimentation, I eventually got to that part where I finally get to open the gates of the Watchtowers, visit fantastic and creepy worlds, have tea-time with weird inter-dimensional beings and nudge them for life-changing information.

You know about those rumours going around in occult circles about Enochian magic being so powerful that it could bring about apocalyptic change? I don't know if there's substantial evidence for that but I have come to believe that it did change my life quite a lot.

Like, big fucking time.

I admit I was beginning to get bored with the visions and cryptic messages. Enochian magic is quite unlike any magical system I have practiced before where the results are more tangible, and sometimes almost immediate. But I guess you won't appreciate the value of practicing hours-long magic rituals just to receive messages from the "other side" until you discover that there's virtually a ticking time-bomb inside your own body.

I got hit so hard that I have had episodes of anxiety and depression like the sort of thing I couldn't have imagined I would get. But then I guess that's just the way humanity's programming works. We live our lives happily blind with illusions of immortality until we see the face of death on that radiographic film. Now the thought of it has been following me incessantly, like mosquitoes buzzing above your head on summer evenings.

Yoga and meditation could have helped, sure, but even doing those are impossible when you aren't even able to forward-fold or are experiencing random excruciating pain every now and then. Eventually I had to quit my daily asana practice - among a lot of other things that I care for. So the past several months felt like a wild scramble. Like I was thrown off from a plane and into a strange new place and I'd been trying to find my way back.

Truncated pyramid of DIRI, servient angel of the Watchtower of Air.

All that scrambling, however, eventually got tiresome. So I told myself to just fuck it all and explore this new territory. I'm a traveler after all.

So here I am, thankfully feeling a lot better than I was, living day by day with the help of medicine and holding on to what little support I have. It feels like clinging on rickety flotsam rafts on a stormy sea, but it's a lot better than drowning,

Now I've got unfinished business to attend to and worlds to explore. So I think it's about time to roll up my sleeves, grab that wand, and open the gates once more.

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