07-31-2005, 12:01 AM
HerbaMatey:
don't hold out on us
unveil the tyrant!
Su:
No, Crow,,, I like to guess!
Crow:
(I'm putting words in Susie's mouth here.)
Su:
Glmmph!
Crow:
Hey, cut that out! That's my foot!
HerbaMatey:
oh alabama since u can get away with anything in alabama
Crow:
Oh. How come they haven't all gotten away then?
HerbaMatey:
i.e. segregation
Crow:
Oh yuck. Like, the men go in one door, and the ladies in another?
I'm kidding here. You know me, no?
I kid when stuff really troubles me. Heck, I kid anyhow.
Hmm, so now we're back (?) to this 'nagual issue' again, are we?
That must've really troubled me too, so I decided to kid about that. I mean, I wasn't any 'nagual'! I was this ... well, same guy as I still am today, only younger, and more... innocent? Is that allowable? Hmm, it does kinda sound like an excuse.
I 'became' a 'nagual' the day I told young Jack I was one. That's how it seems to me. Now I've told much of this story online already. Is it of any interest at this juncture for me to start telling it again?
Who cares. Not to brush off an opportunity, but darn, this 'story' has a life all its own, and is still unraveling... Or 'ReRaveling? I had this good friend, see, and he had been searching in his dreams for the 'dream seers', a group of dreamers he'd met in a dream years earlier, and then had never dreamed of or with them again. It sounds strange, perhaps, but he had grown quite desperate to find them, and one day he confided in me of the 'double life' he'd been living for many years. "I live another whole life, in dreaming." he explained, and so I told him of some of the unusual dreams I'd had too. Indeed, it seemed that my friend's desperation, this seriousness with which he regarded his dreaming life had a profound impact upon me, for although I'd had a propensity for dreaming, even while awake, I'd not really given it a whole lot of thought during my day-to-day life until he confided in me about his dream world. Mine was mostly pleasant, that was it. His, on the other hand, sounded frightful, and it was growing worse when he finally told me about it, or he'd never have confided in me about it at all.
Much of what he spoke about related to what Castaneda had written, although I didn't know this at the time either, for I'd not yet read any Castaneda. When he began saying 'Don Juan says...blah blah.." I had to interrupt and ask blandly, "Who's don Juan?
And so my friend agreed to loan me a Castaneda book so as to acquaint myself with him and his world. I almost lost that friend on the spot when I told him that Castaneda had written fiction. I tried softening that statement then, saying that anything that anyone writes is 'fiction', but this didn't really come across as I'd have liked it to. It never does.
So, in what I thought a rather 'clever' way to 'prove' that don Juan was simply a 'figment of the imagination'.. I dreamed him up, and wrote out the exchange I had. And I read this to my friend. And he was upset. Not because I'd 'pooh poohed' don Juan as being 'fictitious', but because my friend was convinced that I had actually dreamed him up, and could seemingly care less about that. We really were at odds...
So that's how *that* started. And it 'mushroomed'...
****************
Jack never questioned whether I was a 'nagual' or not. He was convinced the moment I told him I was one. He submitted himself totally to being my 'apprentice', and what a delight it was 'teaching' Jack. Gosh, we sure did have some amazing times together. It's as though we both entered 'dreaming' together, and things happened out of the ordinary with alarming regularity.
All I can now say to sum it up was that it was totally 'magical', that peculiar relationship I shared with young Jack. Kinda as though we were both nicely high on LSD continuously for ....wow, eight whole months! (Jack actually did take a fair amount of LSD that same Fall ... And I was a bit... disgruntled? )
No, it was even stranger, because things happened inexplicably, and we weren't high on anything.
One day I answered a knock at the workshop door while I was in the midst of an animated conversation with Jack. But there was nobody there. Despite this, I welcomed a friend of Jack's into the room and shut the door. Jack looked a bit peeved. He'd gotten used to me acting a bit odd, no doubt. I insisted his friend had just arrived, and offered the invisible personage some coffee. And I acted as if this person had accepted, so I said I'd run into the house and put a pot on. Jack was a bit ..unsettled. But then... this very friend arrived at the door, knocking loudly. I smiled serenely and went in to make the coffee, leaving Jack to sort out as best he could what had just transpired with the newcomer.
I had no explanation for this then, nor have I one now. I honestly felt I'd 'tapped intent' or some such thing. And I didn't want to look into it, really, no, I simply felt it was there to be appreciated and enjoyed, this... otherliness.
But of course, having already said I was a 'nagual' it was apparent that these sorts of incidents were accepted as some 'sign' of that, and I didn't argue or question any of it at the time. Maybe I ought to have done. But... I loved Jack. I mean, our relationship was truly 'sacred' in some way. I loved being this meaningful figure in his life. It gave me some kind of fulfillment I no longer was feeling as a father to my sons, or as husband to my wife. I know that's kinda crappy. But there it is. I was enjoyin' 'bein' the nagual'.
But now.
Ha, now I'm the host of a party, am I! That's so funny, honestly.
Could you elaborate just a bit then, on what's 'nightmarish' about it?
Pretty please?
love, Crow
don't hold out on us
unveil the tyrant!
Su:
No, Crow,,, I like to guess!
Crow:
(I'm putting words in Susie's mouth here.)
Su:
Glmmph!
Crow:
Hey, cut that out! That's my foot!
HerbaMatey:
oh alabama since u can get away with anything in alabama
Crow:
Oh. How come they haven't all gotten away then?
HerbaMatey:
i.e. segregation
Crow:
Oh yuck. Like, the men go in one door, and the ladies in another?
I'm kidding here. You know me, no?
I kid when stuff really troubles me. Heck, I kid anyhow.
Hmm, so now we're back (?) to this 'nagual issue' again, are we?
That must've really troubled me too, so I decided to kid about that. I mean, I wasn't any 'nagual'! I was this ... well, same guy as I still am today, only younger, and more... innocent? Is that allowable? Hmm, it does kinda sound like an excuse.
I 'became' a 'nagual' the day I told young Jack I was one. That's how it seems to me. Now I've told much of this story online already. Is it of any interest at this juncture for me to start telling it again?
Who cares. Not to brush off an opportunity, but darn, this 'story' has a life all its own, and is still unraveling... Or 'ReRaveling? I had this good friend, see, and he had been searching in his dreams for the 'dream seers', a group of dreamers he'd met in a dream years earlier, and then had never dreamed of or with them again. It sounds strange, perhaps, but he had grown quite desperate to find them, and one day he confided in me of the 'double life' he'd been living for many years. "I live another whole life, in dreaming." he explained, and so I told him of some of the unusual dreams I'd had too. Indeed, it seemed that my friend's desperation, this seriousness with which he regarded his dreaming life had a profound impact upon me, for although I'd had a propensity for dreaming, even while awake, I'd not really given it a whole lot of thought during my day-to-day life until he confided in me about his dream world. Mine was mostly pleasant, that was it. His, on the other hand, sounded frightful, and it was growing worse when he finally told me about it, or he'd never have confided in me about it at all.
Much of what he spoke about related to what Castaneda had written, although I didn't know this at the time either, for I'd not yet read any Castaneda. When he began saying 'Don Juan says...blah blah.." I had to interrupt and ask blandly, "Who's don Juan?
And so my friend agreed to loan me a Castaneda book so as to acquaint myself with him and his world. I almost lost that friend on the spot when I told him that Castaneda had written fiction. I tried softening that statement then, saying that anything that anyone writes is 'fiction', but this didn't really come across as I'd have liked it to. It never does.
So, in what I thought a rather 'clever' way to 'prove' that don Juan was simply a 'figment of the imagination'.. I dreamed him up, and wrote out the exchange I had. And I read this to my friend. And he was upset. Not because I'd 'pooh poohed' don Juan as being 'fictitious', but because my friend was convinced that I had actually dreamed him up, and could seemingly care less about that. We really were at odds...
So that's how *that* started. And it 'mushroomed'...
****************
Jack never questioned whether I was a 'nagual' or not. He was convinced the moment I told him I was one. He submitted himself totally to being my 'apprentice', and what a delight it was 'teaching' Jack. Gosh, we sure did have some amazing times together. It's as though we both entered 'dreaming' together, and things happened out of the ordinary with alarming regularity.
All I can now say to sum it up was that it was totally 'magical', that peculiar relationship I shared with young Jack. Kinda as though we were both nicely high on LSD continuously for ....wow, eight whole months! (Jack actually did take a fair amount of LSD that same Fall ... And I was a bit... disgruntled? )
No, it was even stranger, because things happened inexplicably, and we weren't high on anything.
One day I answered a knock at the workshop door while I was in the midst of an animated conversation with Jack. But there was nobody there. Despite this, I welcomed a friend of Jack's into the room and shut the door. Jack looked a bit peeved. He'd gotten used to me acting a bit odd, no doubt. I insisted his friend had just arrived, and offered the invisible personage some coffee. And I acted as if this person had accepted, so I said I'd run into the house and put a pot on. Jack was a bit ..unsettled. But then... this very friend arrived at the door, knocking loudly. I smiled serenely and went in to make the coffee, leaving Jack to sort out as best he could what had just transpired with the newcomer.
I had no explanation for this then, nor have I one now. I honestly felt I'd 'tapped intent' or some such thing. And I didn't want to look into it, really, no, I simply felt it was there to be appreciated and enjoyed, this... otherliness.
But of course, having already said I was a 'nagual' it was apparent that these sorts of incidents were accepted as some 'sign' of that, and I didn't argue or question any of it at the time. Maybe I ought to have done. But... I loved Jack. I mean, our relationship was truly 'sacred' in some way. I loved being this meaningful figure in his life. It gave me some kind of fulfillment I no longer was feeling as a father to my sons, or as husband to my wife. I know that's kinda crappy. But there it is. I was enjoyin' 'bein' the nagual'.
But now.
Ha, now I'm the host of a party, am I! That's so funny, honestly.
Could you elaborate just a bit then, on what's 'nightmarish' about it?
Pretty please?
love, Crow