magpie

in my long wandering through the blogsphere, i came upon dreamer girl and her reference to someone else's blog and a game they called "magpies," where they meditate upon a question they want answered while holding the dictionary in their hands. the idea, of course, is that the universe will hear and serendipity will answer. after a few moments' meditation, they close their eyes, open the dictionary to a random page, and point. hoping, of course, that the universe led them to the word that is --with a little bit of thought and contemplation-- the answer to their question.

being the saavy little witch i am, i know that this can be done with any book. it's called "bibliomancy" or "libromancy" to those folk familiar with different types of divination, and is quite old. books used most often are holy or sacred texts, or texts "known to hold truth." frankly, any book will work.

i decided to try it for the first time in eleven years. the one other time i've divined in such a manner, i used the bible, and it told me that the universe had had enough of me running away, i had learned all i could in the place where i was, and it was time to return home to my biological parents. the passage i'd turned to said that even sinners could be kind to loved ones, but the truly faithful learned to love their enemies. no greater enemy hath i than my bio-dad, so to home from reno i went. i'd been missing for four months by then.

so i decided to use what is swiftly becoming my personal bible, the televisionary oracle by robert brezsny. this man is my hero. my question?

it was a little embarrassing, actually, with *kas* sitting at the computer on my left. i held the oracle in both my hands, my eyes closed and both feet planted flat on the floor. tonight the hum of four computers and the high, just-beyond-human-hearing whine of the entertainment center sounded like the hum of the airport terminal, 747's and 757's engines muffled through double-sided floor-to-ceiling windows. the book became alive in my hands, and i could feel it listening to my question as it crackled from the powerhouse between my ears, through my fingertips, to the pages themselves.

i want freedom, independence, and eros. is this the year i find them? i asked the book. is 2007 my year?

i flipped through the pages from cover to cover, left to right, right to left. back and forth until the book told me to stop, and then i traced my fingers over the pages. they heated beneath my very hands, lines from pages 416 and 417.

my answer?

"propaganda, my dear," said the book. "vicious propaganda."

sigh. well, i really can't say that i'm surprised, but i would have liked to have hoped. a part of me just keeps hoping that my dream, the life i strive for, is like quantum physics. the very act of my searching for it changes the very nature of it. the moment the idea of my search sprang from my head fully formed was the moment what i was searching for changed, and it is now not the thing it was before my quest. thus, i may continue searching, because at least even if it is ever-changing, i may still find it. it won't be what i expect, nor will it match the picture i had in my head at the very beginning, but it will be what i have searched for. instead of simply accepting defeat and bowing to the futility of it, and giving up what i want most in life.

after all, i have turned my world upside down more times than is probably wise, journeyed thousands of miles, in search of my dream. alas, it is vicious propaganda.

but there was more. if i am not to find freedom, independence, and eros this year, that's not to say my year will be misspent. what, then, will i find? what does 2007 hold in store for me?

so sayeth the book: harner tells of conversing with a jivaro shaman in brazil who makes no distinction between his experiences in dreamtime and waking life. one moment the shaman is describing how he used his magical powers to fly to a remote mountaintop cave and bathe in the medicine of a liquid rainbow; next moment he's talking about the delicious rabbits he caught while hunting yesterday, or the exceptional talent his wife's sister has for farting during solemn ceremonial occasions. this is one example of a person who knows how to live in the drivetime.

again i say, "welcome to my life." no, delena is not to find the american dream, those quaint and provincial desires of the common woman: career, love, marriage, children. parent-teacher conferences and a garden in the back yard. that's really all i've wanted, ever. no, apparently delena is to exercise a healthy capacity for divine dementia.

or maybe i'm too presumptuous to say "divine" dementia. then again, if that's not the case, then i'm already halfway there.