…issues—have tried to lay hold on me, and I feel like I’ve failed at life, but then I remind myself that everyone feels like they haven’t done enough—and the markers of successful maturity—kids, home, wife, car, FT job—would preclude magic and…other things I’ve pursued. I wonder if the magic is sufficient, but (1) that’s halthaya & (2) no, that other stuff wouldn’t be sufficient either.
I’m vain enough that [aging] vexes my sense of identity. And a sense of shame comes over me about it. We mock the [aging] on TV.
The insights I have learned are not undone, but halthaya and mûl-ôl assert themselves strongly. Social conditioning.
On the way to work, I saw Angus on horseback cantering beside me along the train tracks—gigantic and off-scale. I don’t recall much of what he said—I worried over how I had drifted in my purpose in this realm, that I had drifted mentally—but really, I fretted over aging. K and I spoke earlier, and he reminded me that all beings age. Even the sidhe do in their own way, but not like persons in mortal realms. We calcify—and grow strange, alien, and fey. All these things humans accuse us of being—and that’s one reason for KT. To avoid becoming that—and to escape it. Death and life; even we must feed ourselves to idises and giants to avoid becoming idises and giants.
Death reminds us of what others experience, humbles and renews us, makes us cherish our varied, immortality—and not become monsters.
But there are some in the ___ who refuse—and then you have the Tuatha and—I don’t know—the notion of something like temples for god-walkers comes to mind. The Tuatha have moved to deeper realms, have become godlike if not gods—there are paths there grooved into myth, history—well, what you sensed about Angus and his Wyrd the other day.