Local Spirits, Seasonal Surges

There is something in the woodsy labyrinth of streets nearby, lurking under the trees, among the trees. It’s tempting to perceive it as threatening, but as I reflected while walking—until my brain focused on Hot and Hot—what I might be sensing hiding with the trees is the Green itself, grumbling and whispering under the suburban surface, the Green spirit pushing its way up around the suburban, middle class homes. Now, there may be more—I can imagine the crap white people have festered in that maze of streets and twisting paths—the abuses, anxieties, and nocturnal lunacies. It’s a dark part of town at night, with streetlights sparse.

But I think the unease I’ve often sensed in places like that may be more the Green and its Presence, and it’s a different aspect than the park’s trails and wilder scrub. (However, I suspect Saerien’s corpse extends some ways, and in subtler ways than I might expect.)

Don’t miss the forest for the Tree—

It feels shadowed, fey, wild, lurking, familiar with a hint of threat, free, alive and creeping—it reminds me of Otherworlds and Saiyûnor—it reacts to you, and if you are fey and slide into the wood with it in your heart, without foolish human heart and fear, then you are at home. Otherwise, you will fear shadow and creak and rustle. Sexual energies are what I saw, and those’re what I’m sensing now.

The Dark Wood of Saiyûnor touches into this in Haisuith and the borders into Koranith. I can feel it now, even at the edges.

I want to lose myself in it. I want to wrap myself in it and draw it with me.

Is this seasonal? In part.

Why had I not sensed this before? I have, but—well, it’s always been there—like standing on a shore, looking at out the sea. Standing there, you will not feel the waters until you step into it. And the summer heat makes it easy to focus on that than on the Green—and white people are also distracting.

Elethis rises over it but touches, hell, probably empowers it.

And looking at it, moving with the shadowed gaze helps make it—natural, even homey to me.

It also occurs to me that cycling elthil is a version of the principle that the gaze employs. They are lucid, magical ways of mindfulness, but they are complementary praxes and also have different purposes, or slants of purpose. The gaze is immersive, perceptive, and cycling elthil in the bodies is more Presence—both can bridge. There are also attitudinal distinctions. The gaze is far more—Otherworlds, fey, even sardonic.

I may overstate, though, but cycling and Presence seem more freeing and open, but they can go together well enough.

And breathe into Stillness—and remember to Soften.

People are slow, languid, and small,—you notice the scaling at a distance.

There’s a version of the world just to the side, in the Otherworlds, and I want to walk slantwise into it.

Defixio, and notes for Authun.

The gaze seems easier and more immediate than last night.

I spell for dreams of the Green, the Wood, and the Otherworlds.

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