How do I call weird shit into my life? Previously, I think I just did, and within days or weeks, without expecting it, weird shit would start to occur. K notes it’s not hard to get the attention of the Otherworlds, and most people want it to go back away.
Doing the Otherworldly, calling the ôl-vala into yourself, immersing yourself in that power and making it “your own”—I suspect you get that through will, daring—but you have to know what you want, have to know how to articulate and untangle those desires. But that will probably involves keeping that will on track—too often, I think, I’ve felt pulled. The fear of change—changing who I think I am. Changing understanding. Changing desires. Fear and not feeling sure about what you wanted in the first place.
The fears, though—the same principles of the Otherworlds apply here. If you go into the Otherworlds as an “outsider,” with fear, then you will create your problems, will draw them to you. But that’s also true of calling the Otherworlds here, of confronting weird shit here. Even living in this realm, if you fear and wiffle, then you will draw nightmares on to yourself.
In a way, my mind goes to the notion of themes. We all encounter the same reality space in this realm, but our SoS becomes a kind of theme that alters the aesthetics of our experience or/and filters what we notice or even what we think/believe we can do. Knowing, willing, daring, silence—
Okay, the analogy works better as a matter of UI/”desktop environment.” The privileges you grant yourself.
I feel, I wonder if the more ôl-vala, the more faentaur and vulgar power you afford yourself, can grapple with, claim, reflect/soften upon, then does that alienate you from the rest of the world? Do you slip or slide out into new realities, or just off the map? Slide behind mundane everyday life?
Morpheus writes about how she feels the Morrigan injured her, kept her off her leg, until the book is done by the end of the year. She’s written about what, the nature of her pact—her dedication to the Morrigan beyond devotional practices. The Morrigan wants Her book; Morpheus gave herself to the Morrigan in whatever agreement they made—but Morph called, invited that level of ôl-vala into her life with no take-backs.
The Morrigan, Morph has written, is a conduit, font, bridge for Otherworldly power. The gods have traditionally fulfilled that role, but ôl-vala is also already there. We can tap into it ourselves. But doing so makes us more like the gods.—And they have gone wholly, embrace fully that expansiveness, and we often remain afraid of what all that means. What happens to the ego?
Enlightenment means more embracing our mutability as our core—no, means embracing our mutability as our wholeness. We create new egos as we want, or have them imposed on us, but these can become hurur. The, a big part of our Path and enterprise is dismantling these egos as hindrances and limitations. We find ourselves as our hurur, and they want to survive, to not change. Longing and desire change us,—Ovidian desire—and we are often afraid of that change—why?
But ôl-vala, faentaur, all of these are the Chaos, the potentiality, that we seek. But to seek Chaos is to change. Is to defy the static order of law, community, convention. It—our embrace of these forces, our own light and ôl-vala Chaos nature—individuals push us out, people push us away into the dimly understood Otherworlds—but sometimes they want, as individuals us or the Chaos to change their worlds or lives, or they think they do. Law offers them the power of order, but—well,—
—we live in an age of Law. The old days and the embrace of ôl-vala for battle, for sovereignty and defense—(mediated ôl-vala and the power of the gods and others)—but the Otherworlds were accepted, if feared. But it’s hard to imagine a world unstultified by Law, or this world, at least. And I glimpse at the kernal of influence and Dasein Law holds over me.
So, tonight, I should spell, rite, call ôl-vala into me and into my life. Bridge C-L L-C and imagine new, wondrous things.
I have been stepping haltingly towards—magic, the Otherworlds, ôl-vala, myselves—but I have been moving.
But where does the wind out of the HW come from? Why does it exist? K tells me that it is the force of Chaos and potentiality blowing against us, especially as we try to direct ourselves towards some specific end. The winds would cast us into an exhilarating but mercurial realm of potentiality and whimsical, aimless mutability. As we move towards our wills in Chaos, the Otherworlds, potentiality, we should press towards our specific wills and not allow ourselves to be blown off-course. But I want to distinguish Law/Pattern/Order from Will. One is constraint and limitation. The other is choice and intentionality and desire, knowing, self-reflective desire. They are not the same. Self-knowledge and—non-Foucauldian self-discipline: hell, self-possession—that’s what you cultivate. Relaxed, self-confidence.
 As in the ways that desire leads to transformation, bodily and otherwise, via Ovid’s Metamorphoses.