Black hole portals.
It’s Wednesday and I wonder what I’m doing in an alternate universe somewhere, some in which I chose more wisely, I hope, or we all did as a people; some in which I don’t exist at all–an idea that sometimes sounds peaceful, sometimes terrifying. I don’t mind the idea of not existing so much as I do that me as an idea or affirmation of hope or fragment of energy — or of having contributed something — should not exist.
I feel more and more directed and am feeling almost emotionally ready to begin my revision of my fantasy novel. In many ways, I’m grateful I didn’t have the energy to revise it after a good six month surge several years ago to rough it out. I feel like the last few years of caring for my father and the politics here in the states have really changed how I view our world(s) and I am now much readier to do the revision justice. But before I do that, I’m going to watch again some Nova shows on the fabric of the universe, revisit some physics, Dawn my spiritual leader who died a while back, read her thoughts on Einstein physics, Native American spirituality, yoga and Jung — all the same influences that I have in my writing — and some time travel movies I have on my watchlist. I’m also reading Thomas Lynch on his thoughts about death (he was an undertaker) and Hemingway’s thoughts on writing. But I can feel my focus and writing habits starting to re-emerge. Out of the miasma, the fog. Oh, and I also need to get back into dream incubation. For instance, I had some interesting ones last night that I’ve alredy forgotten because I’m not keeping my journal. This feeling of synchronicity is returning–no longer a completely lost and drifting soul. I guess. Like Moses wandering in the wilderness. It feels so misdirected, yet it is not purposeless. All coming together.
Vision quest perhaps–always a devotee of Native American culture. My DNA didn’t come from them, yet I have actual Native American relatives. Quite a few of them. That’s possible you know. For instance, you descend from two sets of grandparents, for instance, and yet your DNA might come from only one set of them; your sibling’s can come from the other. And yet something from all of them must make your evolutionary consciousness, somehow; something of Native American culture made my evolutionary consciousness, that is a given. Luckily, though, I didn’t claim to be Native American without proof of such.
So wandering in the wilderness is ok–there is always a reason for pain–both physical and mental. Never time wasted.
So I progress.
It’s been a while on increasing my carnivore diet macros. I’m much more solid. My upper stomach is calm for the first time in over a year. I haven’t budged from 126 pounds on the scale, or 125, yet my body continues to shift. I wouldn’t be surprised to drop a few more pounds soon as muscle burns more fat, I still have some, though perhaps weight loss happens more slowly. I feel better. No colds, no covid, no sickeness. I still wake with a lot of headaches, possibly coming from my neck, so am hoping that resolves as time goes on. My only big complaint. I am still a little low on emotional energy. I’ve cut back on exercise for right now, letting my adrenal glands repair. Gaining reserves of all sorts, though.
I’m 95% carnivore, cheating a bit on something like ice cream or a keto cheesecake with monkfruit, just a swallow of pop or wine. Though the splash of wine in sparkling water is next to none. I had a wonderful Petit Sirah with our steaks last weekend.
My husband is doing a month on carnivore, then might move slowly into keto. He’s lost 7 pounds in not quite two weeks. He’s out buying a new -to -us used boat. Needs some spiffing up and not my dream boat in color, but we’ll see if she floats. I guess all people who live right on Grand Traverse Bay ought to have a little sea craft. He doesn’t have much time left to fiddle that way–and I have a weakness. I’m a Pisces and fish and water are also part of my evolutionary consciousness. So he got his way. Boat captains run in my family and especially on these waters… a different picture of my great grandfather’s boat that ran in our inland lakes here:
We will reserve a transient slip in the inland chain o’lakes for around the 4th, and a week in the big bay for salmon fishing around Harbor Days. That’s if all goes well and he actually returns today with this boat–sea trial going on as we speak.
This weekend I’ll prepare the gardens and plant potatoes and garlic, I think. Repot some of my seedlings I started under the grow lights. Planting seeds is a must; it’s a metaphorical activity and one my mother loved. They are all doing well, tomatoes, peppers, basil, tarragon, sage, petunias and wildflowers all growing well as baby seedlings. I am planting pumpkins this year since I had not much luck with green beans or peas or zucchini. I’m also trying cucumbers, so will start those–cukes and punkins — under grow lights this week as well. Watching the Farmer’s Almanac calendar.
It’s time to touch up paint and stain the deck, too.
My father had the second covid shot yesterday. His arm is sore, but so far nothing drastic. A week before I feel he’s out of the woods. The rest of us have passed on it for now. We want to see how things progress when these people do their second round and see if the virus recedes even more. We are working instead on good health and better immunity.
How are you all today? Happy Wednesday, folks.