Ataraxia with a Clause

It's easy to see that I was in a bit of a scathing mood last week.

By Tuesday morning, I was a basket case - sore in all my limbs from shoulder to hip, with a head pain that felt as though my brains were ready to explode all over the show.

So I boiled up some coltsfoot, liquorice, juniper berries and ginger, added large amounts of fresh lemon juice and honey, and took to my bed for 24 hours.

I had some lovely light and geometry shows, I must say. Delirium can be quite entertaining. At one stage I was convinced I was dying, but it was quite OK - I felt I'd done all I came here to do and was really ready to leave.
I called my lady Hecate, and she insinuated herself into every cell of my body, while Anubis stood ready to lead off with his staff and ankh.
I felt a complete and utter absence of anything even vaguely resembling fear.
The next day, I was 100% well and able to work.

Having a conversation with my partner on our way to our labours the day after that, as I was trying to explain why I could understand people's passions and causes very well, but thought they were all a tad immature on the bigger scheme of things, it hit me that I was still absolutely unafraid.Of death. Of sickness. Of age.

It's as though I had finally assimilated the inevitability of my ego's impermanence .
I still have no answers for what happens after our earthly stay, and it still doesn't worry me.
One day I'll know, one way or another.

In the meantime, I'm content to interact with the only God I'll ever know - who is reading this blog right now, cawing at me from a cellphone mast, pushing up shoots in the seedling tray, and yes, falling ill and dying - for as long as it takes.

And I'll be keeping an eye on the one and only fear I have the right to claim as mine - the fear which abides, through the grace of All, in me yet.
The fear which, being present in this human's body, makes all other fears redundant.

The fear of alcohol.

Pic: Addicts Victorious