“Without change, something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken.” — Duke Leto Atreides (Dune)
November has all but got away from me. Apologies, but I’ve had a lot on my mind. A lot.
I am luckier than most, I’ll grant you that. Despite nagging health issues, my son is a bloody weed and as smart as smart gets; my wife is a tiny slice of divinity that keeps me honest and true, and as pretty as autumn personified; and I’ve got good mates, a decent job, and all I could ever hope for really.
I’ve been given the opportunity to indulge my creative fantasies and grow a small, but loyal fan base. And I have been working toward branching out and expanding that creativity, exploring new and exciting ventures.
All these things are fulfilling and wondrous, but I fear I have been neglecting my metaphysical leanings. I have allowed the spiritual side of my being to drift off to sleep.
The sleeper must awaken.
Those who have known me longest know full well that spiritual matters have always been at the fore of my pursuits. Is it a coincidence that as my esoteric studies and aspirations decline, my health begins to suffer?
Believe me, I’m reading the signs.
I have sought out the proper oracles, casting stones and calling in markers.
I have slowly begun to exercise my body, taking tranquil walks in the hinterlands, allowing my mind to soar into places that I have allowed to become overgrown. That’s alright. I feel right at home in the wild.
I am climbing up and out of this well of sorrow and embracing the pathways that I once strode with confidence. I do so now with a twisted cane, but the swagger remains.