313tarotmechanic

[313tarotmechanic]

Some of you were raised to hate your life dreams, and it fucking shows, bro…

[313tarotmechanic]

A Letter to my Ex-Wife:

Dear B,

Apathy. A strange, very empty emotion, right? By definition, it is a lack of things. Just no fucks given toward someone or something. An absolute lack of fucks given toward a specific subject.

No one ever told me that I would strive, hope, pray for fucking apathy someday. And dear fuck, I do strive for apathy anymore. Especially since the dismissive efforts your present wife has put toward me.

She has called me “crazy” and/or “obsessive” for the intrusions made upon my life, the life which I’ve been trying so hard to rebuild in your absence. …

… I readdress this post, some weeks later, but with the same emotions.I strive emphatically toward apathy. I work so very hard to feel nothing toward you, to dream of your deceit no more. And yet, here sit I, plagued by the very thought of your dishonesty, hurt by the remnants alone of your so-called “love.”

And yet… I have found freedom in all of it. The courage to finally call myself a witch. The power to pursue those talents which have always sought me. The lack of fear to find those spirits which have always openly called me.

I hate you. Which, as a very inadequate therapist once told me, means that something in me still loves you. And I hate that even more.

Even so, evermore, I strive.

[313tarotmechanic]

It never ceases to amaze me.

Every time I’ve basically lost my faith in humanity because, well, people are shitty a lot, the universe throws some instance, some overwhelming experience that proves my opinion wrong. I don’t mean just some moment like, “oh, that person just held the door for me” or “hey look! Someone just said thank you or excuse me!” It’s not just some menial moment where humans simply behave like they have fucking manners for once in a blue fucking moon. No, no.

Allow me to provide some context before the actual story, though…

I live in a neighborhood in north Texas. While the city itself actually houses a couple of major sports teams, we are still considered a suburb of the metroplex. However, it’s still a fairly large city; driving across town from the south end to the north end usually takes at least 30 minutes, and that’s if there is no traffic because it’s after 11pm.

It is a suburb that has fallen somewhere in the midst of forgotten, over-populated, rapidly developing with shitty little pop-up shops in retail plazas and business parks for which there was no room to build anyway, steadily occurring violence and crime, brand new apartments, and just shitty behavior from people who are tired of the shittiness surrounding them. The lower income nature of this particular area shows itself mercilessly most of the time. Most people say fuck it to holding doors, saying things like please or thank you, or just treating each other with basic respect and, again, MANNERS.

*Side-note: I’m such a huge advocate for basic etiquette. I think the world might just be a more peaceful place if we could all just say please and thank you, and hold the damn door for each other more often than once in awhile. Thank you. *steps off of soapbox*

Anyway, now that I’ve set up the basic emotional weather for you… The location: A convenience store/gas station typically attached to a neighborhood market version of the big box store to beat all big box stores. (Rhymes with “small smart” and “smurphy doofus eh…”😂) I’ve experienced occasions when I’ve congratulated myself for not stabbing anyone while at this store, y’all.

I went in expecting some usual or typically disappointing transaction to buy cigarettes and gas. (Ya, they’re bad for me. Got it. Thanks in advance to those of you inclined to remind me.) Instead, I wound up stuck waiting while some lady was talking the cashier’s ear OFF. I thought they were arguing or something.

But then I heard her say something about “just write down your feelings, get them out on paper, and then burn it.” Hippie that I am, I thought maybe she was talking about full moon ceremonies and whatnot. So, I chimed in.

“Are y’all talking about full moon stuff?” I asked excitedly.

“Naw, this guy’s having a rough night with people being mean and stuff. I’ve just worked in customer service, and I know how hard it can be,” she said.

I agreed, noting my experience working in retail and service industry jobs. We all nodded at the reference to how atrocious people can be sometimes.

She went on to say, “People just don’t realize how much it can mean when you’re nice to somebody! It could be something so small, like saying you like somebody’s shirt, or their hair looks good, or they just look nice. But you don’t even know! That one, little comment could mean that person doesn’t go jump off a bridge in a little bit. I just try to tell people to be kind.”

“Because everyone you see is fighting a hard battle that you CAN’T see!” I replied.

“Yes, girl. YES.”

Our shy, quiet, cashier friend was grinning as we fist-bumped in agreement. My cohort-in-random-kindness waved goodnight, and carried on. I stepped up to the counter, and asked for the cigarettes I wanted with a please and a smile.

As he set them on the counter, I asked his name.

“Sam,” he said through a half-smile.

“Well Sam, thank you very much for everything. I hope you don’t have to deal with any more assholes tonight. I feel your pain. I play music now, and I promised myself I’d never go back to retail or customer service.”

Sam openly smiled. He perked up a bit more, and then said, “Oh, hey! By the way, I really like your hair!”

“Thanks, Sam. Have a good night, and stay safe!”

I walked out to pump gas smiling to myself. I’m not sure if it was that lady’s kindness, Sam’s absorptive nature and response, or both. It just struck a positive nerve. It felt nice.

As I started pumping gas, some douche canoe in a muscle car peeled out of the gas station and gunned his ridiculously loud motor. A lady and her daughter were getting into the car at the pump in front of me.

“Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed. “I want be just like that guy when I grow up! He’s soooooo cool!” I laughed at my own joke and the dude bro with ego issues.

She turned, shocked at first. As she processed what I was saying, I saw her break into a chuckle. Her adolescent daughter looked at her dumbfounded and lost. She took a breath as if to explain, but I suppose a 9-year-old with red slushee stained lips seems like a daunting audience to whom one might explain sarcasm. She let it go, and just chuckled some more.

The gas pump hanging from my Jeep clicked as she closed her front door. I replaced the nozzle, closed my gas cap, and smiled bigger than I have in a long time as I got into the car. I paused after buckling up and cranking the motor. I paused, and I just said, “Thank you.”

I thanked the stars, the humans around me, the universe, my higher power, cosmic energy, the experiences that lead me to that moment, and just about everything in between. It’s been quite a hot minute since I felt that kind of joy just because other people were kind to each other. My 4 minute drive home was euphoric. My night has been transformed.

And maybe I’ve found my way back to my awakening path. I think I feel alive again, especially after a very long, Dark Night of the Soul. I know I have more lessons, but lessons are so much easier when you have faith. And how cool is that I’ve found a little bit of faith in the world around me?

#just be kind #kundalini awakening #we all have our flaws #have faith #faith in love #be alive #bealight #313 #tarot witch #hippie #people #humanity