Your pass for the new year realities

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Today is the shortest day and the longest night of 2018. Marked by a full moon and a meteor shower on the macro-cosmic level,  and DNA activation and upgrade on the micro. Some call it the solstice and some call it Yule and there are probably a hundred thousand million other names for this tipping point. Not just titles, but sizes. We’re always in the middle of something, but all the sunsets and thresholds keep changing. Science is always determining things both smaller and larger than has ever been proven. But we’ve made it this far through a harrying year for us all, in which every monster from the darkest psychic caverns has been crowned king or appointed Parks Janitor, Uncle Sam reaching into our crotches Rolex-deep, every dream and thought and deed overshadowed by worries and fears. Yesterday I couldn’t find my transfer for the light rail. There I was in the middle of a crowded train car, and the only transfer I could find was for the 18th, and I knew it was at least the 20th by then. Not only that, some guy in a fluorescent vest had just boarded at the last stop, possibly a transit cop. I sat there waiting for him to come up and see my pass, rehearsing things to say, like, “I probably have it here somewhere.”

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If I got kicked off the train before my stop, I’d have to walk a piece to make it where I was headed. Not too far, really, just farther than I was accustomed to going, which made the added mile seem arduous. But one thing I’ve learned from this season now ending is that accomplishments easily double in size once I get after accomplishing them. The most arduous seeming of tasks is rapidly translated to the done column, life is translated to the joyous song of the happy worker (to misquote Edgar Cayce), I start looking around for more tasks to accomplish in the algebra of Doing, whatever I have previously felt opposed by is exposed as a ghost of my own doubt. Sorry, everyone, for any trouble I’ve caused you this year, and my best thanks to this earth for her most gracious tolerance of our unending misunderstanding and remembering and ruining remaking and rebuilding, even if it all goes to dust in an avalanche, even screaming my thanks in a hollow echo chamber without any listeners, just like to strike that chord, if it’s not too late yet, and say thanks, Earth, for being our dear loving mother, all us problem children, so full of destruction forever.

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I kept sitting there waiting for something to happen. The transfer in my left pocket was one I’d picked up two or three days before. I started checking all my other pockets, first my inside jacket pocket, then the side pockets, then the side pockets of my overcoat, then its inside pocket, which I had to unzip before looking inside. Nothing there either. Well, thanks for all the laughs, God-Universe I’ve built my life on, for the force of Whatever You Mean, real or not, strongly through everything, full of Passion, and Sorrow, Beyond Time and By Law,

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Goodbye to you sanctions and habits I’ve spent too much feeling on this year, that never helped, and only brought down the whole session by limiting my comfort zone without fulfilling any urge for growth or improvement. In a minute I’ll start walking home and that will be the last hardship this year, I’ll swallow my medicine gladly, no complaiint, just one more mile of my endless trek, hardly worth a froen or sneer. Any second now.

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But why wasn’t the guy in the yellow jacket coming back? Maybe he wasn’t a transit cop, after all. I looked over my shoulder and didn’t see him. if he was a transit cop, he might have boarded another car, which meant he’d be boarding this one at an upcoming stop. I started taking out handfulls of cards from my wallet and going through them in case I’d stuffed in there for no reason, but there I was, only my luck and my charm to trade on if that transit cop came down on me. I looked at the transfer again, the one I was sure had the wrong date, only to find it was the right one after all, and presumably had been all along, I mean why not, right? Laboring under the oppression of my own misperception again, which is something else Edgar Cayce said, and I don’t remember it word for word either (Note: I’m nobody’s devotee, but he said some smart things, here’s a link for the curious).

your pass

All the myriad landscapes composing us. How far we must stretch to assume our true size.

Get out of here, old news.

Not without the proper gratitude for the time it took to make that level comfortable before transcending it like yesterday’s fish and chips paper or imaginary light rail transfer, as the case may be.

Now we say hello to a new time of achievement and improvement where all the goals already reached turn into portals to new achievements as yet undreamed, maybe not even anticipated, all of which will be like balconies and rooms and stairways added to the magical spaceship we’re building. With all the things reversing and flip flopping at this moment in the realities and destinies surrounding us.

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Going into the new year with ongoing accomplishments from talented fellow beings as assurance and inspiration,

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Knowing combinatory play is the source of all productive thought,

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It has to find you working,

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and the moon is always watching.

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