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Mending Fences...

I went over to figment0's after writing group. We talked about this, that, and the other -- and of course it took four hours for us to get babbled-out enough to even think about getting sleep.

I'm sure I've mentioned this part already, but it still feels like things with Darkside have been reset. I talked somewhat about that with Figment, and mentioned that this was actually not the second chance -- it was the third chance.

... for whatever reason, I can see it like a flowchart in bright 16-color green-and-purple-and-cyan-and-yellow-and-red writing, where in my life there were things that happened other than they were technically "supposed" to happen. I can see the loops. I can see where I've been granted a re-do.

It doesn't happen enough so that I see it daily. It only happens on the big things. I know Fuzzy Modem would laugh at me or chide me for this knowledge, so I don't talk about it very often in public. But I see it when it happens, and occasionally I go bat-nuts because it's happened before, and I fucked it up, and now a situation with the same tags is happening again, and I have the chance to re-make the bad decisions. I know Fuzzy would tell me I'm delusional. I'm pretty sure a lot of other people would think that too. And that's what magic is -- delusion, pattern matching, and finding things to be of personal significance.

I don't really have a good way to describe the solid certainty I feel that these events are linked in some way beyond the obvious, that these events are bellwether events, pilot events, that shape the course of my future. Perhaps they shape the course of others' futures too, or bring meaning to others' pasts. It's certainly not delusions of being a messiah, because I know that it's unlikely I'll save anyone but myself, and since what I'm doing is saving myself from myself, what does that make me? Savior and damner all in one? I suppose I am. (That last was supposed to be capitalized, heh.) Perhaps all good Catholics are multiples, because they can understand Father-Son-HolyGhost three-in-one, one-is-three, without being thrown into mental knots and paradox. Paradoxes? Paradice? Parad0x3n? (heh.)

I'm probably verging on some sort of personal breakthrough, because I'm up way late again, babbling the way that generally I only see mystics on heavy drugs babble, and last night I brought out Craftwork 101 (the magicgeeking document) and started working on that again.

At what point am I supposed to accept that the mundane world has really no meaning for me, and to step through? At what point will I start seeing the fabric of others' minds disintegrating? I've already started to be able to re-weave a few things here and there. It looks like my specialty is mind-things, psych stuff, feelings, thoughts, in myself and others. Oh, yeah, I need some fucking sleep. I've got work tomorrow, after all, where I go in and pretend that things like the universe unraveling around me and re-weaving itself plaid doesn't ever happen.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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