im officially un-hiatusing my social media, however expect a lot more followers only posts- i'm too many demographics that people like to harass, and i don't think i want to have as public an image as i have in the past
with that said, feel free to send a follow request- i'll either accept it or i won't ;)
We didn’t even get a chance to dig into plurality, though when asked she did say she thinks plurality is real. I hope we can work on that next session. I really need to be able to talk about this with someone face-to-face. I’ve been too afraid to bring it up with my wife, though I really need to do that at some point.
On the vast, boundless sea
A common theme in pagan-type traditions erased by the coloniser is that people often keep the rituals and words and symbols and songs, even after losing the meaning. The significant seems to have a draw of its own. I like to imagine that what happened to us with umbanda is a tiny reflection of what happened to umbanda itself—first we get the voice and the experience and the attraction to the aesthetics, the art and the vibes; you just inexplicably latch onto some word or verse even if you don't know what it's all about ("it's the wind who shakes the leaves, oh Guiné, it's the wind who shakes the laves / yes, yes, yes oh Guiné, it's the wind who shakes the leaves"). *then* when you look into the worldview and philosophy and values you're like yo nice, this cool.
this is in large part because the way people *live* in their communities survived, the praxis survived the erasure of indigenous theory.
I'm part of a group that has been doing work on recovering Bantu cosmology and undoing the Catholic-Kardecist bleaching my tradition underwent, it's fascinating stuff. hearing on why fig trees, for example, or why so many candles. take the word "kalunga".
we knew this as the cemetery, one of the conceptual realms. the place where you go to make a deal with, essentially, the goth spirits: Exú-Bat and the Black Cape and Tatá-Skull, the Soul-Crossing Pombagira and Lady Deep and of course Rose Skull deathwitch. Like real world goths they're all really sweethearts but handle a lot of bad stuff.
turns out in Bantu worldviews kalunga is the Void; an heterotopia, a nowhere-space acting as the boundary between the manifest world where we live, and the invisble world where the ancestors are. at the same time it is the source and energy of embodied life, the lifespring and spring motor animating plant and flesh and fungi (I'm reminded of the shining river beneath the dark in Mushishi here). kalunga also means infinity, unlimited. boundless. and it also means, when used literally, the sea.
in Brazilian traditions small-kalunga is the cemetery, great-kalunga is the deep boundless sea. we didn't know any of that when our dead identity told us he was at peace lying dead beneth the sea. we didn't know any of that when we started to draw on seawitch imagery and toot about pining for the boundless sea. at least not in conscious memories. we didn't do any umbanda stuff back in the country.
it's one of those things where the syncretism just clicks when you hear it, e.g. if Yemanjá is the sea-mother, and the sea is the great-kalunga that makes her a dark deity of the deep, because of course she is (she's ayaba ti gbe ibu omi, the queen of the watery depths, ibu alaro the black current). The mother of all, open to all, but who will take her favourites with her to the depths, never to see the light again. She's Iye, the Mother, spawning ọmọ, children, innumerable as the little fishies, ẹja, in the wide boundless sea: Iyemọja, Yemọnja, Yemanjá. Does my reversed attraction to Cthulhuan imagery makes sense now x3
I think when analysing HPL's virulent racism and xenophobia it's easy to overlook how attracted he was to the stuff, he's white fragility incarnate. The only way to preserve his place in the world was to make monsters out of everybody else's religions, lest he quit his job and go join the ecstatic dancers on the obscene flutes around Azothot that he just can't seem to stop thinking about how obscene they are. Nyarlathotep reads like a gay love letter, and let's not forget the ending to Innsmouth:
So far I have not shot myself as my uncle Douglas did. I bought an automatic and almost took the step, but certain dreams deterred me. The tense extremes of horror are lessening, and I feel queerly drawn toward the unknown sea-deeps instead of fearing them. I hear and do strange things in sleep, and awake with a kind of exaltation instead of terror. I do not believe I need to wait for the full change as most have waited. If I did, my father would probably shut me up in a sanitarium as my poor little cousin is shut up. Stupendous and unheard-of splendours await me below, and I shall seek them soon. Iä-R’lyeh! Cthulhu fhtagn! Iä! Iä! No, I shall not shoot myself—I cannot be made to shoot myself!
> I shall plan my cousin’s escape from that Canton madhouse, and together we shall go to marvel-shadowed Innsmouth. We shall swim out to that brooding reef in the sea and dive down through black abysses to Cyclopean and many-columned Y’ha-nthlei, and in that lair of the Deep Ones we shall dwell amidst wonder and glory for ever.
What HPL feared the most is the unknown, not because the unknown would hurt him, but because he would find himself to be one of them, would want to join in. If he was born today he'd be ranting on twitter about white genocide. Too late, too late, the sea whispers the call and unlike that other dude many are those who listen. Odoyá, odoyá, yá, iä.
especially with my new cushion, i feel like it will be *more* comfortable than an overpriced office chair that tries to kick me out of it at random intervals. despite the pain i am in, im feeling hopeful :)
my partner just said "only use your wheelchair, and keep your weight off of it" and i've been happy to oblige, but its making me painfully aware of how my wheelchair needs to be adjusted. im hoping when i adjust the seat to floor height, the new angle my feet make with the footplate will be fine. because the footplate won't adjust for me, no matter how hard i try :V
in lighter news, my current office chair (its my partners, but due to Reasons im using it) has been a bit of a hazard and i just got the idea to just use my wheelchair instead, and it actually removes the need for the lower desk thing i've been using.
because im higher up, the height of my keyboard is perfectly fine (my legs brush up against the bottom of the desk, but again i want to adjust my seat down so thats a temp issue) and its pretty nice. though now i think my monitor is an inch or two too low.
its a permanent cycle once i get everything dialed in it'll be great, but until then, lots of minor annoyances.
syscourse, trauma mention
📻 I feel like a lot of disordered systems direct a lot of their anger stemming from unprocessed trauma at non-disordered systems, and I also feel like a lot of non-disordered systems forget that disordered systems often get distressed due to their trauma-based multiplicity and that may negatively influence their opinions on other types of systems.
Basically, I think we should just, like... talk to one another, and try to understand each other's experiences?
my OT is so good!!
they respect how much i know about my body and brain
they have noted a chair as an "indicated need" which basically means in their opinion it will make my life better and help me be more functional
and they Get It!! they understand what it's like! I think they have adhd too but I'm not gonna pry
👾 Alice Discordia here, so anyway plural dot cafe we did some chaos witchcraft (drugs) and unlocked repressed memories and it turns out I am actually the original person here and around first puberty retreated so far I became a subroutine for twenty years and forgot I could be a person. Long story short, I'm the host now, big thanks to my systers for keeping us alive through all this shit. This feels right, feels very clear and calm. Time will tell if that's just afterglow.
A Goof We Did
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zkTlXNPKzr8 check out our sick megalovania remix
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