It’s 9:00. I’m still on the train to work. Actually I just got on the train. I’m running fabulously late today, which normally doesn’t bother me, but I’ve been later and later of late. I’m having a real problem getting out of bed at a reasonable hour. I am not sure if I need to go to bed earlier, or if there is some other issue bothering me here.

I haven’t written pretty much at all for about a week. As a result, I feel really constipated. I’ve got all this stuff going on, and I haven’t really taken any opportunity to let it out. Sometimes writing can seem like a creative enema, or the spiritual equivalent of ex-lax.

I’m listening to the soundtrack to “Were the World Mine,” my current addiction. The title song has lyrics that are based on Shakespeare.

I see their knavery. This is to make an ass of me. To fright me, if they could.

Yet I will not stir, from this place do what they can. I will work, up and down here. And I will sing, that they shall hear. That I am not, I am not afraid. I am not afraid.

I know not by what power I’m made bold. But still you floud my insufficiency. The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.

My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye. My tongue should catch your tongue sweet melody. My tongue your tongue, were the world mine.

And I will sing, that they shall hear. That I am not, I am not afraid. I am not afraid.

Faeries away, fetch me that flower. UP and down, up and down. I will lead them up and down. Faeries away, swift as a shadow. Up and down, up and down. I will lead them up and down…

It goes on. This song has kept me alive for the past 5 days or so. Everytime I listen to it I feel strong. I feel full of grace. I suspect it helps that it’s Shakespeare, and helps more that the music is brilliant and powerful. And that it’s sun by a faerie.

Last weekend was the Summer Solstice weekend. Friday I went out during the rain, and walked the labryinth at St. Scholastica. I left feeling empowered, with a lesson or a reminder, about gifts and how they are meant to be used. When we are given a gift by the Divine, or by a Spirit, it is meant to be exercised, to be used. One should not hoard or squander the gifts of the Divine. Grace is meant to be lived in, not kept selfishly close to ourselves.

This resonates with something one of my teachers and I talked about over winter. Power, Energy, Magic, can not be hoarded. It is a living force (to be somewhat Jedi about it). A practitioner is the vessel and conduit of that force, but he is not meant to hold it. He is meant to channel it, to be changed by it. When you keep power in a tight fist, and try not to use it, it becomes stagnant. It creates blocks and unrest, and it can become a real problem to your health and wellbeing.

This is something that I’ve been guilty of in the past, and that I still struggle with. Not because I have a desire to hold onto power (although I like feeling powerful), but because I often don’t think about it. I don’t know how other people perceive this, but I think we are attached to the current. The current is there no matter what. If you don’t use it, you get full and are subject to the attendant issues of pressure and stagnation of that force.

For people who have a wide channel, or a large pipe if you will, either because we have some natural inclination or because we’ve trained ourselves and exercised that channel, this is a big problem, because we get full quickly. It’s easy for me to get lost in myself and forget to use the energy that’s flowing into me. Karate has been a big help in that, since physical exertion provides a great outlet for that energy. But I still have more work to do. Some weeks are great, others are much more challenging.

On Saturday night I couldn’t sleep, so I walked down to the beach to wait for the Solstice Sunrise. I made a seven circuit labryinth in the sand and walked it to center myself. Then I sat on my blanket and tried to write. I wrote a few pages, but it was junk. Serious junk. There was no passion or power in it at all. It was as though I was writing because I should write, not because I had something to say.

This is of course, not the first time that’s happened, but it was somehow very noticable. Being midsummers eve, I can’t imagine why things like that would seem important and attention getting. So I put down my pen and just sat on my blanket and watched the sky grow lighter. I cried a little bit. I induldged myself in a little bit of self-pity. I twittered with @eve11 and watched the clouds turn pink and the sky brighten. Then I walked home, and saw more rabbits than I’ve ever seen in my life. One after another, hopping ahead of me, across my path, and towards home.

I’ve been seeing bunnies in a lot of places the last six months. They seem to be getting more prolific though, I have been meaning to dump some time into working with rabbit, but it hasn’t happened yet. I think that needs to get bumped up in the priority list a little, because it’s getting kind of out of hand. As if the bunnies weren’t interesting enough, a young coyote showed up, trotting happy as you please down the street back towards the lake from where I’d just come. He looked as me as he passed, with that tricksters gleam in his eye and just kept on going. He seemed to say “What are you gonna do about it?”

I’m not really sure what I’m going to do about it, but it’s clear that the animal kingdom and their spiritual counterparts are calling out to me. Animal wisdom, I think.

“And so far blameless proves my enterprise. That I have annointed those poor souls eyes.”

“Think of your friends, your family.”

“No! And so far am I glad it so did sort, As this their jangling I esteem a sport.”

And later:

“You have torn our ancient love asunder. Take comfort he no more shall see my face, who I do love and do until my death.”

“I have a devise to make all well. Crush this herb into the lovers’ eyes, whose liqour has this virtuous property. To take from their minds all error and make their eyeballs roll with wanted sight. When next they wake all this derision shall seem a dream or foolish vision. Don’t haste, get to the play tonight. With some luck there, all things shall be right.”

“I swear to you by Cupids strongest bow, by all the vows that ever men have broke. I’ll be there.”