trance stories: Pincher trance


I’ve just returned from the Albertan countryside. I stay there with my father from time to time in a town called Pincher Creek:


Majestic, beautiful and pristine, sure. But as an old friend of mine used to say, “what fun is a rose if it doesn’t have thorns?” The thorns out here is the high concentration of conservative voters and gun owners. On the plus side, I’ve gone out shooting a bit, which isn’t terrible. I’d prefer to know how to do it safely than not know at all. And conservatives aren’t that bad. I just think they need to ask for more professionalism from their political parties. Anyway, I’d prefer not to occupy my brain space with partisan divides. As I’ve always said, if someone’s trying to divide you, it’s because they’re trying to conquer you.

I left the city at 11:30 after my tree meditation. Double bonus: the sith galdr is also a blessing for travelers. Pincher Creek is roughly an hour and a half out of town, and often the road is slippery. On this midnight trip, however, I had the best possible conditions. Despite howling winds, icy pavement and constant snowfall, the midnight drive was calm, without wind and snow, and quite a pleasurable drive. The roads were plowed, and I felt confident the whole time I was driving. This describes the exact opposite of my trip back the following evening, making me wonder, does the ward have such an effect, or is this coincidence? These days, I say the word “coincidence” with a smile that’s enchanted with deep, knowing irony. Is anything a coincidence?  Yes, we will say to those whose grip on material reality depends upon their solid, concrete understanding of the world, an understanding that becomes threatened whenever anything escapes their previously-held deductions. Some things are just coincidences. I’m not trying to give you anxiety here. It’s just a coincidence.

Nevertheless, I will do a ward before every trip, if only to connect with nature prior to departure in a cramped metal can with wheels. Do we give enough gratitude and appreciation to the vast unknown of planet Earth? Or is it a scary thing that’s either too cold or too hot, something to be left outdoors and temperature-controlled at the tips of our fingers laid upon a plastic thermostat? Why have all the great poets and transcendentalists screamed in our ears, “God is not inside your church! God is in the vast and fathomless unknown! There are books in brooks and bibles in trees!” The transcendentalists should have just given up their fruitless petitions. They should have smiled and said, “maybe your god is only in your church, in your beaurocracy, in your tithe pool, in your well-established connections and towering hierarchies. Maybe nature is home to more Gods and spirits than we ever conceived.”

I arrived in Pincher Creek quite late. My dad was still up, confused as to why I left so late during such terrible weather. We talked about things we’re upset about, and things that bring us joy. We played music and I did my night time stretches, after which I went straight to sleep. I woke with this on my desktop:

I was walking on the street until I was captured by two humble people: a man built like a quarterback and a short-haired woman half his size. She had crew cut hair and a denim jacket. They spoke in a friendly but distant manner when they abducted me, however once were were inside their headquarters, they dropped the act and revealed themselves as being very intelligent. It turns out I was part of their community, people with the task of creating some kind of TV show, a show about some public deception designed to lead people to certain false conclusions. There were people who kept showing up and chatting in this house, which was filled with natural light and contained a large box full of story ideas. I started to come up with a proposal in which I would go rogue and fight against the very group creating the deceptions. The idea was met with good feedback. I actually just spent the rest of the dream trying to get out of the way of the busy “actors” bustling about. I got bored of standing around and I woke up.

So, that was fun. A little social critique, perhaps? Even when we think we are fighting against deception, there is always a possibility that we are creating it. I don’t have too much in the way of critique for this dream. I wonder why characters with crew cuts keep on appearing. I don’t know anybody who does their hair this way. Perhaps I’m looking forward to publishing my novel, and I will make a show of going against the stream, when in fact, rebellion is a part of the stream. Lots to think about.

Oh, I forgot about language. I’m not sure how it happened, it just did:

Styrka, förtroende, uthållighet!
Strength, confidence, endurance!

Tusen takk min bror/søster
Thank you, brother/sister
Varsågod, bror/søster
You’re welcome, brother/sister

Du kan si…
You can say…

Jag är så generad
I am so embarrassed

Ha det godt og skål til deg!
Have a good one, and cheers to you!

Please don’t even ask how this conversation happened. 😉

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