One of the benefits
of Active Imagination
is that you are able to take control
and decide when to engage,
and where, and how.
You create order
by establishing rules/parameters/requirements
that must be met in order to further engage
and for the AA to take place.

This does not take away at all
from this still yet being an “active imagination” –
one that does not “come upon” you
requiring your full and immediate attention and presence
or threatens to soon be gone forever,
as if indicative of some kind of
lack of faith or fear or numbing.

Fearlessness here is:
meeting it,
welcoming it,
and containing it
for later.

There is the king’s welcome
and the king’s reception;
but the “royal dinner” and convo
is per the king’s schedule
and by his invitation only.


Make a list.
And contain there
whatever images
and whatever moments and insight bursts
and moments of “That’s The Unconscious!”
surface there.

Make a “Mandan Village”
and give each an encircled “home”.
this is the Kings welcome.
You can put “homes” here for them to dwell in –
aka – when things pop in your head,
build a village and contain them there.
Then, later in the day,
at the set appointed time and place,
visit the lodges in the village
and “speak” to “those who dwell there” within
(or those in the places you’ve placed them in);
and come back to them later
at the appropriate time
(during your A.A. session)

A.A. – 2/8

From the heights of the wooded cabin, the sun sets on a beautiful Earth. The mockingbird sings. The buzzing of the horsefly. The low roar, mixed into the world’s white noise, churning in the distance.

The child he holds is shaking. And although all is not lost, and although so much now is better, it is still nonetheless far from over. The man knows this, but acts like he does not. The child knows this, too, and wishes he could act indifferent to it as he does.

The sins of the fathers, 
repeated to the 4th generation.

An unknown force approaches:

Who are you? Who do you think you are?
You think yourself detached from ancestry?
That the past – and the blood that runs in your veins –
is indifferent to your choices and fate?

Come…. I’ve built a home for you to dwell in….


My vision grows lumpy. The sun began to set in the West, and the day draws to a close.

From inside the lodge, I hear Holding Eagle suddenly speak with urgency:

“I will be leaving soon. Quick! Strike the fire before the Night swallows the sun.”

I look and see the sun quickly descending. Flashbacks begin to pour in – images and impressions and tasks prepared for this evening’s fires.

I remember MM, and “Hollow”, and the dreams of doors and house invaders, and I hear: “This is the achilees heel” and “Remember who you told all to.” Items come to flooding to mind – offerings for tonight’s fire and ceremony.

I gather up the wood, strike the stone, and the fire bursts to life.


A cat appears. THE cat; the orange one. The same one from yesterday, and the day before. (and the one that somehow entered my house in middle of the night months ago…)

The cat approaches, now standing a few feet away from me. Almost close enough to touch.

I am shocked at his proximity. I am frozen still.

And looks at me. And then he speaks:

“Look at me,” he says. “Repeat what you see. If you do not, you will – “

and a swell of emotion suddenly overtakes me like a flood, and I can no longer see.



Stay focused.
I wasn’t kidding about you being possessed tonight.
Let the darkness swallow you and spit you out –
with not only the breath of life and the wings of heaven
but the Heart of Man, as the heart of God, whom you call Christ.


The forest. Nightfall. The hue here is opposite of the gold.

The orange cat looked on from the distance. He watched me, Silently. His eyes betrayed that he knew nothing of what would happen this night, nothing as to the outcome of it all. And yet he watched.

Across the distance, he looked at me, and spoke:

“You cannot connect with me, ME, of all animals,
if you don’t STOP. FEELING. LIKE. A. CHILD.”

Now to the matter at hand.

I hear the song “Holy, Holy” playing somewhere and am reminded of my father. I sense his presence somehow and his personal involvement with this night.


I approach the hearth.
I strike the sparks and heat the fire.
Hotter than ever.
And as the heat rises, I look into the flames, and I see:
The “battle” is just to:
and do.

Thats it.

The rest falls into place,
according to thine will.


She came.

I first felt her hands on my shoulders, the old familiar feel of my father doing the same the night that all of this ever happened; the very first time, the night at Greenoaks when it was my mother needing help, and me leading the rudderless tribe since the Father was now dead…

But you remember….

And clearly you do as well. Who are you?

What, and not even a greeting, or a hello, or –

Oh off with it

Your head, likely.

What are these, oracles? Lies? Both, likely.

Ever so.

“Where have you been?” the W asks, taking a seat across the fire. She crossed her legs, slowly and seductively, and I saw she was suddenly wearing a satin dress as she cross them; but I was present and remembered to feel the weather and I knew that she was lying.

I chuckled.

Alright. But just know that underneath your facade, I see you.

I felt the vibrations in my body begin to pulse and hum as everything in the witch hummed and turned online.

Before we begin this time and this ceremony that I’ve brought unto these woods,
and this being mine heart and I the keeper and caretaker of it –

Why are you so angry?

I pause, and breathe, reflecting on this.
The W’s eyes dart towards the symbol I am carrying.

She speaks:

Mmmm lets get disorderly, baybeeee.
Fire…. Make it hot…. HARDER

Why so angry and sexual? Just ask me to go get more wood and I’ll say “Ah! Thanks for the reminder. I’ll go do that now” and then I’ll add some logs on the fire.

Like hell you will

What is this now, then?

Heaven. My version of it. Fuck me more

STOP ~ and listen to the rules. (1) You will –

And the W disappeared and was gone.


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