RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Monday, May 13


Floated through life without ever being shown the best direction, which is fine, because I’m a natural born seeker with that ancient caveman molecules nomad heart, searching for something that feels as close to right and real as I can find. Spirituality comes in an abundance of paths, because when that right and real gets nailed down at some random vivisection of time and space, and the steps for that moment are discerned and outlined and bullet pointed, the universe don’t give a fuck and keeps on spinning further, every molecule bound by constant motion, not stillness and the same. So spirituality has to bob and weave, ebb and flow, and feel out where right and real has meandered.
I’m doing pretty good today, although everything is as unstable as ever… most of that instability is just my position within the culture of order I’ve been born into. My personal stability is about as good as it’ll get, and ready to fluctuate if necessary, attached dangerously tight to far less, but holding onto what’s important with those I’m in constant rotation with. Continue to float through this temporary existence, and think a lot of the river I hike the railroad tracks along, which is the exact river that western culture first took hold in the Americas, at Jamestown down closer to the mouth of the James. Same river slaves were shipped up, western progress crawled up, our poison culture’s invasive tendrils going the wrong way up the river, against the floating flow, forcing a different way of things. I’m not saying it’s all bad, but I can’t pretend it’s all good either. And in very basic sense, removed from political discourse and too much brain thinking, in my heart I know it’s more pleasure and natural to float down the river than fight my way up it. There’s a lesson in that, but by pointing it out specifically I move from the ebb and flow to the forcing order of making you notice. So I fucked it up. Should’ve just gone to the river and sat there instead of typing these words. The crows say it so much better than I ever could anyways.

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