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.

Friday, January 7

SONG OF THE DAY: Temporal Control of Light Echoes

The calendar flipped, and to be honest everything feels as if it’s breaking, slowly. And it’s been breaking, the past couple years more obviously, essentially we were all in a car together as a culture, and the check engine light came on five years ago, maybe longer to be honest, and we were told to ignore it, no worries, but then the past couple years, the car started making a horrible clanking sound, and it’s really worrisome. But we’re speeding along the highway of human progress like everything’s fine, keep it moving. Though a new year according to Gregorian calendars, it’s still the same winter, and the second one since covid came. A smaller parallel is I lost my power this week, and the first night, I was like, “well, it’s cold as fuck, but I’ll bundle up, do a little reading by flashlight, write some thoughts on cards, this is great.” And it was cold as fuck but it was great… everything had shutdown and it felt good to have the break from all the mundane buzzing vibrating bullshit boring holes through my consciousness every moment of every day.
But then the second night came, and it wasn’t even as cold – still below freezing but a good 15 degrees warmer – and I was miserable. It fucking sucked, and I kept waking up in my seven layers, wondering how long before the sun came up, even though it’d still be freezing, I could at least soak up some sun and mark the passing of another night. That’s the second winter of covid to be honest – we are expected to be as back to normal as possible, even though things aren’t full power, and it’s all fucked up, and so many people are so fucking miserable right now, just barely holding their shit together. Makes me wonder what Dark Night of the Soul, Night 2 would’ve been if St. John of the Cross had been forced to go further. Like you get to the end of the dark night of the soul, find your union with the Universe/Creator/God, but then it goes away and you have a second night right away, just as fucked up and melodramatic. Harder to find that hope.
Anyways, back to the original metaphor of the clanking car rumbling full speed down the highway of time called civilization. I find it concerning that it feels as if everything is about to break apart, and nobody who is in charge of driving this thing really seems to give even half a fuck. The whole thing is going to break, and they don’t even seem willing to acknowledge it might be broken, much less able to figure out how to fix it once we are all stranded. And I think that concerns me too – where will I be stranded, or you? Will we make it ‘til it all falls apart in a gnashing of pieces exploding from too much friction, causing the mechanisms of production to destroy itself into a thousand pieces? Will we all be there to stand around the mangled parts and try to figure out how to get it running again? Or figure out a different way to get where we want to go? Or even agree on which way to go? Or will some of us – me, you – be tossed out while it’s falling apart, to lighten the load, because that’s what’s causing the clanking – not the engine itself but the people complaining about the engine clanking? I find it all very concerning and depressing right now to be honest, but also, there’s nothing I can do but continue. Like, there literally ain’t shit I can do about existence except keep existing. But fuck if it doesn’t feel overwhelming right now.

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