Becoming chameleon

Become chameleon, says the Old one ( who in reality is a pack of many). Survive through adaptation. Blend with the forest.

So your mother thinks you have been kidnapped by guards at her door, that she is 7 months pregnant, that she attacked her caretaker from her bed with a cane accusing her of sleeping her with your dad, that she thinks you will arrive by a helicopter she paid for.

 There is humor in that in some way.  You don't have to carry her sorrow anymore or carry the guy who carries that.  

And this feral cat you have been taking care of for 12 years or so that the doctor says could be a vestibular infection as you watch Ms Grey shake her head spasmodically, tumble and fall, that you bring her food, that you bring indoors to hear her at times wail at full lungs in distress.

She lived to maximize her full feline wild thanks to your pack with the Jaguar clans.

Turn into dissolution, fragmentation, scattered flows, go with the undulating black mist, allow the pulsations from the unknown to take you in/out through..

Remember when you, your younger brother and newly born sister were staying in hostels and you saw that kitten be pumped full of bullets before breakfast in the middle of the courtyard because it was meowing too loud and it annoyed one of the tenants. At 9 years old you watched from the stairwell. Go with it. Surrender again.

Trust me, says the Old one who is not one but many.

You see the resonances between your feral, your childhood kitten and your derailed mother. What kind of archetype is this? What sort of assemblage?
And , the old one (who in reality is a pack) insists:

Don't forget how Dona Rosa found out about the killing and chased the tenant through the kitchen into the dining room where another tenant stuck his foot out to trip that hijo de puta. Yes, do not forget how Rosa, that big matron, straddled his chest and put the tip of that sharp kitchen knife on his chest and told him she would kill him if he ever did anything like that again. The tenant left the next day.

Remember Nietzsche, the Old one says :one must have chaos within to give birth do a dancing star.

I am just utterly amazed at this Strange Magic that leads me from sorrow to open ended intelligence.

So, I become a chameleon striped with multiple frequencies rotating perspectives with my lizard star eyes. I stick out my tongue and seize mana from the entropy and chasms. I let go of the branch and fall into the deep earth of my soul again changing this process to word colors that carry high wave luminosity where all of this mire of things shape shifts into novel forms of love.

Good medicine typically prevails.

sometime now

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