Odd/Interesting Dream

Odd/interesting dream last night...

I'm standing in a sand ring, a black horse is free lunging around me in a circle - as if in a round pen (which we weren't.) That I notice, he has no form of tack on - no halter, no bridle, no lunge line, no saddle, no polo wraps, nothing. We're both kind of doing our own thing, moving around in circles with each other. The pace is easy, a nice smooth trot. Suddenly the horse is wearing a halter, and I'm holding a bright yellow plastic tube of some sort with a flag on the end (kind of like one of those "Hey, I'm HERE!!!" flags you see on bikes, ATVS, and what not.) Still no lunge line though.

Now I'm going to state now - I do NOT tolerate/promote animal abuse, but with horses, sometimes a bit of a more forceful action is required to simply say "Hey, I'm here! Look out! Pay attention!" This does NOT mean beating the horse silly with a whip or any object. I also don't tolerate - or at least I don't like to tolerate - people who let horses, etc walk all over them. It can end badly.

As soon as the halter and whip are present the horse stops and turns in towards me. Now some horse people will have horses do this, but they ask for it - shows the horse is paying attention to them and all that. Well, I hadn't asked for it (hadn't asked for the whip either.) I turned to try and get back into the "triangle" set up for the "push" needed in lunging, and shook the whip to ask for him to walk/trot on. The horse turns in again and shows his disinterest and protest to doing as I ask. Shaking the whip again, it folds/buckles as if I'd been shaking a plastic drinking straw, and I toss it down. At this point the horse starts going again, and the halter has disappeared again.

This happens a few times, and there is also some running and arm flailing in attempts to make him change direction etc, but he continues to turn in and stay out of the "triangle" position required.

So that was that... quite a bit to mull over really. I've got a few things noted about it, mainly the regular non-occult related horsie stuff, and a couple occult points. I'm tempted to ask Trystn, but ehhh, he probably wouldn't tell me anything I don't already know hahaha. And tonight, as I was pondering the dream, a voice in my head said, "You were doing so well until that whip came out." And it's true. So the burning question now is what is the whip? Or maybe it's what is the big issue where we always pull out a whip... Hmmm. I also wish I could remember the other part of the dream. It involved people and conversations. I always have trouble remembering those parts lol.


Free lunging a very, very dirty Casper-pony

Purpose of Life/Death

So this may be a long rambling post, but oh well, it's been a while so it's all good. Also, it's my blog. And if there was a similar feature like on LiveJournal where I could use a cut, I would. But that I know of, there isn't. I was going to do an entry on a more occult theme, perhaps how I stumbled into it, but well, it ties into the topic I was inspired to write about by the last episode of Slings & Arrows, where Oliver and Geoffery talk about what they are REALLY doing, and essentially the purpose of life. Or in Oliver's case, death/purgatory as well.

So, the purpose of life. I've long been pondering this one, and, well, really, I've found the best way to find out is to look at other species on the planet. Do THEY have a purpose? Aside from being eaten, the only thing I've been able to figure out is they're here, and all they seem to do is eat, poop, and breed. A bit of a grim outlook on life, but it's true for the most part. We are all going to die eventually, and by deduction, we're all born to die. And hey look, all humans really do aside from fucking everything on the planet up, is eat poop and breed! The rest, is filler. Only we give it meaning.

So there's the other purpose of life - make your own purpose. If you want to feed the poor, feed the poor. But please don't make them pledge alligence to some god who may or may not exist in order to get food. That's not very nice of you. And you'll notice Jesus didn't make people do that. And if you do do that, YOU MAKE BABY JESUS CRY, DAMN YOU!

And this I guess is where my stumbling into the occult comes into play a bit more. A lot of people (okay, I think the majority) look to religions/faiths/beliefs of some sort as to what happens in life and after. Christianity wasn't really cutting it for me, and as a rebellious teenie bopper I put on a pentacle going "Oh I'm Wiccan!" Hey, all the (not so) cool kids were doing it. Then eventually I thought to myself "I wonder who I'm insulting the most by wearing this. Maybe I should look into it a bit more." And well, (Neo-)Wicca didn't cut it for me either. I think it was that whole Goddess minus the God thing. It didn't balance out. Kind of like Christianity with the God but no Goddess thing. Although a Jewish Christian I went to high school with did once mention - and I apologize for this now because I don't really remember it well - that in Hebrew one of the words translated for "God" is actually unisex, but in Hebrew it becomes masculine for some reason. All this balancing stuff could be because I'm a Libra, who knows. I'm *STILL* trying to work out what I believe with my interest into the occult (which I will go more in depth into in another post) and all that.

Is there a god? I don't know. I do know that if there is and following what a lot of people say about god etc... it kind of makes our planet like his little doll house. If he created us, and we're here to do his will and all that jazz, it's very much like a dollhouse. But seriously, if you ask me if there's a god, I will say "no" or "perhaps." Although really, it's not like it matters in the end. I'll die either way, and whatever I did between birth and death may or may not matter. Though all that actually seems to matter is that you follow societal pressures. Get a job, make money, try to be as rich as possible, be successful in marriage, follow the usually natural urge to breed, do random crap until you die.

Seriously, like why are we here. What happens when we die? I think pondering this is the purpose of life as well. Gives us "intelligent" beings a reason to be here. Well, when we die... we... die...? It's a frightening prospect because we know fear beyond "OMG IT'S GOING TO EAT ME!!!" Or maybe we only know more complex versions of that. And if there is reincarnation, I'd like to opt out. My purpose so far has been to be beaten up. And I'm really tired of that whole "Oh you had a middle class life and nothing ever really happened to you and you have no reason to be sad/depressed/suicidal etc" Yeah, sure. Okay. I'm sorry I feel this way, and that I feel this way without living in a third world country where everyone has AIDS and is starving to death. I'm sorry my problems are different than someone else's. I'm sorry this is how the planet has developed. 'Cause I totally control that. Fuck off. I've worked hard to do all that figuring out who I am and what not. And to wake up one day as someone else would be fucking scary. Not that I'd really know, because the old me would be long dead and gone. It wouldn't hit me until later in that new life, and the process would start all over again.

Maybe our purpose in life is to ponder the WHYs. Although really, once again, that's just random crap to kill time until we die. We got here, somehow. Mainly because we learn in science class that random particles stick together and make stuff. And those particles can reproduce in some fashion etc etc and make more particles. So really everything in the universe looks like germ colonies in a petri dish. Awesome.

So this has gotten long and rambly and mainly a post on "The purpose of life is that we're born, we waste time, we eat, we breed, and then no matter what, we die. And we don't like dying, but we die, so life really has no purpose except whatever one you want to give it." And I kind of got off that last bit... so I guess I'll stop now haha.

I shall finish with one of the most sensible statements I've ever heard in response to the phrase "I wonder what death is like." And that response was "I would imagine it's somewhat like what it was like before you were born."

And fluffy baby animals to make you all feel better. Because everyone loves fluffy baby animals.

Poetry, a musing.

In grade twelve my Writer's Craft teacher (who was also my archery coach) told me my poetry was full of "emotional splats," and that poetry should be refined and smooth - write a journal entry first, and then write the poem after. Needless to say, I didn't take his advice (I have a horrible time writing journal entries, I really do. Blogs are a bit different, but not by much. It mainly comes down to I can type faster than I can write by hand, and I can keep up with my thoughts.) It didn't matter a lot, he even said so himself - he was cool like that. He knew artists and writers needed their own styles and methods, and unlike a couple of my English teachers, was very specific about what he wanted to see in assignments and what NEEDED to be in each thing to make it the thing he was asking us to write, but other than that, pretty much everything was free game.

I did take what he said somewhat to heart, but not until after high school. Rereading poems I saw what he meant, but at the same time, I wasn't about to change the poems. Mainly because I figured that would change the meaning of what most of them were about. But it also got me thinking. Poetry is rather like sex. Some is smooth and refined, sensual; some is rough and raw. Others seduce you, and some just surprise you. Some are combinations, some are short, others are long. Some start hot, and stay hot, others start hot and fizzle to nothing. Some are written full of love, others meaningless and full of revenge. I could keep going, but I don't think it's necessary haha.

And of course now that I've written this I see the same thing I see when I try writing journal entries... and I think it comes from my English classes where everything was supposed to have a point/specific purpose, like an essay. We did A LOT of essay writing... yeah...

And now, a photo, which probably has very little to do with this post, but in some round about way it does...