On the Stairs

“What, may I ask, is that racket?” Some underlying noise, the sounds of others having too much fun either while I am struggling to concentrate on something else or they’re making some gain at my expense—anyway, that is how I interpret racket, either hullabaloo or being swindled.

And as if my own thoughts alone weren’t enough, I like to add insult to injury by listening to tarot reading’s via youtube, one reader insisting I wouldn’t be watching if I didn’t need to get my shit together. Why I listen at all is a mystery, especially since there are thousands upon thousands of other Scorpio’s out there, so are one twelfth of the population also having difficulty setting a straight course to elevation?

And of conniving and swindling behaviors, I am told they could be mine or the people whom I am dealing with in my own life, but does it really make a difference which one me or the other, is the who? After all if we are mirroring through relations our inner thoughts, then it stands to reason that we are dealing with those at our own level because if they were too far ahead or too underneath we wouldn’t have that electric shock of recognition, no magnetic draw to the dramas unfolding—whether internally, or projecting onto the painted clown in front of us who is dancing such an ugly jig on our parade float of dressed up pride.

And even in this world of positive thinking and life is going to be whatever you create, your morning smoothie produced of all good fruits, foods and intentions can turn out bitter to children if you attempt to mix in too much good, so what, back to the basics?

Today, it is sunny out of doors and my garden, once an amazing dahlia bed is full of branching bamboo and witch grasses, the few flowers left attempt a roped down burst through weeds, but I am not out there helping break the tangle, I am indoors using a caustic gold paint on my stair risers, a faux paving for future lofty spiritual forays.

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Photo Credit: Gregory Morit/unsplash