I hadn’t reached the point of energy buildup yet where it becomes a matter of do something about it or boil over, but I was feeling like I wanted people around me for a while. That’s strange enough for me that it earns attention paid to it, so I went out and had a good meal I didn’t have to do dishes after, then went to the nearest pub, where I promptly discovered that ordering a boilermaker here gets you something very different than what I was expecting to get.
I tasted, it Did Not Do, and I pushed it aside and got ready to try again, with a description next time of what I had in mind.
“I’ll take that and buy you your next. I’m keen to see what it is you actually wanted.”
It turned out that what I wanted is a bomb shot. It also turned out that the curious man was thoroughly interesting. He bought me another — I think mostly because he enjoyed watching me drink it — and then I turned down the offer of a Bucky bomb because energy drinks are not good for me, because I’d had the word from Alec about Buckfast (“wreck the hoose juice”) and because I’d had enough of shots for the evening generally. I did take another beer, though, and we vacated to a table.
I have a severe weakness for men who are arresting looking — not usually standard handsome, sometimes even a bit on the scary side, but the kind you can’t quite look away from. Say ‘sexy’ to me, and I picture Lee Van Cleef; that ought to about sum it up. The guy sitting across from me wasn’t quite that extreme, but there was a good bit of the unnerving in the very intense eyes that never left me for more than a few seconds.
It always takes me a while to work out that yes, I am being hit on, even when most people would wonder how I can be so completely dense. Social cues and I aren’t friends. He gave me time, though — talked to me, asked questions, made me laugh a lot, until I started noticing the looks held a few seconds too long, the incidental contact that lingered until it wasn’t incidental any more. And when I finally did notice, he asked.
Wait until the last possible moment, when it’s about desperation and I don’t even care who, or go home with this man because I want to, and get the energy problem taken care of in the bargain. Why is it even a question? Guilt over wanting sex from a stranger? What is this, 1953?
Truth. I can do what I want. I’m all grown up. I’m not hurting anyone. And the flipside of the whole guilt thing — the idea that waiting until I’m desperate and then getting it from someone I don’t really want it from somehow makes it more pure — is very, very fucked up. I said yes.
And it was marvelous. The vibe I was getting from him all evening was very intensely masculine, but not in the macho-bullshit way. This wasn’t a guy who would ever speak the words “alpha male.” He’d be a lot more likely to go off in mad gales of laughter at the kind of skidmark who does say that, then finish up by leaving the idiot spitting teeth. The teeth are a lot less intriguing to me than the laughter. And all that energy translated in bed so very well. At some point, I bit him, he laughed and did what he was doing just a little harder, and all was right with the universe. Much better use of laughter and teeth.
And we swapped numbers, and he said he’ll call when he’s back in Inverness next month, and I am so very back in energetic balance. And if all those ands are what not having a “normal” relationship means, bring on abnormal, baby.
With all that made right, I took my shiny new National Trust membership out for an afternoon at Culloden. My goal was to find a place that’s likely to be quieter during the impending tourist season, but where contact is still easy. I was also paying more attention than I was the first time to the birds; if the warrior dead want to send me a messenger, I’ll see it there first, and three times in some notable way.
I also brought the runes along; these spirits seem to like them, which isn’t entirely surprising. That’s in many of their bloodlines, no matter how far back. The time isn’t really an issue with them. I’ve been thinking about stitching a casting cloth as a way to honor them by making something with my hands. I found a design I like on a cloth that’s being sold for £55. I figure I can make it for about £15 in materials plus the time, which I’ll enjoy giving. I believe this will be the next project on my stand.
I found a likely spot and sat down and decided to see what would happen with a casting there in the place rather than at my kitchen table. It finalized my decision to stitch the cloth; my makeshift casting surface doesn’t please me at all in those surroundings. I did still get a reading from the sitting:
A time is soon to come in which communication will be frustrated by the weather. Do not be upset by this; use it as a time of rest and preparation before taking action.
We wish to help and work with you. When you cannot come to us, pay heed to your dreams; we will come to you in them. We will raise the male energy — the warrior energy — that will help you to regenerate, heal, and strengthen yourself and others. Be open to and aware of the different ways in which that energy will manifest in your life.
Sometimes the dead are hilariously blunt. And sometimes they’re wonderfully practical. Yes, they felt they should remind me that it rains in Scotland. :D I suspect that sometime in the next couple of weeks or so, it’s going to be serious enough weather to keep me indoors when I have other ideas — and I like the rain.
The one thing that didn’t pan out was bird-sighting; there were none that caught my attention in any particular way. Maybe everything else was enough for one day, or maybe it isn’t time yet. Maybe it’ll even be something other than birds when/if it does happen.
So, I go in after the tattered bits of my own warrior nature, bring them out and get them all put back together and settled where they belong, just in time to start working with a huge wallop of that kind of energy, which I wouldn’t have been able to before. Maman/Brighid has stepped into the lead role, with her lwa/goddess combination of the power of the dead and a warrior nature. And most of my Chiron return material has been and will continue to be about self-image and self-assertion. It all seems like it’s weaving itself together now. I’m very ready for that.
(photo: movie still)