It Always Changes
Jump out and call at me, the words on these pages that are supposed to be my sacred referential guides to the messages I receive. You’d think I’ve memorized every word by now. The books are tattered and look ready to convert for kindling.
But I haven’t.
It seems like everytime I review the message from Spider, for example, I do not recall having received this same message. Can words on print change at night?
The world in which I’ve chosen to walk, I don’t think this possibility is out of question.
Last week, Spider told me WATCH OUT. And helped me avoid a grave situation.
This week. Same books. Different Spider.
Last week, Spider physically assaulted me twice in one day. Once in the morning, once in the evening. A perfect book-end to a potentially tumultuous love affair. Crisis averted.
This week, big yellow Spider has decided to die in my sparkling water. Floating on top, all eight legs perfectly splayed, like the rays of the sun. Must be a positive message.
Today, I am told there is no crisis. Today, I had decided to write publicly for the first time about my metaphysical experiences. To see if I am actually a decent writer; do I have worthy words to share?
Time to create my yellow sun Spider says to me, via my fire kindling books with morphing words. Time to write so you don’t forget!
Close enough. I didn’t listen to my intuition when it said to take a photo of the spider floating in my bottle of Pellegrino this morning.