– Re: BACK IN THE SADDLE – No More Creek - No More Paddle
In Reply To
I should also mention that these spectres seem to favour certain localities that seem to be infested with them such as a quarter called 'La Visitation' in the city where I reside. They also show up in certain old houses in New England. A pastor that I knew lived in one of these where these phenomena occurred that I subsequently occupied. He told me that his family was forced to move out due to his young daughter's constant nightmares. For want of a better term, I call these areas "energy vortices." This was a 200 year old house.
You are right on the money concerning the danger of living in these western lands. Indeed, increased awareness could easily lead to one being placed on 'kill lists'--not for having done anything wrong, mind you! This is just another layer of the phenomenon, but significantly impacts one's conduct of everyday life, kind of like slogging through deep mud each and every day. Needless to say, one is completely on his own in this situation with no outside help or support even from friends and family--this is an express and integral part of the equation. So for those who are cowards, I heartily recommend believing and embracing the narrative that you are fed, which will protect you, at least physically and in terms of peace of mind, until your horizon stops receding before you. But, of course, you already consciously embrace that approach to life!
I'm very much looking forward to your upcoming disquisition on Duende. I think I have already a foothold on this topic as I have gone back and looked at a couple of poems I had written which incorporate these phenomena. Curiously, there is a comical element to these spectres which, were it not for the total bizarreness and unexpectedness of their intrusions into an otherwise stable but increasingly rickety reality, would cause one to laugh rather than feel immediately threatened. They insert themselves so cleanly into the scene that light-heartedness would seem to be impossible due to immediately mistaking them for reality. Nevertheless, laughing at them would probably cause them to go for their heavy artillery. After reading your "Danger, Will Robertson, Danger!" ("what's actually 'happening' back there in the fallen lands is waaay more 'scary' than you imagine...") warning, I was awakened the following night by my bed being shaken and the sound of loud crashing. I immediately thought of Padre Pio in his tower, where even the locals could hear late at night the commotion of pots and pans being thrown at the walls and dishes being smashed. Pio himself would emerge the following day with cuts and bruises or a cracked rib or two.