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Ahhhh.

Last night was fun. Funfunfun. The Davis "adult" park (for those not playing in the California Capital, Davis is about a 20-minute drive away from Sacramento, and this park's equipment is all adult-sized) isn't so nifty, really, but being out with friends and enjoying the evening was the point, and that point was slammed home perfectly.

Of particular interest were the idiot teenaged punk-rock boys, who thought it amusing to lurk at the top of the playground slide deck and make snide comments about us. Some of our group were punkers (or at least, looked like we were) when these idiots were newborns, so they were about as threatening as a mouse in a room full of cats.

You're all fabulous people and I adore you. Except you, Matt. My contract says I can't adore you, but I do like ya a lot. ;)

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( These are the filters I use )

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Another ignorant dickhead racist bitchmonkey leaves my world.

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I've been thinking a lot lately about the role of the Shaman, and how it relates to my friends.

First, a primer on Michaelese. Mahdi-ese? Eh. Anyway, when I say I am a shaman I don't mean in the Amerindian (sorry, but I'm a native american, too!) shamanic tradition, nor do I completely mean I am one in the Taoist/Animist tradition of Asia. I did begin to study with a Chinese shaman when I was a kid, but he didn't teach me traditional work -- he taught a few traditional things, and a lot of untraditional stuff. He was very much of the City, and believed in the mystery and magic of city places, and that kind of thing. So in no way am I a formal shaman of any tradition. I'm a shaman in the same way I practice Tao Chiao -- I take what I need from the tradition, and let the excess baggage go. I believe I can perceive things most do not, but I also admit maybe I just have a broken psyche. And I try my damndest not to sound like some stupid high school girl experimenting with wicca, but I think I fail often. Therefore I tend not to talk about this stuff much anymore except here in this journal.

I've been thinking about something Gregory said: "You are not my shaman, you are my friend." And that's stuck with me the past few days, and grown into something else.

I am not the Shaman of the Six. I may (or may not, we've not discussed it much) be the closest thing to a shamanic type in the group, but that's not the same thing.

The Shaman protects his tribe because that is his place, his duty, and his obligation. It does not matter if he likes the individuals in the tribe or not; he does what he does because it is what he was born to do. The shaman is part of the tribe, but lives outside it. He is the perpetual outsider, because he must be the face the world sees.

I don't protect the Six because I must, I do it because I love them. And it's not magical in nature, it's personality. I am part of them and they are part of me, and I am no outsider. I do not protect them in the ways a shaman would; I listen to them and counsel them when they wish. The last time I did any kind of shamanic work for anyone was nearly seven years ago, and that was funereal in nature and done only as a favor.

I am their friend; sometimes a little more and sometimes a little less perceptive than others to their needs and wants, sometimes more and sometimes less able to counsel them about their lives and problems. Just like the rest of them.

I am not their shaman. I'm not even sure I have the right to call myself one at all, nor am I sure I even wish to anymore. But I am their friend.

And that's more than enough for me.

A few thoughts

ITEM: Hysterical conservatives like to say that gay marriage is the biggest threat to the institution of marriage. But the divorce rate in America is 50% according to the latest census. So, isn't the biggest threat to the institution of marriage heterosexuals?

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ITEM: How could they tell Strom Thurmond had died?

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ITEM: Trent Lott should have to give Thurmond his eulogy. That would be funny.

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Things Mahdi should learn, #458:

Sometimes it's best to not push your friends.

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Anyone know where I can get my grubby little protuberances on some bloodroot?