The news that the universe has 10 times as many galaxies as we thought brings on a mind-numbing sense of expansion very similar to my recent feelings upon immersing myself in social media.  We are little drops of water in a very big ocean, and the continuous wavelike churning of information will never cease.  I’ve been seeing the ghost of my old friend, Fignolum, recently.  He reminds me that “If you don’t want to be there, you can always not be."  The spirit world is getting clearer for me every day, and the Trump/Clinton election is reminding me every day that the country I live in isn’t really that interesting, and neither are the people who live in it.

What did I sit through all this strangeness for, this 47 years of pscyhedelia and a covert war against the clowns of evil?  I don’t know, but it’s a little off-base for me to claim to worry about it, as I can feel the supernatural energies directing my life and this makes most of the intellectual debates of the earth irrelevant.

The weekend is starting off well.  I haven’t really gotten out of bed yet.  I have a lot of cleaning to do.  I have a lot of answers to come up with about why everything is happening.  I am inching on to the web via social media, kneading my sense of identity back and forth between Aquarian and Piscean, future and past, public and private, getting a little sharper every time.  There’s actually a very powerful presence looming over me now, which I am trying to ground.  Perhaps it’s my angel of Saturn.

I just had the idea of making an analogy between my angels and rock guitarist. Genevieve, my angel of Venus, is like Brian May of Queen, elegant and classical.  Sandra, my angel of Saturn is like David Gilmour.  And now that they are in alignment, here comes my third angel, who is like Jimi Hendrix.  I still haven’t gotten a name for her I’m comfortable with.

What sense of their presence am I to communicate?  This is the question now. 

What’s public and what’s private?  I can’t come up with answers right of the top but each blog post is like a snail-trail leading me toward some key element of persona that will let me fulfill my angelic destiny and resolve the strangeness of the life I’ve known.

Self-experession?  Cocreation?  Hierarchy?  Where is the nexus point?  Perhaps in the pain I experienced that I have been discussing, the "Comfortably Numb” balance point between earthbound life and exalted travel across the dimensions.