Spirit Rising Museletter # 3

March

Like gravity, karma is so basic we often don't even notice it – Sakyong Mipham

This museletter is dedicated to karma, a concept that has permeated our culture from his holiness the Dalai Llama to Slash from Guns and Roses, a misogynistic band I know almost nothing about.  Even my own father before I broke all non-financial ties with him used to say: “What goes around, comes around.” He was referring to me getting a soiled reputation in high school for celebrating my body as an empowering sexual chalice but that’s a topic for a future museletter.

Clean your space well because divine spirits will not dwell in dirt.

So when I walked out of Joshua’s “place” (I will not call a center), naturally I was upset but didn’t want to break my parole so I went to Spirit Rising and immediately smudged myself. That didn’t seem cleansing enough so I stripped down, cracked open a new loofah out of its corn-based biodegradable packaging, and dry-rubbed to exfoliate all the dead skin that had come into contact with Joshua’s breath. I wiped the bottom of my sandals with an organic aloe wipe so no trace of his being could enter Spirit Rising. After sweeping the store so one of God’s created substances didn’t mistakenly adhere to another, I sat down on my cushion and meditated. Felt so good to be in my holy space creating positive energy outward. That was until a client walked in for her 10:30 appointment and I realized I had forgotten to put my bamboo clothing back on.

Water which is too pure has no fish.

As I was taught in a muted conflict resolution workshop in Sedona back in 2007, I waited patiently for Karma to vibrantly awaken Joshua. After 6 days (my master number is 6), I could wait no longer so I decided to give Karma a boost. I took an old Burning Man t-shirt I had of his and beat it harshly with a juniper branch (I couldn’t find any blackberry switches). Then I wrote his name on a piece of parchment (baked Kinko’s copy paper) then burned it and placed the ashes in an aspirin bottle. I hammered thirteen nails of different sizes around his doorframe and left the shirt and bottle in front of his “space”. Then I pretended that I was wearing an invisibility cloak and hid under a nearby overpass with a few homeless creatures.

The next day I expected Joshua to come by Spirit Rising and at least acknowledge my serious response to his psychic and karmic intrusion into my life dreamscape. I drank tinctures all morning, trying to calm my inner furnace and prepare myself for a Tai-Chi style shadow-side battle but Joshua never arrived in any form. I wrapped a hemp scarf around my head and slid my eco-born recycled sunglasses over the windows to my soul and walked by Joshua’s “hole”. All my thoughtful responses lie in the trashcan outside. I was furious. I ripped off my scarf and glasses and channeled my white hot rage into Joshua’s open door. I claimed many languages in my oral hex but he calmly closed and locked the door then flipped me off using both hands. One hand still had a ring I gave him that I made in a pre-Colombian metallurgy class I took in Taos back in 2008. Then he used a name he made up for me on a Yurt trip and connected it to a profanity solely reserved for women over 50. (I am far younger btw.)

I am heading into the desert for a vision quest that will include fasting, praying, nudity, found object shrine-building and repeated doses of Ayahuasca. By the time you receive my next museletter, I will hopefully be a very different person in a very different space.

Please acknowledge and respect my warrior woman name I have only used once before with a real she-bitch named Cindy outside Dayton, Ohio.

Namaste,

Plague Locust Thunder Club Weissman

P.(ositive) S.(pirit) Appointments will be postponed until further notice. I cannot refer you to anyone else since no one does what I do.