The Person on the Operatiing Table


They are branded on the soft insides of my forearms so that I could always see them. Always remember.

The first, on my right, was done at a time of personal repentance, after I acted as someone unknown to their own Self would, put people’s lives in danger as if to try and destroy the love that I did not feel I deserved. I was a stranger to myself; A stranger to my own heart.

These are my scars

It is the rune Teiwaz, the rune if the Warrior, and I branded it upon myself reversed. It takes a certain strength to press a white-hot wire into your own flesh, to hear it sizzle as it sinks, to know that this pain is only a fraction of what I had caused – not only in two others, but ultimately myself as well.

Though the mark has faded over the years, the memory and the people have not – nor has what I learned from that time. The heart is sometimes too strong. Strong, and when held in the confines of experience and love, immeasurable in its strength. From that time, everything changed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Many months later, I found myself in a forest in Austin. I gave what I could, fought hard to be someone that I believed in again, and eventually felt right enough to have the same Rune branded on my left arm, upright and pointing to my heart. The heart of a warrior, always and forever. It is somewhere pulsing through my blood, Norse Blood, Viking Blood. A heart of adventure, of strength, of passion. It makes me who I am, and falling short of that, reminds me of who I can be. It reminds me of who I was and will be again. I want to throw everything gathered away except for my dog, my bows, and Beans ashes – and with clothes and hats, food and water… my makeup, torches, books and the things that remind me of my past and drive. Drive to nowhere, everywhere, not looking for anything but seeing it all and becoming me again.

The Runes have been my chosen oracle for over twenty five years, and I made them all. Found the stones that spoke to me in many places, some thousands of miles away from each other, and have kept them safe, with me, and when I have been uncertain in this glorious game, they have always reached down inside to what I knew and answered perfectly. They have been delicately held in a deerskin bag by my bed, and only tonight, for the first time in months, I drew a single stone. It was Kano, the Rune of opening, fire, torch.

“This is the Rune of opening and renewed clarity, of dispelling some part of your life that has been shrouded in darkness. You are free now to receive gifts and know the joy of non-attached giving.”

“Kano is the rune for the morning of activities, for seriousness, clear intent and concentration, all of which are essential at the beginning of any endeavor. One of the thirteen Cycle Runes, the protection of Kano is this: The more light you have, the better you can see what is trivial and outmoded in your own conditioning…”

“Recognize that while on one hand you are limited and dependent, on the other you exist at the perfect center where the harmonious and beneficent forces of the Universe merge and radiate. You are that center.”

“Simply put, if you have been operating in the dark, there is now enough light to see that the person on the operating table is yourself.”

For twenty five years I have walked with death, and there was a time not so long ago that its familiarity commanded that life be just as strong. Inside was a fevered eagerness, a zeal that demanded that everything I did was pregnant with a lust for every moment I was blessed with… but then, things changed. I was forced to sacrifice the freedom and reckless abandon inside of this vagabond heart simply to stay alive. I fought like hell. I educated myself beyond what western doctors were trained in, and with the help of so very many amazing people, I was able to get the herbs I needed to not only help me walk again, but to keep living. In these times I had a resolve that, if I lived, to create a new world around me; to never again forget to see the beauty in the smallest of things, knowing that each was a miracle, a blessing. Knowing that I was.

Somehow, however, I have grown idle, lethargic. I could lay the blame on a hundred things and have, but it is time to realize that the blame is mine alone to bear, and mine alone to shed the weight of. I have forgotten the passion I once held for life, even in the grips of death. This changes now. There is no more time to waste in the futility of what once was – I am not that person anymore.

I can see again, and it is time to operate.



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