April 2, 2003

• Euphoric recall…

  
  

  That’s the human tendency to forget unpleasantness and hang onto happy memories… or to distort real memories so that they are more pleasant in retrospect than living through the time was.  If not for euphoric recall, few women would choose to have a second child, so it has its survival value.

  
  

  I’m venting here.  If you find it tedious to read the recitation of someone else’s obscure ills, move on.  I’m also sorta beating up on myself a bit, and I’d appreciate it if you maternal, touchy-feely types would rein in the impulse to ”poor baby” me or remind me that I’m a worthwhile human being.  I screwed up and I’m not in any mood to argue about it.

  
  

  Why KaiOaty?  Why did I choose to invoke Trickster?  Well, if you don’t invite him, he crashes the party anyway… better to admit from the start that he’s part of the mix any time I get involved in anything.  Coyote is part of who I am, the quintessential exemplar of what not to do and of the worst possible way to go about whatever one does.  If that’s not an essential facet of my dharma, then there is no such thing as dharma.

  
  

  But why KaiOaty and not Coyote?  Quite simple, really:  I didn’t want anyone mistaking my KaiOaty for a kai-oat coyote, the ones the good ol’ boys hunt down and kill for kicks.  Why do they have to be so damned proud of that, I wonder?  When I did image searches for coyotes to put on my site, I had to wade through far too many snapshots of grinning rednecks holding up dead canids.

  
  

  I also didn’t want anyone mistakenly calling him coy-OH-tay, the correct Spanish pronunciation for the song dog of the deserts and mountains.  I wanted it to be clear to those in the know that my Coyote is the Ban of the O’odham, the Old Man Coyote of the myths, the mythic twin of Raven who lives in the coastal forests that were once, but are no longer, outside coyote’s range.

  
  

  I never heard a Native American storyteller pronounce Coyote with a long initial O or with only two syllables.  He is always k-long I-oaty, k’eye’oh’tee, in the stories:  “One day KaiOaty was going along….”  I would a thousand times rather sit down and listen to one of those stories than to one that begins, “Once upon a time….”  KaiOaty is always good for a laugh, at his expense, of course.

  
  

  When I started that new Xanga account on New Years Day, I had no plan to use it to do readings.  I didn’t know what I was going to do with it.  It was an impulse.  Coyote made me do it.  And then a couple of months later war was threatening, the government and media were giving me the usual spin and disinformation and I wanted to find out what was going on.  I did a reading and people responded and I decided to use the site that was sitting idle for that purpose.

  
  

  This is where the euphoric recall comes in.  I ”forgot” (as if one could actually forget such an essential part of one’s nature) that I’m not a pleaser, that I tell it like it is and people usually don’t want to hear it.  I actually did forget, until reminded by the feedback, the wise counsel of E. J. Gold who taught me that when people ask for help what they really want is to be comforted, and that they will reject any real help that is offered. 

  
  

  I forgot all those years of playing stump-the-psychic, when people would wait until I was done giving them the spiritual readings that I consider most important, before telling me that what they wanted to know about was some mundane material dilemma they faced.  Do people really think the right thing to do is to climb the mountain and consult the oracle when what they need is a plumber to get their shit flushing?

  
  

  I forgot that a majority of people don’t read instructions and disclaimers, and that a majority of those who do read them disregard them.  I also forgot how severely that sort of work depletes my brain chemistry.  The first few days, I forgot to take any DMAE to replenish my acetylcholine… and I’ve been neglecting to take my regular supplements ever since my acetylcholine level tanked and my mind went foggy.

  
  

  How could I have forgotten how tedious and frustrating it is to encounter denial when the truth is obvious to both reason and intuition?  I momentarily let myself ignore the familiar fact that although I’m very good at standing up and talking back to people who don’t want to hear what I have to say, that I really don’t enjoy it.  I know that, but I let myself disregard it.  Why?  Because I’m an idiot, that’s why.  I could be one of the few idiots on the planet who scores in the high end of the 99th percentile on IQ tests.   That’s how I know I’m one of Coyote’s people.

  
  

  I’m not quitting.  When I get my brain chemistry back into the “superlative” zone, I’ll be back there, finishing the Opening of the Key interpretation to explicate and elucidate the war in Iraq.  I’ll wade back into the fray with those who deny that they are the source of their own troubles, and with those who want answers without asking questions. 

  
  

  But first, I will FORCE them to read the disclaimer.  I will DEMAND that they pass a quiz on its finer points and sign, in BLOOD, a pledge that they have read and understood it and swear to abide by it… yeah, right, I’ll do that just like I made Doug stop chewing gum “forever” after he stuck his on the felt of the lodge’s pool table.  What I’ll really do is what I’ve done all along:  I’ll plod along, saying it straight and being misconstrued, giving help and getting blame because the truth “hurts” those who don’t want to face it.  And when the stink over there gets to be more than I can bear, I’ll come over here and vent.

  
  

  What else can a true Coyote do?

  
  

    

  • 6:20 pm
  • 5 Comments