March 1, 2022- I woke this morning, after some vivid dreams, in a sort of mental fog. I managed to get the rent paid, then went and sat in one of my safe havens, and wrote at length in the 2022 journal. Things were better afterward, so a synopsis about March came into my awareness.
March appears to have come in like a lion-in Australia. A wide swath of New South Wales, Queensland and Victoria is under water. On the opposite side of the country, Western Australia is parched. Here in North America, the month has started off in benign fashion, after a tempestuous February.
This one, born in a Year of the Tiger, will view a “Birth Chart” in a few days. It will likely answer some questions I still have about the circumstances of my birth and how they have affected my life since then. Part of me has been bold and another part, furtive. Both are traits of a tiger in the wild. That aspect lends credence to the East Asian zodiac.
The Russian Bear has stalled. Mother Russia seems to have had less say about where her cubs have been sent, and why. The wayward Lone Male has sent them on a mission, known only to him-with only snippets divulged to a select few. While he stays in his cave, the cubs cast about for food-and fuel.
I see and hear a lot of zebras these days. People talking out of both sides of their mouths are more common than they’ve been in a long time. Skittish, prancing about haphazardly, wanting to be everything and nothing, simultaneously, they alternate between snorting half-truths and noises of obeisance to the Lone Male and braying that they only want to see justice done. They readily point to the other animals, in the corral, and claim that those are the real beasts who need to be brought to heel.
March will bring out a lot of truth and will bring a few down. We may or may not be seeing the onset of another worldwide conflagration. We may or may not be seeing the long-overdue implosion of the real “empire of lies”. We will definitely continue to see the true faces of heroism and love of humanity.
In the late winter of the Russian soldier, his humanity buried by the artillery of his wayward master; in the long nightmare of the Ukrainian mother, her dreams for her children drowned out by the pummeling of all around her; in the long and frightful night before the eerie dawn-listen to the hopeful voice of Mat Shaw:
It really is a jungle out there… I’m praying for peace to blanket all the world.
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I read that the Ukrainian soldiers left a city and the Russians moved in. Then, the guerillas started attacking the occupying Russians. It is a classic La Brea Tar Pit.