from Robert

The Horned Hand

Allister won't go inside. Anglican Christian. When he picked Sydney up last summer he would call her phone and she would come out in the parking lot and find him making a cross with his index fingers.

He seems to know what others seem only to expect.

You've been good to me Horned Hand & so so terrible.
You treat me like an old friend and envelope me in your hot beery breath - the unreliable lover who comes home tanked after closing time. You're the place I point to, South of Wall and left of Colorado to the wayward traveller, to the anarchist bike rider in town for a week who "can't find a good place for shows." You're the way I point when someone's looking for a camaraderie and a bit of trouble.
I love your cowboy boots, Reisfar paintings, Fuck Cancer t-shirts, strewn peanut shells, bones, dice games and arm wrestling matches. Whiskey in the parking lot with a friend & heartbreak.

So so so much stumbling heartbreak.

If it were easy to have a good time and go home it wouldn't be the same.

We've come to ruin our lives.

You, of so little regret, spill my insides out at times and watch patiently as I try to collect them from the cement floor.

I dance out the demons and drink them back in.

You've seen me cry. I've tried to leave you some nights. You've seen me the sweat pour down my face as I'm pushed and push back the scrum. Nearby, I curl in the same fields I piss trying to get steady enough to walk home.

You've given me Philip Roebuck. Harley Bourbon. Larry and His Flask.

Did I kiss Alex there? Did I write on your bathroom walls? Did I spill the beer on your stage and climb the rafters in your green room to get a better perspective?

I hate you sometimes. You've punched me in the chest and slapped my face and still I come back. You bring out the worst in me. You've brought out the best in me. You've made me feel so ugly.

And sometimes I like being ugly.

Still I come back.
Because I love you.

And I'll come back until you burn to the ground - even if I'm the only one watching the flames with a gas can and a smoking roman candle.

Ian - so the wind

Me: Do you want to contribute to my demon zine?
Ian: Oh, I've got a few. They certainly live in my structures.

rural demons

James wanted to dress like a demon and have his bandmates suckle from his teats. Baphomet, he said.They were going to go to the desert and have a photo shoot.

"But I don't want to invite anything in."
"What do you mean?"
"If I impersonate a demon it might invite a demon in."

So the photo shoot didn't happen, but the demons came anyway.

One by one we burned. One by one the demons came and took us away.

It got so we couldn't bear to look at one another as much as we were all in love.

As much as we loved the music.

This was last summer. A make all or break all.

We played with the fire at first, jamming in the living room, singing on the radiator with chords tripping us up on the wood floor as the children slept.
Even the bitterest of enemies were getting along at this time. We ate raw meat and headed to the river when we had to shut the windows when the neighbors called the cops. It got so damn hot.

Casey didn't wear shoes and they chopped off Sofie's hair on the front porch. This was before Nick got his jaw punched, before Bernie lived in the Rainbow Motel. Natty lived in the greenhouse in the backyard and provided the tea. I picked flowers, swept the floor on occasion and tried to keep rhythm on the tambourine by staring at Bernie on the drums. Jonathan knew all the words, you could hear him singing around the campfire to O Mother. Andrew was still a prick but he gave high-fives and the music kept his personal demons away while Alicia was gone. Dear sweet Hannah wore her silk robes and scarves driving the Old Valiant singing next to Kacey and Sofie. Syd and Sam were there. Sean rode his bike by from time to time.
And Joel sitting with the lapsteel. Joel was the last to go.

Ceiara had been burned long before. She had been so strong for so long.

Annika wasn't there, the demons took her before then.

One by one we burned.

Around the campfire, back to back James told me.
"Love the demon,"
"I'm trying."
I tried.

Fuck that.

And I burned.

c.vance - repentance

we were no arsonists, just pyros---

our friction sparked passions and sheets that no lube could ever quench.

but, as we've known since grade school cautionary tales, fire is a fickle mistress.  still.  we courted her with three-way thirst until every fluid we shared ignited; only to be drowned in splatters of the one passionately-- forcibly --taken from flesh broken like bottles and drywall one horrible night...  sending embered smoke signals of every hurtful word said for all neighbors to witness, strobed in blueblueredblueredred and enumerated in droll reports that could never accurately describe our escapades--- Sgt. Anderson is no Leonard Cohen; barely read better than an E. L. James novel.

all the same: we're no arsonists, simply pyros---  and these bridges just burn so god. damned. easily.

it's something we each knew about the other-- loved about the other --so the uncontrolled hatred harnessed in the aftermath of us was only premeditatedly obvious to friends, family and county fire marshals with inadequate contingency plans for our relationship's demise: the ghetto gasoline/styrofoam napalm fired off in drunken texts listing defects your body didn't have, responded to by puncturing condoms with habañero oil syringes causing worse-than-chlamydic burns twice as hard to treat.  molotovs of sleeping with siblings, agent orange deaths of dogs.  on and on, back and forth--- with fires that buckled the steel of the sturdiest bridges until we were alone... chasms of restraining orders apart.

but now, near a decade later, i've salvaged scorched timbers and warped I-beams from a lifetime of failed encounters--- enough to make it halfway across.  and i know you like the red flame as much as me so you may not have much left to build with but, if you ever get here, we can watch the red sun set in the smoke of our mistakes together.

Derek - Facing Demons

Derek Sitter has just played the part of the Devil in the play Bobby Gould in Hell, put on through the new  Volcanic Theater Pub. He sits at the edge of the stage, wearing devil horns and a fishing vest as he fields questions from the audience.

I found the play excellent and amusing.  Derek was dynamic and riveting as the devil (he apologizes for the use of curse words). He spent much of the the play chastising Bobby Gould (played by Wayne Newcome), demanding he confess his life's evildoing.  

There's been a question I've been dying to ask Derek to add to the stories in demon zine.  I considered addressing my questions in an e-mail but Derek mentioned his medium of expression is through acting. Asking him while he's on stage, still dressed as the devil could not be more appropriate. 

"You won the Source award for Sexiest Teacher (light laugher) and in the article you mention fighting your demons alone in a motel room. Do you mind expounding on that experience? Sorry to get all Terry Gross on your ass."

Years ago, Derek responds, he was at a Motel 6 in Tallahatchi withdrawing from his medication. It was a long night. He had been afraid of everything. He had jealousy. He was in a three-year depression. Walking through his life asleep. 

"I was either going to die or be a better person." 

Saying to the demons, "You can't kill me. What am I afraid of? Fuck it."

It was a long, terrifying night.

It's difficult to draw a demon out. They move carefully around the bones, between the ribs and under, over, around the organs. They are nearly impossible to pin down.
Derek invited his to surface when he stopped taking his meds. He didn't go to sleep. Let the skin boil and the organs shift.

It took staying up all night.

Joel once told me sometimes you just have to stay up until the sun rises to push past something. And if you want to face your demons like Derek you have to give them the space to show themselves. You have to stay awake and exhaust yourself and be at the brink where you'll either live or die. You can't go to sleep. You can't deny them. You can't bury them. You have to sit there and be ravaged by them until they're done with you. Allowing the demons a space to present themselves. 

Giving them the space and madness to speak. And moving forward, whatever it takes 

But in the morning, something was clearer.

Derek, on stage in his devil horns, pretty wife by his side, says he did it for his family. For his daughter.

Now Derek has his theater.  The Volcanic Theater Pub, a dream of his, where you can drink a beer and the characters move from the stage to the audience. His space is off of Century across the courtyard from Goodlife Brewing. He's taking his meds. 


& he's playing the devil now. 

"I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it." - (From the poem The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer) 

Tara - Confession of the Serial Cheater (Tuesday afternoon interview)

Tara*: I have some stuff too, like some journal entries. I don't know if they'll help or anything. But, when I e-mailed you I was feeling super empowered about what was going on and now I'm just kind of back doing what it was that I was doing in the first place. 

Rachel: It's a personal demon?

Tara: Mmmm, basically, I cheated on my boyfriend of 9 months. With this guy and... why does that happen? What's going on inside myself to make me cheat on every single boyfriend I've ever had?

And I think it's because I like to hurt people that I love. I like to have control over people's emotions. And it just doesn't make any sense. And now I'm hanging out with that guy again. 

Rachel: The one that you cheated on him with?

Tara: With, yeah. 

But I really like him, he was one of the guys who was at the Riverside Market last night. And we just have this crazy connection. I don't get it. But he's really cool and what happened was, my boyfriend was in Madras, and he got a job at the prison out there and he's all getting responsible and doing stuff with his life. 

Rachel: Being a grown up?

Tara: Yeah, he's being a grown up. And I'm not. I'm just having fun and living my young adolescent life. 

Rachel: That's a weird place to live though. I mean, it's so out of the way

Tara: I know! He's like, you should live out here! And I'm like, NnnnnnnO.

*laugh*

Rachel: Absolutely not. 

So your facing that demon? You're possessed by a demon that continues these trends?
I guess what a demon is, a lot of people have said, it's unhealthy patterns. Or destructive things. A demon maybe gives you power, maybe gives you some kind of authority. It seems that there's a lot of good that comes out a demon. If you work with one, or barter with one.
Ultimately the product is spiritual annihilation. That's the ultimate product of dealing with demons. 

Like what you do, kind of fits in with that. It's spiritual annihilation. Does it eventually serve you for the greater good? Is it the act of just being yourself maybe?

Tara: I feel like out of every bad terrible situation something good has to happen. Something good can be produced from it. I'm such a positive person. And eventhough I know that my ex-boyfriend is totally hurt, he's moving on. He's doing fine. We thought we were going to get married. And I guess I just realized one drunken evening that I didn't want that. And I proceeded with this other guy. 

Rachel: Are you polyamorous? Do you think?

Tara: What does that mean?

Rachel: Where you feel comfortable having a lot of partners. All being in the context of a relationship. It's not promiscious. Polyamorous is where you are in love with multiple people. 

Tara: Um. I could say that. Not at a time. Really. I like attention from multiple people but I'll only have sex with one person at a time. 

One of the things I have a hard time doing is making up my mind for myself and following my inner voice. I just don't even have it, or I don't even hear it. I don't have an inner voice of reason. So I just do whatever the hell I want to at the moment. And then I tell my friends about it and they're like, "Wull, what the hell are you doing, that's not right." and I'm like, "Sooo... I'm having fun."

Rachel: You don't have a conscience?

Tara: Something like that! And my best friend is ...

We're interrupted by someone coming by 

Rachel: (coming back after interruption) If you feel like you're hurting yourself or you're destroying your spirit. A conscience is only what you make. People create their own reality there is not god that says simply we should be doing this and that. If we're doing unhealthy things to ourselves or putting ourselves out of balance...

Tara: It's all perspective.

Rachel: If you're happy with your life and you can look at yourself in the mirror...

Tara: That's kind of what my mom said to me, "As long as you're having fun." And then I thought about and well shit! I could have fun killing babies and robbing banks.

Rachel: FUCK! Ok, whoa. Ok, now... maybe if you really do not have a conscience that's concerning.

Tara: No, I'm joking. It was an exaggeration. 

Rachel: I'm hoping you would hesitate. 

Tara: My voice of reason comes from my best friend who's in California and she was just up here last week for a week and she pretty much forced me to kick this guy out of my life who I cheated on my boyfriend with. But, we've been hanging out for three and half weeks after Greg and I broke up and we went to Crater Lake, we went on bike rides, we did this amazing stuff. We went camping and, I thought, I've done more stuff with you in three weeks than I've done with Greg in 9 months. 

Rachel: That's saying a lot.

Tara: So, I just feel like Greg and I were really good together but we were a little too different. You know, how opposites attract. We were just a little bit too different. She's telling me that I need to stop seeing this guy so I did. And then he's like, "Well, what the hell?!" all of a sudden.

Rachel: Why does she not want you to see him?

Tara: Because I posted pictures of facebook of him and I together and my Mom reposted the picture and my Mom and Greg were friends so Greg saw the pictures of this guy and me at Crater Lake. Then Leslie called me as I was at dinner with this new guy and she says, "What the hell are you doing? I've just sat back and let you do your thing and now I am going to fucking unleash."

Rachel: Are you still with your guy in Madras?

Tara: Nuh-nuh. No. He broke up with me. It happened on a Thursday. I drove out to Madras on Friday, told him what happened. And then he drove to Bend on Saturday at 7:30 in the morning and broke up with me at Richard's Donuts. It was really shitty. 

Rachel: You probably saw it coming though...

Tara: Yeah, I know, but I also kind of just ignored it. And had my head in the clouds for a long time. And didn't deal with it. I was just being selfish and ignoring his feelings. 

Rachel: Are you hurt? Are you ok?

Tara: I think so. I mean, how long am I going to have to wait until I move on? I feel like I might ... I'm hurt that I hurt someone. And that it didn't work out. And that it had to end up that way. But overall I'm pretty ok with it. 

Rachel: You think the demons are you not taking people's feelings into context?
Tara: Exactly. Because I've done it everyone I love. My friends. They say, "how did you do that to me?" I'm just not thinking. I guess I'm not very mindful of the outcomes of situations.
Rachel: That's interesting. My friend Stephanie, her boyfriend cheated on her and they've been going through this major thing. Break up and get back together. It's insane. It's a lot of anger. But I got involved with her when they were on the outs and I had to apologize to him because he was upset with me (when they were back together). And it was a very weird circle of hurting and trying to see.. we could all see each others positions, because we were going through it ourselves. Not exactly in the same... I was hurt by my ex-boyfriend sleeping with other people... and then I just realized this is being recorded and do I really want to tell this story on the record? I don't. I don't...
And so, I knew how he felt, but when I was looking at him I was thinking, "I can't connect with you, I can't connect with your feelings at all." I know how I felt in an identical situation but I can't connect to that sadness. I'm think, "get over it, what is the big deal?"
Tara: Right, his reaction to it.
Rachel: He would say the same thing. I try to be sympathetic but looking at anyone's situation.. you just heard the story second or third source. You might think, "why don't they just get along?" They look cute together, why don't they just make it work?" Connecting to those emotions it takes a lot of energy. And it's pretty made-up, it's pretty fictitious even when you do. I don't think any of us have that ability to really connect to people. To be truly empathetic, it's a godlike thing. Do a bunch of yoga and eat raw veggies and then you can truly connect to the universal pain of betrayal. I think we're pretty immune to each other, most of time.
Tara: Some people are very... this is going to sound cheesy but, certain zodiac are more cautious and in-tune with people's feelings. And not even feelings but personality traits too. Some people can just look at someone and be like, "Oh, I know exactly what your trying to do here and I can read you."
Rachel: That's so true. That is really true. I do not have that ability. But you see people cry over other people's things. I only cry if it's at a movie and they build me up and play it up a certain way. I get that sadness! But wouldn't just get it automatically. Who do you know that's like that?
Tara: My mom. Through this whole break up situation she has been more emotional than I have. Because she takes on the pain of everyone around her. She's a martyr. She wants to fix everyone's problems. To a fault. I had say, "Mom! Just stop reading into this! Just leave it alone, you're freaking me out."
Rachel: How does it affect the way she lives her life then? To be in that position? Is she really nice and really careful?
Tara: Well, for example she adopted two of my cousins who's parents, her siblings, couldn't take care of them. So she she adopted them.
Rachel: Damn, yeah, there are seriously, now that I think of it, there are people that do that kind of thing. Just do shit like that all the time. That's awesome. I'm so glad there are people like that in the world.
Tara: Yep, it's true. And there's people like me who are like doot doot doot, head in the clouds.
Rachel: Right?!
Tara: It's like, "life is fun! Why are you crying?"
Rachel: Maybe some people are demons and some people are angels. Some people like me and you that can't really feel people's pain and we're a little bit detached from it. When it comes to me to confess something that I've done - it's really weird because I can't really imagine how they're feeling. I just imagine them being pissed off at me and that sucking. And then some people just get it. So funny.. I get it with animals. Whenever someone abuses animals *angry sound* I feel for animals all the time.
Tara: Ah, that's sweet.
I hope this is helpful..
Rachel: It is.
Tara: In some way.
Rachel: What did you have in your journal? Just kind of processing what your going through?
Tara: Um, yeah, when I think of demons I think of bring torn between two different things. Like, a devil on shoulder and an angel on the other shoulder.
Rachel: Oooo, totally! I haven't used that visual.
Tara: So, this was on Friday.
"I'll say it again, I feel so at peace and relaxed at this moment. My creativity is flowing freely and I feel I have a firm grasp on myself and the world around me. I feel very in tune with my feelings, thoughts and ideas, emotions, etc. But by the same token I feel weak and vulnerable. Almost like a scab forming on a wound. Also, I have some funky summer sickness... blahblahblah..."
I wrote this one Friday and I felt so strong in my decision to not talk to Jacob (new guy) anymore and to not drink, not smoke, just BE A GOOD PERSON. And try to get Greg back was what I wanted to do on Friday. And now, I am hanging out with him again. It's crazy how one minute I'm here the next minute I'm there. And I wonder if it's like demon and angels or ...
Rachel: You think the angel on one side is telling you to not smoke and drink and this and that and the demon on the other side is telling you to do whatever the fuck you want?
Tara: Yeah. It's all about pleasure. Because doing the fun thing isn't always the right thing.
Rachel: That's a hard call though because, people, I'm thinking about homosexuals, will repress crap like that all the time because there's an angel on their shoulder that tells them to celibate and deny who they are and the demon says, "you should have a bunch of anal sex with a bunch of guys." Having a bunch of anal sex with a bunch of guys you should be doing because you're a gay man and have crazy testosterone levels and that's who you are and you should do it!
Tara: It doesn't mean it's bad, doing what, go back and forth,
There are some lives that we appreciate, for example, my mom, or my best friend or my roommates who are judging me behind my back. What's right? What's wrong? And I'm kind of to the point where I haven't told Leslie that I've been hanging out with him because I thought, "I'm going to prove everyone wrong because everyone thinks I'm going to go straight back to him once you leave." Because I was gung-ho about not seeing Jacob, because he destroyed my relationship and all this. Then I saw him Friday at the Harley Bourbon show and it was like, BOOM. We just had this crazy connection so why fight it?
Rachel: Yeah, why not? My friend, you know Natty, maybe? Natty was telling me that different people that come into your life, as in relationships, are like pop-quizzes and you have to ask yourself, "is this the right person? And you find that they're not and you have to let it go. You realize, this is not a soulmate. It's just a pop-quiz. And why hold onto something when .. and I have another belief in the Flow and you just have to follow the Flow, you need to follow your heart and maybe being with anyone, being in a monogamous relationship, getting married does ultimately seem like a very traditional way of pursuing happiness but maybe you need to be an 80-year-old woman who chronically cheats on 80-year-old men. Who knows?
Tara: That's hilarious. And I know I'm not some totally crazy person because I've talked to lots of people. And they say, "I've done the same thing. I'm cheating on my boyfriend right now."
Rachel: Fuck! Really?
Hey, speaking of the devil! (Natty comes up) (interruption)

*Names changed 

Megan - The Delicate Demon

When I go grocery shopping

I avoid certain aisles

in fear of letting my demon out.

It usually happens in the jelly aisle

or any aisle with a lot of glass jars.

I’ll be walking down it and suddenly

I get this strange urge to just start

knocking everything off the shelf,

like straight-up going bat shit crazy

on some glass jars.

I won’t even talk about the wine area.

It’s as if a switch goes off. I just want to

smash, and crash,

release this pent-up energy.

I want to see

jelly and pickles and juice

and pigs feet

and glass, lots of glass,

crushed and oozing in a beautiful matrimony

of organic colors and swirls with the

dull floor.

I want to see that true honesty of how something so delicate

can be ragged in seconds.

Maybe I’ve created this demon myself.

I’m too delicate.

I’m that glass jar

and I’m always anticipating the fall,

excepting to fail.

I just want to get it over with, and move on.

Here I am just sitting on the shelf.

Motionless.

This demon in me wants to be break into a million pieces

so I can get over being afraid of the future,

and build myself up again, stronger.

Until the less metaphorical version of this happens,

I just want to break shit.

All I want is a baseball bat and a few minutes in Safeway.

Possessed Mandolin

*

*only available in complete comic form in the zine...

Ouija Board Comic

 *

*Full version available only in zine

Duke Sallos: Research

Duke Sallos

Saleos^[4] (also Sallos and Zaleos) is a mighty Great Duke (a Great Earl to Johann Weyer) of Hell, ruling thirty legions of demons (Weyer does not mention anything concerning legions under his command). He is of a pacifist nature, and causes men to love women and women to love men (Weyer does not mention the nature of his work).

He is depicted as a gallant and handsome soldier, wearing a ducal crown, and riding a crocodile.

Photo from Apedogs.com

Breakthrough

My friend Robert just e-mailed me with the List of Demons in the Ars Goetia. A "list of Hebrew demons," he writes.

Putting some thoughts together

What I've learned about demons

• Demons often ask to be invited in
• They are invisible or in human form or in demon form (they come in multi-forms I guess I am saying...)
• Demons come during times of vulnerability (i.e. under the influence of drugs/addiction, during sleep or when someone is resting, when someone is sick and immobile)
• People love and hate their demons
• Demons can be felt
• Dogs protect against demons
• Demons give power and take power. They do favors
• Demons want to live in our bodies.

Small victories for small people

I feel them in my stomach. Natty once asked what color. Black. Oily. Thick. She drained me out as the words came. I wore a sword those days but it's taken almost a year to get the strength back. Still now, my stomach floods with the black oil & my arms and legs tremble. Cold fluid fills me, I feel heavy. I feel electric. An ache on the good days.
Sometimes I feel I'm losing my mind. When the fire is out or so low I can't even see my demons.
I take my demons to the river and try to drown them.
I wonder how it would be to face them
Imagine a clearing in the woods - a giant black demon, panting in the early morning - cold fog breath - standing 20 sharp paces away from me. We're standing still, taking each other in.
How to fight your demon?
They latch onto the soft spots, Sarah Miko tells me, vulnerable places. Miko says she doesn't have demons because she doesn't have these holes.
My demons patch like caulk between the tiles. They are a part of me like fingernails and nose hairs. We've shared this space for so long it's hard to imagine them not being there.
Some people fill those holes with God and the demons go away.
As much as they hurt and as much as I find myself writhing in a bleak fit I know I hold onto them. I know I must take responsibility for their presence. I know I keep them. I feed them with the mean superficial victories. I let them use my power even though they take more than they give (always).

Winn - (not even close to ready)

“You know, they say demons were all angels once"

 like her

like me

The church is the demon really.

It created them with their stolen cross, their crescent moon, their six point star, their bent x, and even their hammer and sickle.

She left

  --do not read me aloud--

I’m now left to wait                               

--do not leave me around--                                 

after her orgasm so horrible.

Now all                                             

right.

It all to disappear forever, 

but it can’t

unless I do.

I hold it all inside, all that knowledge.

The thoughts keep it alive.

All my hymns and prayers said 

to nothing and no one.

and

she still cums

   and

so do I

Lilith birthed Adam one hundred sons a day

while god watched that pornography

but bleach kills everything.

Still, yet another woman’s sex toy.

Yoko Kanno sings songs in heaven.

I sing songs in places of the living.

There is no demon

only fear

and

memory.

Commentary between Robert & I about his poem

• 

  July 10

  Rachel Lee-Carman

  • Dude. Cool. It seemed like that poem flowed from you. Ah, the sweetness of temporal brilliance. The ecstatic moment of pure truth. Is it worth it.
    I like imagining the spectrum of negotiating with demons. Your poem would exemplify the ultimate. Receiving the godlike wisdom in exchange for everything - left with the thin shell under night sky. And the little negotiations which have been cropping up in discussions I've had about people welcoming demons in.
    One theme I'm seeing in this is how little the people who have encounters with demons understand what is going on. It's mostly the mystery that overpowers them to accept possession rather than the concept of power (certainly this is a motivation).
    
    Love this poem, Robert. Reading it a few more times over. Will try to make the zine worthy enough to host it.
• 

  July 10

  Robert Kyniston

  • I like the idea of demons as something internal to be overcome. Like Odin or the hanging man. The idea that knowing yourself leads to greater understanding of your surroundings. You know, but how many people fail? Or how many people think they've got it but have been led astray, or knowingly lead others astray. You have to make yourself so vulnerable to learn who you are that it doesn't take much to hear the wrong voice and mistake it for what you're looking for. There is so much ugliness and ego and pettiness inside us and all of that's gotta be reigned in, you know. So a demon would exploit that in a Faustian deal. At least thats what i was going for. Anyway that's my two cents on demons. Glad you dig the poem. Thanks for the topic and for keeping my mind limber. 
• 

  July 10

  Rachel Lee-Carman

  • Right, if life isn't a struggle than a person is probably resigned to one vice or another. Be it complacency, laziness, apathy. Letting the "unexamined life" drag along.
    I was thinking today about my belief in the "flow" which is the the destiny path we follow and all our little choices and la-de-da. When I feel like I am following the "correct" path everything falls into place easily and I go from one project to the next with success. Everyone around me is encouraging and everything goes well. When I am following the "wrong" path everything sucks. My car breaks down, the weather is shit, I am staying up late struggling on a task I no longer believe in.
    I've gone down the latter path once and found myself losing money, time and heading towards spiritual annihilation. Spiritual Annihilation is the ultimate loss.
    I feel.
• 

  July 10

  Robert Kyniston

  • Good thoughts. I've been reading about roman emperors lately. Kind of a super extreme example Marcus aurelius was this humble thoughtful ruler who wrote 'meditations' and is remembered as a significant stoic philosopher. His son commodus was batshit crazy and claimed he was Hercules, had each month of the year named after one of his twelve names and renamed Rome after himself getting himself assassinated. You know, he probably believed his own hype. And that's the thing I guess, to not be deceived or deceive yourself. I don't know..

Rachel: Impatience

Demons are passed through the family. We have a big one on my dad's side. Impatience. We grow horns and spiked wings when we have to spend a moment in our own thoughts. A moment of inconvenience. A moment when things were planned to the last minute and suddenly we are forced to bide our time.

I mention this because I've been spending Tuesday's with Grandpa. Dad once told me Grandpa thinks women are stupid and I note this in dealing with him. I don't think Grandpa believes women are stupid but he is petrified of being in a situation of the least efficiency (lest he has a carafe of wine in his hand). 

Carmans abhor idleness. 

Tomorrow I have to face a demon. And use a lot of words. And wait. And take time. And communicate. 

It's not that I'm not up for the task. I just hate explaining myself. It takes too much time. Too many words. 

Tomorrow I have to apologize. I have to revel in a memory and bring it to the surface and dissect it a bit and apologize. 

It's not that I need to move on. It's just the impatience. It's all the words and energy and it makes me tired to think of it. 

Instead of being patient I tend to write people off. It's easier that way. Patience isn't just standing in line. It's taking the time to let the entire picture reveal itself. Patience is settling into the process. 

I've been unlearning patience in my dismissal of all things imperfect. I've been unlearning patience every time I run away when things aren't working out. 

I say, this demon, impatience, runs in the family. It's a hard one to fight. A dynasty of demons have taken their throne in the temple kept by my ancestors. We sacrifice everything in our belief that these demons will bless us with better and grander things only to throw those down and receive more. We are bitter, we are users. We don't forgive. We are loyal only to a point. We are wasteful of our relationships. 

I'm trying to unlearn. I'm not throwing my friends into the fire. I will stand with them and suffer a bit. I will explain myself and apologize. I will connect with the hurt in me. I will commit my loyalty to this friend. I will burn so they will not burn. I will learn patience. I will learn forgiveness. 

These demons will find the old temple an unfit home. 

An artist is a creature driven by demons. He doesn't know why they choose him and he's usually too busy to wonder why. 
- William Faulkner

Bridget - My Dear Demons

I don’t fight with my demons anymore. Sometimes maybe we wrestle firmly or trip each other up or give each other a good solid slap and believe me I never doubt that they are there somewhere in the background even if not top of mind. 

I’m actually kind of friendly with my demons now, like “hey how ya doing?” when they show up, old comrades meeting at the local bar late at night: Hello, negative self-image! How are you, fear of success? Have a seat, bitter critical self. Guilt, my old friend, how the hell are you doing? And welcome, obsessive addictive personality…A bit tired and bleary, my dear demons and I are the kind of friends who hold each other up as we stagger home in the darkness after last call. I’ve come to appreciate how dependable they are. Maybe even indispensible. 

My demons and the gnarly paths they have led me down have proven to be the source of the most nutrient-rich material available in the universe. It’s like top-notch fertilizer: I am learning to dig it in, work it in deeply to the soil of my heart knowing that it will supplement, germinate, grow, flower, bear fruit. 

I used to wonder why I liked to take pictures of flowers after they became dry and hung listless, of empty swimming pools, concrete, graffiti, garbage dumps and gradually I came to understand that I have this relentless desire to rebel against the traditional notions of what is beautiful and what is not beautiful. I’m so grateful for that innate desire because today it is helping me learn to accept and love myself, all parts of me. 

Thank you, camera, for helping me to face my demons from behind your protective lens. 

Thank you, Pema Chodron, for showing me how to hold steady (mostly, sometimes, better than before), to not turn away, to breathe in deeply the pain, rage, grief, hopelessness…and then to breathe it out again, fully. 

Thank you to the poets that have taught me to treat my demons as honored guests, to invite them in graciously and converse respectfully with even the most demented. 

Thank you, my lovely friend Caroline, for teaching me how to call a meeting of all the parts of me, demons included, and how to give each the chance to speak and be heard. 

Thank you, wind; thank you, water; and thank you, ravens. Thank you, garden. Thank you, laughter (Jimmy Fallon Late Night Hashtags in particular).

Thank you, trees. I saw a bumper sticker once that said “Trees are the answer” and just yesterday I read an article about a toddler who would only say “hi” to trees. Makes me wonder.

Thank you, romance novels by Betty Neels and those endless Korean drama series with happy endings. Thank you, Spring, for coming every year despite my skepticism.

Thank you, Zen enso symbol. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the gentleman who came up to me outside the organic grocery store, flipped open his overcoat and said “Wanna buy a beagle?” resulting in my bringing home the biggest anti-demon force ever: a puppy named Bunny. 

Thank you son, for letting me know the power of unconditional love.

Thank you, sunset. 

Thank you, time. I appreciate the softening effect of the years. I appreciate that the darkness is familiar now, and not to be feared. I appreciate knowing that the sun will rise every day, believe it or not. The light is there. Always. The light is there, is coming.

Thank you, dear demons, for allowing me to recognize the light.

Bridget: Self-Portraits

I am attaching two self-portraits (photographs) as submissions in response to your call for fighting with demons. I could write pages and pages of explanations but in the end I think that the images should be pretty self-explanatory about my own demons but let me know if they are not. Maybe I live too firmly in my own head. 

The titles of the images:

self-portrait: window

self-portrait: ball

Judy: Battling Demons

Is it my demon that leads me to substance use? 


That nagging voice around my will power tells me I should buy another pack of cigarettes or refill my wine glass, again.  This voice disregards the agreement with myself that THAT was my last pack or that I’d only have two glasses at the birthday party.  


The voice becomes so loud at times I have difficulties focusing on the conversation at hand.  
I give in.  
I indulge.  
The struggle ceases, momentarily.  
The demon won.

In my meditation group recently, we were asked to sit with “mistakes” and observe what we noticed.  I felt tightness in my chest that continued up to my throat and resulted in the release of a continuous stream of tears that rolled down my face, off my chin and down to my heart.  
It was as if the tears were washing, the tightness I had just felt welling up inside. 
My heart must have needed some deep cleaning since the tears had no apparent end.  
The mistake that came to mind wasn’t my social lubricants.  It wasn’t even the brash remarks I make under the influence.  


It was a story, a habit of mind that rears its ugly head after disappointment in love.  


It is the voice that tells me I’m not good enough.  


This voice is not one of reason.  


Having a conversation with it is like having a political debate with a well-armed opposing view.  


It’s not about seeing eye to eye or about true understanding.  Rather, it is about going to battle.

I’ve come to call this side of me my inner teenager.  She’s hurt and needs to be seen.  She will say, “Nobody can tell me what to do.”  I can have that glass of wine, smoke that cigarette or overeat at a potluck because those behaviors mask her pain.  
My work now is learning how to let my inner teenager be seen, heard and felt with empathy while still caring for my true Self and doing that which allows my light to shine brightly and regularly.   


The journey with this demon is not likely to end with my new resolve.  


It will probably greet me at another inconvenient moment.  


And, each time I remember to meet her with empathy, her hold on me is more gentle.