Don't know his whereabouts, but he's out there. And I know it. He's communicating with me. Leaving clues.
Recently, I found the blue bottle of Milk Thistle herbal supplement. 200 capsules of standardized extract to help maintain healthy liver function. Whatever. The message was in the name. A command: Milk Thistle. For all he's worth.
The serendipitous alignment notwithstanding, I have continued to march through my assignments with calloused rote regimen. No, really.
Well, alright. So I don't have any rituals or routines. But I'm trying.
No. Really.
I dove into some old papers the other night and unearthed another nugget. Am I channeling a higher energy when Thistle comes to life in my mind, in my writing? Or is it yet another distraction from what I really need to be doing? No, the communiques are interesting, enlivening, energizing even. The thought distortion is around the "should," as in I should be doing my taxes, or I should be mowing the lawn.
Anyway. The nugget. It's not clear when I wrote this. But deducing from all of the scribbled notes and "to do" jargon, I'm gonna guess it was more than ten years ago. Here's the text as written:
- "Thistle hiding from pain. Running from hard truths of not being accepted, not being loved. Carves out reality based on half truths; Reluctant to face inconsistencies. Instead forays into detailed analysis of "Super" powers and simplicities of living-- breathing, walking, drinking (water)-- deconstructing the elements & essentials of life, formulating a path back to the reality he is denying exists."
I think Thistle is an alter ego, yes. Created by my young writer's mind as a potential manifestation of myself, he was me "in twenty years." Well. Now I'm almost me in 20 years from that time.
I'm about to be staring Thistle in the face.
