Notes on Opening the Vault of Nine&Sixty

A few thoughts on the Casa Argentita, getting to the end of this bizarre decade, and miscellaneous tidings.  

§ First. . . perhaps an apology: I was sad to have to cancel the House-Cooling party announced for July 6-13.  That 'slowlebration' simply couldn't be realized in the current time(health-money)space continuum.  La Casita is presently about half-furnished, and certain key items (pillows?) are in short supply.  (Yes, you could fight me for the two I have, but I will win.)

Maybe next year.  

§§ Second. . . remember last year's rather animated search for the retreat guardian (/research assistant)?  Upon unpacking the first boxes in the Casita Arrrggg(entita), it became clear that this was not a minor consideration. From DayOne I collected a list of things that went sprawling into the abyss (souped-up by the April 8 solar eclipse, no doubt).  I won't vex my readers with the play-by-play, but it was a solid 13 weeks of explosions, burning plastics, tree-slaying, pop-up nightclubs, water/electricity/internet outages, etc. (Some, such as the riochuelo that runs through my kitchen whenever it rains, are kind of charming, I'll give you that.)

Anyway, until the actual onset of year-69 there seemed to be no getting ahead of it.  Hence the need for a retreat guardian.  As I explained to my candidates in 2023, "It's not that complicated, no love or admiration required. Just be someone who likes me, and trusts that I might figure out what I'm doing."  Being retreat guardian simply meant walking through the house once or twice during the closed retreat cycle (1-3 days).  Oh, and maybe mentioning to the Subtles that I am to be left alone.  

A few weeks ago I was reminded how useful that deflection can be. Yes, yes, I can rub my tummy and pat my head at the same time - that is, patrol a boundary AND do the practices. But my last night in Texas included a 350-mile drive, witnessing (and unsuccessfully preventing) a kidnapping,  a 2-hour snooze in the van, conveying all of the van-storage details to  my very patient friends in Elgin, then a dash to San Antonio with three bags that somehow had grown heavier overnight. 

Queue up the kid sister.  Over the years I have discovered that in Susanity's company a good bit of the Onslaught starts to whistle, examine its Florsheims and wander away. (She's tougher than she looks.)  While together at the airport, it felt as though we were surrounded by a phalanx of Kurukulle Buddhas (with Their rose-tipped arrows).  Nothing could get through. 

However once she left my side, down came the ramparts.  

Roughhousing (literally, eh?) continued through the New Moon in Cancer on July 5.  That lunar transit happened to fall exactly on my sidereal birthday, conjunct asteroid Hades (per J. Demboski). And, more happily, conjunct fixed star Sirius -- which heralds the annual inundation of the Nile.  

Thus, 'under&in' was followed by the surge of clarity that one should expect at Solar Return.  Huzzah. 

§§§ Third. . . so now that my personal New Year is underway,  some of the more arrant intrusions have disappeared or taken a break.  I cannot say that the search for home-base is concluded here, but there's enough coffee, cloudcover and cricket song for the next few . . . what? hours? months? who knows?

And 'time' is being leavened and stretched to salvage the absconded 13-weeks.  

Sidebar: the rhythm of attention we call 'time.'  Like most of us, my creative-life has coursed along beneath a working-life.  A while back I learned to crib a Jacobin month of 3 ten-day weeks into my Gregorian count. Of course the French and Roman calendars had to mesh, as convincing my employer or my kids' school that today was nonidi --the ninth day of the week-- was beyond my powers of persuasion. 

Now, sans children or regular employers, time loiters but is somehow still cramped in the 168 hour-cycle we call a 'week' (I suspect this has something to do with how we have all agreed to occupy it).  So as I shepherd this flock of days, I'm reverting to the Franco-tibetan (yes, the Ts have it too) calendar for a while.

Nota Bene: 

                                                                                                      Now see there?  Doesn't that feel better?

§§§§ Fourth . . . is from the street: Walking back to the Casita the other day, I am stopped by a neighbor - small round person, long black hair with a milky streak running through it.  She was wearing a brightly-colored skirt, very nice white sneakers and an apron.  I'd guess she was in her sixties, with smooth skin and a lively demeanor.  She was crossing the street from one side as I crossed from the other. 

We kind of met in the middle, did that thing that pre-friends do: 

"Oye! I love your skirt!"
"Aiii, thank you! And where did that green hair come from? I can tell you're not from around here! [chortles]" 
"You think?  Yes, no, I'm not.  But look! your hair is so beautiful, thick as a waterfall;  and with all that caramela que brilla [candyshine] running through it!  Mine is green with envy!" (much chortling ensues)
"Well, I would dye my hair, but my mother won't let me..." 

At that I went from chortle to guffah, while she just twinkled with the precision of her own joke.  

I love this town. And people's openness here is worthy of all the respect I can extend. 

†††††Fifth. . .

While the Slowlebration may be delayed until 2025, over the next few months I am inviting my pals from here and there to come spend a few days at the Casita.  Since the Lunarium is not to be missed, I am thinking of opening my home a couple of days before the Full Moon each month (starting in August). Nothing too crazy, this houselette comfortably holds 2-3 guests at a time. 

If you would like to receive an invitation, let me know soon and I'll respond with a lunar calendar attached.  During August & September there may be cloud-cover (rainy season).  And my guests may be invited to learn (or review) the Yoga of the Purified Senses while here - but that is entirely optional.  

Mostly I want to share this little jewel of a home while I have it.  Early next year I hope to sublease it for 2 months while I am in Europe, so this would give someone a chance to come give it a spin (as only my friends can do...)   

[If you receive an invitation and we have not met physically, it is because you have turned up in my dreamworld at some point.  As we spend a good half of each circadian in some form of Oneiros (we go in and out of REM all 'day'), and I have my ADL (Advanced Dreamer's License), that intro is as good as the sunny-side-out we call 'waking-life.'] 

Invitations (and short survey) will be in your mailbox by July 21 (1st day of Leo!).  

Hasta entonces, 
Until then, 

E
writing for 
M

¡Welcome to Casa Argentita!

Some of you may remember my hailing from Metepéc (Edo de MX) last year. After a trial-run of 6 months or so, the altitude (almost 10,000 feet) turned out to be more than this body could handle. An exploration into Michoacán was launched in 2023, rounding down to Morelia, the capital city. Now it is my pleasure to welcome you from the Casita Argentita.

"Argentita" is a preliminary ore for the noble metal silver. In Western alchemy and in various tantric traditions, argentita's cousin mercury sulfate or cinnabar is considered the fusion of the Sun (mercury/Hg) and Moon (sulfur/S). Although poisonous to normal human bodies, an advanced yogini may harness mercury-sulfate on the way to self-mastery (fn1).

And wouldn't ya know... argentita is also a sulfite, an amalgam of silver and sulfur; you might think of it alchemically as Moon+Moon. How would that work? Well, there are 14 moons, aren't there? So Ag could be considered the Full Moon or Purna; and S the New Moon or Tirsthi.  And all of those moons are visible from within
the Casita. The atrium has a plexiglass ceiling oriented on an east/west axis. The back garden is on the East side of the Casita, so when standing in the Skyroom, the Moon first appears on the eastern edge of the ceiling, trekking toward the front door to the West.

When I first stepped into the house (on Epiphany, no less) the winter cloud-light felt downy and slow; nevertheless, I knew it was The Place. There would be two more journeys before I could move in, but the owners graciously agreed to save it for me (. . .well, for us).

At this writing I have held the Casita Argentita a little more than a month. We are still palpating one another, still acclimatizing. Having been the family home to four brothers, the Casita resounds with what the sages call 'white bodhicitta' - energies creative, active, courageous, protective.

The physical expression of those qualities is in the balance, solidity and flow of the little house itself. However, since the time of its construction/remodeling Morelia has grown, and the Casita now receives traffic noise and pollution from three directions.

I am working on reducing those, and indeed, once the temporada de sequias (dry season - from October to May) expires, it should be quite a bit easier to rein in. Meanwhile I've acquired a couple of air purifiers that are knocking out the VOCs [volatile organic compounds] as I work on creating an acoustic barrier for the entrance of the house. I've also started transplanting two massive pots of air-cleaning Sansevieria (snake plant) -- which I discovered hidden in the back garden. Those will live in the Skyroom, sweeping and filtering the atmosphere.

I leased this place with the idea that it would be suitable for a) writing, b) closed retreat, and c) peer-counseling (fn2). Now that I have fulfilled April's obligations, the writing has picked up. Argentita's closed-retreat function has yet to be fully-tested, but so far, atmospheric challenges (see above) have delayed it.

The third purpose, Peer-counseling here in the Casita Argentita has been tabled until I finish the writing under my hand. Next Spring, I swan. . . 

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

NOTES:

1. See David Gordon White, "The Alchemical Body" 1996.

2. "Peer-counseling" is my preferred term for 'teaching.' One can only 'teach' what the student already knows. Anything more than that slops over into 'guru-tech' and we all know how that ends. 

Kalo mina! Greetings from Greece on Martaki (March 1)

 So… do we remember this from last July?  

. 🎶🎶🎶🎶...You Say It's My Birthmonth...🎶🎶🎶🎶

“Tomorrow I reluctantly part with my 67th year and take on the 68th.  It's the aesthetics of the new number --two even digits?-- that gives me a mild sense of foreboding.”

Well, the first half of my year (counting from July) was in fact full of strife. Three major falling-outs rolled through the biograph with thunderclap intensity. Plus the usual vexations: car repairs, economic mis-steps, health questions.  Those were minor compared to the fractured friendships.  As of this date, two have been reconciled, but the third may be a total loss§.  There’s no gallic shrug around that. The aleatory nature of trust is a lifelong lesson.     

Honestly, these kinds of experiences are neither unfamiliar nor unexpected.  Back when I was all growed-up —in a PhD program and acting like I knew something— my futureself busted up the party with this Vision: I was a Gyrovague, dressed all in white (🙄)and ever-wandering.

.  My spiritual ‘job’ was to piss people off, then hang in there with them (“steady as She blows!”) holding the mirror until they settled into equanimity. 

Like all tantras, this is dangerous, but extremely efficient.  Yes, yes - tantra is generally identified with mahasukkha, great pleasure - but I also work with Mahakrodha (one of the epithets of Vajrayogini) :: the Great Anger, which produces that other —red— bodhicitta†.

Men, by definition, are full of this stuff.  The endocrine equivalent is testosterone and contributes to the ability to focus, find the Enemy, and the will to destroy.  That’s the raw (primal) form/expression. 

In women’s bodies red bodhicitta is almost always in a more refined state as we are the natural factories of the white bodhicitta (oxytocin) that modulates the expression of the red.  In our bodies this red/white admixture trends to creative expression; or it is sublimated into a neural burn that eliminates the physiological cause of samsara: fear.  (Sorry guys, it’s only ‘ignorance’ for Kshatriya princes who wish they were Brahmins).

More on this up the EEpiphanies road.  For the nonce, class over.  

§§§§§§§§

As I was saying. . . the second half of this 68th year is less fraught, though equally demanding. After the detonations of the summer, I spent September-December cultivating what I hoped would be a retreat space and its guardian.  That process took all of the time, money, vitality I could generate - and turned out to be a dead end.  

But on January 6 —exactly my half-birthday— I was standing in the house I would lease for the rest of the year, which features a sala (living room) with a skylight ceiling.  

It probably leaks.  But do I care?

Anyway, once I caught my breath from the autumn’s dazzling mischief, tickets to Greece were acquired and a campaign to fund the journey launched.  Now here on Martaki (1st day of Greek Spring), but it is a cold, wet day in the Peloponnese.  However I can hear the corinthian gulf (3 blocks away) tossing in its bed and negative ions sparkling through the atmosphere.  

Greece produces an entirely different version of the yogini you know&love. Almost all of the background fear I ‘enjoy’ as a Texan and Latinamericanist dissipates and a quiet clarity steals through me.  It is where I can access what y’all might call ‘altered states’ most readily, but there is no less work involved.  In other words, ‘altered’ does not mean blissed.  It just means that the range of my awareness is dilated.  This guides my path through the Sanctuaries and deepens my meditative practice.  When the Inside is as ample as the outside, we’ve struck pay-dirt {{glint}}. 

Once I return to Tex-Mexico, an extended retreat period is still on the calendar.  It will be a weekly cycle: some days in CIR (closed intensive); otherwise writing and other forms of money-grubbing for the following six months.  

…but in my lovely, leaky skyhouse, with Ms. Cwabby at the door.  

There is still some small hope for a retreat guardian, though the topic has gone through several filters with close friends who assure me that it is a chimera.  Maybe so, but we’ll see who pulls up to the door once things get going.   Are you curious? Male? Meditator with a passport and too much time on your hands?  Write to me… 

ALSO: Have you seen my Patreon?  There’s a free, somewhat-weekly essaylette on Wandering WodinsWednesdays and a new, 1$ level of membership for the monthly ‘preAmble’ [the one linked above just happens to have both].  These subscriptions help keep my tuchis parked on the cushion for the required dedarkenment periods.  

ALSOALSO:: The EEEmporium is only open sporadically - right now you can pre-order Greek delights that I will ship to you once back in the US (later this month).   I’m not here to shop, but a few curiosities offered themselves as I was meandering the Jumbo. (Last day to buy will be March 10).  LMK!

***

FOOTNOTES:

§ It might be a stretch to call that one a ‘friendship.’ For more than two years —per the stylings of Da Durrell— we (psychically) palpated one another “like two surgeons looking for a lump.” We found it, but extraction proved to be impossible.  

† Bodhicitta … the funny thing about this wiki definition is that it entirely leaves out the question of bodhicitta as a substance.  I call it ‘buddha-pop’ and it is semi-physical (molecular), corresponds to endocrine flows and in Tibetan/Chinese medical systems is treated as a fluid.  But yes, it also coordinates with the development of compassion and compassionate action.  Shabash!