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I am still here. Still. Too still.
How can I face tomorrows?
I have no past, I knew no bloom,
too many timeless sorrows.

I need to leave my silent mark,
I invoke my Star: Please cleanse me!
I hum along with Planet Gods,
they come and synchronize me.

In outer space, in caves so deep
I seek to burn off karma,
I’ll still be here, and not too still;
I’ll be reborn from magma.

Leon of SolitaryThinkers, March 25, 2014

Our Blogging Pathways Are No Less Karmic

Our Blogging Pathways Are No Less Karmic

Dearest fellow bloggers,

I disappeared for a while, I know. Please know that out of sight is not out of mind in my case.

Too many personal and collective struggles keep our lives as hostages here.

On the internal personal level, I have been going through one of my periods of necessary emotional regulation. With my Ascendant, Moon and Neptune all falling natally in the sign of Scorpio, I have to keep myself from drowning in the flood of my emotions and the emotions and sufferings of other people. I can be of no service to anyone when I am lost like this.

Let me briefly explain to you the impact you have on me through your words, thanks to this first-house Neptunianly-spongy emotional make-up of mine. It is an understatement to say that I am “touched” or “moved” by even just a few carefully-written words of yours, in combination with the images you choose or create; when you share from your heart, your words assume such a physical presence for me, it’s like a dam cracks and explodes in front of me and in no time I find myself in a raging ocean of mingled emotions. I have to process all that and regain my balance, for all our sakes; we do not need any more emotional chaos on this planet.

As if all these watery elements were not enough, I also have a fiery-passion overload thanks to my Sun-and-Mars stellium conjuncting my Leo Midheaven, which makes me unafraid to immediately open up my heart to anyone whose honesty and intentions I trust. My “Still Here” poem above is born out of this Leo-Scorpio combination, a Mega-Square which gives me little capacity for objectivity or detachment, and a T-Mega-Square, actually, since I have Saturn the divine regulator in Taurus, thankfully and painfully opposing both my Scorpio planets and squaring both my Leo planets.

Now combine all that with my Imum Coeli falling in Aquarius and my packed 11th house where Uranus and Pluto are sandwiching my Venus, and you will understand why out of the clear blue sky you hear from me that I consider you “brother” or “sister” and why I feel this urge to give you all a huge hug until all our worries are gone, which of course does not work that simply, since I am so wounded myself by all I’ve been and am still going through in our traumatized lives here with Plutonia.

My Wounded Healer, also, my natal Chiron, is unaspected, peregrine (the Latin root pelegrinus means “outcast, wanderer or outsider”), in Aries (I am sometimes tortured by a lack of self-worth) and in the fifth house (my creativity as a translator and ghost writer for almost two decades has been largely overlooked and proven completely unrewarding financially).

My analytical mind I owe to Mercury in Virgo, in sextile with my Moon and triangle with my Saturn.

And as of my silent protection, Jupiter conjuncting my Ascendant from the twelfth house. Although I have approached my last breath a few times in my life, I am still here, and not always too still, thanks also to this Jupiterian exuberance.

I hope this introductory astrological insight into my personality is enlightening enough for the time being.

The point is that all this inner intensity and sensitivity can be short-circuiting even for me, and it is made worse by the fact that I have never really been socialized. I never had any real friends I could trust, besides a few spies of my controlling parents, who in the best case felt sorry for me and laughed with my jokes, but kept me nevertheless marginalized; they really had no choice with this family-of-origin I had. This incarnation of mine was too messy before it even started officially: my mother had been mourning the loss of her mother, her only protection against a much older, oppressive husband, for weeks before she birthed me. So I absorbed too much psychic pain already as a fetus, and the following almost four-and-a-half decades have not helped much towards the opposite direction. How’s that for a euphemism!

On the very first day of our web presence this winter solstice, there comes suddenly the notification for our first follower; an email-only follower! I look at this e-mail address wide-eyed and happy, but the next thought that crosses my mind and which I share with Plutonia is “Uh-oh! I hope this one’s not some kind of monster who is thrilled to watch a couple being led to utter despair and commit suicide in public?” My amazing Aquarius Sun soulmate was reassuring, and thankfully right again: our first follower turned out to be just a tired-as-ourselves, beautiful human soul who needs us as much as we need her to continue on our healing journeys on this planet; our dearest Clarissa from Tulsa, Oklahoma. I am infinitely grateful that we already have such brilliant, loving people like Clarissa in our hearts! Still, I sometimes get so messed up with myself that I need to withdraw until I am able to communicate again without scaring people away with my awkwardness. I tend to write either “too much” in response to your vibrations (“Such a beautiful poem thank you period” is usually too meaningless for me after I have been shaken by the energy you have invested to honour your presence in this world and connect [through gems like this one of Rachanee’s] with like-minded souls), or nothing at all. No one has seen “too much” I hope (Shun, could you please excuse me for commenting while I was so down and exhausted that day?), I really try to spare you any unbearably forceful or schmaltzy stuff, and this “nothing at all” can mean pages and pages of deleted material, since I have to be practising emotional restraint until I can offer something maturely worthwhile in order to continue nurturing our connections in a balanced way.

In the meantime, when you see only silence on my part, please know that I remain immensely thankful for our heartfelt connections. Even when I feel so tired and small and invisible that I become too shy to even click on the Like button for a post of yours that has really moved me (and embarrassed at that, too, since you don’t have a crowd visiting from Greece in your stats), all that you share out of your hearts stays with me; I do feel your warmth and I am always sending you back my supportive thoughts. I know that each one of us is a key cell in the organism of humankind; we all have to keep this awareness in our hearts and to be lovingly responsible here where we have landed for a while, because the repercussions of our actions are eternal.

Moving on to the external level, there is this constant mortal threat for us here in Greece; what we are experiencing in our country is something you really do not hear much about, if at all. As we wrote to our dear Cheryl in an e-mail recently,

“Our whole career here in Greece (nothing ever beyond bare survival) is dead and gone, as is our whole country, only many do not realize this, thinking they can safely be a part of an unbelievably corrupt system. The two of us, like many people here who have been working only in the private sector, have never lived beyond our means, and still we have constantly-increasing debts due to the insane overtaxation imposed on us just for breathing here. We desperately look for various odd jobs trying to survive, but the Greeks are undesirable as employees in their own country due to insurance cost reasons, and we are not that young and fit anymore. We are really amidst a silent genocide the world knows nothing about. All mainstream media everywhere cover up the truth of just how ferociously the economy is used as a weapon against us. The numbers of worthy, honest people taking their own lives here are unbelievable, but no suicide-rate statistics are announced during these debt-crisis years, so that no one feels for the people here and prays for a balance to be restored. […] We sadly depend on the few scraps Plutonia’s parents are mockingly throwing us; and they are throwing us less and less. They relish our suffering and the fact that we will never create a family of our own, because they are really distorted and evil people; you can be certain we are not saying this light-heartedly, our sweet Cheryl. We have suffered unspeakably all our lives in an absolutely unsuited-for-our-natures socio-political climate, in which neither they or Leon’s parents ever meant to help us integrate; quite the contrary, we have been kept cut off from society in many invisibly sickening ways. […] We started blogging out of desperation, because we do not seem to have much time left in this life. We needed to connect with loving, compassionate, creative and spiritual people like yourself for the first time in our lives, so as not to lose our minds. We needed to explain our situation, find some understanding, and, in our turn, do everything in our power to maybe provide some loving support to some brothers and sisters out there who are suffering. […] But due to this unprecedented overtaxation imposed on the population here which leads to our amassing debts, we are not allowed to do anything for money anymore. […] The tax laws are extremely complicated and constantly becoming more and more destructive. We are among the many people here who are threatened with confiscations and imprisonment without ever having done anything illegal. This is a huge economic battlefield where more and more decent private-sector citizens are mercilessly slain. […] ‘Leon’ and ‘Plutonia’ are our blogging names. They do carry our personal vibrations and we strongly identify with them, but, although dozens of ISBNs are circulating with our real names, although we have translated so many fiction and non-fiction books, our real names cannot appear in any project anymore. We cannot even receive any donations via the Internet. Our empty bank account will soon be blocked lest something goes in it, to be immediately withdrawn for our ‘debts’ to be paid to the man-eating status quo. By all statistical probabilities, the system will get its way with us, too. We do not say this with fear, we deny to give them this pleasure, but the fact is that we are being treated as numbers, not as people, and that the silent genocide continues. We do not know if and how we will be able to deal with homelessness or imprisonment or whatever they are preparing for large numbers of innocent, downtrodden people here. If this is our final labor of love, if our activity in the blogosphere gets terminated and our web space freezes in time, we want to have left something of our hearts and souls that has made the world a more humane place. We already consider ourselves fulfilled for having astrally embraced with you, our sweet Cheryl, and a few more fellow humans.”

And Cheryl responded by telling us, among many other beautiful, soulful things,

“Thank you so much for the love you have, the gifts you have shared; and know that you, by whatever name you are called in this life, are known to myself and Spirit by the name of Light”.

Isn’t she the most amazing Cancer Sun lady? I have no doubt she has been sent into our lives to undo some of the destruction we have suffered in the hands of toxic, anti-nurturing Crabs. How can we ever express our gratitude strongly enough for waking up after a few hours sleep after that exchange (we cannot even rest enough anymore), but feeling more refreshed than we have felt for weeks, because we both dreamt we were in the physical company of fellow bloggers in our building’s parking lot? We have to be avoiding our neighbours, too, since we are unable to be paying our share of service charges for a long time now –more amassing debts there–, and although we know they do try to understand –most of them are kind people– they are still all minions of the corrupt system. How else could they survive and have families in this permanently-governed-by-traitors construct of a country that is modern Greece?

The remainder of this post is for my astrological star sister Casey The Sprightly Writer and about the immense beauty of our collective human experience, despite all our many challenges and sufferings.

The first thing that grabbed me in Casey’s blog was that smashing quote she has chosen to feature center-stage, so representative of our psyches, since we both landed in this world in the summer of 1970:

the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’ What did they call such young people in Goethe’s Germany?

~ Jack Kerouac, On The Road Again

As I write these lines, I just left a comment in her blog telling her: “Casey, I have to confess I am a little ashamed of myself. It has been weeks now since I told you I would be commenting again soon. You have left such long and deeply moving comments for me and Plutonia, and I (who am responsible for most of our English content) seem to have disappeared. Please know that out of sight is not out of mind in my case. The stories of yours I have already read and our spiritual kindredship have gotten me more and more inspired and soaring to heights that kept my words and worlds unfolding until that was no comment I could leave under any of your posts anymore. So, for the time being, allow me to invite you to our place for what has become an article in its own merit.”

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

~ Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

Dear Casey,

I probably wouldn’t have kept my sanity, my healthy pride and my desire to embrace life without the inspiration of people like Walt Whitman. “What’s that course you got yourself enrolled into again, my boy? Individual-ism and Society?” More on my father and the similarity with your grandfather a bit later. Of course there was no –ism suffix in the title of that course, but you understand what I, too, had to go through all my life and why I am here now cherishing you and everyone like you. The professor who taught us the “Individual and Society” course was another dear sister of mine, in some ways an outcast herself even within the academic community, and a great mentor, a lady more than two times my age then, who had a wild exotropic strabismus; too much eye-rolling due to the repulsiveness of social rules, I’d say, because she had not been born that way. The first time I walked into her office to thank her for the magnificent course she had designed on the Transcendentalists and all those unconventional people who have shaken our world, she left me standing there in front of her with my hand hovering in mid air without shaking it, staring at me for a while almost angrily with her one eye, speechlessly pulsating from head to toe with the thought, What on earth makes you so sure you understand what I am trying to teach here, young man? Do you believe you have the guts to handle the pressures of society uncompromisingly with ideas like these dancing around in your head? My hand had dropped, but the look in my smiling young eyes was, Oh, I do have a vague idea and I am ready to bring it on, dear wiser, kindred spirit. It’s OK if you don’t shake my hand yet, but you know we are communicating already. Now can we please sit down and open up our hearts to each other? And we sat down and we talked and talked and she even lent me a book from her personal library and, with just one more such personal visit in her office, she managed to instill so much faith in me and trust in life and in the prospect of my true brothers and sisters being somewhere out there in the big wide world. She also explained to me how she had been a yoga and meditation instructor who was disgusted with the falsehood in most of the so-called spiritual circles who show off levitation to mislead and enslave people, and she talked to me about all sorts of amazing things like our chakras and our astral bodies and life after death and all these ancient, timeless truths my mind and soul had always been burning for. She kept trying to touch on these subjects in class, too, in front of shamefully drowsy audiences, but in that School of English is also where I was blessed to find my fabulous, tortured Plutonia.

It has been one hell of a ride, blazing our trail through all this sociopolitical corruption for two decades now, and our downfall was so dramatic during the last debt-crisis years (“downfall” from the level of bare survival, mind you; don’t let this Leo Sun give you the impression we ever had a ball), our life force was almost completely quenched as I started struggling to set up a web presence from scratch with our ancient online computer, and make it on time so that we could at least symbolically be “Reborn on 2013 Winter Solstice” as our blog header says, because the Winter Solstice marks the rebirth of the Sun and the return of the Light. It was actually an act of desperation. That “silent Greek genocide” in our tagline and on our header is no fancy word play; the media report nothing of the extent of despair generated here by the plundering of our country. We have run out of survival options and our situation remains tragic. Still, we could never have imagined how our hearts would be literally reborn thanks to our connecting with a few amazing-in-their-sufferings people like yourself.

I am so happy you responded to this spark of mine from the other side of the planet. So far away and yet so close… “We are family and it has been lonely without knowing you were out there” was the first comment Cheryl Pennington left for me; she’s in our blogroll, too, with her Tropical Affair, a brilliant creative soul; a little more sweet-tempered than ourselves, not having known exactly our kind of social and family difficulties, but she is a sweet angel. Not that we are bitter devils though, Casey, there is nothing we should be torturing ourselves about, but it’s funny how I have also been known as “the crazy one”. I guess this is why the exuberance of your spirit is so warming to me; a classic case of like attracting like, and I suspect you are a fellow roarer? At least a Leo Mars for sure, and with all your collective planets at the same celestial positions with mine, you are a star sister to me alright. My spirit has always soared with this prominently-featuring-in-your-blog quote of Jack Kerouac’s. And this stunning Aquarius poet with his breathtaking St. Francis and the Sow I marveled at in my now-tattered Norton Anthology, where I also read and absolutely adored Kate Chopin’s The Awakening…

And you reminded me also of a similar piece of prose poetry I wrote myself in Greek back in those days, something in the spirit of the Transcendentalists’ glorious ideas of freedom which I don’t have anymore, but I remember it was something about a late-summer sunset on a hill and the mellow scent of the earth and this fragrant air filling up my lungs and making me explode with happiness and become the very air myself, getting breathed in through the pores of the leaves, traveling through warm trunks and wiggling roots and the vibrant soil and all the way back and up and out again from all trees and leaves at the same time into the fading sunrays, caressing the horizon and flying straight up and becoming the deepening hues in the sky and a prayer of stars all through the night and then the first songbird melodies and sparkling dewdrops on daybreak meadows…

Damn it! My heart is racing like crazy and crying out, was there no way we could have stopped them from chewing up our youth and spitting it out so sacrilegiously? How can we ever reclaim so much stolen sweetness? (I don’t think there are many young poets like Lily who can provide us with such a dazzlingly beautiful view into our dark night of the soul.) How can I become half my age and go study in the States and become a writer who will actually be able to make a living by sweeping people off their feet? There was no way my outrageously dysfunctional family would support me in anything in the Greek city where I was born, and I am still stuck in the same rotting area. They ruined my life to such a degree that although they are both gone for almost twenty years now, I am still barely surviving and still in the process of forgiving them, which is not made easier at all by the fact that Plutonia’s lifelong tormentors are still giving us real karmic hell now that Greece has been driven into the abyss, and especially this mother-in-law enemy of mine who is throwing us less and less scraps from the fat pension she has been receiving for decades now, only to be viciously claiming her pound of flesh, a possessed-Nazi version of the Shakespearean Shylock who always wanted her only child as an experiment and a toy for herself.

And while your grandfather, Casey, was working in the intelligence field during the Second World War, my father (yes, with our age difference he should have been my grandfather) was working with the Germans as an interpreter in the occupied Greece; I do not want to imagine how much collaboration went on there with all these pills he had been swallowing ever since, and the world has never known about the horrific scale of atrocities that took place in our cradle of civilization. Nice, huh? I don’t think we can ever comprehend the extent of brain control our folks were subjected to, or how their experiences are still influencing us. Influxus stellarum from the heavens, influxus bellum across spacetime on our planet. And now as we speak, our neighborhood is boiling again here in Eastern Europe and massive dark forces are at work trying to lead us into WWIII. The war never ends really, because “War is the father of all and king of all”, as Heraclitus said.

But; shall we really despair and accept that we should give up because we are under so many types of attacks simultaneously that we stand no chance of making any difference? No, till our last breath, no! Why? Because we are already making a huge difference, that’s why. Despite our experiences of excruciating pain, our hearts are beautiful and pure. Nothing else matters.

Casey, your blog is marvelously detoxifying. I have been crying my way through many your posts; tears of sadness, joy and appreciation. I adore your stories and the brilliant honesty of your spirit in all your ups and downs.

Plutonia is fully on your side, too, but I have monopolized our computer these days to make our suffering known. We are under constant bombardment with the reckless hatred of her since-years-and-years-addicted-to-anti-depressants-and-even-before-these-years-soul-sucking silent-generation “parents”. I am completely unable to save her, having no income anymore and no prospects for survival, and it’s devastating me. Yes, “they know not what they do”, you are right –and I am thankful that you, too, are trying to forgive–, I am certain the historical Jesus would have been absolutely amazing to meet in person, but these people are sociopaths like so many you have known, and “sociopaths” is only a clinical term; we are missing knowledge big time here about dark entities; all these substances are wreaking havoc in the human mind, fertilizing it for way-too-many not-so-cute parasites and opening gates for them to infest us, but this knowledge has been quietly put away under the “occult” label, and as of the organized religions, well, you have felt darn well how they burn, burn, burn to enlighten us about the God Within Us All that Jesus was talking about. So, I am here with my better half’s wholehearted encouragement, hoping to maybe warm the hearts of a few beautiful, tortured people in this world, before we all lose sight of our divine purpose, gratefully receiving your warmth back to see where our roads may lead us. Ah, our roads… Let us remain remorselessly faithful to the last three lines of Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Many blessings and much love,


So, have I expressed my gratitude to all of you strongly enough, at least for our first connection / karmic re-connection? Have your initial responses been equally heart-warming for me? I believe we all believe so. We have already recognized and honoured each other, because “There is so much I wanted to tell you but I didn’t” is not something we want to be regretting if anything happens to us before our time. The times we are living in are getting weirder and weirder. But we’ll all be here for a while, OK? We have so much to do with and for the people in our lives, and we have to make sure that – our – every – breath – counts. The long, perfect loveliness of Now…

With all this hot water welling up in my eyes, I so feel like immersing myself in the ecstatic Piscean voice waves of Josh Groban right now.

I am so sick and tired of being sick and tired, I have made up my mind about what I will be doing for the rest of my days here: help us be spreading, bit by bit, some serious amounts of love and healing; it may not be enough to lift all the burdens of the world at once, but it’s all we’ve got.

You Raise Me Up, each and every one of you:

  • Our dearest first follower Clarissa;
  • Our angelic Cheryl;
  • Our fellow warrior of love Casey;
  • Our princess of lights and shadows Lily;
  • Our amazingly inspirational Rachanee;
  • Our fellow “Writer, Author, Wordsmith” Shun;
  • Our mesmerizingly poetic and mystical Daniel; and
  • Our priestess of the divine feminine Monika.

Let us walk on these stormy seas together.

(And excuse me if I drown again; I will be doing my best to resurface.)