badger bugger

The Badger.  I gave it to some guy at the old Duck and Dive-- if I remember correctly he was complaining about doing dangerous work for some secret government agency.  So he's either crazy or very important.  Or both.  A badger, all the way. 

Here's the badger pre-firing-- with a copper ball in his arms and a crow on his head. 

 

Badger people are obviously tough and tenacious. That's the badger's most public quality:  they can be difficult.  They have a tendency to be evasive and secretive.  And grouchy.  To get to know a badger, one has to be like the badger and dig dig dig.

 

If you can deal with a badger long enough you might find that they have a knack for storytelling.  I've read native American myths where badgers are referred to as Story Keepers.  

 

If your the one who got the badger, you should probably keep talking, keep working, keep snarling.  Keep scraping away.  Do it with courage and purpose.  And look up out of that dark tunnel once in a while.

 

So there you go grouchy secret government guy, keep growling! 

Somethings happening here. What it is ain't exactly clear.

A good seven months ago and few hundred miles west, I left this weird guy on this sign post. 

I had been distributing these things for a while-- but never with any intentions to track them.  It just really amused me to imagine people finding them in their pockets or helmets or lunchboxes.  Still does.  So this was before the tracking.  No tags.  Naked.

Since the very beginning  I have had people out there helping me-- other people that have been equally amused by this project.  People who have been brave or drunk enough to approach an open pocket or purse.  People who have been discerning enough to be able to tell a hawk from a goat and a pelican from a frog.  People who think it's funny or fun or meaningful or whatever. 

This weird blobby melty guy belongs to one of them.  I didn't even make him.

I took the picture because I wanted to share his placement with the gal that made him.  And then I left him there, on that sign, to find a home.  In October.  Near Asheboro.

SO...  Last night, in perhaps the weirdest most unlikely spirit animal occurrence EVER, I found THIS SAME WEIRD GUY in a planter on Water Street in downtown Wilmington. 

So he's back in my house now.  Back to the land of his conception.  And I have to be honest: it kind of freaks me out. 

 

What, what, what is the universe trying to tell me?  Should I expect them all to come back?  Is this some crazy trippy synchronicity?  Is the blob MY spirit animal?  Or maybe I should be worried that some nut job is following me around trying to make me lose my mind?  (Well played, Nut Job.  Well played.)

 

No, no, no... certainly it's good luck, right? 

 

One thing is for sure: It's a very weird world out there, folks.  VERY WEIRD! 

 

fitz, tantrums, fractures

Fitz and the Tantrums were a great time!  It's been a long time since I've seen an anthem band.  Danced up a storm!  And they played The Pretenders! 

I got two lovely little beasts out there.  One was an eagle.  The eagle I threw over the fence.  I don't think it hit anybody, but who knows?  If you were having a fine time and then suddenly got brained by a little blue eagle... I have no idea about any of it.  But you might like to know that I fell down my steps last night.  Universe?  Are we even?

The little hooded crow went off with some friends.  Who knows where it ended up?

I have a few of these hooded crows.  If you found this bugger, I suspect you are a part of something greater than you know.  You're not as weird as you think you are-- there are other hooded crows around.  And maybe theses crows don't recognize each other because their magic is hidden-- all cloaked up.  Open your eyes! 

Duck, duck, cow

Out on the town with a little meditating brown cow.

I've had my fair share of problems with the old Duck and Dive and have been boycotting them for a while.  Mostly a mental boycott.  But they had a dream team of bartenders in there last night, so I broke the boycott for a beer. 

The woman working the door... I've seen her.  I've heard her.  She was in the Barbary, months ago, and I remember she came in all worked up, telling a story-- she used the term "double d backpack"-- I have no idea what it means, but I wrote it down in my notebook I was so impressed by it.  Hilarious. And here she is, working the door at the Duck, making me fill out a membership while I'm half-drunk.  When she spoke I recognized the voice.  So she gets the cow. 

And you know I love cows.  Especially on mother's day.  Cows are The Great Mothers-- in all the important ways-- protective and strong and giving.  They take care of their herd.  Lots of integrity in the cow.  Lots of spirit, too. 

The best thing about cows: they don't sweat the small stuff.  There is grass everywhere.  They eat the grass.  They enjoy life.  They march forward.  They SENSE danger-- in their bones-- so they don't have to waste time or headspace worrying.  Cows know that there is PLENTY. 

There is a Scandinavian legend that a primordial cow rose from the frozen earth, licked the ice, and that's how life began.  And you know the Hindus with their sacred cows.  Point is: cows are important.  Maybe we should think about them.  And our mothers.  And mothers in general.  And moon goddesses.

Happy Moon Herders Day! 





     

Feathers, furs, and fins

    
     Beasts are slowly and randomly still making their way into the world.  I stuck something in a window corner at the Brooklyn Arts Center during Stephen Marley-- maybe a little goat? 

  Then there was the one-legged white goose I left in a planter in front of Buddy's.  Seems lots of folks leave lots of things at Buddy's.  I've found a hat there and a lapel pin from Nasa, and people of every variety.  It's a finder's keeper's kind of place.  You know the thing about geese-- they don't leave each other behind.  If one goose is wounded, the other's will wait with him til he dies.  Whoever found this one, I suspect you are a good friend.  Or you should think about what that means.

     Also, I gave away a land-loving seahorse at Hall and Oates-- to a very sweet poi and hoop spinning lady in the liquor garden.  Male seahorses carry babies and give birth-- and this one loves dry land.  Like the hanged man of the tarot-- this guy is about looking at things in a different light, expecting the unexpected-- not everything is obvious and static.  Something might just surprise you.

     I have a good many more to distribute in the next week.  But here's the big news:  We are close to reaching 1000 visits on this blog.  Be prepared.  My stealthy cohorts and I are planning a bombing.  Spirit Animals everywhere!  Raining from the sky like cats and dogs and locusts!  Soon!