It seems on odd time to be writing this but hey ho, here I am…
The last few years, it’s been my habit during the 12 days of Christmas to ask for omens for the year ahead. I don’t use tools or pull cards… I start the day with a few minutes silence, set the intention that I will receive a message at some point throughout the day and then at the end of the day, I note down anything that I felt to be out of the ordinary…
2018-19, I accidentally tossed away my notes as they were stashed in the back of a diary. However I do recall there being something noteworthy on each and every one of the 12 days. The most memorable being the black fox that crossed my path, stopped, staring me squarely in the eyes. I held his gaze and wondered what message he had for me. I heard the words “Magick’s not done with you yet!”. I wryly laughed to myself “Oh, really… I’m not even sure black foxes exist, I must consult the Google oracle…”
Apparently they do and despite driving that road a few hundred times since and looking each time I pass the spot, I’ve never seen the black fox again.
2019-20, I repeated the experiment and nothing… Each day, blank… Nothing… Or so I thought until I just rediscovered the only 2 notes I made during those 12 days.
On Dec 30th, I wrote a short note to someone and they commented that it sounded like a great start to a magical story. I read it back and thought hmm maybe it does? Is this my omen? Who knows? Let’s keep it, maybe I will one day use it. I edited it slightly and cut it down to read:
I’ve spent 3 hours driving through fog and mist this morning and feeling as though I’m floating between worlds, drifting in the weird space between one year and the next. I arrive home. It feels like the perfect time to turn up…
The other note I wrote was on Jan 1st.
Oh Ffs! Here come the joggers!
Oh Ffs! Here come the joggers became my bidaily mantra? rant? Rantra over the following weeks.
Driving my rounds, I’d ask my passengers where the hell all these joggers were coming from? They never used to answer me, just sit and grin whilst I spurled out monologues about wonky posture, joint problems waiting to happen, Jesus fucking Christ what’s going on with that moose knuckle?! Or my pondering ramble about how I just don’t get it… They all look so bloody miserable, is this some bizarre cult of elaborate self harming going on…I consoled myself that it was New Year’s madness and the good intentions would all soon fade and I’ve have the road back to myself… But they were much slower than usual to budge… And then it happened – lockdown and bam!
Joggers, joggers everywhere! Lumbering, foot dragging, earphone wearing, frayed faces, pounding pavements every bloody hour of the day and night… Socially distancing themselves from pedestrians by leaping into the middle of the road, right into my flight path. My attempts at understanding what makes joggers tick gave way to cartoon daydreams of me seeing them as lycraed lemmings. I wondered how long until the daily covid death count was followed up by announcements of today’s Darwin Awards going to 36 joggers in LE2. As I passed (with caution) this new pestilence, I found myself gently singing “If corona don’t kill ya, Karen will”. Never a second line as I’d mentally slap myself for being a git!
Anyway… My crossings with urban hedgejogs, as I now affectionately referred to them, began to dwindle… At last the New Year’s brigade and the second wave of lockdown escapees was emptying away out of my way…I went a whole day without seeing one! A whole day! This time last year, I wouldn’t even have considered that…
Then it happened! I’m just about to come off the main road, to hit the last leg windy country lane that leads to my most frequently visited carehome and there on the corner is a jogger. I anticipate a lemming manoeuvre but instead he stops to let me pass. I’m pleasantly surprised and I raise my hand in thanks. My passenger gasps “Oh my! Did you see that amazing smile?” “Why, yes! Yes I did! What’s going on? A happy jogger?!”
I drop her off and have to double back the same way. I remeet the jogger half way along the lane. He’s still smiling, we wave at each other and laugh.
The next day, he’s there again, I drive alongside him for a few seconds. Again he’s smiling and we exchange waves. My passenger laughs “Oh! He remembers you! Blimey, imagine if lockdown goes on forever, this is what the future of dating looks like! Do you think you’ll see him again?””Oh yeah, as soon as I’ve slung you out, we’ve got a hot date…”
I head homewards and sure enough there he is, this time I get a big ole 2 handed wave like an olympian crossing the finishing line… I’m laughing away to myself and I’m still laughing when I pass a second jogger, we make eye contact, he too starts to laugh and wave…
I’m full of warm and fuzzy thoughts about how smiles are infectious… I think to myself how funny! Two happy joggers on one day? What are the odds of that? That’s got to be pretty special… Then I’m besides myself with glee as I realise it’s on the very same patch that I spied the Black Fox and the words once again come to me… Magick’s not done with you yet!
How is Magick showing up for you?
The pure and blessed way 
Ohhhhh, that’s GOOD! Once surprise at the end. Dare I say, effin MAGICAL!
Rantras? NOw THAT’s gotta be stolen! I’ll “ ~ KS “ or full name or “ ~ The Pure and Blessed Way” if you please. Strange. With your wickedly rockin’ sense of humor I never got the pun in your title before, until now. Maybe not intended, maybe so. “The Pure and Blessed Way.” Taken one way it is a pure way that is blessed, has blessings. Taken another way it’s a wonderful cussing, like “Boody Hell! Bloody Tarot! Blessed Tarot!” 🙂 And, I firmly feel it is Both-And most all of the time. Looking back, that is clear as well. Means I’ve probably had some of your more deceptively simple comments slip by.
A Black Fox. Nope, they don’t exist, and the world is in fact flat. Oh, wait! The world’s not flat. If it were, cats would have knocked everything off of it by now. 🙂
“Magick’s not done with you yet!” I strangely remember a comment of similar just after my radio silence 7+ years ago. I appreciate that you made that comment. I remember smiling, though sticking to my going fallow non-guns. Thank you.
Two happy joggers in a day? Is that possible? People who jog, understand it, it invigorates them. People who don;t, well, we don’t. My Dad was a marathon runner. I remember an afternoon he stepped back up the drive and then onto the porch. Yes, in his 2nd sun blue and yellow and orange spandex. “Went out for a quick 5 (miles), but the weather was good, and the birds were singing my song.” “And,” I asked. “Well, of course you don’t want to waste that. Switched up my route and made it a solid 17.” Shaking head. He had a 100-mile bike race the next weekend. And, he called me foolish when I was young. 😉
A Black Fox. A Black Fox locking eyes with you. THAT’s a gift regardless of whether it was in the scene in front of you or the scene within you. In this case I would put them at about the same.
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Oh JJH 🤣 you finally got the joke! Yes, exactly all of that over time though initially it was an in joke with myself on the literal meaning of my name – Karen=Pure, Sealey =Blessed. The pure & blessed way… Hear this next line as a Jon Bon Jovi crooning – As Frankie said, “I did it my way”.
Yeah, you probably have let comments slip by. It’s not unusual for people to come back to me a week later saying oh, now I get what you said there. Lol 7 years to my best knowledge makes you the current record holder for penny dropping.
I’m thinking your Dad falls into the category of runner rather than jogger. Runners I get! Last week, one came barrelling down the middle of the road looking like that T3? Terminator, the one that goes after Arnie. This guy is running towards me and I get transfixed as he’s pretty much moving at the same speed as I’m driving. I half expect him to run onto the bonnet, over the roof and off into the sunset. He swerves like a gazelle out running lions, he doesn’t skip a beat and I watch him via my rear view mirror, fade into the distance. That’s running! THAT I get. Who wouldn’t want to move like sprung steel turned fluid pulsing poem?
Joggers, with a few exceptions, are badly dressed, awkwardly labouring, clunky aesthetics that irk my sensibilities on so many levels.
“Rantra”, go ahead, steal it. You can credit it to an old friend 😉
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“ Who wouldn’t want to move like sprung steel turned fluid pulsing poem?” THAT’s writing! What a line! Wonderful line.
Rantra credits most likely coming soon. 🙂
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Thanks & thanks! 😁
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YW & YW!
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