Hooray for springtime in the Year of the Rabbit!
Who else feels the desire to get wealthier, luckier, and frankly weirder, especially after the past few years of local, global and cosmic turmoil? Fortunately for us, the momentous month of March launched hot on the heels of the extensive global lunar new year festivities displayed all the hallmarks of better days to come. No doubt the times shall remain a bit tricky, just as time itself can play tricks, but herein resides the treasure maps to explore the wondrous lands of the future. As we travel into the season of renewal and fertility, the best adventure guide for us has already been ordained- the quick footed fluffy tailed trickster we gaze upon in the night sky embodied in the full bright moon, the very mother of measuring time. The rabbit in the moon claims this individual honor amongst all the zodiacal animals of the eastern lunar calendar and this cute critter beckons us to hop into greener fields and bust out our best magic tricks, a heavenly invitation to a series of important dates. While I have some saucy stories of recent rampant high strangeness, fiery temple ceremonies coupled by life changing curveballs, and high stakes desert quests, let me first dig into my tophat to pull out a quick look at lunar time, successful magical timing, and how the bunny spirit can benefit us all.
A calendar measured by the moon cycle stands out to me as more natural and rational and thus the lunar new year has always felt like the true start of a new collective trip around the sun. The weeks and days smashed up around the hectic end of the year holidays on the western calendar always feel like piling up too suddenly for a proper conclusion to the year. Given that the Gregorian and Julian calendars have caused calendar chaos for millenia, it just makes more sense to embrace a system and cycle experienced by all humanity while providing more time to relax and wrap up end of the year goals while easing into a new era of ambitions. Any look into the history of timekeeping indicates that I am not alone in this sentiment.
Kudos to the cultures that have maintained the moon-based calendar tradition. The current synchronization of associating the western years with the eastern progression of annual animals provides potential for a deeper dive into the mysteries of both the moon and the featured creature. This year, the rabbit year, classically known as both lucky and good natured, creates ample opportunity for magical blessings especially when considering the powers and importance of the moon. Rabbits from the moon have been revered by civilizations across the world from Asia and Mesoamerica as creatures of good omens and fruitful bounty.
In the modern eras of the west, the iconic maiden, mother and crone imagery associated with youth, fertility, aging and the moon phases has been a witchy fixture of neo paganism since the birth of Wicca in the 1950s and draws upon the various divine beings embodied by the thirteen cycles of Luna for many ages. The sabbats celebrated by ultimately persecuted heathen ancestors are now the monthly posts of occulture personalities eager to give advice on how to receive the blessings of the moonbeam theme of the month. While these can provide some temporary insights and steps in the right direction, magical acts that conjure major game changers are more my preferred practice so let’s go down that rabbit hole.
The intended week of publishing this article found me in Las Vegas, Nevada for my annual adventure into fortune enchanting and celebrating the animal spirit of the new lunar year. The extravagant desert city known for magicians and mafioso founded on the allure of gambling with fate and hedonistic indulgences comes full bloom for the lunar new year festivities which last over a month and transform the casinos into shrines of the newly ascended zodiacal animal. Lion and dragon dancers parade through the promenades while overseas and domestic tourists flock to gargantuan animal art displays at the resorts. The Chinese lunar new year greeting of “Hope you get rich!” as so humorously elaborated by comedian Jimmy Chiang adorned above lavish entrances boosts the ambitious spirit. This year in the ever present presence of the Great Rabbit one could easily feel inspired to magnify and multiply all the good things sought in life.
For the good natured spiritual practitioner, those aims are the essence of a magical practice. Any witch worth their candle wax knows that successful magical practitioners have always paid close attention to the waning, waxing and phases of the lunar cycles. New students of the occult usually quickly discover that a wide range of practices, traditions, sects and societies observe and revere the moon as a marker for auspicious timing and the gate to the further cosmos. Looking back at the beginnings of my own occult journey and training in the very early 2000s, I cherish the good fortune of mentors who utilized the important teachings of the Picatrix more than a decade before the broader circulation of this influential text. Of all the instructions within this tome of astrological magick, one from the beginning of the text stood out the most:
I say to you that you should not do anything in this work unless the moon stands in a degree convenient and appropriate for the work you intend to do, because the moon has powers and manifests works in all things that are beneath her, and none of them are hidden from her.
A range of arcane direction abounds out of this one passage, from understanding the foundations of the Arabic lunar mansion system and the Vedic predecessor, to the emphasis of performing goetic evocations only on the waxing moon, to the current pop culture full moon ritual social media posting previously mentioned. As a person with lifelong nocturnal inclinations, the lunar emphasis on expansive power and manifestation stayed close to my wizard heart and embedded in my practices through the years. Working with the moon inspired the annual journey to Las Vegas where each lunar new year provides a fresh opportunity to engage in a year-long transformative process with the new zodiacal animal.
The most recent Year of the Tiger had just provided one of those life changing processes. Being a Year of the Tiger native, I had come off a one year commitment to an intense daily mantra practice prescribed by the illustrious Jyotish astrologer Freedom Cole that was designed to improve my own complicated relationship with the moon in my chart. This was reminiscent of another Year of the Tiger commitment I had made twelve years earlier, another thematic embracing of a cycle that sharpened my disciplines and strengthened my personal sovereignty. These extended dedications to daily practices, whether enacted within one moon cycle or one lunar year, grant rewards and revelations far beyond the scope of one shot spells or finite sigils but also require the mindset of embarking on a journey fraught with facing numerous mysteries and challenges.
Stepping into the year of the Rabbit with the tremendous energies of the completed Tiger dedications uplifting me, I was already experiencing major shifts and revelations. The confidence and courage of the adventurous Tiger would prove to be a major boon, for the boons of the Rabbit year ahead soon amounted to much more than just good luck and abundant bounties. Rabbit paths are full of twists and turns, zig and zags. As Alice discovered following the anxious furry timekeeper into Wonderland, the encounters down the rabbit hole entail a whole new mind boggling landscape full of chaotic characters and bizarre events and that’s exactly what awaited both myself and much of the world at large over the course of the next moon cycle.
The initial intention of this article was to culminate plenty of material with the Nevada road trip and then conclude with the first full moon after the lunar new year initiated by the new moon in late January. The main goal centered around heading into the desert to embrace the energies of Aquarius season and all the high strangeness of that zodiacal essence teamed up with the moon rabbit as the guide into those dimensions. Decadent days and nights of revelry were enjoyed in the resorts and my annual magical engagement of the ascendant zodiac animal amongst the sprawling art installations succeeded once again. A final pilgrimage destination awaited an hour outside of Sin City at a remote goddess temple in the high desert dedicated to the ancient feline deity Sehkmet where I had consecrated my fresh bloody Tiger tattoo the previous year. This mysterious temple resides on land owned by indigenous people within a short proximity to the infamous but commercial Area 51, actual secret black ops military bases, a maximum security prison next to a modest meth lab town, and scenic mountainous regions ripe with reports of paranormal, cryptid, alien, and UFO encounters. Call me kooky, but this was the perfect place to enjoy the moon, the stars, the desert spirits and all the welcomed weirdness of the quest.
This magical night also fell upon the holiday combo of Imbolc, Saint Brigid’s Day, and Candlemas, the midpoint between the darkest night of the year at winter solstice and the upcoming spring equinox. Arriving just before twilight, offerings and prayers were given in the various sacred places surrounding the main temple, including a labyrinth, a maypole, a hidden grave shrine, and a delightful yet haunting fairy garden. But unlike previous excursions to the temple where I had found myself all alone with the wonders of the location, when I entered the main temple I encountered a pair of folk lore savvy sisters known as The Fairy Tellers at the site meditating before the Lady of Guadalupe corner of the open air structure. These kind ladies revealed that the caretakers of the temple lands were holding a small gathering for this special night and invited me to join the ritual celebration. The duo led the way down a moon lit dirt path through prickly cactus, over a rickety wooden bridge and past a rose garden to the humble living quarters of the matriarchs entrusted with these enchanted spaces. Welcomed like a journeyman member of the tribe by three seasoned ritualists at their homestead, an animal skin drum painted with fire markings was placed in my hands. Feeling like I had joined the drum section of a marching band led by the Three Fates, we journeyed back to the temple to conduct the ceremony.
Six women, myself, and two canine companions circled within, the ages of the group of nine ranging from lively young adults to middle aged mothers to one elderly grandma who walked with a cane. Directly above the temple the stars of Orion the Hunter shined bright while the rabbit constellation Lepus twinkled beneath his feet, evading capture and prancing along the celestial paths. As the chill of the arid winds whipped around us, the firepit blazed to vibrant life illuminating the various enshrined goddesses and basking the gathered dedicants in comforting warmth. Salts and fumigations purified us while chants and drum rhythms conjured the spirits of the occasion. Unwanted patterns were released and new goals were decreed into the blazing flames to be witnessed by all present, including our ancestors and spirit courts. At the height of the ceremony, a glorious shooting star streaked across the night sky as if erupting from the gorgeous gibbous moon. The long-time denizens of the desert remarked that they had never seen a shooting star so bright in all their years. Our fire celebration on the temple grounds was answered by fire in the sky, a bright sparkly tailed harbinger hopping across the heavens to disappear amongst the cosmic brambles.
Filled with inspiration and awe, awash in the afterglow of sacred embers and stellar surprises, we adjourned back to the living quarters to share a festive meal and merriment. Tales of bizarre folklore and local legends circulated around a large cluster of decorative rabbits the eldest member of the group had randomly received that day from a neighbor and gifted the gathering on a whim. Sehkmet herself looked upon us from a vibrant centerpiece painting on the wall depicting iconic megalithic lunar goddess imagery from around the world. Synchronicities overflowed, especially since the moon was coming to fullness in regal Leo and I had intended to also elaborate upon the Vietnamese tradition of honoring the cat instead of the rabbit in their annual lunar calendar, and what are lions but Great Cats.
Feeling at home in my favorite elements, a treasure trove of esoteric stories shared by the celebrants continued to dazzle me. From the insistence upon a society of otherworldly Tall Whites living in the hidden mountain military bases, to the Mormon backwoods belief that Bigfoot and the biblical first murderer Cain are one and the same, I sat within yet another inner sanctum of rare mysteries this auspicious night. My ears which were weary from many years of producing paranormal content were now perked up and relishing this new secluded lore. As the evening began winding down and knowing the precious time with these wise women was limited, I asked a burning question to the leader of our ceremony in the fire temple, imploring what claims the experience she feels holds the distinction of the most strange and shocking encounter with the mysterious and otherworldly she has beheld in all the years living within this notorious and holy region.
She smirked knowingly, her eyes conveying a deep wisdom only known to one who has lived as a person of color in a colonized society, a woman with warrior training that comes from a career in the military, a battle hardened healer called to ultimately serve as a caretaker for a spiritual oasis obfuscated by a sprawling desert dystopian technocracy.
“What isn’t? The strange and otherworldly are everywhere around these parts” she answered solemnly “but the most shocking and the most scary are always hiding, hiding in plain sight. That’s how they’ve always existed, they hide where everyone should see. And if you’re alert and have the eyes to see, sometimes you catch a glimpse of their true nature before they go back into hiding.”
Flashbacks of the vanishing comet fell over me and a chill came across the room. Though grateful for her answer, I was ready then to bounce out of the cold darkness of the dusty badlands and get back into the familiar neon luxuries of Las Vegas. The gracious hosts and new friends were dearly thanked, with intentions set to one day visit again. On the way back down the shadowy desert highway I assumed my rabbit in the moon tale had come to a conclusion with a series of gained experiences and lessons perfect for publication, blessed by earthly agents of the Wyrd Sisters.
But oh, those rascally rabbits, oh the mysterious moon and the revelations that come with each new phase. Traveling by night on that infamous stretch of road a life changing message appeared in my email inbox from an unexpected source. Without going into any personal details, be assured that this night had proven to call forth illumination on a mystery I had dwelled upon for decades that now plunged me into a spiraling tunnel of new emotions and inquiries that still persist. Hidden twists and turns appeared on my life map in plain sight now, zigs and zags became part of my inner and outer world. The urge to burrow away and hibernate for the rest of winter while sitting with my newfound knowledge came on strong while chaos conjured more dark chambers to explore. The great rabbit spirit beckoned me to delve deep into another lunar cycle and discover that we may indeed all be mad here.
M-O-O-N that spells mad world. In less than 48 hours and over the course of the next moon cycle the world got weirder really quick before I even left Vegas. My desired high strangeness embracement manifested in the major news cycles starting at the top of the month with Trump tweeting about shooting balloons on the very night of the full moon. Within two weeks of that tweet, leaders of North America began engaging the press over what could have been loglines of X-Files episodes. The American and Canadian presidents spoke on the military taking down multiple UFOs which were dominating the headlines of all media outlets. This all seemed suspect, especially given that a week before the flying saucer frenzy Chernobyl level eco-disasters occurred in the Midwest and domestic trains continued to derail causing catastrophic death and destruction. Swirled up with these real life sci-fi scenarios came reports of chatbots achieving self awareness and anxious buzz around the awakening of the dreaded singularity burst forth. UFO and conspiracy culture went haywire and admittedly lured me down a number of late nights doom scrolling the endless feeds of online hot takes while freezing blizzards hit sunny Los Angeles. Everything felt off the tracks but the lunar mystery mission persisted.
From viewing an old video of a scientist that insisted the moon was made of plasma, to a young pastor’s in depth obsession with blood moons and biblical proof of vampires and other devilish beings, the uptick of the paranormal within the mainstream had provided some solid gems from the online mines including a quality UFO podcast with an excellent name. Pleased by these discoveries, my frazzled feelings of elevated wonkiness seemed to be evening out a bit. Then the Mexican president casually tweeted about the existence of native elf creatures. The cryptid geek in me celebrated but this all seemed like the tipping point of borderline news lunacy jam packed into just a few weeks. Rabbits from the moon had led me to a mass mad tea party serving round after round of overflowing WTF. Seriously, when there seems to be no difference between folklore fan fiction and international politics, WTF???
The loony party theme was a reminder that rabbits and the moon can both mess you up. Rabbits are quicksilver fast, wield razor sharp teeth, and kick like mules. Any child traumatized by the bloody bunny battles that unfold in the early 80s animated film Watership Down can attest that rabbits can rip you a new one. As horror director Jordan Peele can attest, rabbits and the moon are beautiful at times and scary in others, a trait of tricksters and shapeshifters. At this stage of descent, pleasant forms had revealed the monsters always lurking below the surface, a sobering history lesson of the primordial terror that goes along with traveling by moonlight.
Under the moon, our ancestors were devoured by wolves. Under the moon, thieves operate under the cloak of darkness. Under the moon, fresh bodies are buried. The freaks come out at night and we all feel this at the back of our necks when the moon rises, like a rabbit with ears twitching anticipating inevitable danger.
Feeling the impact of the worldly wonkiness, I sat with all of it for a spell and finally turned for guidance to the tarot, my old companion in times of uncertainty. Within the decks gleaned reminders of the keys to lunar arcanum. The Moon card of the tarot depicts potential night dangers, warns against the illusions of perceptions caught within half light and shadow, and beckons the blurred lines between prophecy and lunacy when tapping into the unconscious. We had now entered Pisces season, to which this card aligns and certainly all those vibes had bubbled up. Yet the High Priestess card actually claims association with the moon and illustrates the invitation of the wise keeper of esoterica to enter the gateway into the mysteries of occult knowledge and wisdom. A pristine figure of a lineage hailing from ancient oracle givers, the white robed priestess of the major arcana gave me clarity on how to finish exploring the rabbit holes and emerge intact. A whole lunar cycle had passed since the night of the comet and desert temple illumination. The full moon in Virgo had arrived, my own dear natal moon, my lifelong shining lamp in the darkness, and with it clear direction amidst the whirlwind of weirdness. I was back on track courtesy of my lunar compass and this was the perfect time to reach into my tophat again and perform one of my favorite magical acts for the grand finale of this showcase.
For I had invoked high strangeness at the fortune shrines of the Rabbit and the spirit of this new lunar year had swiftly delivered my wishes in hefty heaps. Clearer vision bestowed by the purity of the Virgo moon granted fresh eyes on the ultimate prize. Oracles only achieve validity upon accurate fulfillment, but clarity informed me that my endeavors are best served as accomplished field reports and not predictive space weather forecasts. A different desert landscape and a whole new season called for completion of this quest, so impromptu plans were set in motion for the end of winter and the next new moon with the wisdom of Hunter S. Thompson as a prompting voice from beyond the grave.
“When the going gets weird the weird turns pro.”
A dodgy mansion on a hill in the liminal town of Desert Hot Springs was obviously the perfect place to spend the dawning of Spring and welcome the final moon rabbit revelations. This dingy hub of young drifters, old bikers, dune buggy yuppies and post-modern art psychonauts was also the perfect jumping point to venture into the vast earthly wonders of Joshua Tree national park and the affluent permanent vacation town of Palm Springs. Previously on both the autumn equinox and winter solstice two years past I had come to this area to find answers to spiritual quandaries while indulging in the local delights, so being back in the area during the pivot of seasons felt appropriate, like a moonwalk backwards through the procession of annual quarters. Dust storms and local flooding ushered in the Monday marking the vernal equinox and combined with technical calamities that kicked off the week ahead. Monday means Moon Day so the chaos kept consistent with the last two lunar cycles and at this point I was fully ready to hang loose and dive deeper.
Adventures ensued as usual, mostly best kept for the books, but a few experiences pertinent to this tale stood out like colorful easter eggs on a barren dirt road. Before those can be expressed, the celestial significance of this week demands proper attention. Indeed, Easter decorations had overtaken all the local shops and sidewalks in proper American fashion but the blatant commercial backdrops paled in comparison to the cosmic change of scenery. The colorful Hindu holiday of Holi had recently passed and the introspective Muslim month of Ramadan began shortly after the equinox, both annually calculated by moon transits. Easter itself traditionally falls on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the spring equinox, but again these are just examples of yearly lunar centric events. But the real doozies were the major shifts in planets that had occupied entire eras and were now setting the tone for very different astro dynamics and filling my astrology obsessed head full of wonder.
Twelve days before spring time, Saturn completed over six heavy years in the Saturnian signs of Capricorn and Aquarius to wade into the dark waters of Pisces for the first time since the grungy mid 1990s, providing a long overdue exhale as the double boots of Chronos finally lifted off the collective neck to exchange bondage devices for scuba gear. Seven mind wracking months of Mars in hyperactive Gemini ended the weekend after the equinox with the god of war taking an ocean cruise to invade the shores of the sensitive moon ruled sign of Cancer. And after almost fifteen years dwelling in the Capricorn basement, hellish Pluto launched into spacy Aquarius for the first time since the 1880s, a once in a lifetime seismic shift that unleashes even more conspiracy theory realities, A.I. terrors and revolutionary social unrest for two decades to come. What a week to be immersed in the energies and imagery of rebirth and new beginnings!
With new cosmic gateways flung open, solar and lunar musings still persisted for this was also an equinox week with Sol and Luna in their exaltations of Aries and Taurus. Dwelling again on mythic time measurements, insights emerged on how fiery Sol regularly displays the singular clockwork assurance of rising, shining, and setting to then descend into the dark underworld and resurrect anew, while sultry Selene floats nightly across the river of stars and shares in all their various tales. These meditations reminded me of the importance of the moon as the nearest celestial body to earth and the gateway to the planets and stellar entities and how this intimate nature of the moon serves as both mate and phantasmal mirror to the sun, a receptive partner and reflection requiring a solar source. But as that source stays fixed, reflections can become distorted and twisted, just as my own ambitions at Imbolc took a turn for uncharted destinations. Here I had landed between order and chaos and here this story was actually coming to fruition, a long winding engagement led by rabbits through enchanted wonderlands that ultimately arrived amidst the season of blooming flowers to absorb the light of lengthening days. Night and day were equal for the moment. Balance was restored on the micro and macro levels.
Marking this auspicious exalted moment in time with two tattoos long desired felt appropriate, new ink and new blood for a bold new era. I inquired at the local crystal shop for recommendations and booked two appointments with a native artist of the area in the Yucca Valley, the first one timed while Venus was atop the Taurus moon and the next one the following evening with the love goddess lounging below the lunar crescent. Walking into the sunset with the fresh symbols engraved on my ankles, a tiny sparkling eye peering out of the vacant lot next to the shop caught my own. Camouflaged to the casual observer, the form of a rabbit emerged upon closer inspection. Communing with the critter for a bit, a further last call to adventure came on strong. The sage-like musings of Gen X master rascal Ferris Bueller cooed upon the breeze.
“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
With a strong emphasis on looking around and not missing out, best believe that weekend Joshua Tree park was explored, midnight rites were performed, gargantuan Marilyns got gawked at, cosmic waters from the alien designed Integratron were gathered, and wine libations in teacups were lifted to ecstatic lips at the mansion. What stood out the most though was the walk with Jesus while getting world famous shakes and the cash lined walls of a dive bar by a dead sea. These are the experiences to which I alluded earlier, so let’s follow the rabbit one last time into the desert.
Desert life gets dirty and rebirths can be bloody. This was aptly depicted by the various statues telling the story of Christ that adorn the winding garden paths of a famous crossroads date emporium in the area. As a quirky pit stop for coffee infused date shakes on the way to the epic desert art wonder of Salvation Mountain, I had visited many times before but never in the Spring. Strolling amongst the statues of Jesus hanging out with well women, joyous Jesus on a donkey ride, Jesus offering bread as his body and wine as his blood, and gory Jesus crucified on the cross, my own ink infused bleeding ankles throbbed while the sun beat down upon my brow. I contemplated how the rabbit had come to be associated with a holy day based around a resurrected Son of God sun god which evolved into a holiday drenched in commercialism and gaudy pastel marketing. The exploitative business of religious holidays has always left a bad taste in my mouth, but this garden of fertile date plants juxtaposed with Christian iconography was oddly endearing, plus the shakes are just downright delicious. Recollecting on how the Islamic story of Jesus has him pull a fast maneuver on the Romans and swap a body double into his place on the road to crucifixion, ascending to heaven alive and well to live eternally, I grinned relishing the belief in a trickster messiah.
Walking up the final hill, a large statue of the classic resurrected Jesus awaited. Holes were pierced through his hands and side. The blazing sun crowned the thick curls of his dark hair displaying a cross of light . Taking a picture, the historic walk felt almost complete but a sense of something magical filled the air. Turning around, I beheld numerous rabbits frolicing and feasting amongst the fresh green grass near the ornate gate of the large lawn that spreads out before the giant Christ. My heart swelled with childlike joy. In the corner of the lawn, an entire menagerie of woodland creatures were gathered as well, with tiny birds and languishing squirrels enjoying the splendid day beside their rabbit companions. Jesus would have happily wept.
An epiphany lit upon me and kept burning on the way out. Within minutes of driving and turning a concealed corner, a towering golden Buddha statue I had never before encountered appeared looking down upon the road leading to more desolate lands. With this surprising presence of yet another avatar of peace came an expanded sense of my relationship to time, happiness, mortality, creativity, and compassion.
As physical beings we are all in a pact with time since our very inception and the core clause of that binding agreement dictates that our days and nights are numbered. Many prophets and poets have attempted to make sense of our finite material existence. The central teaching of Buddhism reveals that all things are impermanent, including the Earth, the heavens, and even the Buddha. From this emerges an entire doctrine grounded in compassion and the alleviation of self induced suffering. A cute secular saying also brings levity to our mortality, that each day is a gift, which is why we call it the present.
Reflecting on this, I recalled one of the first and most important lessons taught to me when receiving the 1st Degree of Freemasonry which aligned with the initial steps of my neophyte esoteric journey decades ago. Like all Entered Apprentice Masons before me, I was instructed to consider the 24 inch ruler as one of the main working tools of a Mason and the allegorical lesson there centered around how to properly measure and apply each 24 hour day of my present time with equal importance placed upon professional vocations, spiritual devotions, and the enjoyment of relaxation and repose.
I had been judging myself for many things, including the incomplete writing goals, but from my epiphany came the reminder to have self-compassion, to just relax and also refrain from stressing out about self induced deadlines and judgments. Hard work had been made and my spiritual devotions were consistent. By relaxing into the joy of the journey and the creative process the most genuine result of the work would be accomplished. This advice I offer to all.
Heading this myself, I cruised along the vast salt flat shores of the morose Salton Sea for some final indulgences of desert strangeness. With Salvation Mountain beheld and the Church of Enlightenment in the off grid mecca of Slab City visited, one last special destination awaited. The welcoming sign above the Church reads “Be Here Now” and now it was time to be at the edge of a necrotic beach front enjoying a cold floral brew at twilight in the company of fringe culture characters. That’s how wyrd workers roll.
A mural of the late great adventurer chef Anthony Bourdain greets everyone upon entry at Skinn, a dive bar nestled amongst the community of Bombay Beach, a bizarre blend of ramshackle mobile home residents and affluent European Airbnb tycoons offering art installation themed vacation living in the middle of nowhere. The sun was setting over the gray waters when arriving and live music country jigs were heard playing from inside. Freight trains rolled by on the horizon flanked by the glowing mountains while crows and seagulls swooped through the dusty airstreams.
Entering the odd establishment, a small mix of sun burnt locals and Burning Man hipsters were observed scattered through the place which proudly displays a dollar lined wall decor. Cheap drinks with a heavy pour were ordered and sitting down at a random table across the room, I looked up to see a weathered pirate rabbit doll looking down upon me. The final rugged boss was now encountered within a secluded lair of strange fortunes and was ready to celebrate. Delighted, a toast was lifted while dangling money flapped about from fan currents. Here I was, cozied up with a rapscallion form of the totem I hailed in the Las Vegas money temples with the flow of fiat currencies inscribed with good wishes surrounding me and all was well in the world. My happy place had manifested, a magical sweet spot, with life imitating my arcane arts through a clear message from the raggedy rabbit to me of what entails a wealthy livelihood.
A rich life means more than acquiring money. Gaining what you cherish and earning all you hold dear through brave acts are the quest completions for all who take upon life’s many challenges with heartfelt desires steering the way. Some have criticized my bon vivant lifestyle and wily wizard workings for not yet resulting in expensive home ownership, fancy cars, or elaborate stock portfolios, but they don’t seem to realize that my magical path has always reflected massive gains of what I hold dear and the experiences I truly value. The magic items I seek are not forged for the mundane or the masses.
In less than a few moon cycles, my recent lunar new year pact with the Rabbit had already provided continuous adventures, unexpected pleasures and immaterial treasures and these rewards to me are worth their weight in silver and gold. I offer this bardic tale as one of inspiration, useful information, and a potential field manual to exploring the rabbit holes yet to come. We dwell amidst strange, wondrous and often difficult times. A valuable key to benefiting from the rich weirdness often accompanied by chaotic complications hinges upon embracing the spirit of the rabbit, the agile cunning one, the swift shapeshifter blessed by the cloak of ephemeral moonlight. The moon always travels, the moon always shifts, and while at times the moon can seem erratic and mysterious, the moon can always be relied upon to bring a cycle to completion. The rabbit has sprung up as the prime totem spirit now and the moon shall continue to provide the compass to mastering the ways and means of esoteric success.
So friends and dear readers, this world can be wild, best to keep your eyes and ears attentive and your feet firm footed yet flexible. Find daily fun within frivolity and merry moments, but be ready to shift gears and scurry around obstacles when placed in your path. Fertile creativity abounds when moving along the flow of natural rhythms and one only needs to behold the ever shifting visage of the moon to find that guidance. Treasures of wisdom and beauty lie hidden in plain sight, accessible to anyone treading the vibrant earth beneath us and marveling at the night sky above. We just have to hop on it and make the magic happen in a timely manner and keep in mind what makes one truly wealthy.
Happy year of the Rabbit! Hope you get rich!
I sucked the moon
I spoke too soon
And how much did it cost?
I was dropped from
Moonbeams
And sailed on shooting stars
Maybe you’ll
Be president
But know right from wrong
Or in the flood
You’ll build an ark
And sail us to the moon
Sail us to the moon
Sail us to the moon
Sail us to the moon
~Radiohead ‘Sail to the Moon’ Hail to the Thief
