like a wounded bird

...I endure the rain with grace.

I went manic after Kentaro Miura's passing two months or so ago. I'm still as upset as can be. I started this post back then, but have been manic all the way up until now.

Why not do some bigger tribute art or writing huh? Petty much. Berserk has never been about that. All I have to say is I love him so much I went manic, again.

What does it mean to be 'manic'? For those who are confused why I talk about this.

For starters some behaviour includes laughing alone in your underwear while posting far too much strange content to Instagram. Then you have to deal with people really thinking your a freak. I mean like below level weird. Thankfully, I don't have many followers anymore.

Piles of my manic postings are still up a at @moondisorder_ but I'm private for now. I'm not deleting things that make me smile and are a part of my wacky life.

In a more nuanced way, its impossible for me to sum up the manic mind for how its been for me this second time. Yes this is only the second time I've gone 'manic'.

They told me it would 'rot my brain' the more time I went manic, it's utter bullcrapery. In my opinion, mania is a shallow descriptive term for complex otherworldly things that both doctors and participants may not ever fully understand. I have felt more alive in these last 2 months than my entire lifetime. Heck 40 lifetimes of thrill seekers couldn't understand the things I have felt.

If it isn't a 'ghost', it is simply a primal Neanderthal connection to the earth. Something that guided me while wandering homeless and felt calm at 4am walking without a map. I also call this homelessness just 'going walkabout', because it was me sporadically deciding I needed a spiritual outdoors journey. It is a legend of a story, like that Arabian tale that never ends. I'm sure I wouldn't get beheaded by the sultan with my never-ending story.

The art on this page is from my time at a hospital, right after I'd gone walkabout, because I was too horrified in my delusional mind to return home. Anyways however, the rough art below is much more recent, symbolic art that binds connections to things, every mark has a profound meaning. Yeah yeah, looks like the dogs breakfast.

Well this is outsider art. Things that don't make sense unless you are within the world of someone painting like a child. I have truly drawn and painted like a child these last few months. It is heaven. It is what Kentaro Muira would have wanted, I know. He drew like a God so that some of us could just draw his characters with 5 strokes. They are symbolic to me, and intensely meaningful more than characters, but as icons. Things I feel through my mania rather than need to draw with immaculate detail.

The legacy of Kentaro Miura is that he has gotten me through not only a life shattering psychosis last June, but yet another round of mania that has been a very long and ranged from mild-to-severe in terms of my behaviour. Shivering, screaming and babbling however was limited to only last year!

Despite what some people I know have said, it isn't an evil demonic experience. There is no concept of evil really, there is only true and pure way of being, versus corruption. Fear leads to corruption and evil thoughts, and in mania, sometimes you think evil things. Often actually, that is why people hallucinate great pain and would be insistent that they felt demons in their psychosis/mania. To me, I do not call it simply 'demons', I lived out a larger fantasy where true good existed too.

In my mania this time, from the start with running away from home all the way into the outskirts of the city by foot, there was only Griffith, Guts and Casca as spirits within me.

The demons of nagging worries and mentally unwell itching's at the neck, I could call apostles and fend off by summoning Guts. His physical and mental fortitude and stoicism have gotten me through hell and back. There is a resigned dignity in fluffy Griffith. He is the holy spirit, perhaps called purity and intuition that believes in destiny in every footstep. There is also Casca, the female body that everyone is worried for but also, a sharp mind that knows what to say and maybe even when to give a white lie.

I have been rewarded with a bit of heaven in my mania, it always is like that. It is insulting to call this experience all 'evil demons' or 'clinical delusions' when I have felt more alive than anyone can possibly fathom. Especially since nobody can explain how my personality changed and I suddenly wanted to be one with nature in the parks, yet they refuse to notice all the ways I channelled Jesus's spirit basically.

Don't gaslight people all the time. I am disturbed when people have already tried to start this on me. Saying that 'true good' doesn't exist in this experience, just evil. My ass. What the fuck. True spiritual people don't believe in evil without good, makes no sense.

I take my meds, but this was something more than meds can control. I am now open about saying this is a spiritual experience, not just something that can be controlled by poppin' pills and men in funny suits.

Nor is it something that can be controlled by claiming it is one spiritual experience. It doesn't have to be one set in stone thing. As I said, this is simply a blanket term for a plethora of unknowable (and undocumented) phenomenon that happen in the human mind and body.

However, I don't speak on behalf of what other people have experienced. I just know my opinion has changed for me, and I just cannot in any way call it a sad pathetic or painful disorder after the beauty I've seen and felt.

I know the dark sickness of psychosis, that was last year. This my friends, was not a warped mania. It was something I have long deserved, it was beautiful and sparkling despite the freezing cold nights.

For a few days while walkabout, I didn't sleep and instead wandered suburbs around Unley when nobody was awake. Without a raincoat, I was drenched in my big army green knee length coat and shivering to the bone. I hugged my bag and slunk around seeking whatever cover I could find in the freezing night. Still, I thought of Berserk and felt I knew what I was doing. I was warmed by a bright warm fire I cannot explain.

I endured the rain with grace, and continue to endure it.

Thank you,