Hmm. Haven't done a proper magickal braindump for a while. Here's a message that's been slowly taking shape this week this week, as recorded in one of my magickal journals.
Clear and present:
I was complaining, as I do, about the lack of life in my mind; my state of drouth; my sense of senslessness; emotional unconsciousness.
Not quite ready to dare the cards, I retreated to the safety of the internet. I shifted up one level, wandered. Sure enough, the answer appears: Kapala, a skull-cup.
"To recieve one must have one's hands open." I seek always to drink, yet remain parched. The answer: I am not dessicated, merely stagnant. I attempt to be a sealed vessel, and no living thing is a sealed vessel. We are rivers. We must permit the flow of ourselves. I must offer up something; I must make of my skull a cup for Gods to sup from.
One must not fear hollowness. One shall be made new. One shall be filled anew, and be adorned with gold and brass and bronze. One shall be filled anew and made bright with precious stones. One shall be made very fine and a little terrible, like a gilded skull-cup.