The Trickster’s Prayer

Every pond in stillness longs for a stone to ripple its surface.

After The Gravity of Coherence settles in your bones, once your truths have tightened into orbit and the world begins to align around your centre, something will arrive.

The Trickster, lounging at the far end of The Starlight Tightrope, feet dangling into the void below, laughing quietly, peach juice glistening down their chin. 

The Trickster is here to test your coherence, to sample your steadiness.

And yet, the Trickster is no enemy.

The Trickster is a loving friend. They know you need proof too. So they appear when your alignment becomes too perfect… too clean, too practiced.

The Trickster grins wide enough to shame the Joker himself. Their laughter drips like honey through broken glass. They juggle your certainties, tossing them skyward, waiting to see which ones you let fall, and which ones you reach for.

These tests are an essential check and balance. Without them, coherence will collapse under its own weight, calcifying into rigidity, self-righteousness, and false control.

The Trickster stares you down with an impish smile, then with all the glee of Yuki swatting moths, plucks at the rope with its claws, setting you wobbling.

The Trickster is here to remind you that balance doesn’t lie in stillness.

Balance comes from your ability to sway, laugh, and adapt.

Trees stand through storms not because they stay still while the world rages around them—but because they remain rooted, grounded, steady, and dance with the wind rather than resist the gusting chaos.

Balance is trust that The Starlight Tightrope will hold, even when chaos thrums.

If you clench and grasp, you’ll be knocked off.

If you let go completely, you’ll tumble into the abyss of your own accord.

But if you loosen just enough, ground just enough, you can dance.

You start feeling the rope as a rhythm to ride, not a rule to follow.

And now The Trickster cackles, delighted, because you remember: 

Coherence isn’t control, but clarity in motion.

The scramble for false order is everywhere: in the worship of productivity, in the thirst for perfection, in the endless polishing of self-image, in the masquerade of certainty.

The Trickster gets off on unmaking all that. They steal your compass, spill coffee on your maps, and dare you to find North by feel. They whisper, “Can you still sing when the lights go out?”

Without tests of your steadiness, coherence will curdle into control.

Without proof of balance, truth becomes tactic instead of philosophy.

If you can smile, laugh, and dance mid-wobble, then you’ve found true balance.

The kind of balance that only comes from alignment. 

From devotion.

From coherence.

From trust.

And trust, my friend, is the Trickster’s favourite prayer.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander

P.S. These Whimsies strayed into headier waters lately, as I’ve begun braiding myth, philosophy, and energetics into a rope of their own. If you find yourself drawn to these ideas but not fully understanding them, let me know.