Pic of Kora (a dog I sit for) a few months ago, as she watched the night descend on her Autumn yard. I’m a “seasonal affective disorder” kind of gal so Autumn is always hard for me. The days get noticeably shorter and, here in Utah, things visibly prepare for a harsher reality. It’s all about to get very real. So on Winter Solstice, even in the middle of cold and snow, I celebrate, for the end of the growing darkness giving way to more light each day is like being wakened to a mesmerizingly-slow dawn, where you know the sun will be coming and that the things that you thought were dead will again rise up from the ground to meet you. And my moroseness during Autumn is an appropriate sacrifice in order to honor our beautiful planet. Because there is darkness and death but there will also be cleansing and Spring, for “the darkest day of the year”
Saturday 11/25, 9:53 a.m., Salt Lake City. It’s hard to know what to do with the grief of this world. I look at this man and his dog and feel the pressure of disappointment on both his heart and my own; I can feel the loss of the dream he had for his own life and experience that loss with him. For I don’t move about my world so as to push it away from me; I welcome it to settle within me and become part of my experience; I let it teach me and humble me so that I can grow more each day in understanding and perhaps one day maybe we humans can be a collective, empathic, love-filled whole again.
[397 words; 2 minutes; comets, dreams, synchronicity]
[Audio only, of Julia and Amy; Perseid watching, Emigration Canyon, August 13, 2016].
[The following is the comment I left on a friend’s blog; writing it made me cry for I’m trying to finish/revise a blog about an emotionally-intense evening spent with a vulnerable neighbor I barely know, in which the song “Tiny Dancer” played a part, and…