I’m tempted to look for silver linings in rough days, being a natural optimist, but this has been a lot. A lot. Apart from the pandemic quarantine and the fires and the election and the general malaise of depression among just about everyone, not to mention (not to mention?) death all around, there is the sheer crushing dailiness of just going on, through uncertainty and fear and loss. Here are some of my lifelines.
I scheduled it for a waning moon, the lunar enactment of going into the shadow. The time had come to fully become a winter woman.
I chose a different stretch of the coast for my magic hour walk, and watched the surfers at the world famous Steamer Lane near the lighthouse. As I watched, I realized that even editing is about allowing for the flow, for the skill of riding the waves, taking them as they come. It is all the great sea of words.
The use is this: the upholding of tradition, which is not only for us, but for our ancestors. They thrill to hear the old songs sung, to see the old ways enacted.