- Ivo is especially good at explaining the “how” of magic.
- Carri Ferraro has written a lovely poem about hurt, and healing, and blessing new beginnings.
- And, Niue Brown is writing about the process of being in flux.
I don’t know where I am, I’m not entirely sure where or if I fit, and that’s fine. I don’t know where I’m going – there’d be no fun in it if I did. Journeys into land and story, maps and labyrinths, dreams and possibilities are part of my sense of trajectory, but I’ve no real plan. I’m open to what comes, waiting to see where the awen takes me.
Sometimes, we just have to trust the process.
And, sometimes, we have to seize control.
One way that I’m seizing control was suggested to me in a Tarot reading centered on the Queen of Swords. I’m making a list of “Nagging Tasks that I Have Needed to Take Care of for a Long Time Now.” Those tasks are ALL going to be completed by Imbolc. What’s on your list? Have you made a will? Can you find the tools you need in your shed? Have you cleaned out that bed table drawer? Do you have two weeks’ worth of clean underpants in your drawer? Is there a shelf in your pantry with lovely things to serve unexpected guests or have you (this is a Southern thing) tucked away a tin of cheese straws? Do you have your Congress Critter’s phone number on speed dial? How about the local hypothermia hotline?
- Maybe you’d like to start doing some political magic. Maybe you need a focus for your visualization. Here’s a DC eagle cam, showing the nest of two bald eagles in Washington, D.C. You’re welcome.
- Echidne speaks for me. I am going to squish the head of every white man ‘splaining to me that I should shut up about women’s rights.
- I’m inclined, as I usually am, to agree with Richard Louv about this:
Not everyone has the ability to seek out nature in difficult times. One must acknowledge that inequity, and another reality: The people who lost their homes to Hurricane Sandy or the people of the drowned parishes of New Orleans or the irradiated mud fields of post-tsunami Japan found no solace in the natural world.
Still, in dark or difficult times, one human impulse is to find kinship with other species and connection to elements beyond the headlines, where we feel larger forces at work, and know that all things must pass.
At the saturation point, the rush of water on a stream or a sudden storm on a high trail or a discovered quiet corner of an urban park is preferable to the inundation of media coverage that, hour after hour repeats itself, until our response to the pain on the screen seems to move beyond empathetic to gratuitous. How much of modern life is spent adrift in vicarious experience, second-hand reality, in the endless war brought to you by liquid cleansers?
We do need to know about world events and tragedies manmade and natural, and there is no ignorance quite so unattractive as prideful ignorance. But we also need respite from the kind of media static that so often seems drained of reality.
In a virtual world where information overload, especially the untrue, diminishes what we know, a little raw authenticity and gratitude can be a welcome relief, and prepare us for what comes next.
So perhaps we can be excused for escaping the bad news for a few hours or days, as we lean into the wind slashing across the river, or see a trout rise, or watch a Harrier hawk glide close along a field, and on the long walk home step over the perfectly white bones of a cow that has not survived the winter, though we have, and not only survived but thrived.
- Janet discusses the astrology of January 20th.
Unlike Janet, I don’t feel even a little bit sorry for him.
- Theodora Goss usually gives good advice. I particularly agree with her suggestion that it is important to live as though the world in which you want to live already exists.
Imagine the world you want to live in. For me, it’s a world where we are all more environmentally conscious, where we support the arts and cultural institutions, where everyone is valued. So, you know, I try. I take public transportation, I buy organic produce, I try to recycle. I buy yearly memberships to the art museum. I splurge on the ballet, because I want to live in a city with a ballet. I subscribe to newspapers I want to make sure survive. I try to be a good, effective teacher — fair to my students, kind but also challenging them to write better, think more deeply.
I want to live in a world with less consumerism, where repairing items is valued over buying new ones, so I mend my clothes. I take my boots to the cobbler to be re-soled. I want to live in a world where literature matters, so I buy books. I support small businesses and environmental causes.
These things also make me feel better: they make me feel as though at least I’m doing something, not simply accepting things as they are. Because, and this is the last thing I’ll say, no one person will save the world. Trust me on this: no one is coming out of the sky to make this world better. We all have to do it ourselves, one small gesture at a time. But those small gestures add up to something much larger, which is the whole point.
You are not responsible for saving the world. But we are all responsible for doing our part.
May it be so for you.