“Longing, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances.”
"I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength."
Crazy cold. working on getting the big blanket done for gifting, distracted by a new hat pattern, #4 goes to a sleepover and the boys come tumbling down the stairs calling his name, even as the mother backs me out the door. more laundry, puttering, giving thanks for my cozy home stopped on the side of the road to take some snaps of my overlooked paradise. for the moment it took me to climb into a snowbank and balance on the bridge my hands were damaged with cold. cookies and gingerbread, dogs and yarn, children and my moon. i am feeling much more hopeful and that makes everything easier. im looking forward to the new year and all the changes.
check out stephen bloch. my man of the year. check out his interview on democracy now today. hes fuel for my fire, my lantern leading me deeper into me, into the world, into light. light on the water. strange retrospect of my grandmother giving me a silver nefertiti necklace with turquoise scarabs and now i wonder if she was trying to sow the seeds of atlantis. she was strange and i dont doubt it. lotus seed of atlantis that slowly split and shed light on my way. they say its in the stars, reflected in the patterns of planets set in motion an infinity ago, one cell in the shadow of Love.
my muscles still tied into complicated knots. my breathing shallow from the cold and the smoke. the treachery of the fat white brotherhood shadow government goons will not turn me around. i have my cloak and my lantern. its one breath one step one day after another make them worth taking worth making you own. the amazing muscular dreams of dogs. im trying to do too much at this moment and theres no pattern to the string of words theres no cadence no poetry. the house smells warm and lovely. work waits for me after the break. i found cardamom pods. tonight ill do some more knitting and have an early bed because my brain is mush and my hormones the high seas. 
A lovely Solstice gift from Lunaea.
"Sometimes, visions of possibility are more helpful than explanations of complicated realities."
Day 2 of 365:
1. Your Next Bold Move by Ani.
2. Flour on B2's nose.
3. My cozy home.
4. My good boys.
5. Gingerbread and sweet potato.
6. A new hat pattern.
7. Light on the water.
8. Christmas cookies.
9. Rolling Stone political reporting.
"And if the question were asked: What is more real, the mundane or the sublime? most would hesitate before they gave an answer. On the one side, details: say, the aftermath of a breakfast, dirty chipped plates in the sink, their rims encrusted with egg yolk. Against this, the unnameable: small aching heart with boasts, what can you know? Outside the cage of everything we ever heard or saw, beyond, outside, above, there lies the real, hiding as long as we shall live, there stretch and trail the millions of names of God burning across the eons. When all through this our end will come before we even know the names of us.
For many the egg yolk prevails." -L.M.
"Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well." -V.V.G.
"The perfection of the Absolute where all Becoming stops and pure Being, immutable, timeless, unchanging, hangs forever like a ripe peach upon the bough." -E.A.
"...and the whole incident was incredibly frazzling and angst-rod and filled almost a whole mead notebook and is here recounted in only its barest psycho-skeletal outline." -D.F.W.
"At the top of the mountain, we are all snow leopards." -H.S.T.
"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." -D.T.
"Cometh a voice: My children, hear; From the crowded street and the close-packed mart I call you back with my message clear, back to my lap and my loving heart. Long have ye left me, journeying on by range and river and grassy plain, to the teeming towns where the rest have gone - come back, come back to my arms again. So shall ye lose the foolish needs that gnaw your souls; and my touch shall serve to heal the fretted nerve. Treading the turf that ye once loved well, instead of the stones of the city's street, ye shall hear nor din nor drunken yell, but the wind that croons in the ripening wheat. I that am old have seen long since ruin of palaces made with hands for the soldier-king and the priest and prince whose cities crumble in desert sands. But still the furrow in many a clime yields softly under the ploughman's feet; still there is seeding and harvest time, and the wind still croons in the ripening wheat. The works of man are but little worth; for a time they stand, for a space endure; but turn once more to your mother - Earth, my gifts are gracious, my works are sure. Instead of the strife and pain I give you peace, with its blessing sweet. Come back, come back to my arms again, for the wind still croons in the ripening wheat."
-John Sandes, The Earth-Mother (excerpt, 1918)
Crazy cold. working on getting the big blanket done for gifting, distracted by a new hat pattern, #4 goes to a sleepover and the boys come tumbling down the stairs calling his name, even as the mother backs me out the door. more laundry, puttering, giving thanks for my cozy home stopped on the side of the road to take some snaps of my overlooked paradise. for the moment it took me to climb into a snowbank and balance on the bridge my hands were damaged with cold. cookies and gingerbread, dogs and yarn, children and my moon. i am feeling much more hopeful and that makes everything easier. im looking forward to the new year and all the changes. 
check out stephen bloch. my man of the year. check out his interview on democracy now today. hes fuel for my fire, my lantern leading me deeper into me, into the world, into light. light on the water. strange retrospect of my grandmother giving me a silver nefertiti necklace with turquoise scarabs and now i wonder if she was trying to sow the seeds of atlantis. she was strange and i dont doubt it. lotus seed of atlantis that slowly split and shed light on my way. they say its in the stars, reflected in the patterns of planets set in motion an infinity ago, one cell in the shadow of Love.
my muscles still tied into complicated knots. my breathing shallow from the cold and the smoke. the treachery of the fat white brotherhood shadow government goons will not turn me around. i have my cloak and my lantern. its one breath one step one day after another make them worth taking worth making you own. the amazing muscular dreams of dogs. im trying to do too much at this moment and theres no pattern to the string of words theres no cadence no poetry. the house smells warm and lovely. work waits for me after the break. i found cardamom pods. tonight ill do some more knitting and have an early bed because my brain is mush and my hormones the high seas. 
