While I wait, wet & weary…

raven in rain
Raven in the rain ~ found on barghest.tumblr.com

A fragile sort of melancholy has settled around me, a rain-spun shroud of mist and dreams that is waiting desperately for the sun so that I can shrug it off and fly into golden summer days.

This image captures my mood beautifully. Just waiting for the skies to clear, and sitting, thinking… with occasional lapses into pondering.

Doesn’t the year know that I have plans for my free time? I have almost two free months for myself after this school year ends (in 7 work days, and I am counting): and time is taking its merry time bringing me across that line. It has been a long year — a marathon year — and I am ready to close it.

But for now, I must wait for the rain to end and for the 9th of June to do that.  In the meantime, I shall continue to ponder, and be grateful that my feathers are waterproof.

Sun on Dark Leaves

I walk amongst the thorns that I wear upon my brow.
I clothe myself in the spun-silk of white blossoms budding out on spiked branches and smile with purple juice from berries ripe-burst upon my lips.
I dream the shadows.
I walk in candle light down mirrored corridors, where I catch hidden glimpses of my soul — waiting — in the bridal chamber between heaven and hell.

Today…

the sun rose, though it was veiled by rain clouds and falling autumn leaves.

I went to work. I read (with pride) my daughter’s Facebook post schooling those who dared to blame yesterday’s results on people who ‘threw away their vote on a third party candidate’. (I’ve been a card carrying Green longer than her friends have been alive.)

I listened to people gloat and to those who were depressed. To both, I wanted to whisper, “Wake up and smell the Pleroma.” It is all just an illusion…

Today, I determined that I will live as I lived on Monday. I will speak my mind; support those who have fallen; say ‘no’ when it is needed and to whom needs to hear it; I will dance under sun and moonlight, whispering heresies to the trees; and I will continue to work toward humanity waking up to its birthright — no matter how much they may not deserve it. (Shades of A. Hamilton…)

Tomorrow, the sun will shine. My dog will greet me with a smile, and my cats will cozy up to me, and I will go to work and hope for more small behavioural breakthroughs with my students. And I will resist creatively… and fiercely.

I will be the witch in service to the land — though it poison some as it heals others.

On the threshold of a dream

These words have brought me comfort and no small sense of hope as I reflect on the past few years. With these words as my guide, I can see my fallow times as needed pauses in nature’s rhythmical motion and not mere idleness.

Nature is ever at work building & pulling down, creating & destroying, keeping everything whirling & flowing, allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion, chasing everything in endless song out of one beautiful form into another.
~John Muir

With the (dubious) benefit of hindsight, I can also see these fallow times as treading water. For a long time, I had thought these fallow time were low-tides… all creative energy, inspiration, and desire was gone. It felt like the well was dry, and all that was stretched out before me was a barren mudflat. This summer, my view of reality shifted. In this refocusing, I saw that I was really treading water in a high tide of external demands, worries, and responsibilities. It was the act of moving that helped me start this shift in perception. Like the tide going out on the shore, hidden treasures have been uncovered and for me, rediscovered.

This season is giving me the chance to back track to myself. I can look at all the parts exposed. I can marvel at what I find; examine each thing and choose whether or not I will keep it in my life. It is a rich landscape, filled with treasures and teeming with potential to be explored.

An endless song, indeed.