Samain Moon of the Winter Solstice
Let me see. A salmon colored patch of sky off to the north gives romance to the stand of lodgepole pines in our backyard. I’m working on the Stickley side table we bought in early 2015 and looking north. It served as our family dining table over the last couple of years, giving way partly now to the beetlekill table we have upstairs.
Trying to find a metaphor for this stage of recovery. Walking on a path, let’s call it the ancientrail of healing, I’ve passed through a rocky, but beautiful valley. Now the weather has cooled down, the sky gone gray. I’m still moving but the pleasure in it has receded. This, I imagine, is a plateau.
Mobility and extension have both increased, but I seem stuck. The mood that accompanies this portion of the ancientrail is one with the sky and the weather, gray and cool. This will pass, yes, it will.
But. Right now. I’m in it, surrounded by its cottony indistinctness.
