Beltane and the Moon of Sorrow
Sunday gratefuls: Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Levi, Gabe’s friend. Ruth and the boys hiking the Maxwell Falls trail from top to bottom. Li’l Sicily pizza from Beau Jo’s. The ancient friends gathering today. Alan’s birthday. Sally’s birthday. The Sunday paper. Rain over the last few days. Aspen leaves at work. Lodgepole pine needles, same. Dandelions, no longer a weed in our yard. Kate’s voracious reading. Westworld.
A couple of days ago I stood up here in the loft sobbing. The Band sang The Weight in the background. Something about it, and Sugaree before it, wrenched tears out of my eyes. Minneapolis. St. Paul. Beloved cities filled with friends. The reckoning of too white Minnesota with its reality. The pandemic with its overlay of stress. Our last couple of years. All of it. Cleansed. Crying is good.
The troubles. I’m too gobsmacked right now. Even though tears.
There is no peace without justice. If you want peace, work for justice.
