between war and dreaming

It's one of those days where all the colours are perfect. Not a cloud in the sky. I sit in my little coastal cottage, listening to the peace. Because it's midsummer, we have almost no sparrows in the neighbourhood - mostly just blackbirds, and even then only a few of them. They sing briefly, as if pecking at the hot air and drawing sound from it. The noon brightness is strong, but what I really dread is evening, when humidity presses in and breathing becomes a chore.




I am alternating between reading updates of the American situation and working on my upcoming project. This post's header mentions war, and of course we're not there yet (and hopefully won't ever be), but the president just framed two senators' disagreement to a policy of his as an act of warmongering. I have been going from that to dream-haunted rivers and back again, while drinking tea (even in the heat) and wishing for winter. Every now and again I slip away to my garden, to sweep a path or do a little weeding - touching peace in the dirt.



Here is an excerpt from the project ...


People don't write lovely nursery stories for children like me. We find our story fulfillment in the moss and the cobwebs, the unused stairs and locked doors, the old hidden waters which slink through our dreams at night when we forget to leave on the light. You know – the places fairytales come from.  


Whether you are in the space of war words or dream imagery, or outside tending flowers, I wish you everything you need for the day.

3 comments:

  1. like you, i float between the two spaces...navigating my response to the daily assault on sanity and decency, and my daily life of home and yoga and winter immersion. i love this little space of time between the calendar new year and imbolc---i love the quietness of imbolc. its sense of gentle listening, of attuning to the subtle shift that ultimately leads to spring. this is *my* new year's time. this is when i do a little clearing-out of cupboards, and also of the soul. when i try to see my way ahead for the year.

    mmmm, moss and cobwebs, hidden waters...yes to that.

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  2. Your humidity sounds horrible.
    Our winter is sincere, but it is dry cold, not as bad as damp cold.

    Your excerpt inspires desire to read your new project.

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  3. Thank you :) May we help each other to keep a 'moss and cobwebs' perspective on unfolding world events...
    xx

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