Winter Solstice

Today I slept through a lunar eclipse and I am not allowed to leave the house.This is not mine, but a place I like to be.

I see the moon and the moon sees me,
The moon sees the one that I want to see.
So God bless the moon, and God bless me,
And God bless the one that I want to see.

Equations

Coming home for the holidays is as bittersweet as dark chocolate. Sweeter, though, with roast chicken and red pepper houmous, balsamic olives and feta cheese, cherry tomatoes and cranberry chutney, coleslaw and potato salad, rocket and minted peas and edamame beans, red velvet cupcakes and Christmas decorations. And family, of course.

Today I read the sad story of a girl named Lillian, and learnt that energy is equal to mass times the speed of light squared.

Prayer 238

‘…I am placing a lock upon my heart,
I am placing a lock upon my thoughts,
I am placing a lock upon my lips
And double knitting them…’

The Carmina Gadelica, collected by Alexander Carmichael, 1899

Swansea - Bombay Bicycle Club (Joanna Newsom cover)

The snow is slowly melting, there are puddles everywhere.

Giving Thanks

For the understanding that nothing is set in stone.What are you thankful for?

Gladly, The Cross-Eyed Bear

source unknown




Mondegreen is the word for when you misinterpret or mishear a phrase, like a line in a poem or a lyric in a song, in a way that gives it a different meaning.

‘Poetry is always a dying language but never a dead language.’

- Robert Smithson, ‘A Sedimentation of the Mind’, 1968.

Absence

You leave a void within me.
When you go
You take the W
and leave a hole.



Here I am again.

Kickswitch

Oak trees are often hit by lightning because they usually stand alone. They have thick, tough bark and softer cores of buttery wood. The lightning splits them apart, bursting through them from within, because when it strikes, it travels down through them and they explode with light.


It's my favourite month, and there has been sublime unseasonal sunshine on top of the autumnal deliciousness. I am reading 'The Memory Keeper's Daughter' for the first time, learning butterfly-fragile lines of prose from it because they are too heart-beatingly beautiful to forget. There are so many interesting and amazing things happening around me, melodies flying and chances arriving.
How and why, then, do I feel so entirely uninspired?
I miss summer strawberries and warm, white sands.
This might have something to do with it.