I dreamt I had SMR sewn into the seat of my tracksuit pants, that he had already arrived. I woke to the sound of a leaf blower.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Are we so deprived of magic? Let us remember the ritual and consider the words we use. Our own personal ritual and the collective. Blessing the gas ring that makes porridge - fire. The snap of a match. Turning off devices that emit high frequencies at night to safeguard the space of rest. Simple darkness.
Shrines to uplift everyday spaces, the kitchen is holy. The bedroom is holy. Threshold acknowledgements, meeting other human beings with a hand, framing the day's activity with aspirations and reflection. Five fox cubs suckling, a totemic image for endings, precariousness and new life. A consistent respect for this sacred opportunity.