A dream of antiquity held between the paws of a sacred desert cat, a reminder of the ghosts of beasts of long ago. You can picture it now, can’t you? We were all there once. The trick of knowing is found in arching skillfully into letting go. Watching it shade away like wisps of smoke. A vision, a flame, bright air, gold and yellow moonlight. Get out under the stars every night, if possible. To see differently is to live differently.
Today: black sesame for Saturn, watermelon tourmaline, music in the key of C, the rumble of a freight car in the distance, and the innate strength of black hawthorn.
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Waning Gibbous
The moon is 22 days old