The Ace Of Crowns

It's the last day of March. Spring has sprung. The earth has revived in vivid color, and here I am without having written a word. A global pandemic will do that to you.

It's not as if there's been no inspiration. It's not as if magic and mystery have come to end. On the contrary, things are more phantasmagorical than ever. It's the way of things in a crisis, I suppose, what with our consensus reality straining at the seams.

No, I'm just tired, really, tired and inclined to be quiet right now. There is too much to say, and a lot that shouldn't be said, and it's beyond me to sort out which is which.

Between the psychic jolts and the glitches and the breaking apart of things that must be put together again, it's a lot to handle. That's not even accounting for the very real fear and grief we feel amid the onslaught of change.

That said, if cracks have appeared in our world, there is no reason not to find the joy that's hidden in them. I daresay there is every reason we should.

"The death card means change" says the fortuneteller to the nervous querent in every cliched movie scene, but if you ever wanted a real-life example, this is it.

If our foundations have cracked, our own integrity has never mattered more. If you have to choose between helping yourself or others, which will it be?

The card has been laid. The change is at hand. The only thing left to do is decide what it means to you.

Good luck and Godspeed.

Moon Mirrors and The Rites Of Spring

Tomorrow is the first day of spring, and while this one comes with a full moon, I found these lovely crescent mirrors at the dime store and couldn't resist.

The land is turning green again (or greener, at least) and while I haven't posted much lately. I am  happy to report that I am still alive and have made it through another season.

It's been a time of changes and leaving things behind. On occasion it's been a little tough, as it's my habit to look back at the past. A family friend died recently, and there's the compulsion to think of all the places he once was and will never be again. Spasms of grief that can fetch you away. But there are dangers to making maps of absence. Especially now, when the future is a blank page.

Tomorrow I will carry out my rites and rituals, making the most of this new phase. I have my south-facing window, the newly verdant trees, and most of all the blank page. The road rises up to meet me; there was never a day that my wish was not true.

Finally, the time comes for the opening of the ways.

The Hidden Cameras

Follow These Eyes

The weather is warming and this music sounds about right.