Storm Before the Calm

My child has a cold.
As I write this, she has been napping on my chest for two and a half hours.

It's raining. 
Cold, heavy, November rain.

I think that tonight might be the night for the first fire of the season. 
Call fire into my home’s hearth.
Ask Hestia, Hera, and Frigga for their blessings.
Hold ceremony. 
Make offerings.
Fill the house with sweet perfume.

Yesterday, I was generously gifted a bounty of fresh Piñon sap by a magnificent, venerable, old grandmother tree, while on a medicine journey through the foothills beyond my homestead.
I went in search of the tree, she called to me in my dreams. When I found her, and humbly accepted her offering, I knew that I would need it for something soon.
Wasn't sure what. 
Now I know.

Outside, beyond the chilled, fat raindrops. 
Beyond the forest’s final, yellowing leaves, and the foggy, frost-kissed mountain peaks.
Beyond the profound peace of this land I call my home, as it tumbles on towards Winter.

There is chaos brewing.

Heated tempers, misconstrued discourse, and all-out discord.

There are seemingly endless rivers of suffering. 
Wounds, covered in wounding, hidden away within hatred, and dipped in sorrow. 
There is an off-key, back and forth chorus of “better than”, “worse than”.

There is loneliness, fear, hopelessness, and crippling grief.

Eons of pain are being purged up from our deepest, collective depths… and it is reeking havoc on the tremendous, wild adventure known as human experience.

I hear you all, Sisters.
I hear you all, Brothers. 
I hear you in my heart.

I hear the anguished cries of broken lovers.
The shattered sobs of abandoned children. 
The muffled calls of fallen warriors, crumpled by the wayside.

I have no words to describe that kind of agony.

There are other voices too.

There are peals of relieved laughter. 
There are tears of joy, and echoes of wild cheering.
There is hope out there, rekindled by friendly faces, found in unlikely places.

There is faith.

I know that things are starting to look mighty bleak in some times/places.
...but the small, unassuming candle of faith and kinship casts a wide, and luminous presence.

This is not the end, Beloveds.

However, my advice to you (take it as you will) is that you pretend that it is.

Pretend that this is the last time you will ever spend with your loved ones. 
That this is the last opportunity you'll have to hold them close, or tell them how much they mean to you.

Pretend that this is the last chance you'll ever get to speak your peace, to stand up for what you believe in, or to honor your inner truth.

Act as if these are the final minutes of your precious life.
Breathe deeply into that reality.

Soak in the incredible beauty of the world around you, as if your moments here were counting down with great rapidity.

Be profoundly rooted in this world. 
Be grounded.
Be radically present with yourself.

Don't hold back an inch of your uniquely glorious talents.
Know your worth, and stand rock solid in the power of that knowledge. 
Love everyone, and take shit from no one.

Because when your days are so finitely numbered, who has time for anything less?

This is not the end.

But let's just pretend that it is.
Just for now.

Here’s the secret:
By pretending that it's the End, we'll all be birthing a new Beginning.

A world wherein we never, not one of us, ever…
Take a single blessed sliver of the luscious richness in this magnificent gift of existence for granted.

We're all in this together, my Loves.

We're gonna get through this darkness. 
Promise.

The light's gonna be glorious. 
You'll see.

I love you. 
Always, and in all ways. 

❤

© EJB 2016