March . 2024
Wait & see ~
Under the surface
a warm memory
almost you can touch it
is it a dream
did you live it
or is it yet to be
does it matter?
Wait & see.
The warmth warms
the waters gently run
bringing you with them.
𓂥
March: thawing is a kindness.
I will give you one last chance to look back. Look behind you. And then: it is time to move on.
So says the King.
Gently, of course, in his hydrous tone.
He kneels beside the river & scoops some water in his hands. He lifts this to you. The water glistens a moment & as you wait, you see: it is suddenly gone, it has eventually gone free, came quietly away from being held in place.
He looks to see if you understand the metaphor.
He knows it matters not & that explanations are for the wind & the soil to describe.
𓂥
This month, you’ve one last chance to look back, look behind you.
Gather it to you in the wide net of your sight.
And then let it go without a fuss, without a fight.
What’s back there was yours & now it no longer is.
This is more than alright.
𓂥
The month is quiet in its own way, transient, though it will feel teeming & it will be teeming with the silky edge of an inextinguishable glow.
What did you light back there, months ago, that appeared to you in dreams in snippets of symbol, in the shiver of a song only you can hear?
Whatever you lit is thawing the frozen face of your sleep.
This is the teeming.
The life that took hold while you were asleep… it is stirring.
Push out your belly, lick the dawn. You are coming to. And to you, things are arriving.
𓂥
One more thing, though: this month is slippery with life. And you won’t be able to get a good grasp of it. You’ll need to let it form for you, without you. Life has a life of its own, you know? So, controlling is out of the question & I want you to know this here & now.
Wet your need to control with the slip of marshmallow root or milk thistle or plantago.
This is thawing kindness.
It is the ululation of mystery slowly revealing itself to you. Let it.
Be patient with yourself. Be patient with others.
Wait & wake both share the same etymological root. You can trace the root to the word vigor.
A thinning (waiting) must happen before the birth of something (waking).
You are here at the very thinnest point.
Only a sliver left to thin for, wait for, wake from.
𓂥
Look back one last time, because it is the only way you will ever get there. You’ll see, out of the corner of your eye, as you turn, as you shift your gaze, what you’ve left behind: only a husk brittle as an old sky.
𓂥
Before I move into the almanac, I wanted to share that the Flowers for Gaza raffle has already raised & donated $4,000 to the mutual aid fund created by Layla K. Feghali of River Rose Re-memberance.
The raffle is still going strong until 15 March ~ please continue to share with your friends & loved ones until then.
More info about everything can be found here or via clicking the image below:
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Now, onto the almanac…
This month, the loveliest Katie Addada Shlon offers some of her own sensory wisdom to the collection.
Enjoy ~
T A S T E
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