The Great Conjunction

-

 On December 21st, my cousin, sister and I were sitting around the dinner table with our grandparents. 

We recalled that it was the winter solstice. 

My cousin explained that it is also The Great Conjunction: Saturn and Jupiter were to align in the skies so they appear as one. 

After dinner, grandpa gave us each a book used to track where we want to be in 5 years. 

Grandma surprised me with a birthday cake, and I realized I hadn't seen any of my family since I turned 25. 

"A toast to the universal shift!" we raised our glasses of red wine. 

We were all washing and drying the dishes together in the kitchen, and I held up two separate pot lids and began to gently clink them together.

I turned and opened the door to the back porch, tiptoeing out into the dark light. I let the cold December air swell and burn in my lungs. I walked to the edge of the porch, gazing at the lights strung across branches that held the weight so gently.

I brought the two lids together repetitively, the clinking echoing across the stretch of trees and dark sky.  

I closed my eyes, listening to the echo linger in the air, feeling grateful that what I gave out to the night was still being held in the darkness. 



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Jumbled Landscapes

-
Image
An ache blooms somewhere inside me as I see houses dotted with holiday lights and glass bulbs hanging on bare branches at the same time that I realize  it is time to move on. I pass houses and look at the sun lacing through the trees and wonder what it might be like to be here during the summer.  I pass a yellow van and think of how I told you last month  that it would be fun to have a van like that  and drive across different landscapes. I take pictures of the street using my new photo app  that doesn’t show me the pictures right away and allows them to develop first. I slip my phone back in my pocket hoping I caught the light just right. I return home through the front door and turn on the kettle to use the last spoonfuls of my coffee grounds. I am a jumble of longing, stillness, joy. As I pour the boiling water, I am grateful that I can choose to brew myself coffee in the late afternoon. 
Read more

You Are Here

-
Image
Last week, I was trying to push through the routines I had created for myself, and noticed sadness had settled in my chest. I didn’t quite know how much it weighed, let alone how to remove it. Out the window it was both raining and snowing, adding to the heavy texture of the day. I took a picture of the raindrops sliding down the glass, opened up a new window on my laptop, and typed out this poem:  As the rain trickles, I  am also reaching down to where I am grounded. I ache for the slow journey downward to be  smooth and effortless  like the raindrops gliding  down cool glass.  And I exhaled, feeling content with the way my creative practices can bring me home.  This past weekend, my sister and I took a trip to New York City. After settling into her friend’s apartment on the upper west side, we set out to go for a walk in Morningside Park. The sun was shining, it was 55 degrees and just so serene all I could do was turn to Gretchen and say “this feels...
Read more

February

-
Image
  to be in my body, to be in my body, to be in my body, to be in my body, to be in my body. February 1st, 2021 As I slip into my car in the early morning light, my body tenses as it meets the frigid interior. I sit still, willing for the tiny space to warm quickly. I grit my teeth, grab my ice scraper from the passenger seat, and climb back outside to chip away at the icy surface stretching across my windshield.  Once I arrive at work, I am disappointed that my toes still sting from the cold, despite my wool socks and sturdy boots. Unfortunately, the heat blasting from the dashboard doesn’t seem to quite meet the lowest part of my body. I will my blood flow to increase to my toes, to rush each one with a tingling warmth.  I care for my body. I try to keep it warm in the winter - to wear mittens when I grip the cold steering wheel, to moisturize my skin when it cracks, to stay inside and practice mediation and fill my lungs with clean breaths. I trust my body. But at times...
Read more