We’ll dream of a longer summer,
but this is the one we have:
I lay my sunburnt hand
on your table: this is the time we have
Adrienne Rich, excerpt from always always
The summer arrives with heated knowing.
I find myself seeking out and hiding from the light, wanting to fill my soul and protect my skin.
A constant shifting between comfort and discomfort.
What can I do to feel more and be more? What can I do to feel less and be still?
An unnecessary binary. An unreliable binary.
After all, life is not a decision to be made.
It asks to be lived.
The Thirst for Devotion
I want to be committed to myself, to the world, to the stars, to the sky. And I do not own these things, nor do I want to.
Still, there is an ache, a longing for something that looks unwavering, secure, steadfast. Even eternal.
So I turn to devotion, not as an oath or a promise (but also that). I turn to the names I have sung into rooms and trees. I move toward the altars of unkempt offerings and petitions, lined with whispered prayers and promises. Some I did not keep.
I want to bow my head to something. Not in deference, but in gratitude.
I have spent years worshipping trauma and mistakes. I can sit at their feet and let them remind me of what I could have done differently. Who I could have handled differently. What I could have become if only _______ had not happened.
I want to empty those temples. Leave them for historians or therapists to debate.
What happened there? Who happened there?
I want to arrive at my own honoring: self devotion.
I am thirsty for myself.
I want to drink of and with myself. Until the chalice is light.
Until the sandpaper of my mouth is covered in cold relief.
The relief that I am the thirst and the quenching.
The knowing that I am someone whose name(s) I can shout and whisper when everything else is too quiet.
I can chant to myself. I can offer roses to myself. I can cover the edges of my unsure-ness by burning dried lavender. I can remember my battles and my missteps. I can translate old stories into poetry.
I can write myself an epic poem of my desire and my disaster.
I can be the hero too.
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What’s Going On?
July 27 & 28: Pearl Pentacle - with Irisanya, Riyana & Stephen - Vallejo, CA
August 3 & 4: Iron Pentacle - with Irisanya & AManita - Santa Rosa, CA
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Thank you for reading and sharing and commenting and emailing. I hope your week treats you well and you find ease in each day.
In love and magick,
Irisanya