There was a season
Of ordinary amazement
Innocent fingers brushed
The sky to count the stars
Dreams blossomed lightly
With golden firefly wings
The world was everything
In a moment
In the protected circle
Of hugs
Life seemed beyond
Beyond doors forbidden to childhood.
Is it the shadow that exists by virtue of the light, or is it the light that exists by virtue of the shadow?
We are made up of chiaroscuro, secret areas, bright accents and dark hiding places.
Cries of children.
Far horizons.
We are a contradiction in terms, of spirit and flesh.
The ethereal evanescence of the soul and the concrete physicality of the body.
We are perfect in our imperfection.
Outstanding bills have to be paid right?
After all, life is like this, it takes everything away from you without warning, 
it's better to face everything like when you have to tear off a plaster on the wound, you count to three. 
And you tear, you know?
In this case you raise your head and let your silences make them feel, there you understand that you are ready to strike. 
Do it but make everything tremble. 


You counted a hundred thousand steps to get nowhere, you thought numbers were important, but the only thing that matters is not knowing where you are going. Sometimes you want to feel part of something, part of someone, other times you like being alone, feeling too much, on the other hand the world is a giant shoe but with the wrong size. You may turn around just to feel the taste of nausea, until you throw up the bundle of reality and admit that you are a dreamer and can’t sit still. They say that beautiful things do not last long, and how to blame them? if a rainbow lasted more than a quarter of an hour who the fuck would look at it anymore ?. You think it’s convenient to delude yourself, and think that things will never change, but every season the skin peels off and the only thing you can do is keep crawling. We hate being habitual, because habits start slowly and long before you realize you have a habit, it is the habit that has you.


This is the season of heat. Of sun. And light.

I didn't celebrate Litha in the classic sense of the word. I love being outdoors on Saturdays like this, but it was really too hot last week to plan anything. For the evening or for the weekend. And the new moon on Saturday then left us with the dark and sultry night.

On the other hand, however, I realized the small goals I have achieved.
On the morning of the solstice, I woke up early, as usual, and stretched out looking out the window. I knew it was a special day and for some years now I have realized that I always start Litha's day this way, looking at the sun and saying a silent good morning in my heart.
It was very hot that day, but despite this I went out on foot at noon to get something to nibble on, looking for the nearest shade. The sun was definitely stronger than I could bear. Stronger, I realized. Of course it was stronger since it was the summer solstice. The time of the first harvest.
In the evening, with milder temperatures, when I sat in front of my altar to light the candle that I light on every Saturday (this time it was yellow, lemon-flavored) I found there the papers of my reading of the last esbat.
I had left them on the altar as a good resolution for what I had to work on.
And it made me smile as the Animal Spirit Horse, upside down, looked at me from the table. Over the last month it has somehow "straightened out".
I had associated it with a block towards my goals, something that prevented me from continuing to "run", an obstacle of some kind, coming from my unconscious that did not allow me to continue on my way.
After all it was true. I was getting lost in a glass of water. And I needed another person to get me out of it, giving me an external point of view.
Straightening my horse beautifully.

I smiled, thanking my instinct, which never fails to interpret even what I am not aware of and realized that even if half a year is gone, I have the other half to work with. I immediately thought back to my projects and works scheduled for this fall and I was charged with enthusiasm.
Perhaps the enthusiasm and motivation, not having lost them, are part of my harvest this year.
After all, what does it take to get lost in a glass of water?

What have you collected, more or less metaphorically, so far? And what do you plan to collect next?

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