The last day of Mercury Retrograde, and snow settles over the city like the softest of blankets, stopping us in our tracks and quieting our conversations—what Lou Reed called, “Oh, oh, my, and what shall we wear/oh, oh, my, and who really cares.” This morning I ran my errands very early so I could climb indoors when the snow came, and marvel over the world growing old and young at once. I’ve heard the last weeks of December and first of January are out of time completely, and today this feels true. It’s not just that my solar return is on the 19th so these days are personally balsamic. It’s that this is the darkest period of our orbit around the sun, and as our eyes adjust to the lack of physical light, our souls have a rare opportunity to show us the way. The snow can seem cold, unforgiving, isolating. But if we listen below its stillness we can hear our hearts beating. More than that, we can hear them ringing. Clear as bells, they are saying, Only love always glows.
The last day of Mercury Retrograde, and snow settles over the city like the softest of blankets, stopping us in our tracks and quieting our conversations—what Lou Reed called, “Oh, oh, my, and what shall we wear/oh, oh, my, and who really cares.” This morning I ran my errands very early so I could climb indoors when the snow came, and marvel over the world growing old and young at once. I’ve heard the last weeks of December and first of January are out of time completely, and today this feels true. It’s not just that my solar return is on the 19th so these days are personally balsamic. It’s that this is the darkest period of our orbit around the sun, and as our eyes adjust to the lack of physical light, our souls have a rare opportunity to show us the way. The snow can seem cold, unforgiving, isolating. But if we listen below its stillness we can hear our hearts beating. More than that, we can hear them ringing. Clear as bells, they are saying, Only love always glows.