This is a grinchy post about my neighbors. In this post, I am the grinch, for my across-the-hall neighbors are cheerful, well-intentioned 20somethings who are wildly in love, living their best life, and never anything but polite and helpful. They have carried out my garbage and carried up groceries and even taken my bulky air conditioners out of the window while my back has been in arrears. I am grateful to them, and have made sure they know. Unfortunately, they are also the loudest freaking neighbors I have ever had. Not to speak in terms of demographics, but he was born in Italy and she was born in Israel and those are two of the loudest human populations ever ever ever.*
These two talk loudly, move loudly, listen to music and television loudly, and have sex loudly (and authentically, thank god; there’s little worse than audibly faked pleasure). Would you believe they even eat loudly? Yes, you read that right. Through the wall we share I actually have heard them chew and swallow. Even permakitten Grace was startled, then appalled. And o my: I cannot tell you many times I have been jarred awake by peals of delighted laughter or the sounds of elephants bowling, aka them walking.
I stir from my recent blog slumber to herald’s today’s solar eclipse—taking place on the fifth day of Hanukkah, no less. Hanukkah is the Jewish festival of light in the darkness, of right trumping might against all odds. And solar eclipses occur when a new moon blocks out the sun’s light to reveal our personal energy resources. This solar eclipse in particular is on the South Node of Destiny in Sagittarius, which means something momentous is ending to make room for something even bigger. So it is no coincidence—nothing ever is!—that today the Electoral College officially declared Joseph Biden the new president-elect despite the many, many efforts to steal this election from the American people. And that today Sandra Lindsay, a New York ICU nurse, was the first American outside of a trial to receive the Covid-19 vaccine. Because today is an enormous turning point.
We may have felt all year that we were just stumbling blindly but today shows us that a lit path will materialize so long as we have the faith and courage to move forward in the dark. Truly, today is about the essence of miracles—which, really, are the marriage of willingness and will. So tonight hug whomever you can hug—your loved ones if you’re lucky enough to share space with them, your pets, yourself. And then go to bed as early as you like. Because you know what, babies? We have earned our rest. Love and light to all.
Pictured here: Dr. Michelle Chester administering vaccine to Sandra Lindsay. Photo by Scott Heins for the Office of Governor Cuomo, doctored by yours truly.
I don’t know about you, but I haven’t felt much like talking today. God knows there are plenty of reasons, but mostly I chalk it up to this lunar eclipse, coinciding with a beaver full moon in Gemini. Lunar eclipses obscure the obvious and illuminate the hidden, and the Twins are notorious Chatty Cathys. So today is about what we don’t communicate and why. About actively listening not only to each other but to the parts of ourselves that we rarely acknowledge—-in our brains, in our bodies, in our hearts. Ask yourself: “What don’t I want to say but should? What do I say that I shouldn’t? Who needs to be heard that is rarely granted a voice?” I for one am aware that my bad back has been broadcasting stories I’ve been trying to forget and that eclipses express exactly what we most repress. If, like me, yours is a truth that dare not speak its name, try writing it down. Sending lots of golden quills, kittens.
This is a grinchy post about my neighbors. In this post, I am the grinch, for my across-the-hall neighbors are cheerful, well-intentioned 20somethings who are wildly in love, living their best life, and never anything but polite and helpful. They have carried out my garbage and carried up groceries and even taken my bulky air conditioners out of the window while my back has been in arrears. I am grateful to them, and have made sure they know. Unfortunately, they are also the loudest freaking neighbors I have ever had. Not to speak in terms of demographics, but he was born in Italy and she was born in Israel and those are two of the loudest human populations ever ever ever.* 
I stir from my recent blog slumber to herald’s today’s solar eclipse—taking place on the fifth day of Hanukkah, no less. Hanukkah is the Jewish festival of light in the darkness, of right trumping might against all odds. And solar eclipses occur when a new moon blocks out the sun’s light to reveal our personal energy resources. This solar eclipse in particular is on the South Node of Destiny in Sagittarius, which means something momentous is ending to make room for something even bigger. So it is no coincidence—nothing ever is!—that today the Electoral College officially declared Joseph Biden the new president-elect despite the many, many efforts to steal this election from the American people. And that today Sandra Lindsay, a New York ICU nurse, was the first American outside of a trial to receive the Covid-19 vaccine. Because today is an enormous turning point.
We may have felt all year that we were just stumbling blindly but today shows us that a lit path will materialize so long as we have the faith and courage to move forward in the dark. Truly, today is about the essence of miracles—which, really, are the marriage of willingness and will. So tonight hug whomever you can hug—your loved ones if you’re lucky enough to share space with them, your pets, yourself. And then go to bed as early as you like. Because you know what, babies? We have earned our rest. Love and light to all.
I don’t know about you, but I haven’t felt much like talking today. God knows there are plenty of reasons, but mostly I chalk it up to this lunar eclipse, coinciding with a beaver full moon in Gemini. Lunar eclipses obscure the obvious and illuminate the hidden, and the Twins are notorious Chatty Cathys. So today is about what we don’t communicate and why. About actively listening not only to each other but to the parts of ourselves that we rarely acknowledge—-in our brains, in our bodies, in our hearts. Ask yourself: “What don’t I want to say but should? What do I say that I shouldn’t? Who needs to be heard that is rarely granted a voice?” I for one am aware that my bad back has been broadcasting stories I’ve been trying to forget and that eclipses express exactly what we most repress. If, like me, yours is a truth that dare not speak its name, try writing it down. Sending lots of golden quills, kittens.