Usually my prayers are personal petitions–peace and happiness and guidance and health for myself and loved ones; sunshine on the weekend; that sort of thing. Last night I prayed for the lost souls of South Carolina and for our country’s long-delayed evolution. We think we can ignore our racial wounds. Yet if Freud has taught us anything it’s that what happens in a family affects every generation to come until deep-level healing takes place. On a cultural scale, this is what we are dealing with when it comes to our shameful history of slavery. The terrorism of this week reminds us once again that a profound national self-reckoning is required if black Americans are ever to live safely on any level in this country. I send love to every one of us because that’s the only place to start.
It’s been a beautiful spacey day–another long moon void of course in the midst of Mercury retrograde/full-moon mania–and every time I’ve tried to toe or even walk a straight line, I’ve accidentally veered in a different direction. I reviewed a movie opening next rather than this week; I poured coffee rather than water on my fire escape garden. Finally, I tuned in and dropped out: got phenomenally acupunked (which may be the ideal moon void activity); bought the last of the season’s pink peonies at the deli; settled by the window with a thick, musty novel, and took in the neighborhood birds and kids tweet-tweet-tweeting in the street, the old-soul breezes sailing in with the night. Even June can be sweetly melancholy on the right afternoon.
In case you’re wondering why it’s been impossible to finish a sentence or avoid walking into walls today, not only is Mercury still retrograde but the moon’s been void of course for the last 24 hours. (Note that I am only writing about this as the moon finally shifts back into gear.) During this period Time-Warner has been out in my entire neighborhood and, though I comment not about my employer, I will say that the absence of the Internet has made it a mite difficult to do my work for them, especially as this astrological mayhem had already filled my brain with sugar and spice and nothing nice. What? Don’t ask me: I’m too cross. An otherwise perfectly nice gentleman forgot our coffee date this afternoon, and this post has already disappeared twice as I’ve attempted to type it. God knows how I’ll ever properly finish my reviews due today. But finish them I will. Workers of the world unite! Rise up against the tyranny of Young Master Mercury.
Usually my prayers are personal petitions–peace and happiness and guidance and health for myself and loved ones; sunshine on the weekend; that sort of thing. Last night I prayed for the lost souls of South Carolina and for our country’s long-delayed evolution. We think we can ignore our racial wounds. Yet if Freud has taught us anything it’s that what happens in a family affects every generation to come until deep-level healing takes place. On a cultural scale, this is what we are dealing with when it comes to our shameful history of slavery. The terrorism of this week reminds us once again that a profound national self-reckoning is required if black Americans are ever to live safely on any level in this country. I send love to every one of us because that’s the only place to start.
It’s been a beautiful spacey day–another long moon void of course in the midst of Mercury retrograde/full-moon mania–and every time I’ve tried to toe or even walk a straight line, I’ve accidentally veered in a different direction. I reviewed a movie opening next rather than this week; I poured coffee rather than water on my fire escape garden. Finally, I tuned in and dropped out: got phenomenally acupunked (which may be the ideal moon void activity); bought the last of the season’s pink peonies at the deli; settled by the window with a thick, musty novel, and took in the neighborhood birds and kids tweet-tweet-tweeting in the street, the old-soul breezes sailing in with the night. Even June can be sweetly melancholy on the right afternoon.
In case you’re wondering why it’s been impossible to finish a sentence or avoid walking into walls today, not only is Mercury still retrograde but the moon’s been void of course for the last 24 hours. (Note that I am only writing about this as the moon finally shifts back into gear.) During this period Time-Warner has been out in my entire neighborhood and, though I comment not about my employer, I will say that the absence of the Internet has made it a mite difficult to do my work for them, especially as this astrological mayhem had already filled my brain with sugar and spice and nothing nice. What? Don’t ask me: I’m too cross. An otherwise perfectly nice gentleman forgot our coffee date this afternoon, and this post has already disappeared twice as I’ve attempted to type it. God knows how I’ll ever properly finish my reviews due today. But finish them I will. Workers of the world unite! Rise up against the tyranny of Young Master Mercury.