Yesterday was the first snow of the season.
Drifting and diving.
Hush, over the trees, the cars, the cares.
I've been holding on to the first Myth and Moon letter, cradling it in cyberspace.
For many of the past years these letters have been about promotion, but for the first time ever I've been able to write without that impulse hanging on me. It feels good...and also, oddly, hard.
Why write? Why write blog posts in a world that seems beyond blogging?
Why write letters to hundreds of people I hardly--or don't at all--know?
Why reveal pieces of life, mind and thought which leave me feeling immensely vulnerable?
And the answer is a simple and complex as snow: I write because I care.
I care about sharing with you my journey to understand the Water Protectors at Standing Rock, indigenous rights, colonization and the sacredness of the waters close to my home.
I care about making resources available that have helped me grow in understanding and directed action, like the NYC Stands With Standing Rock syllabus, which explicates a necessary colonial history, so long invisible, that should be required education for every American.
I care about the true natural world, connecting and grounding in the place where I live, in spiritual practice and self-care. I long to connect with others by the way of Myths and the Moon, to share wisdom and memory, to make new threads of belonging.
I care about the stories, the fragmented threads of myth that hold more than they hold. My art, my work, is weaving, with reverence and patience. Re-membering a past obscured by structures of power irreverent to earth, faith and the feminine. It is imperfect, this art, this telling, but to make it whole requires sharing.
We do what we can do. Myth and Moon is a tiny gesture, an offering. It in no way replaces my activism, or root work.
But with enough stories, we change THE story.
What stories do you wish to shape?
The next Myth and Moon will arrive between Imbolc and the Equinox.