In Liminal Times
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Hello friends, In Ireland, many people honor Brigid and the holiday of Imbolc on February 1st and 2nd. Some others of us do the same, around the world. February is an in between, liminal space. Still winter, but with the promise of spring. In the northern hemisphere, the sun is strengthening, but the nights are still long and cold. Much of the world is in another transition right now. We all must find ways in which to be, to help, and to survive. Here is a poem I wrote for Brigid one decade ago. The prayer still applies now, though I changed one word to update it today. Brigid is both healer and inspirer, forger and comforter. In tumultuous times, we need all of these qualities, and can hopefully reflect them for each other. We need stories and art that inspire, we need moments of healing. We need actions that strengthen communities, and the comfort that comes from a helping hand or listening ear. I wish you the blessings of well and flame, of healing, inspiration, and strength. Let’s help each other through. Best wishes - Thorn My Kickstarter campaign for Resistance Matters: Essays on Love and Action ends on Thursday. It's the only way to preorder this revised, expanded book of essays on our times.
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T. Thorn Coyle
Hello friends, When was the last time you paused because something was so beautiful, you needed a moment? When was the last time you were emotionally moved by nature, a painting, a song, a film, a dance? And how often do you make space to welcome beauty in your life? “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” wrote Margaret Wolfe Hungerford. She was speaking of subjectivity. That each of us finds different things—objects, people, places—beautiful. But there’s more to it than simple taste or...
Hello friends, I had oral surgery last week, and now that I’m able to eat kind-of-solid-but-still-mushy food, I’m making oatmeal every morning. As a consequence, I’ve been engaging in some simple honey magic. No, I’m not harvesting my own honey. No, I’m not leaving a jar of honey out beneath the full moon. Those are two magical things to do, but my ambitions right now are simpler. All I am doing is this: Gathering some honey on a teaspoon, I drizzle the golden amber substance into the bottom...
Hello friends, A mourning dove hoo-hoos outside my window. Black capped chickadees chirp and crows call. Daffodils spring along sidewalks, and the sun peers out among grey clouds. It is the time of equinox here on planet Earth. I love equinoxes and solstices, because these are four times a year when I stop to take a larger pause. To notice the changes—subtle and large—around me. In the seasons. In the slant of sun. In the conversations of birds. In the fall of snow or leaves, or the rise of a...