the harsh realities of logic

photo 1

Old Mother Goose,
When she wanted to wander,
Would ride through the air,
On a very fine gander.

Mother Goose had a house,
It stood in the wood,
Where an owl at the door,
As sentinel stood.

–Old Mother Goose (1815)

Whenever I think of air, I think of the sky. I think of translucent whites, reading, communication, and feathers. I am a huge feather hoarder.. seriously, I have tons. One of my greatest joys is to find a feather.. my favorite was a teeny blue jay one that I recently gave away. They don’t always stay with me. Many of the feathers that wandered from that last altar found themselves onto my air shrine to keep company among the others, my books, a bumblebee teacup, and my gifted wooden hummingbird.. also, a beautiful Icelandic goose foot that I have yet to work with. I am hesitant over it for the now but I was unable to pass it by.. mother goose/dame holda/frou holle calling and all that. One can simply not ignore such a treasure.

photo 2

The breath of life, the connected soul, thought, and the harsh realities of logic.. that is air. I read this somewhere (forgive me author) and, considering the logic reference, one would think I’d be more drawn to this element.. yet, I am not. Although my short trials with air brought forth much to think about and pushed me into a new cycle of sorts, it just does not call. With air’s passing came the passing of others, pieces that needed sorting and now I am just trying to move forward.. harsh realities of logic was spot on. Past these passings, I am entering what feels like a more creative state. I have many ideas on where I want to steer my spiritual and things I want to focus on in future.. and of course that ever elusive idea of structure is still whispering in my ear.

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