Ask the Priestess

One day it rains, one day it shines. So we learn to look for the beauty in these changes. For example, on the way from the gym there is a gorgeous tree that has been offering its furry, green encased yellow blossoms since the days of snow. Its "owners" (I refuse to believe anyone can actually own anything living) chopped off some of its branches, added a box to encourage small wildlife to nest amongst its boughs. Every day I go by, it is a bit greener, a tad furrier. I kiss one of the almond-like promises of life, it seems to sigh and giggle. Then, a few days ago, I noticed that many other trees and bushes are beginning to coat their clipped ends with little spots of green feathers, of pink skin, of reddish scales. They all seem to sigh and giggle, too, as I go by without a scarf, or fighting a reluctant umbrella, always beckoning me to stop for a quick caress. They know they make my smile wider, that I carry that smile on to be spread across the city. If you want to sque...

Winter was a time feared, a time of darkness, a time of little sunlight and much cold. What fools we were!! What fools we are, when we still complain about it, knowing it is not right! We are nearer the end than the beginning of winter, quickly forgetting that back when it started, the days ended a full hour earlier. We also forget that the "dead of winter" was, in fact, last year, since the season started in December, and that it was already following the cold and snow that brought us to a halt. What do we have now? We have cool days, and rain and longer hours of sunlight. We have the promise of Life, spring, summer, ahead of us. We thought that autumn was ominous, that winter would be dark and dank, yet here we are: the monster that we had feared passed before we even heard it come! Instead of a gnarling beast with cavernous jaws we find a meowing kitten at our doorstep, shivering, craving Love. Winter as a death-bringer is an illusion: most people can tell you when i...

I wrote this bit while flying back after saying good-bye to my mother. She died the following morning. This goes for her. And for all who go through the pain of loss. Anja Blaauw Westland: 2nd Sept 1945 - 7th Feb 2011 Mother, Teacher, Giver: Woman. Thank You! Transitions We all have to go through transitions. Life changes, and we have to adapt to the new situation, the new people around us. We may complain more or less, but we comply with the requirements, in the end. We get used to locations and company alike. It is, it turns out, not that difficult to add experiences, names and faces to our habits. The really tough call is when we are required to give up that, but mostly whom, we consider 'ours.' Then, it hurts! A friend says that "losing someone you love is not a wound, it's a mutilation:" we are attached, just like the arm is attached to the shoulder. I have long been 'independent,' a grown-up nomad, yet here I am, bleeding soul and dried-out ey...