We are not quite to the day of standstill, yet we are firmly in the bracket days and the pall of dread is losing it's supremacy.
There has been much harvested this autumn season, in both inner and outer worlds. Yesterday and Thursday the worst of the pressures of fear and uncertainty were at work and I developed a wicked migraine. Today, we slide into the calm days, the waiting days, and a fine rain is falling to wash away the last of the clinging chaff so that the seeds carried within may be nourished and ready to sprout forth later in spring.
The spiralling downward descent has slowed, softly now we sink into the ease of healing dark, and reading the signs left by those who have walked this path before us, know that soon the upward growth will begin. We return with new wisdom, rested and unwearied now, once more to listen to the wisdom in the wind and the rain, and to leave our own marks upon the stones.