Full Moon & Fairies (Summer Solstice)

 

Summer Solstice -sig

 

There is magic in the air.

Fairies flutter about enjoying the day, preparing for their feast, and, perhaps, causing a bit of mischief. And, this year, they have even more to celebrate. A full moon accompanies the solstice.

This weekend, I’m celebrating with them.

Wine will flow, my friends. And I will run barefoot in the grass like when I was a child. I’ll breathe deeply, inhaling the heady scents of blossoms that, weeks ago, were tiny buds.

At twilight, I’ll light candles and search for blinking fireflies.

Of course, after this longest day of the year, the days will become shorter. But I will bask in the sun and light and magic then welcome the dark half of the year.

When the sun decides to set after its long journey, I will marvel at the pinks and purples of dusk. I will fill my glass and toast the twinkling stars who, in my wine-induced bliss, will merrily wink back at me. I will refill it to toast the bright, full moon who will smile her light on me. I will soak up the night and all its beauty.

Because, if it wasn’t for the darkness, I could not appreciate the light.

 

My Sunday thoughts in 200 words or less.

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What will you do with your extra hours of sunlight? I’m toasting you, my tweeps. Know that.

 

As always, I think of my friends in Australia during these times of year. Happy Winter Solstice to you!

 

(The summer solstice is officially tomorrow, Monday, June 20. Enjoy!)

 

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Nurturing the Writer

 

Writers can nurture themselves. Seriously. They have special writer things that help them put words together to make cool sentences and paragraphs. ThoughtBubble

Yes, they can indulge in other, non-writerly stuff, too, because writers resemble regular people in most ways. But I’m talking about what they can do while they’re actually working.

Stretch, do chair yoga, watch a woodpecker perch on the maple outside, practice pranayama breathing, drink a glass of wine or cup of steaming green tea with honey, switch to a beanbag chair, eat the good chocolate (those sea salt caramels they’ve been keeping out of reach of the kids).

Sometimes, though, the best way to nurture yourself as a writer is to acknowledge that your eyes are dry because you haven’t blinked in three hours, that you have a screen-staring headache, that you’re repeating yourself and saying the same things, using identical words over and over, and none of the amazing ideas that are inside your head are reaching your keyboard.

Sometimes, the best thing a writer can do to nurture herself is to close her laptop and walk away.

And that is what I’m going to do today.

Writers Walk Away

 

My Sunday thoughts in 200 words or less.

 

“Bloggers from all over the world are coming together to talk about compassion, in one epic event on February 20, 2015.” I took part in this amazing online movement back in February and am pleased to be one of the many voices of #1000speak again. The birth of the project was here at 1000 Voices Speak for Compassion by Yvonne Spence.

For April, the #1000 Speak theme is Nurturing.

 

1000speak

 

…Not As I Do

 

ThoughtBubbleI love wine.

Beer and coffee, too. Oh, and salt. I especially love those sea salts and rock salts from around the world. But I digress. These are grown-up things. When my kids ask if they can try coffee, I say “no”. When they ask if they can grind some pink Himalayan salt on their mac-and-cheese, I say “no”.

Why? Because too much salt is bad for you. Why do I use so much salt? Because it’s yummy… But that’s not the point. What is the point? Wait, what was I saying? Do as I say, not as I do.

I was thinking about this the other day—how unfair it all was.

Is it really, though?

I know parents who strive to set a good example, saying, “We don’t eat salt in this house” or “We don’t drink alcohol in this house” and I’m sure their children benefit from having such great role models.

Meanwhile, my kids get stuck with a mum who drinks beer and wine and coffee and uses too much salt. But, hey, I also drive. Because I’m a grown-up.

I missed the frickin’ memo about not being allowed to tell your kids they’re too young.

 

My Sunday thoughts in 200 words or less.