Thursday, February 13, 2020

Passing the Torch

It's not like I'll never write again. It's not like I'm going to stop entertaining you. But a certain apple hasn't fallen far from the tree, so now I have help!

Here's the thing to read today instead of Anne.

Young, hip, and a timely bit of self-help!

Saturday, February 01, 2020

Imbolc 2020

[Enter Queen Brighid the Bright]

Brighid: Anne? Anne! Are you home? My goodness, look at this place! Gamma! Where's Anne? Oh, look at Gamma's cat bowl! It's empty!

Anne: Oh, Goddess! Look at me. It's the first Imbolc on a Saturday that I can remember, and I'm just so low and listless.

Brighid: This is so unlike you, Anne.

Anne: I'm worn to a frazzle, Goddess. It's more than the day-to-day grind. I haven't had my usual vim and vigor since 2016. For all my talk of fighting the good fight, it just gets harder every day. My creativity is shot, my daughters are struggling, my husband is nocturnal. I've lost touch with some people I love. My farm is gone, my youth is gone, and there's nothing ahead but Republicans and corona virus.

Brighid: Dear child, have faith! The winter is turning.

Anne: What winter? We haven't had winter! It has snowed for one hour. It's been warm as March and April since December, which was warm as September. And September was a veritable July.

Brighid: I have noticed this curious change in temperature. It does confuse Me. But in the long, thousands-years history of humankind, the weather has ebbed and flowed. Sometimes it's colder. Sometimes it's warmer. But My light never changes. Always, always in this week the light seeps back into the land. Always, always in these weeks the blackness of the morning gives way to soft gray. Don't pay heed to the warmth, Anne, pay heed to the light.

Anne: A beautiful sentiment, Goddess! I wish I could feel the light. But the darkness seems to reign supreme. Our nation and Your beautiful green land are both under a blight. Here they say "Make America Great Again," and over there they say "Brexit." Both are a curse.

Brighid: And yet the light returns. As it did in the days of yore. You must keep the faith. Light will shine into this mess. Take My word for it.

Anne: Oh, Goddess. How could I not take your word? You're a Goddess. And a smart one. Beautiful, too. No wonder you've inspired so much poetry and art!

Brighid: Flattery is one thing. Tea and muffins are another. Look at this nice cream and butter I brought!

Anne: Well, I do have some muffins ... but they're low-calorie bran.

Brighid: We'll make do, Anne. Fresh butter makes the most ridiculous muffin taste good.

Anne: Hold that optimistic thought, Goddess. I'll warm up the muffins.

Brighid: And fill Gamma's bowl. He looks hungry!