Back to the well

Today heralds a full lunar eclipse, and the buzz everywhere is that we are in a time of great energetic intensity and transformation. I am using the gift of this cosmic influx to power me back to this page, where I have longed to be. It’s been over three months since I posted last.  Since January tenth I have travelled through a mash-up of major life transitions and events, including selling our old home, packing and moving, unpacking and settling, becoming official residents of a different state, finishing my master’s degree, travelling to New Zealand and back and, along with my husband, laying the groundwork to open a new wellness practice. Phew.

welldrill1

   Funny, isn’t it, how outside events can mirror inner transformations? This week we had a new well drilled on our property. The process was a huge success: they hit a terrific vein of water, a best possible outcome. It pretty much “ruined” our lawn, but that’s OK. The new well is the first part of a bigger project of major site work we are beginning. Because of necessary shoring up of an eroding embankment behind our house, we have to rework much of the landscape to add stability and make it more usable. I intend to transform all the old neglected lawn and unkempt surroundings into gardens and a woodland path. I am looking forward to sharing some of this transformation as it progresses. Here is the first photo showing the new wellhead, surrounded by the spewed stone dust, and placed pretty much smack in the middle of what was our miserable yard.

wellhead

If things go as we hope, soon some heavy equipment will be rolling in and pretty much destroying what is there now in preparation for the new. It opens up such possibilities– new stability, new foundations, and new paths to tread — and for these I am grateful.

January sun storm

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I always thought that a tough winter could be more easily endured if we were allowed to hibernate. The problem is we humans still insist on carrying on; we must drive everywhere at all costs, tread those ice-covered walkways, keep everything open, and keep up our production.

Our first winter in Maine has become an initiation. I hear this weather is severe and unusual for even this rugged state, so now I get the opportunity to find out how I can manage this. I am a person who hates being cold, and I generally try to avoid all discomfort.

Maybe it’s not so much about the cold, but the darkness. This is the time of year when we are at the bottom of the pit of winter.  If winter is a place we descend into, then we are just rounding the lowest point. The next few weeks will be the turn-around. Soon the days will contain a sliver of extended daylight. Technically, they already are getting ever-so-slightly longer. I noticed it last night as there was a tinge of lingering red light in the west after 5:00pm.

There is something about the clarity and the purity of the January sun when it comes out and blesses us. Yesterday morning I drove to the post office and saw the ice forming in the sound. In the afternoon I wanted to get more photos of the salty ice so I drove out to the end of the island, but the raw January sun, low and unrelentingly brilliant, made it almost impossible to shoot photos. Instead I stood there for a few moments and absorbed some pure solar energy. Later, on the evening news, I heard we were receiving the disturbance from some intense sunstorm activity; we might see the northern lights if we tried. I thought about it; at 10:00 pm Bill and I discussed driving to a point of land where we could see the northern sky. But I didn’t want to venture out into the icy cold; it was time to sleep. Besides, I had already had my blast of pure January sun.

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