I am roused awake by the impatient meows and trills of Brigit and Gracie reminding me about their breakfast schedule. In fact, if I lack speed, I know that I only have a matter of minutes before both of them crawl under the covers and commence the first round of ballistic pounce attack. My cats, per usual, know what they want and when they want it.
Once they are munching on food, I stretch, walk into the kitchen, and put the kettle on the hob. A mug of tea, regardless of season, is an important part of my morning rhythm. Today, however, I stop, sensing an energetic shift within and without me. The calm, grounded sanctuary of my small cottagesque apartment has not changed; rather, I have changed, a Summer Solstice soul simmering after the tempering, so to speak.
You see, for years, though I have always, sometimes begrudgingly, respected its lessons, I have not been a fan of Midsummer. But, for the first time in a long while, perhaps since youth, the light’s apex has arrived softly and slowly, similar to the humid mist rising from the ground, and flirting, then merging, with the sun’s rays. Grateful, I bask in the joyful quiet, one with All-That-Is.
A blazing neuron bonfire ignites intense pain, my somatic agony. Very lethargic, I seek underground caverns, where primal power awaits. No compass points the true way, my guides, Second Sight, the Fates from ancient stories. Rusted chains shackle my feet, kith and kin — judges with some unbidden advice. Love for them liberates me, no damsel am I tyrannized by their demons. The primeval labyrinth hails ember and ash; then, I face my soul spirit: A shimmering red dragon, her wise twilight eyes seeing me fully naked. So, I become one with her, forever moving on Intuition sunward.
