rain

The Imbolic

| betweenstops

Today is the kind of day when you don’t want to leave home. It is a cold day and the sun is not shining. It is raining lightly all day long. It’s a perfect day to stay inside, work at my desk and look out the window to my lovely garden, soaked in the grayness of winter time.

Today is the imbolic, otherwise known as Saint Bridgid’s day. It is the day between the winter solstice, and the spring equinox. The pagans had a goddess for it, but she got translated to a saint in the fifth century, and somewhere along the line, it became groundhog’s day in the United States.

It’s an in between day. A day of question: is it going to be more winter or is springtime starting? Curious that the movie had the day repeating itself ad infinitum stopping time.

Generally, Imbolic is considered positive and a move towards the light from the dark. We saw that a bit in the news today. Hostages were released, and contrary to the popular line, the revolution is being televised. People are looking at large screens in big squares, waiting for their person to show up and be freed.

In Germany people showed up in mass to voice their disapproval of Elon Musk and all that he stands for. That’s a step towards the light. Those people have seen this shit go down before.

Meanwhile on the border between the United States and Mexico there are planks of wood long enough to go through spaces in the fence. A Mexican child can sit on one end.

The US kid is on the other end. They can play seesaw on the wooden plank despite the wall between them. When one is up, the other is down. When the other is up, the one is down and so forth, following rules of harmony and balance.

The rain continues to wash down. I am getting up from my desk to play my guitar. Even though I can’t play it well and certainly never in public, I find it soothing. It is an inbetween activity. 

I play some Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan, now more famous than ever, is simultaneously 83 and 21 in our consciousness.

“I’ll let you be in my dream, if I can be in yours.”

Murder in the Rain

| betweenstops

In choosing the title, it was either the word “murder” or the word “rain” to be put first. In this world of social media, we are always considering what has more the draw. So I chose “murder”. No judgement there. Full disclosure, I’d probably prefer to read or watch a mystery over any other genre (feeling appropriately guilty about that and all).

On with the story. Because of the rain, this morning I arrive at my kitchen counter to find hundreds (at least) of ants scurrying around the honey jar. it is closed (thank god for something) but they are all over it. Without thinking, I pick up the jar and wash it off, killing a few score ants in the process. I open the honey and am glad to find none inside. I do all this automatically because my mind’s focus is on one one thing: my coveted morning black tea.

Afterwards, I witness the tiny debris of death in the sink. I also notice the hundreds (at least) of ants still on my counter now searching for something that is no longer there.

i watch them as they communicate to each other, butting heads for a scond and moving on, the way they do. I think about how they are sentient beings with mothers and children. how they work so well together. Without a queen bee, they seem to be one for all and all for one. I am moved by their ability to cooperate far better than humans. I remember how they can carry six (is it six?) times their weight.

As there is nothing left for them to be there for, I decide to wait it out. I don’t kill anymore. The unthinking mass murder moment is over. I am thinking since there is no more honey, the ants will eventually leave. Over the next couple hours as I go in and out of the kitchen I check in with the group. The ants that are all in a tight thick circle around where the honey was, I thought were dead as they were unmoving for hours but later in the day I came by and they were gone. By the end of the night they were all gone.

Drawing by Dana Zed, pencil and watercolor

I had the great good fortune to have a spiritual teacher for 34 years. He died suddenly. We didn’t know he was ill. A few weeks before he died he said if he were beyond alone in empty starkness and the only other being around was an ant, he would try his very hardest to communicate with that ant. It was sort of a crazy thing to say but I liked it and I always remembered it.

It’s a rather impossible situation like one hand clapping. I don’t know how one communicates to an ant but I do know that you don’t have to kill them. There’s always another way.