Last night we celebrated the end of my FOURTH year in the obelisk.

Today, my head is crossed and quartered call it a head-ache.  Too much elder-flower wine.  Sambucas Canadensis have you tried it?  It’s one of the flowers the black swan brings and a batch I began when I first moved here was uncorked yesterday.

I have a head-ache, today, which is Imbolc, the cross-quarter day.  Imbolc means:  we’re half-way to the equinox!

Is it a coincidence that I moved into the obelisk on a cross-quarter day?

Yes.  It was only a coincedence that I moved into the obelisk half way between solstice and equinox.

But is the coincidence  meaningless?

I decide it is not meaningless.  I thank my inside-self who was, it seems, attuned to the turning earth, though conscious odalisque had no idea.  I have grown wiser in four years and when things coincide, choose to honor them.

It was right about now, half-way between the longest night  and some kind of light/dark balance, that I got the bright idea to move into an obsidian tower.  I saw it, as I stood on the shore, far across the salt-marsh.

My pagan ancestors celebrated with Imbolc the maiden.  So do I, sequestered here in black grounded stone, whole unto myself.

Here is one of my favorite scrapbook portraits EVER, of me celebrating my inner maiden:This new year, rather than list my favorite posts of the past (I like this one and this one and this dream song  but Owl complained that I didn’t make enough scrapbook pages here.) I thought I’d stick in some of the scrapbook pages I never finished.  Something to look forward to in the coming year?  Will I manage to contextualize and complete them?