A friend of mine is cross-stitching “Nevertheless, She Persisted” for me (note to self: new craft to learn!) and I’m going to put it on a pillow and lean on that pillow and therefore symbolically lean on all the persistent women that have served the rest of us so well.Read More
Merry Imbolc, everyone. It’s a day to peer out from the darkness of winter, searching for crocuses and daffodils and other signs of the coming spring.
Honestly, in a lot of ways, it doesn’t feel like spring is on its way. It feels instead like we’ve entered eternal winter (or at least a 4-year winter). So when I got up this morning, the idea of celebrating Imbolc felt a little fake, a little bit like a waste of time.
But as I’ve been sitting with that feeling, it occurs to me that Imbolc falls on February 1 for a reason. Spring is totally not here yet, people. In fact, for me, February has traditionally been The Worst Month of the year, as by this point I’ve hit the peak of my Seasonal Affective Disorder.
Imbolc isn’t about being past the darkness, it’s about looking through it to the other side. Imbolc is about cleaning your house and doing the work of getting ready for spring. So, this year, I’m taking Imbolc as a Call to Action, a time to get to work, and not to be lost to despair.
We will get through this.
And so, today, Maile and I will make a Brighid’s cross (she’ll love that!) and maybe go to sleep with some amethysts under our pillows. I’m not quite sure I’m up for the hair-on-fire dangers of a crown of candles, but I’ll cook a hearty meal, and we’ll eat by candlelight.Read More
I’m just going to talk about one more moment in the Women’s March, and then I’ll be done, I promise.
This moment actually happened before the March, on the drive up. We paused at a rest area on the Delaware border, where apparently everyone decided to pause (or maybe all the rest areas were like that. Probably). I looked longingly at the line for coffee (remember, I’d been up since 4am) but it was far too long. The line for the women’s restroom snaked in circles around the building.
We had ten minutes before our bus would depart. So we decided that, today of all days, we would do what we had always longed to do–we would go pee in the men’s room.
We weren’t the only ones who had that idea. There was a line for the men’s room, too–and it was made up of one guy and about thirty women. That guy stood there patiently, but all the women were grinning. We’d never been more excited to pee in our entire lives.Read More