Coronavirus Days--Week 40

Tonight is the Great Conjunction, and like many, I will turn my eyes upward just after sunset, seeking a bit of magic, hoping that on this day of the winter solstice, darkness will indeed begin to let wisps of light in, ever so slowly. And for tonight, I will watch with Nan and two friends, masked in the light that cuts through the dark skies, noting that this planetary meeting, this close passing of Saturn and Jupiter, does not happen often, and noting that even in these pandemic times of great challenges, we still need to rest our eyes on the possibilities and wish beyond our own realities. I will make wishes and wishes, staring in wonder at that I am fortunate enough to look upon.

Now that I am somewhat settled into break, even if the span of days holds so much space without my ability to have my normal winter break play/travel/hanging with friends, I find myself wondering about the quickness of time passing even when nothingness seems to be the call of the day. I'm still baking, cooking, amusing myself with plenty of good eats. I'm still walking around the neighborhood, careful on the icy sidewalks that don't fully melt, noting that not much has changed, looking for some different observations on my daily ambles. I'm still deep in the certainty of uncertainty.

Much of my time over these unscheduled days will be spent with words, lingering in books of my own choosing, time away from the computer zoom world that seems to take over the semester. My bookshelves are filled with many books on my long to read pile, so last week, I randomly grabbed a pile of mostly poetry and nonfiction to enjoy, since I also read on my iPad, and lately the ebooks from the library tend to be fiction. Mornings are spent reading fiction in bed with coffee, and then later in the day, I venture into other reading culled from this pile.

Since my mind has been on words, I will leave you with Wendell Berry's "To Know the Dark," fitting for the day:
To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sign,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.