Worth a Shot

Yesterday I pulled a rune for the first time in a long while. Ansuz, the first of the thirteen cycle runes of self-awakening and self-change. Auspicious. Ansuz says it is timely for me to receive a message from the universe, a message that can be life changing. Perhaps the rune itself?

Ten days until classes start and I am far from ready. Yet I find myself pickling beets and putting up roasted peppers to kick off this year’s serious canning. Tomatoes are slow because of the cool nights this summer, and they and my infantile squash have a long way to go. I’m hopeful the predicted week of hot weather (just in time for my class-free summer days to end) will get things going. So I’m watering in preparation and thinking what a blessing it is not to have the wildfire smoke and drought so far this year. I never realized how much I had to be grateful for before last summer’s awful smoke and fire-terror filled days and nights. I don’t feel ready to get back to the grind of classes. I’m feeling a bit edgy, touching on overwhelmed, but classes wait for no (wo)man, so push on I must.

As I canned, I spent some time thinking about radical transformation and change. The holidays offer the chance to establish new patterns, new traditions, to create new habits just for me. So last night I went to the pond cabin for no reason other than to change. It was musty and stuffy and hot from being closed up unused through this past week of 90-plus days and much longer, but I decided to sleep there and luxuriate in that space, that wonderful wild place.

I’m glad I stayed there, though I didn’t get a wink of sleep. In the end, I dragged a spare mattress out on the screened porch for some fresh air and a bit of a breeze and for the “glamping” aspect. Ha! I was rewarded by a night of sleepless attentiveness to all the animal noises only a screen away and by a late night/early morning visit from the bear. She was standing beside the pond tearing the leaves and branches from the mountain ash, making these low, soft throat vocalizations. Little half growl half purrs. Gentle sounds of self-comfort.

Still, here I am well before 6 a.m. with my coffee and yogurt, shaking the night from my head, and thinking I’ll revise those first chapters of the memoir here in the cabin, away from routine and the demands of the new term. Worth a shot.

Aug. 17, 2016

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