from solstice to a new year
Kind of a fragile moment -- the winter "season" has exploded, and lies just behind, ghastly and spent in a flourish of clicking lights and torn wrapping paper. The new year lies just ahead, but is not yet extant.
I found this bit of words from Rubedo to be worthy of meditation as we hurtle forward in the now. (Thanks for the tip.)
De Natura Rerum
I was thinking about Anne Ancelin Schützenberger and her work with ‘the ancestor syndrome’, how in families there are often correlated dates on which people die in each generation (or get married or become ill or whatever); she uncovers traumas extant in the contemporary French and stems these wounds directly from the 1789 Revolution and subsequent Terror. Makes Tony Blair’s (old piano-grin himself) recent whispered not-quite-sorry about slavery tinkle the ivories of lip service more clearly, doesn’t it? The basic naked principle here, as Freud taught us, is the return of the repressed, or perhaps, dressed in velvet, the return of the unremembered – it matters not. As Adler points out we’re into the ice-sheet of lies, now melting in the frosty mandala of eco-collapse – and remember, the environment doesn’t begin where your skin meets the atmosphere, it interpenetrates your bios, your genus, your history and memory too – inside and out are of one taste.