December 20, 2018: On the Brink of Winter
It's still four hours before the sun rises here in the Sonoran Desert. I have a whirl of music and work and words and ideas floating through my head. The surge of energy is great tonight, like an ocean tide rolling in upon a frozen river, cracking the ice, and flowing through.
The winter solstice is a day away. The "long night" full moon two days away. And tonight, the earth is in an "unexpected solar wind" according to spaceweather.com, blowing around 600 km per second. That means we're being inundated with solar energy. I can only imagine that my old stomping ground "home" in Alaska must be lit up with those awe-inspiring auroras. They ignited my soul when I lived there, moving with such grace, like a giant curtain from heaven, peacefully undulating brilliant hues of green and pink and red just above the land. I could watch them for hours - and the night skies too. The big dipper loomed so brightly over the snowy tundra.
And here in the desert, hunter Orion lights up our winter sky hanging over the dark silhouettes of saguaros and mountains.
The ironic thing is, without the cycle of dark, we wouldn't see the mysteries of the heavens as clearly. During the day, the amazing natural wonder of this planet we live on is evident - the blue skies, fields and mountains, oceans and islands, cozy grey days, clouds of many shades, fiery sunsets and sunrises. But when the sunlight fades, we see beyond the immediate...
We can see the dance of our planet through the heavens - the cycles of the moon and stars and constellations - all moving together in unity.