Winter solstice henna application

On this solstice, with its rainbows and windstorms, power outtages and the long, dark, damp morning, I felt tucked quite literally into the deepest part of the earth. (I do live in a basement, but that isn't what I mean.) I woke before 6 am, in order to be awake for the actual solstice at 6:11, and couldn't help envisioning myself as a bulb of sorts, readying as placidly as possible for whatever comes next.

I've been thinking about the solstice of 2012 for over six years, ever since encountering Daniel Pinchbeck's 2012: The Return of Quetzalcoatl, in which he writes the following:
Perhaps undertaking the quest for prophetic knowledge, in itself, causes reality to shiver and shift, as new possibilities open like the petals of an extravagant, multidimensional flower.
As a species, we've long invested our powers of "prophetic knowledge" in plants. We trust that as we dig in compost or plant a seed or check the soil's moisture or watch the skies, we also guarantee the continuation of patterns we trust and rely upon. I know many of you will agree when I say that folks in the global North have generally divorced themselves from these patterns in recent history, and that many of our fears and our tragedies stem (yes, that is a pun) from the wound of that separation. That the patterns themselves have become less trustworthy is certainly salt in the wound, but I believe at base that we are an adaptable people.

. . . there's so much to write about this, but I'll rein it in and affirm my intention to remain attuned to Pinchbeck's "multidimensional flower" as it unfurls, and my excitement that so many individuals in my life are doing the same, in a multitude of ways.