We have officially passed over, through the darkest day of the year like a subtle iron gate.
I want to take a bath in coffee, or come down with a reason, unpainful, to stay in bed all day.
But then I go outside, just for a little while, and this entire body of knowledge comes back to me. Body like body, body like having a body. A whole other other of knowledge. Like identifying pines or hobblebush or the way snow sticks to a power line or lichen as symbiotic relationships between algae and fungus. And like Robert Frost and his extensive apple orchards, kinds of saying and ways of moving in language. Then my friends bring their bodies to bear and the whole thing grows: conversation and movement and light. We race each other up snow hills and climb on abandoned structures.
# Active Winter Cult.