Grackle & Sun

Hot Granola

It has begun. The transitional winds are a-blowin’, and I am feeling reflective. I am living in that thin place in the Inbetween that makes me itchy and restless, melancholic and introspective, and ultimately buzzing with awareness of all that is unseen around me. I realized the other day that I measure the years of my life in summers, in how many summers have passed and passed. Here it is passing again. My gut reaction is always to hold on to the long light so tightly, afraid that if I let it go without a fight, I too will slip away like summer does–into the silence of the cicadas, the darkness of the fireflies.


It’s weird to wake up one day and to not recognize yourself–to find that what once was used to protect yourself somehow became a barrier to being yourself.  It’s a bi-product of anxiety and of living too long in the wrong place. And what happens? You disconnect from the Flow, only occasionally aware of how you fit in the Universe. You think your eyes are open, but they are not open. This is what happened. I became this serious thing, impatient. I forgot how to play.


I remember one day last summer, walking through the woods along the creek that runs not far from our house, and it hit me: I had to make it my priority to unclench. That has been my daily practice this year–to gently, but surely, pry open the fist that holds my insides in a deathgrip. Because clenching or unclenching is a choice. How we see and respond to the world is a choice. Old habits die hard. I have to shake off this pall frequently, reminding myself to lighten up.

To open up.

                                                                                                To look up.


In all this reflectiveness, I came to understand something which I think is rather important: the deep necessity of all things whimsical.

Whimsy is my antidote to apathy.

I have learned that when life sends you whimsy, you take it and say thank you. You eat it until your soul-belly is full. You breathe it in until you can feel it in every cell of your being. You wrap it around your shoulders like a cashmere pashmina, because what is whimsical can keep you warm in a cold, cold world of assholes, drudgery, and taxes. It is the delightful and profound pairing of beauty and playfulness that reminds us to be curious, to be lighthearted, and most of all open to seeing a reality that is quite different than what we’ve been told it should be. Because the truth of something is not always in its facts. That is magic.

Whimsy is a gift, and those that bring it into your life should be welcomed with open arms. And if we are very lucky, we can create a little of our own, too, and cast it into the world to share. I am blessed to be surrounded by people who bring beauty to the world and who very patiently remind me to play.

Happy Equinox, All.

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8 thoughts on “Hot Granola

  1. I once wrote a song that began:
    something… something has come open in me
    Like a fist unclenching
    Like a fruit becoming ripe
    in the warmth and the light…

    For me this was about healing at a deep level, beginning to heal, and noticing afterward that this had happened.

    from one appreciator of whimsy to another…

  2. The changing season is hard for me too, especially this one. Unclenching is such a key thought. I decided I didn’t need to make it “right”, I need to be empathic to others but many times its just my opinion and it might not be “right”. So into the dark we move forward, knowing that it will shift to the light.

    Thank you for the very thoughtful post.

  3. Your lovely wings still work, Ms. Gracklebird

  4. Plough Monday on said:

    Grackle of the Passing Summer Sun. Indeed to all you say here. Life is big and small both. Seeing and not-seeing, being and not-being, loving the assholes now and hating them then. Fist or open hand, yes, which will it be.

  5. I love whimsy, too. In fact whimsy is love, right? It brings me into the space of being sensitive and open, vulnerable and still. Thank you for this wonderful post.

  6. Unclench………now there’s a verb to be remembered! Thank you.

  7. Beautifully descriptive, as usual, of your exceptional observations. Whimsy – thank you for recalling that to me. It is how I lived in my childhood when I didn’t know it was whimsical. Magic and dreams and wonder and extraordinary beauty in the most ordinary of things. I’ve been working at restoring whimsy to my life, as well. :)

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