Today I honor tears.  I am a weeper, and use these tools often.  Sometimes they come up understandably, sometimes not. Sometimes a major public event will open my heart with a waterfall of salt water, allowing deep mystifying sadness to be released.

The devastation of Oso’s mudslide clearly is sad.  We all have our internal Oso.  When the life we knew suddenly disappears under piles of now garbage, tears and debris.  Wreckage that once were our life’s work to build.  Gone in a few minutes.  Sometimes with eroding hillsides of expectations, sometimes with a simple word “no.”

In any case, those of us still breathing are called to keep on breathing, walking, deciding what to wear, how to move in the molasses mud of illogical life, deep grief and puzzling feelings.

I hold my Goddess close today, I talk to the forest, I cry.  And as I am called, I keep writing these words along the Way.