If you’re in the mood for playing, fill out a card for my Truth or Dare game, and then please, read on…

Happy Solstice my Friends,

Today is the shortest day, the Winter’s begin, yet we’re deep in cold times already. Now begins the lengthening of days. Our world rebirths hard and grows millimeter by millimeter until the Sun, high in its sky, origin of our dancing feet comes slowly unwound again. Mid-summer was that time, and today we are bottoming.

A good reminder I think, that we cycle.

I’m out of focus, and it’s right to be.

I’ve been dreaming lately, every night. Of magic and blood, of old friends coming back to me, and symbols I’ve not understood become clear. I’ve dreamed about the things I’m afraid of and the things I think I want. The dark has been in my bones for months; I’m curious and wanting to see the shifting of my desires, like the changing of season, lean this way instead of that.

I’ve been creating rituals daily: Push-ups, stretching, floss, toothbrushing, shower, practices, meditation, clear the desk and let my hands move over the ingredients in my cabinet. Sage, san paulo, feathers of various variety, a squirrel tail, horn, my bowl, my blood, a piece of wood, paper and pen, string, pouches, art pieces, rocks, insects, seeds, and flowers. They are the gatherings of my meditations on trails, in shops, from gifts, or because they reminded me of a moment and I picked them up. Candles and wax on my skin. Fire. Moon water. Breathing. Animal smells. Releasing ideas. Letting new ones come.

Today I let myself go for a moment, it was what I needed to do. I come to this writing full-up with emotion, tired mind behind aching eyes, heavy fingers, yet the desire specifically to write to you.

You sustain me, Reader. I receive thanks from friends, from fans, and other artists. Each letter like a cool palm against my back so soothing to the hideous animals rocking and screaming inside. Moments I fear I will die are calmed. This world of money instead of touch. My talents are appreciated but won’t pay the rent. This struggle I’ve played through, over and over my whole damn life. Sometimes the cycles are short, sometimes put off for a time, but always the highs and the lows cycle back.

• What value are the pictures people create that give you knowledge?
• The words that move you?
• The musical notes which wear you out on the dancefloor?
• The people playing on a stage who have your breath?

All these are feelings you feel because someone reached into their own heart — a heart so much like yours — and told you like it is deep inside… The honesty of art.

We need more of that today. I know it, you know it, nothing more to say.

Fear though. How do we divorce from the seductive and silencing distress of fear? A polarizing spell that keeps us separated and safe from all those “others”… How do we open then, laugh at ourselves unabashed, listen artfully, strip naked for one another?

I naked quite a bit.

There are people who value it, people who shy away, those who marvel at the mechanics of how it’s done, some who would shame me if I had any shame — but that’s the secret of being naked: there can be no shame in what you are. Born naked. Die naked. In between fuck and stare at the sky naked when you can. Feel your skin in the dirt, your heart beat against the earth, breath on the wind, water from all your moist parts, and heated flames moving you about. How quickly we forget the days of rotting under soil, our ash scattered, what it was like feeding birds and beasts and eventually the bees until we became nothing again. Broken down. Until we became now; who we are; what we be. I believe in our cycle, trapped in a forever world, energy applied as it is needed… This world now is in critical need.

Listen to our bloodstreams.

Time to stop.

Dream.

To find ourselves, we have to breathe.

Both comfort and pain are our birthrights. We learn from each direction.

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

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~Thank you.