Solstice Letter to Dali

Dear Dali,

Last night was the Solstice.

I feel the weight of Winter upon me as I grasp for every beam of light I can store in this sad soul of mine. I gathered with the most lovely goddesses under the evening stars, we growled at the darkness daring it to steal our power. We built a bonfire to burn all that no longer serves us and embrace all that we desire to manifest in the coming year. Words often escape me when I am struck with such awe and beauty. My heart swells and I am speechless. It's hard to describe the joys I experience, why is that? The sadness and loneliness always leave a fever on my lips that I must break before I am burned alive. Why can't I speak of all the joy? We used the wild sage that we harvested together in Santa Rosa. Smudging each of us clockwise like spinning centers trying to come clean. I cast what was left into the fire and it covered us with the most beautiful blanket of smoke, offering embers to the night sky that danced like fireflies on a Summer evening. You were with me in that moment in time, when my soul felt weightless and free. I read Mary Oliver tonight and wanted to share her words with you:

“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
 don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty 
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
 to be. We are not wise, and not very often
 kind. And much can never be redeemed. 
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
 is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
 

something happens better than all the riches
 or power in the world. It could be anything,
 but very likely you notice it in the instant
 when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
 case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
 of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.”

I plan to feast on Joy whenever possible, I hope you'll join me. 

Love Always,

Gala

~Amber Comber (Solstice 2014)