Water Is Rising:Dreaming the Renewal of the Sacred Hoop

Today was bleak and windy, an almost archetypal November day in Vermont. Missing only was the cold; it has been absent for much of the Autumn. What little light penetrated the thick clouds appeared only over the  lake. Light showers of rain fell, and people scudded by the cafe where I ate lunch with a friend, their coats or umbrellas over their heads. The cat went out only briefly. Night came early. Continue reading