Letter two: Attuning our Attention to the (Im)Material ~
Winter days feel most material to me. The edges of things sharp and crisp, but also interrupted, as the light, like curtains of gauze, breathe the world into and out of focus.
Winter light is indirect, fanned, eclipsing our vision as it approaches us sideways, making the world at once tactile and diaphanous. We must adjust our seeing.
As I walk, I'm inclined to lower my gaze. The way I might if I were in prayer or about to begin a ceremony. I walk around in this way, already in a posture of contemplation, through blankets of light interleaved with long, dense shadows. I walk through the weave.
Each season has its own intelligence. And a part of winter's seems to be this gift of sight: to be able to see the material and immaterial worlds at once. To look at but also through a thing so that we might better see ourselves. This is winter's reattunement.
And so I share some of my winter companions for attunement to the seen and unseen, the here and elsewhere, at once.
. . .
Walking Rituals ~
Wandering: Set out to walk without a destination in mind, in reverence to the journey itself, following the invisible compass of desire and your senses.