storm faery.

It's a r rainy windy blustery day, dark and dreary and cold.

I'm going to go hiking.

There is part of me that wants to hunker down and keep working on domestic stuff, but I need to get out there. The aniseed mushrooms won't wait forever. And my heart needs mountain air. I can listen to the huberman lab podcast about toxins in household products on the way. I already know a lot, but I might learn something new that could help us stave us diseases and ill health as we age. It's important.

(I am doing two loads of laundry and making chicken and pumpkin chili before I go.)

Grief in a musical tone

I was looking for an old Nick Cave quote about grief, from many many years ago - he lost his teenaged son in an accidental fall from a cliff in 2015 - and instead stumbled upon this stunningly beautiful interview from last year, in the New Yorker, Nick Cave on the Fragility of Life

Turns out that eloquent quote I had remembered led to him creating a whole online community supporting a series of writings/responses to questions on grief called the Red Hand Files.

I love this interview sooooooooooooooooo much. So so so so so so much.

It gets so hard, walking around carrying so much death. So much loss. The way he speaks about it is somehow both acknowledging appropriately the level of devastation, so comforting in its level of understanding, but also offers this hopeful vein that I've not been able to express before, though I have felt it, in different ways, from time to time - the way grief can feel expansive and as if it is deepening the experience of being human in a way that feels necessary and true. The sadness can morph into something more complex and profound than sadness, maybe partly because it is tied up inextricably with love.

I subscribed to The Red Hand Files.

I wish I'd known about this when it started. But I am so glad to find it now.