that isn’t a bonfire
Still trying to understand what’s going on with the world. Zines are good for that. Conversations with Davi are good for that. Laying in the sun naked in the grass is good for that. Fires at night are good for that. Hiking is good for that. Sitting still is good for that.
I’m leaving Olympia (daviforestolgacheshiretonyjulianne) soon, off to missourri (pax) and a few days later scooting over to the east coast (chadrachaelizziezoemoorekitties). I feel deflated, a full sort of empty. Displaced? It’s summer soltice tomorrow, the longest day of the year, and I want to run away to something, but I’m not sure what or where to run to. Everything I want seems impossibly far away – I already have it. Having things seems so trite. Such a fucking passive, dead interaction.
In the winter the solstice is the shortest day of the year and that feels suffocating. Not enough time to do anything but sleep, blink your eyes in the cool sunlight, and sleep again. In the summer the solstice is larger than all of human existence. Everything I know, everyone I care for, it all seems tiny to me, minimized and stale. How could anything be as powerful or large as the sun, as dynamic as the sky?
… I might be turning into a primitivist. She writes on her laptop.
What sort of ritual is right for the solstice? I think I want to be sober. I’m way into being sober lately. There’s just so much pleasure to get from being alive and it takes up all of my attention opening myself to it, why would I want to be high or altered and ignoring even more of it? I mean, during the best trips you can be open to much more of it, or at least different parts of it. But there’s no guarantee and if I keep working on my capacity for doing that while I’m sober I’ll just better and better at it my entire life. Maybe.
Maybe planning something big is in order for the longest day. Something that honors long commitments. A picnic.
Tomorrow I’m packing.
