I have not yet had enough of the long deep-dark nights; there is something very nourishing about them. I have sometimes gone upstairs earlier, where Mazal the cat usually joins me, first climbing into my lap and sprawling over the journal in which I am trying to write, or on the book I am trying to read. After about ten minutes, she shifts to a nearby chaise or to the bed, where she warms the area where my feet will go.
Bracha, meanwhile, who was throwing up several times a day and so skinny her ribs showed, has been gettting better! She spends a lot of time on the blanket laid over the heating pad on low, or next to it in her basket. She is eating the very soft food I have begun feeding them, and the small ball of raw ground meat that I add to each dish; and she is behaving more like a healthy cat! She complains, and asks me to turn the faucet on low so she can drink running water, and carefully walks over the laptop keyboard on her way to her blanket or basket.
I am feeling the pull inward myself, as the light contracts before beginning to expand again.
It is a feeling-without-words, an impulse towards solitude and taking-stock.
At the same time, my hands want to be busy.
So I bought the supplies today for knitting two Pink Pussycat Hats for women I know who are going to the Women's March in DC. (For the interested: http://www.redstate.com/jimjamitis/2016/12/06/thousands-women-wear-pink-pussycat-hats-protest-trumps...)
It is a perfect activity for keeping me skillfully busy while focusing my mind; it's a kind of prayer of the hands.
It is that deep time of winter when we celebrate miracles: one miracle of birth; another miracle of victory of sorts. I move that we invoke/that we insist in our prayers this season that we be granted whatever miracles will be necessary for the survival and the thrival of our Earth and its healing, of our society, of our relations with Others, whoever "they" may be. (Absolutely everyone---even folks who voted differently from us.)
Blessings of deepening.