January just is. Is it not?

Life is bitter and sometimes sweet and sometimes both at once, like rain

Dear pals,

I hope you are well, this day. I had a long post written out which seems to have been mysteriously deleted by Substack so the well is deep and unknown again and I can’t for the life of me seem to remember what I had written down. But I’ve been reading lots and raining even more, both inside and out. Truly there has been an abundance of rain and I wish we could throw some of it toward California or Australia to restore some of the balance. I’ve seen and heard frogs and ducks make a song out of the thunder storms clapping across the sky — electricity is oh so very natural. I slipped down a dirt road and broke my nail, phone screen and a finger, but managed to keep my tail bone intact (been there, very ouch). January brings a state of feeling behind even when every pocket of our being wants hibernation, wants peace. And then, the rain. I’ve learnt that the rain loves the afternoons more, but it comes most alive in the night. Then we dream. I’ve learnt not to let them keep me awake.

I feel like we are still too overcome with all that happened last year to get into this one just yet. It’s almost like it’s not 2025 yet but nor is it 2024. Maybe we need this inbetween time to drench ourselves before we can fully step into the ‘new of the new’.

How are you doing, really now? On this January day?

January has always been a funny month, one to just sort of exist in. For me at least, it’s more of a month of waiting and going in (but not too far) than it is one of action and outward expansion. As the world swings drastically towards the growth pains of power, fear and drought, January casts a kaleidoscopic shadow across the Earth. But dwell in it we must

2025 is only beginning to arrive. We don’t have a choice but to allow it. I’ve been thinking a lot more about these opposites, too. Love / hate, peace / war. Earth / air, physical intangible. And how what we really need is a bit of softness, a rebalancing of sorts. And maybe that’s where the Sukha comes in. It’s not transient but unchanging. In the ancient Indian language of Sanskrit, sukha means ‘gentle joy’, ‘sweetness’ ‘bliss’. It finds its opposite in ‘duhka’ — meaning dis-ease, pain, seeking pleasure over long term blessings. Could life be more sukha? Where can we find sweetness?

In Irish the Sanskrit word ‘sukha’ could be interpreted through ‘caomh’ — a sweet gentleness that can be found in people. I think these words are found in all people but because of the ways of the mind, one often clouds the other out. There is ‘sukha’ - content, sweetness, when we experience delight — morning coffee, a positive affirmation, a good nights sleep. What if we could use our words as medicine, more, and spread them into our bodies and the world then too? Could we slow down enough to see again, even through grief and fear? We might not change the state of things in a day but there is a ripple effect to all things, and words are no exception. In fact, the language we use determines the way we live, the way we love. The world seeks these opposites in order to retain balance. The raw elements of fire, water, earth and air adore one another, they simply cannot exist without the other. The sun seeks the rain, the rain is looking for the earth below it, the earth is waiting for the rain, the fire is waiting for the air and the air finds weight in water. We are at a turning point, right now on earth. January is thick with opposites. The rainy season hits the soil in the countries of South, the summer burns at the bottom of the earth, whilst Europe and North America remains in mid-winter. In this stark, uninhabitable space — we dream.

I have read some great books this month too, 5 in fact, which is on the upper end for me (I’m a bit of a lingering reader).

And I wanted to say a few words on each because they in many ways have helped me to remember and survive.