While it is a myth that crickets rub their legs together in order to chirp, it is very much true that I enjoy the feeling of my shaved legs rubbing together on a bed as I type. Currently, I am casually watching the clock in order to know when to get dressed and ready to be out the door for reservations.
I have been reading a lot lately in between everything else of life. Something beautiful and strange that I came across recently is the fact that the word disaster comes from roots (Italian and Latin) that end up translating into "bad star" (dis- meaning bad or against, aster or astrum meaning star). Poets later started interpreting disaster as "separated from the stars", implying more of a separation from the cosmos, nature, or from one another.
Separation from one another. Disaster, indeed.
My legs are smooth and the clock's hands are turning.
May we all be connected to the stars within us and each other- tonight and as the cosmos continues to unfurl around us.
be well; be loved,
k.
(title taken from Jets to Brazil. It feels good in one's mouth to say out loud and because it fits, thematically.)
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