Oya has paid us a visit and like many of the forms that Heavenly Mother takes, this visit does not go unoticed. Stripping away the dead wood and branches of our lives she is clearing Mendocino county out today and is expected to stick around through the weekend to put things in the order she likes.
So put down what you were doing and turn off those silly electrical gadgets, she doesn't like those buzzing things. Sit out an extra plate of food, make up a warm bed and let her do her thing. Oh, and don't try to "save" your
stuff, she hates that. The firmer you stand the crisper the sound you make when you break. "The tree that bends in the storm is the one that will survive" come the words of the women's bible which is written on the face of our earth and in the stars of our sky in a language anyone can read.
Rain is poring down upon us like a river from heaven. The steams and creeks are overflowing. The streets are turning into raging white water rapids. People are stranded, roads are closed, thousands and thousands of our Mendocino county brothers and sisters are without power, we are some of the lucky few - our lights are still on for now.
The local stores have been radid, ATM machines are down - cash only policies leave some without means to even attempt to get supplies. The winds blow fierce outside, sounding like the cries and moans of the
band sidhe. I tried to sleep last night while the rain gushed down, beating like an enormous drum outside our bedroom. We awoke to the sight of madrone trees being twisted and wretched by the winds.
One friend barely made it to her home this morning, the water was half way up the door to her car. Another friend of ours is staring out her apartment window at a community pool ready to overflow any minute. A family down in town waits as their back yard floods, the water levels drop, and then it floods again. The post office has stopped most service and is only handing out packages in town to those who can make it.
Jack Frost is riding down this way tonight and the rain will turn to snow by tomorrow says the lady on the radio and we expect to see an icy blanket covering the forest tomorrow.
And we'll be here, under wool and corn silk blankets - reading, knitting, telling stories and waiting it out, looking forward to the fresh day after Oya leaves town.
Much respect.
