Where I live we are in the season of seed bags, mason jars, and cauldrons. Out here the trees sing in breath-taking colour, writing colour on the fabric of the world and across the eyes, neural nets and fast-beating hearts of every being who witnesses them. As if to burn a memory of colour in us before we slip into the monochromatic months of snow. This time sings: we are here, we are here, remember us, we never disappear. To really listen to the stories of this season I feel like I need to wrench my eyes off the heroes’ journey and broaden my perspective. One of my most-trusted guides for that trick of looking otherwise is queer, polyvocal, interdisciplinary, interspecies philosopher of consciousness, Donna Haraway.
In Staying with the Trouble, she quotes Starhawk,
“Keen and mourn For the dismembering of the world.”
In her speculative fiction, Donna Haraway imagines that we sing Starhawk, to “bring into ongoing presence, through active memory, the lost life-ways.”
Blessed Fucking Be.