MW Rx. There's A Rugged Road, But You Won't Be Fooled

This week we grip a thin thread through the smog following spirals and unicorns.

Risa begins the prescription with a personal history project. If it's possible (as Risa's mom suggests) that our mindbody re-aches with buried memories when their season circles around again, then the homework is to get to know our own rhythms. Map your life story against a spiral of the seasons of the year. What are the main events in your past - traumatic or triumphant - that haunt you, and when did they happen? When that season comes again, is it possible to honour that ancestor that is you?

Judee Sill circles around for Risa, singing love and salvation, even if it's just the salvation of a stretch of calm in a tortured night.

Roll on, roll on, roll on
Night birds are flyin'
Come on, the light is gone
Hope's slowly dyin'
Tell me how you come ridin' through
Blindly faithful but followin' none
On the long & lonely road to kingdom come

When the sun goes down at the right time
She comes windin' through the purple haze
Just a feather's touch in the night time
But it'll color all my weary days

Shinin' finer than this earthly sun
On the ragged rugged road to kingdom come

Add to this Judee Sill singing The Kiss like the teacher was and always will be. And then Landslide — both the Fleetwood Mac Stevie Nicks magic version and also (with love to the gloriously powerful and also totally dumbass 90s teens we once were) the Smashing Pumpkins version. Can you see reflections of yourself at other times, brought to you by the great landslides of your life? Send them love from all of us.

Amy's prescription also aims this week at the darkest hours of the night, the darkest nights of our souls. She comes with her arms full of songs for you (she narrow it down to 3) by another huge spirit who came to Earth long enough to give us these transcendent songs. Marc Bolan subverted musical genres and gender norms "into fantastical new shapes" to give us songs that remind us we are magic, even if, like The Last Unicorn, not everyone can see us.

We are Cosmic Dancers. Our cells, our planet, our galaxy is dancing even when we feel sunk like a stone.

I danced myself right out the womb
Is it strange to dance so soon
I danced myself right out the womb

We are Born to be Unicorns "Robed head of ferns / Cat child tutored by the learned." And we are, all of us, Children of The Revolution. And you won't fucking fool us.

No, you won't fool the children of the revolution.