It is Monday, bonus day of this block of 3, the hidden fruit, the prize. Equinox, end of the sun's first quarter, day of balance between short and long. Oh, we are climbing up out of the underworld and we are half way there. Half way. 

Eurydice has struggled to see and be seen and has won and so is lost. Orpheus crosses the threshold here perhaps, empty handed, consigned to a life of faith in the bright light of day where nothing of his love can be seen except in the secret heart of the music that is the love of her running through him, regardless.

The mystery and knowing. The separate in the whole.

I dedicate this day to coalescing. To vision and clarity and faith in the mystery that sustains me.