Everything is a foregone conclusion you just haven’t realized yet. Assuming a multiverse. Assuming all outcomes.

All things feel like a premonition about a memory. I always knew I’d paint this. But I didn’t know that until I painted it.

The weight and weightlessness, both, of this scenario, render me generally paralyzed.

There was a lot of science flying around to explain it. But I’ll tell you the real reason, the true cause of the solar eclipse:

“Calm down a moment, love.” Is what the cool, watery moon said to the sun who was spitting fire. “You’re in one of your moods.”

In all its combustion, the masculine power of the golden star was getting a bit too worked up. Aggression was kicking hard and she was worried; she could see it culminating in the humans’ behavior.

The lunar feminine decided to give their child Earth a pause from all the heat, hoping to provide a breath of focus and awe to the little world that was ready to tear itself apart.

Having learned that the feminine sometimes has to be clever to be heard over the booming masculine, she decided to show up in spectacular fashion during the day for a brief scene-stealing cameo.

Using her body to shade the planet and quiet the fire, she took the opportunity to whisper to the globe’s children:

“Quiet now, darlings. Listen.

It is time to rebalance yourselves before your planet dies, before your love dies.

Listen more than you speak. Take care of your children.

Take care of your home, and each other.

Sun and I are here for you.

But you’ve spent too much time in your heat.

You must spend more time in your heart.”

She could see a hopeful shift taking place. She knew she must be timely in her guidance, and needed their immediate attention. So she used one of the most effective tricks she reserved for dire times: showing up during his performance and dramatically posing in front of the sun. A queen stepping into the spotlight to deliver a message with language bigger than words.

And that is the science behind the solar eclipse.

If you wish to picture the thing I speak of, look no further than people in state of emergency. While ideologies wage warfare, and nations cling to defense plans, people as individuals open their homes, offer food, become rescuers, embrace each other. The high-level conflict has no bearing upon the neighbor’s heart. Political disaffection may estrange the commonwealth, but it need not divide the community.

We may be enveloped in conflict, fear, and hate, but we are armed with the innate ability to right the ship. We are grown from the same place. We are of the same water. Each of us carries the answer within our internal light: our individual ability to choose love over fear. Though it is a practice and a battle.

You will lose faith in humanity. But don’t ever lose faith in people.

We are intertwined always. These bodies and boundaries are only as disuniting as we allow them to be.

Eyes and hearts open.

Receptivity hardly qualifies as a redeeming human quality on paper. It will be valued someday, I hope. Once we’ve invested as much to our internal evolution as we do our external, perhaps. I think that’s what these transmissions are about. A plane where higher consciousness reigns is eager to send us dispatch proclaiming its plausibility. But I’m not even sure what to do with this information. So i’ll just keep transmitting. Quietly sailing out into the black, whispering backward to Earth.

ink on paper (top), artist on earth (middle), white charcoal on black paper (bottom)

Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Artwork and millinery by The Bone Horse

Ever incomplete. My changeling child always in utero, delivered to me from some more supernatural source in exchange for a portion of my humanness. An inward spring that moves the vessel.

The lines between my body, my art, my home, my appearance, and my words should become, according to my wishes, absent.

I have eclipsed myself. I am more than the human I was.

We are required by cycle and alignment to transit our own umbra. Head turned in shame of shadow self, only to unveil more absolute and lucent than before.

[red pencil on black cardstock – drawn at moon in umbra]

Hemingway said, “There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.”

This night, we watched a full, harvest moon eclipse. A supermoon as well, in perigee. This super blood moon eclipse last occured 33 years ago.

At present, I am 33 years of age.

At present, I have eclipsed all former selves.

A practice of chest expansion, shoulder blades pushing together, stretching fascia between ribs, pulls forward and up the heart.

[graphite on cardstock – drawn at moon in penumbra]

There is a groaning release of pain and a slow gasping in of abundance.

The term “eclipse” comes from the Greek ékleipsis: “the abandonment”, “the downfall”, quite literally to “forsake” or fail to appear.

I have seen the crumbling of my old structures. The downfall.

And in our own death, is our own birth.