When the Night Sky Remembered Light

Last week, the northern lights spread across the sky here in New Hampshire... rare, fleeting, absolutely silent, caused by a violent sun storm, 93 million miles away.

I stood alone watching the sky shimmer. It felt like something ancient had stirred and risen... not loud, not dramatic, just… present. Unmistakably alive and impermanent.

Later, I kept thinking about how easily I could’ve missed it. If someone hadn't told me to go outside and look. If I hadn’t been paying attention. If I’d gone to bed early. If the sky had clouded over. The aurora was still there, either way. That felt important - that light can be moving above us whether we see it or not. That what’s sacred isn’t always visible.

This time of year invites that kind of knowing. A different kind of attention... one that trusts what’s unfolding. Even in the dark. Even when nothing seems to be happening.

This, Too is a space where I’ll share what’s moving through my inner and outer life, what I’m reading, listening to, noticing and appreciating. Some of it might support your practice. Some of it might just be a flicker that catches somewhere. I suspect it will be a mixture of light, dark and all the amazing shades in between. I’m glad you’re here.

Thread One ~ What I'm Reading

I’ve been reading two books that speak to different kinds of inner knowing.

Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor I’ve been listening to this novel rather than reading it, and that feels like the right way in. The language is lyrical, slow, almost spell-like. It's the kind of writing that settles into you through rhythm and tone as much as meaning.

The story follows Lazlo Strange, a junior librarian and orphan, obsessed with the forgotten city of Weep. When he’s invited across the world to seek it out, the journey becomes far more than he imagined. It becomes tangled with gods, memory, dreams, and the echoes of something ancient and wounded.

There’s a strange tenderness to this world, even in its violence and ruin. And the narration brings it alive in a way that feels both cinematic and deeply internal. If you love fantasy that leans toward the poetic and archetypal, this is one to allow to wash over you.

The Book of Alchemy by Suleika Jaouad I picked this one up on the recommendation of Micayla Jean from the Finding Wilder podcast (thank you, Micayla), and it’s been exactly the kind of quiet companion I didn’t know I needed.

I’ve always been a bit of a sporadic journaler. You know, the kind who forgets about the practice for weeks, maybe months, then falls in so deep I don’t want to come up for air. This book is pulling me into one of those deep seasons again, and just in time for wintering!

It’s more than a book of prompts. It’s a layered, thoughtful invitation into writing as alchemy, as a way of being with the full, beautiful, brutal range of being human. Suleika weaves her own story with reflections from over a hundred artists, writers, and thinkers, offering not just techniques but perspectives.

In my own sessions and classes, I often bring in writing as a way to connect, integrate, and unravel. The Book of Alchemy is offering me new tools, new directions, and a deeper sense of reverence for the act of putting pen to paper, especially when things feel tender or uncertain.

It’s the kind of book you don’t rush through. One to keep near your notebook or altar, something to return to over and over again.

Thread Two ~ What I'm Listening To

I’ve been listening to Everybody Scream (Chamber Edition) by Florence + the Machine, especially the last four tracks on this double album: stripped down, soaring versions of Everybody Scream, Sympathy Magic, The Old Religion, and Drink Deep. On vinyl, they feel even more like spellwork.

These pieces aren’t just alternative takes,they're like entirely new musical rituals. Florence’s voice is raw and reverent. The arrangements are skeletal and cinematic, all echo and breath and string. It’s an invocation. A reckoning. A release.

I keep returning to the Chamber Version of Sympathy Magic. There’s something alchemical in it. It's a mirror of those once-in-a-lifetime moments that wreck you and rearrange everything. The lyrics speak of ultimate surrender, of being undone and more alive because of it.

“It didn’t keep me safe, like you told me that it would…So come on, tear me wide open.”

This is not a song about safety. It’s about the terrible gift of feeling everything. And the holiness of that ache.

This album feels like the sound of the veil thinning (and was appropriately released on Halloween) between pain and beauty, between the sacred and the shattered. Between before .... and after.

Here's a playlist I put together inspired by this sweeping album.... Tear Me Open

Thread Three ~ Stone Ally Amethyst

I’ve been keeping Amethyst close on my altar, under my pillow, in reach.

It’s a portal kind of stone... calming and yet also quietly expansive. A wayfinder between worlds: dream, spirit, memory, and what hasn’t quite taken shape yet.

There’s something about the way this stone echoes the tone of the season and the threads running through everything I’ve been reading and listening to. Strange the Dreamer (mentioned above) speaks of lost cities and dream logic. Sympathy Magic spirals through grief, surrender, and re-creation. Both have that charged edge of mystery ... the liminal ache.

Amethyst feels like a touchstone inside that same space.

When I hold it, my body feels more rooted in this world, yet able to move through the more subtle ones. There’s a settling that makes space for something deeper and I find I’m more able to listen for what cannot yet be expressed fully in words.

Weaving it All Together

In different ways, each of these threads, the books, the music, the stone ally, have been helping me sit with the parts of life that don’t resolve right away - or feel especially heavy in these times. The ones that shimmer just outside of certainty.

They’re reminders, each in their own voice, that the unseen is always working with us. That dreams, grief, ritual, and memory live close to the surface if we know how to look or listen in. If we dare.

This, too, is part of the path.

With so much love,

Tara

P.S. for local folks: Here are my upcoming classes at Evergreen Healing Arts in Bradford, NH through the end of the year and into January, many of which touch on these same themes: dreaming, presence, rest and integration. I'd love to see you!

Did you like this? Do you want me to continue offering these posts?

• 0%Yes, please! Absolutely!
• 0%Sure, why not?
• 0%I don't have time to read something this long!
• 0%Not really interested.