Rhyd Wildermuth

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Rhyd Wildermuth

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Undines and Onwards

My last post of the year for The Wild Hunt regards an undine. Grey explodes into many blues when I watch dark clouds pass overhead, even more so when I stare at their reflection on the surface of a pool where an undine makes its home.  It’d be easier if I just called it “grey,”…

undine-three-500x375My last post of the year for The Wild Hunt regards an undine.

Grey explodes into many blues when I watch dark clouds pass overhead, even more so when I stare at their reflection on the surface of a pool where an undine makes its home.  It’d be easier if I just called it “grey,” refused to distinguish things that other people don’t think matters.  I could call it “grey” and be done with it, live my life without so many colors, so many stories.

Also, racism.

And I’m off.  I get on a plane in a few hours to Florida to see my sisters, and a few days after that to Ireland.

So, yeah.

Time to go be a pilgrim again.

This’ll be fun.

 

Be well!

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Responses to “Undines and Onwards”

  1. henadology

    Travel safely, and have a wonderful time! I’m looking forward to reading all about it.

    Reply
  2. Jaimie

    I just read “The Violent and the Dead.” You’ll be offline by now. I want to tell you how it affected me, but the tears running down my face are all the words I have right now. That is a motherfucking brilliant piece of writing, Rhyd. Thank you for distilling truth and connecting dots so poetically and well, with dense and fluid power.

    I wish you a joyous pilgrimage. May you, in your seeking, find yourself and be quenched.

    Reply
    1. Rhyd Wildermuth

      Thank you. 🙂

      Reply
  3. Grace Darling

    Take me to church
    I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
    I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
    Offer me that deathless death
    Good God, let me give you my life

    If I’m a pagan of the good times
    My lover’s the sunlight
    To keep the Goddess on my side
    She demands a sacrifice

    Hozier is a County Wicklow boy. Great song.

    Get yourself to Glendalough if you can….in one
    form or another.

    Reply
  4. Grace Darling

    Follow me down to the water
    Through the tripwires in your head
    Through the seven layers
    Of your holy bed

    Bush – The Only Way Out

    Pesky piskies!

    Reply
  5. lornasmithers

    There’s so much more out there than our senses know, and perhaps the way we perceive our senses as separate as well as the very notion of having senses that are separate. Sometimes it’s possible to hear a ripple? Sometimes the sound of water appears as a serpentine or female-like figure? Sometimes looking at a pool you both see the water and something else- like two things at once who may be two appearances of one or not. And we’re only meant to see one ‘world’ at a time but sometimes we don’t. Like a palimpsest? Just some thoughts this triggered. Thought provoking essay.

    Reply

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