For decades having enjoyed comfort, blissful familial shenanigans, and exuberantly keen to appreciate every last mineral, winged, scaled, flowered, or furry thing available to behold, it came as quite a shock in December of 2016, that the Universe poked with a precise and electric fingertip into the very meat of your narrator, leaving a blight of Hodgkin’s lymphoma to weather. By April 2017, eight rounds of chemotherapy had been declared complete, and so far successful, but notable physical side effects and a fairly chaotic mental shambles remained.
This small area of digital ether is your narrator’s effort to arm herself in the face of fathomless forces beyond her control, maintain some degree of confidence amid dread clouds and hail storms, and remember the limitless joy and wonder of simply beholding every last evidence of Nature to be found under rock, ripple, vine, or hide.
Every day, the Sublime creeps in and out, more often than not leaving incredible traces of growth, the spectacularly awesome, and the infinite, in its wake. But sometimes we are brushed by the underside of its enormity, and left with deposits we are not prepared for, and not necessarily equipped to survive on our own. Use this armory for yourself, as it is also meant to supply any needs you might have for either such time – maps and plans for green and glorious days, and arms and armor for times when the sea is high and black.
While the minuteness of each of us in the face of such massive, unpredictable forces may be terrifying, your narrator would like to remind you that as a flea, even the tiniest seed husk or grass blade can be your armor, and even match light is enough to keep yourself warm.
Take whatever you can to arm yourself – we are all incredible, uncertain, glorious beasts. I will endeavor to keep the torch lit, through sunshine, fog, flood, or blight, for anyone needing a safe place to rest for a while.