08/21/2026
🔔 Dear Traveller,
We are presently hovering between two eclipses, during which the Sun has already done something theatrical and the Moon is preparing to do something equally dramatic. But the heavens have provided absolutely no programme for the intermission.
Naturally, people are asking what this means. Fortunately, we have consulted the authorities. The only authority we were able to find is the Episcopus Apocryphal, or The Lesser Book of Things Which Will Eventually Be Done. An obscure illuminated manuscript attributed to Brother Amiable Firkin, Keeper of the Sacred Squid Sap, who appears to have begun his theological career with considerable promise before becoming distracted by a snail.
The snail in question is, of course, the Divine Snail of Pomegranate, Patron Saint of Someday. His doctrine is remarkably straightforward: The task remains. The snail proceeds. The next task awaits.
Apparently, while waiting for the Moon to get on with it, we are under no obligation to achieve enlightenment, transform our lives, purge eight generations of ancestral karma, vibrate at a groovier frequency or stand barefoot in the shrubbery receiving instructions from Jupiter.
We may simply putter about. Move a thing. Consider another thing. Begin a third thing and wander away halfway through after discovering a particularly interesting spoon. The Snail understands.
Indeed, scholars believe this may explain the mysterious passage known as The Revelation of the Timber, in which Brother Firkin abruptly abandons several centuries of philosophical inquiry to announce: THE WOOD IS WOODEN. This revelation is immediately followed in the margin by: IT IS WRITTEN IN THE TREES. Written what in the trees? Nobody knows. Brother Firkin does not elaborate to anyone except apparently a rabbit.
At this point we must consider the possibility that the sacred squid sap had fermented. Nevertheless, the central teaching remains sound. Between eclipses, when one great celestial spectacle has concluded and another is approaching, perhaps there is wisdom in refusing to gallop unnecessarily through the middle. Do what needs doing. Do what can be done. Leave the rest sitting somewhere obvious so you can remember what it was.
Fructus dubius. Cochlea certa. The fruit is doubtful. The snail is certain.
The heavens are rearranging themselves. The snail proceeds at the prescribed pace. 🌟🔔 Per Stellam et Sonum