Broken and Whole

Corina here, one half of Abacus Corvus.

My other half, Jo, is in Western North Carolina in the midst of an historic, devastating flood. The good news is she is safe, her family is safe, and her home and our art warehouse there haven’t suffered significant damage. This is really incredible news, considering the extent of the devastation in the region. 

But for 48 hours after the storm hit I didn’t hear from her. I could only hope and trust that she was okay. In those days I felt a painful kinship with everyone whose lives have been affected by war, disaster, and displacement—especially those who are far away and praying their loved ones wills survive what seems unsurvivable. So many of us alive on Earth right now are living through unthinkable tragedies. Each one personal, but all of them together forming a densely woven collective grief. 

Our yearlong spell for 2024 is about pain and healing, about what emerges from the cracks, about what kind of wholeness can also hold all that is broken. After seeing images of the flooding in the Asheville area, I feel acute heartbreak when I look at this month’s image. So much of what has held this vibrant community has been destroyed—homes, art studios, creative spaces, the park on the tiny island near Jo’s house where Willa had her birthday last year. 

And, amid all that is broken, I am also seeing what emerges from these cracks. With governmental and non-profit relief processes bogged down by red tape, grassroots mutual aid relief is saving the day. Volunteer pilots are rescuing those trapped with no roads to access food and water. People are chainsawing downed trees, organizing supplies, checking in on remote neighbors, uplifting those in greatest need, and coordinating a vast and growing number of volunteers wanting to help. 

This is the energy of this month’s spell: When things break, we remember that we are the ones who keep each other safe. And for everyone facing isolation, grief, and fear right now, I offer you this prayer: May your feel yourself part of a larger whole, trying to weave itself back together. May your be reached for, tended to, and loved. May you continue to hold the ones you love, and the ones they love, and keep expanding the circle of who you call family.