Art does not come from a place of definition. Since the accident, concussion seems to have borrowed my words of poetry. WordLayers remains verbally quiet. Today, I read in Bright-Fey's translation of Tao 62, "magic words will not gain you entrance." For me, "entrance" would be sound thinking and good writing. But it now seems that "magic words" have flown away and sit like birds on a wire looking down with tilted heads as I play with colors as bright as winter sun when we drive west at 4:00pm. I see this new art in "radical amazement" and to share it seems irresistible. I have never made Winter Solstice cards, but this year this art goes out the door as cards honoring the movement from dark to light for all.