Happy Solstice & Merry Christmas!
What beautiful holidays we're enjoying up here in the Northwoods; deep snow and dark, starry nights. Inside the lights are glowing on our decorated tree. I've been enjoying these solitary evenings after Sebastian is in bed. I make tea and read, work on projects, write letters or take a bath. Winter is such a good time for me to make quality time with myself. This winter in particular it feels important to be quiet, slow and deliberate.
I'm healing. So many of us are.
There was a time this fall as the nights were getting longer and darker that I could hardly stand the grief. The grief of friends dying, family dying, children dying, dreams dying. It felt like it was all at once, but really it was one after the other, without room to recover before the next thing happened. By the end I could barely stand. In a circle of women I could only cry. I relied on friends to bring food. And they did. And they held me. Loved ones near and far were there, and were not as scared as I was that I was loosing my mind. It was not insanity, it was sadness. Raw emotion. A tremendous blessing. I studied Pema Chodron's When Things Fall Apart, and The Places That Scare You. I started to meditate. I stopped drinking coffee. I let go of many expectations; of myself and others, and I started to feel free again. I started dancing again, and painted silk. I painted my toenails with a girlfriend and read old journals. I let myself cry at the grocery store when an aqaintance would ask how I was, and I wouldn't feel ashamed.
I allowed myself to feel compassion for myself and my loss, as I felt compassion for so many others. I learned to sit with it and to accept it. The compassion started growing into love. This time for myself as much as for others. And from that place of love, healing. From that place of love; energy, hope & clarity.
"My barn having burnt to the ground, I can now see the moon"
Like the Phoenix, I felt my spirit rising up again.
I struggle still, but with a newfound sense of direction and gentleness with myself.
"Grace" is the word that comes to mind. In the midst of the chaos in my heart, there were so many dear, raw moments. Some of the most moving and beautiful of my whole life. They gave me hope and reminded me of how blessed we are. These moments are fleeting.
We are here to love and to do good work.
As the light returns this year, I feel reticent, and ready. I am nurturing myself, and throwing myself into service on an even deeper level. I feel wiser, younger and more joyful.
I thank the Goddess for those dark days and nights, so that the light may return.