Today I've been very slowly and gently moving myself out of my annual winter repose. For two days while a whole lotta folks celebrate x~mas, I burrow my self deep into my hearth and heart and putz around those places. As ugly and hideous as the commercialized cristmas holiday can be, it can still shut shit down. Stores close, some folks make their way to gatherings, some folks don't, and for better or worse, it's christmas. A day outta time, or something like that. The week of Winter Solstice came and went. We traveled and held space with very dear friends, caught some new stories, I laid my songs, tears, and blood on the land, walked a dark night, and welcomed the light. There were moments that jolted and threw me along with moments that lovingly held me, all requiring the blessed solitude of repose to dig around for deeper understanding, boundaries, openness, and relationship with.
We came home to the safest and coziest place I've ever tended, to bouquets of Lilly in full bloom. I was blessed to have an extended closed container with all of my children in one place, and to be the only body in the room I didn't birth into existence. From this place I can see with my own eyes that we're all still here. That I'm still here and the moment exists because of it. Then, they moved on to places only they can go, and finally, after all the high stimuli of the winter solstice and Yultide festivities, I was left to keep my own company. i finished off a few books, including two that I enjoyed enough to suggest them as part of your winter reading lists; Brene Brown's "Braving the Wilderness" and Annie Lamott's "Stitches".
In the morning rhythm, routine, and schedules return. The sun will rise and set, bringing more light with it everyday. And we'll move our way towards the Spring Equinox, when we'll get to feast, gather, and make magic with friends again.
But for now, bless this winter.
