to love (v): to extend oneself in service of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth.
Me and new friend Bruno celebrate solstice (he’s waiting for me to bend down and pick him more green grass).
Hello Love!
Deep breath in through the nose. Open the mouth, exhale.
There you go.
Take another.
Take as many as you please.
You are here. You are breathing.
Welcome to 2021. Phew. We made it.
May we remember and bless all those who did not.
In December I wrote about Rest as good medicine as we approached the darker months, and now we are officially in our first full month of winter. December 21st marked the winter solstice - the longest night of the year.
We (my partner and I) were fortunate enough to spend a distanced solstice evening with another couple in a cabin near Shenandoah - a last minute availability that, as if by magic, turned out to be a farm nestled in a valley surrounded by the Appalachian mountains, covered with shiny, strong horses and silent, wary steer. My partner remarked that the the fresh air and wide open sky felt like “medicine for the soul.”
As Sunday night deepened, we wrote things we wanted to let go of on small scraps of paper and threw them into our fire. Some shared, and we nodded in silence. The burning ritual, inspired by ancient tradition, felt very much like a New Year’s celebration. We closed with a reading of Maggie Smith’s poem “How Dark the Beginning”, reminding us that though we are in winter, each day forward we move closer and closer to light.
I’m still repeating her closing in my head when I watch the sun go down:
We talk so much of light, please
let me speak on behalf
of the good dark. Let us
talk more of how dark
the beginning of a day is.
Mmmmm. The good dark. The good dark.
I wonder, how can darkness be good?
An answer came from my teacher Cath in a recent workshop. She called winter “the fertile void”, which struck me as the perfect summary of these opposites. A way we can embody two extremes (sun and moon, light and dark, love and fear, life and death) at the same time. But how?
I always turn to mother earth and find answers.
Think of when you plant spring flowers. Where do they go? What do they need?
Nutritious soil - the moist, rich, dark brown stuff. Empty space.
The good dark.
~New things first need space to grow.~
So, may we welcome the good dark that is winter.
May we hold on to the knowing that it is necessary for the flourish of spring.
Pauses not Promises
Today marks New Years Day, and though we’re not celebrating as we normally would, we still feel the ceremony.
Typically, we set resolutions. Promises to keep for the year to come - who we’re gonna be, what we’re gonna do. These tend to be long-term and ambitious, geared toward the bad habits we’re going to drop damnit, the different (read: better) person we’re going to become in 6 months, another year.
Yeesh. Lofty. Intimidating.
There are so many lessons from 2020, and it’s tempting to go into 2021 with a big list of problems to solve (and there are many). But let yourself not be one of them. Yes, you may have some personal goals, but you are not something to fix. The world needs whatever you have to offer now - you need not get it right in order to begin.
You are worthy of love and belonging exactly as you are.
Rupi said it best:
So let’s take the pressure off ourselves. Off a new year. Today is just another day being human, as is tomorrow and the day after that.
The truth is we are wired for struggle. We are going to fuck up. Mistakes are inevitable and we have almost zero control over much of what impacts our lives.
It’s okay. It’s all good.
You’re all right.
You are already worthy of belonging. If you are reading this, you are doing bonus work.
We don’t need perfect - it’s not a real thing anyway. Instead, we need each of us to hold on to our humanity.
As Mary reminds us in “Wild Geese”:
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
So let us not change just for changing’s sake - that begs inconsistency and anxiety.
Let us not pile on a whole list of things to fix & do just to fix & do them.
Let us pause instead.
Pause to reflect, to integrate.
Pause to not just intellectualize but embody the changes we strive to make, the ones we want to see.
Pause to consider - what does the soft animal of your body love?
You see, this way promises become unnecessary.
We become ourselves - naturally, slowly, invisibly - instead.
And we are in the perfect time, a fertile void, for this deep work.
Maybe we can do it together.
How?
As always, we practice.
Practice
An invitation from my heart to yours.
To become oneself necessitates being alone with oneself. Being solitary.
We do this with good rest, whether it’s for 2 minutes, 2 hours or 2 days (the luxury!).
This month’s practice is inspired by the four types of rest outlined in Elaine Aron’s The Highly Sensitive Person. We all have such unique bodies, live such different lives with different schedules, resources, and priorities - just do whatever is good for you. You already know.
Some seeds:
Sleep: get in bed when you first naturally tire, set a consistent sched, take naps!
Play: read, paint, write, draw, dance, twirl, sashay, color, puzzles, Twister (!?!).
Downtime: unwind with a journal, go for a joy ride or long walk, garden, wash dishes.
Transcendence: meditation (new recording right this way), contemplation, prayer.
Remember, you deserve good rest. And good rest is good medicine.
Loving Lately
WWWW&H I’m loving myself and others lately, remembering love’s six pillars: truth, care, commitment, knowledge, respect & responsibility.
THIS (hint: see above. SHOUTOUT TO BUBSY FOR THIS DISCOVERY)
Memorizing a new Poem for the People every Monday, live on IGTV
Re-bingeing Will & Grace for the humor and Nurse Jackie for the humanity
Sending my first book of poetry, Alias All, to the PRINTER! Stay tuned :)
Reading all the Tom Robbins novels I can get my hands on for the creativity, genius and color. Currently reading: Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. Favorite so far (and maybe of all time): Another Roadside Attraction (“the girl: the girl, Amanda.”)
How are you loving lately?
Most importantly: How are you doing love? How are you holding up?
Anything I can do to support you? Let me know in the comments below or simply reply to this email, as I’m marinating on multiple ideas for 2021 and beyond!
All love to you and yours dears. You’re doing beautifully, no matter what it feels like.
In practice and pause,
Colby