Winter Solstice 2023 – my last post of this year. Where I live in the Northern Hemisphere, there will be more than 15 hours of darkness tonight. It is a time to gather inwardly, to reflect on the shadows of what has been, to practice being comfortable with uncertainty, and to hope bravely for the coming light.
I came upon a phrase today from a campaign to protect wild buffalo herds. “Place-based coexistence”. It makes me think of the place where I live, the forest that I see from my window every day and the life that is sustained here – the flora and fauna, the lichen and moss. We are all to be plunged into darkness tonight. We all breathe the same air, soak up the rain, turn our faces to the light. I want to be mindful of all that is turning together in the Earth’s orbit. I want to celebrate our interdependence.
I think about the relatedness of all Beings in this web of existence and reflect on my actions. Have I been kind, gracious, patient? I think of the quiet days of coexistence that passed while I gained the trust of two cats I was tending for a friend. After days of being stared at from the safety of the bedroom closet, I earned the company of a purring furry friend beside me in front of the woodstove while I read a novel. This has been a long year of waiting and hoping for relationships to heal and grow. I have spent more time in deep observation and reflection and learning than I ever have before, I think. I am grateful for that.
I think of the positive actions I have taken, the aspirational direction of my thoughts, the building, creating, and rising to which I have challenged myself – physically, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally. During this dark time, I want to gather the energy to do more of that.
Finally, I remember that these moments of my life that add up to a year are as ephemeral as soap bubbles. Although they glisten with a rainbow of colors and take my breath away in their flight, they do not endure. They may instruct me, but they must not enchant me and lure me from attending to the present. This is a very difficult lesson for me. I have a photographic memory (as I’m sure many Lens-Artists do), and I find it easy to slip into my mind and out of reality. When I find myself doing this, I can choose to focus on the breath that comes to me, new, every minute. With this breath, and this awareness, I can create new glimmering bubbles of love and light, a gift in real time.
scillagrace 