Happy Winter Solstice!
Welcome to the last day of the year, the end of the old, the beginning of the new.
In a normal year, I would have shared much more with you, but during this past year I spent most of my time and energy just putting one foot in front of the other. In a normal year, I would begin the 12 Days of Solstice Poetry Challenge today, but I was called to skip it this year so that I could focus on something much deeper.
During this past year, my wonderful husband of 40+ years went through cancer treatment, we suddenly lost one of our beloved dogs, I broke my collarbone, and I was deeply involved in helping my elderly father, who ultimately got his wish and transitioned in the spring. Then my brother and I launched into the craziness of settling his estate.
After my father crossed over, I had the powerful sense that so much of the past went with him. It was finished, complete, and its exit freed me to move into newer, more elevated energetic spaces that were more uniquely my own. Even after I fell and broke my collarbone, I knew that the fall was no accident. While painful, that break instantly shifted an enormous amount of old energy.
In a blog post a while ago, I believe I mentioned something my Harmonic told me near the beginning of the pandemic, the day my husband brought equipment home from the office so he could start working out of the house. I remember shutting and locking the front door behind him, then they said: “the world you closed the door to no longer exits.”
And they were so right.
Since last year’s winter solstice, I’ve shut the door to a lot of things, out of necessity and by choice. And I’ve realized how much suffering comes from trying to hold on to what was. So I’ve been practicing holding on to the gratitude for what was rather than trying to hold on to the thing, situation, person, or animal itself. Naturally, I miss talking to my Dad and snuggling with my dog Casey, but I know that both are rejoicing in their eternal bodies and stopping by to visit often, and that knowing only makes my gratitude grow brighter.
Don’t get me wrong, this year has also included many wonderful things. Some of them I haven’t talked about much at all, but it’s time to change that.
I’ve got two major projects going on. First, I’m revising my novel called Liberty Road, a quirky romp of a road trip story. This book informed me one day that it is book one of a trilogy. Something I never planned. The other two books are coming into focus a bit at a time, surprising me at each turn, and I can’t wait to finish the first one so I can move ahead with the others. I’m hoping to hand off Liberty Road to beta readers in the first part of 2023.
I’m also revising a nonfiction book I drafted before the pandemic started. It’s about the meditation technique I use regularly, a fun practice I adore, and one that’s helped me elevate my life, my experiences, my writing and my sense of self in so many ways over the years. I’m shifting the focus of the original book, reshaping it now for writers who want to get their words on the page and their projects finished. And when I’m guided to, I’ll start teaching this material! Teaching is a new thing for me, so I feel the butterflies in my belly, but from the moment I was shown this technique in meditation—truly a gift from the Universe–I knew it would be something I’d share with others. And now the time is almost here.
And because I’m compelled to create, I’m also writing lots of poetry, drawing mandalas obsessively while I watch tv at night, and making gemstone jewelry again. I love it all.
Though I’ve got a lot going on, HOW I’m creating all this is changing. My inner guidance for many months has been very clear on one thing: slow down, slow down more, slow down even more than that. And I love the feeling of working at what feels like right pacing. There’s a distinct feeling that I get when I click into my natural flow, one that has nothing to do with outside deadlines or concerns, other people’s expectations or even my own.
This focus has led me to explore the concepts of momentum and flow–and the surprising connection to stillness. I used to think of stillness as calm, but it’s something beyond that. It’s both a quality and a presence, an emptiness and something that contains, well, everything. I’ve come to understand how stillness and flow are the same thing, the way light is both particle and wave. And so, as a writer and an evolving human being, I’m focusing more and more on being the stillness within the flow of my life. And being the flow that expresses my deep, inner stillness. It’s a bit challenging to describe, but the feeling is unmistakable and delicious.
A couple of months ago, my higher self, team, guides, began encouraging me to surrender to stillness. And that phrase has become something of a mantra. Surrender all the external things. My habits, routines, dreams and desires. My pain and joys. Even surrender my sense of self to the greater stillness I AM. Which is an entirely different kind of surrender than many of us are used to. This surrender allows us to open ourselves more completely to ourselves, to embody and express more of our true presence. Pretty remarkable!
On this beautiful Winter Solstice, I invite you to surrender to stillness. In ways large and small, in whatever way feels right to you. Float in stillness, flow with it into the blessings of the new year that arrive with the fresh new light.
Radiantly yours, always