Holiday Series: It is All Holy
Bite sized moments—when the seasons of life pick up pace, and become a whirlwind of activity, lists, and visits, I take small bites. I have begun to write regularly again, and the practice serves me. As I sit by the windows looking out at the trees and birds in my newly re-created sitting room, I step into the liminal. I hear and know things more deeply. I began observing myself and the depth of joy I was feeling. I made notes about how I was getting through this season with more joy than the last. These little snap shots are the Holiday Series I have published here and on socials. Each of the mini-contemplations offers a ritual action, a way through that invites in both the grief and joy.
This blog entry will be updated through the new year.
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We really are all in this together, and the change, loss, and transitions are going to keep happening. Lately, it seems I hear almost daily of a parent, partner, child, or pet making an expected or unexpected transition from this world. Walking out of a celebration of life yesterday, I received a text about another departure from the planet. These major losses change our family systems, transforming our daily lives instantly.
The time of year and the year in time together exponentially ask more of us right now. Change is a natural and normal part of life, and the pace and kinds of change seem to be growing in the world in which we live as systems cannot support what we now need. The holiday season with all its traditions can push us deeper into the paradox of joy and sorrow. Our memories are embedded in the rituals of holiday celebrations. These traditions also often invite in what is new: babies, partnerships, and friends. This is an intense time of year, and it is intentional to be present when we are called in so many festive directions while our hearts ache for those who are not with us earthside.
It is winter here in the Northern Hemisphere, a season with shorter days, longer nights, and usually cooler weather. Our bodies want more stillness, quiet, slowness, and comfort. And, there are warm, joyful gatherings popping up like little campfires weekly. There is comfort both in the solitary stillness and the peopled parties. There is a call both to not do and to do.
Together with your people who know you best, let's step into the paradox that calls for quiet and stillness in the midst of joyful, chatter and food filled gatherings. It is all Holy.
Holiday Series #1
This 3rd holiday season without him is underway, and it is different than last year and different from the first. His death is a demarkation of linear time experiences. There are things I did differently last year and the year before, and things that are happening in news ways this season. (Some of the different is because I honor my own capacity and desires.) This year, there is a more palpable sense of joy even as it holds hands with my sorrow. I still talk to him everyday —sometimes I am talking to myself like I always have, but more often, it is to him. We have some really great exchanges, discussion, disagreements, and loving words between us. And, it is not the same as having an earthside companion.
If you are missing your person, parter, parent, child, friend: Keep talking to them. Keep connecting. Be in the stillness, in dreamtime, in nature, in the liminal and in-between. You will find them there. It is not the same. Sometimes it is pure magic. Sometimes it opens us to the longing. And, connection is the way through.
Holiday Series #2
After Staying Unfinished was published, I shared it in the circles where it was invited and with people and places that called to me. I shared it where I felt comfort and support. Like a newborn or a mama with her newborn, these were precious circles to be in, and I wanted what I was sharing to be held preciously. It was.
I have taken some quiet months since September, to gather myself and to begin to understand the purposes of publishing and making public this intimate experience. I do not know all of this book’s purposes or my own, and I am finding some small clarities about how both the book and I will continue to serve.
If you are missing your person, parter, parent, child, friend: Find comfort. Be with those who love you no matter what. Take time for yourself, and be on your own timeline. Do what you have capacity to do, and know that there is an amazing amount of clarity that comes from NOT doing. Trust that you will know the steps to take and the timing for taking them. And, when you are ready to share your beautiful heart-knowing-clarities, share them with those who can hold them precious.
Holiday Series #3
There is more room in the drawers, closet, and garage. And, I will continue to make more room in the next layer of clearing. Some of your things are still right where you left them. I touch them, flip through the last book you were reading that still sits on your nightstand. There are also new things in new places. Things that were once on your side of the sink, in the garage and shop, and on your side of the bedroom have been rearranged or used or handed off to someone who needs it. I installed a pivot mirror on the wall next to your sink. I use it to put on my makeup and see the fine lines of my aging face, the lines that have appeared since you departed this world, and the growing old you will not do with me. I miss you, and I feel you almost always. Most of the time now, I feel your constant presence. I still wish you were here in human form, and I am staying and unfinished with this life. Thank you for doing it with me.
If you are missing your person, parter, parent, child, friend: Touch their things and remember them. When you are ready, intentionally repurpose items or give them to someone who can appreciate the artifact. Rearrange your home in small ways often; it is your personal altar. It is a manifestation and visible expression of what lives preciously and invisibly inside of you. Talk to your person, partner, parent, child, friend who are no longer earthside. Listen, see if you can hear them talking to you too.
*Photo: The tie E wore to his last trial that I have made into a headband.
Holiday Series #5
Sometimes I am asked to read from my book, Staying Unfinished, and when I do, I realize the words are not entirely my own. They flowed through me in a blessing from the place where wisdom reigns. Cracked open with the sudden loss and swimming in grief, I channeled these words from other realms and wrapped them in the context of my circumstances. When I read them, they are a guide for me, a map, a promise, a prayer. I find new layers in particular chapters, new reflections in a single sentence. And, I know I am still unfinished. Words and images become lanterns casting light upon on shadows, and I expand again.
If you are missing your person, parter, parent, child, friend: Write, draw, paint, dance, sing, play, make, express. Allow the Ancestors to drop in and play with you in the liminal space that is creativity. It is how we draw down the most beautiful golden light, bringing bits of heaven to earth. Creating is how we connect the two realms, and how we come to know true love and beauty. Creating is our ritual action inviting in the Divine.
Cook, plant, repair, paint, build, draw, write, dance, sing, play…without perfection and from the center of your being.
Holiday Series #6
My path to the future was wiped clean in so many ways when Edmond died. The plans we had froze in place, and I was sitting in the dark waters. I still had children and dogs and spaces to tend, but the dreams we were dreaming together came to a stop. That void was terrifying. I was not sure I wanted any of it without him. And, whatever pieces and parts that still stirred a desire in my belly would unfold very differently. As the void of the tangle ball slowly thawed, I found ways to step into some of the desire for life. My desire to serve and create joy were a guide, a thread from the center of the tangle ball, leading me to new clients, projects, and plans. Friendships deepened, inspiring beautiful adventures. I still miss Edmond, and I invite him along for all of it.
If you are missing your person, parter, parent, child, friend: Be still and quiet in the place of all possibility that is the void. Feel who you are and who you are becoming. Notice what you desire and feel called toward. Go slow. Go only when you are ready. Experiment, try new things, notice if you like it or you do not. Talk to yourself about it. Be still again. Clarity arrives a little at a time. Readiness will too. Be on your own timeline. Invite your person into the experience.
Holiday Series #7
Some years between 2015 and 2020, I participated in a group reading and practicing the brilliant material of Peter Levine’s A Year to Live. The group was led by the Great Molly Steel, a mentor and friend of mine. I was remembering this work and how it has changed how I live, what I am willing to spend time on and what I am not.
The other day I was listening to someone recount the Egyptian mythology of the Feather of Ma’at. Upon death, a heart heavier than the feather is devoted by the monster Ammit, and a heart as light as the feather ascends to paradise.
I want to live a good life, and I want to have an unburdened death. What can I do today to lighten my heart, relieve it of pain, guilt, anger, regret, hunger, and thirst? Lightheartedness is a way of life, a choice.
If you are missing your person, parter, parent, child, friend: Invite them in and do the things you have always wanted to do. Forgive yourself and others, let go of what has been offending. Apologize, own your shit. Speak from your heart to those you love, even if it is stranger you just met. If you notice their beauty, see their soul, say so—acknowledge it. Lighten your heart; it is contagious.