A heart of gratitude. Jenkins Estate, Beaverton, Oregon. photo by anne richardson
The Invitation of Winter Darkness
The air has been crisp as a tree-fresh apple this week. My cheeks slipping into redness as my hands dive into my pockets and the morning moon lingers high in the west. The waning moon holding onto night even as the sun rises low in the late autumn sky. I want to hold onto night, too. Want to snuggle under covers and discard the list of “shoulds” that I composed. Want to wane into the new moon of me and hide in the shadow of winter dark. To take a small candle and explore my interior landscape one, small step at a time. Take midday naps. Engage with my dreams. Listen deep for what is next. Hit pause on my commitments. Does this resonate with you? This desire to go inward as days shorten.
Stillness Needed To Listen
This yearning…stirring, began as a nudge. A whisper, unwelcomed, after peace and calm finally settled on my soul after almost four months of disorientation and upheaval following my spring sojourn (see “Sojourning with Grief-Returning” for my first post upon my return.) “I haven’t had enough time,” I whined. “Can’t I settle into a new ‘normal?’”
And yet… And yet, an on-line course I am taking with Sharon Blackie (which, in part, discusses our call in the world,) books and articles I am reading, “random” conversations, and memories from my sojourn are converging into one message: “You need to sit still. Take in what you have received, are receiving. Let it gestate and take form.” This message is from my wise mentor, Grief, and my other wise guides. I am sure of this.
“The longer I wake on this Earth, the louder the quiet things speak to me. The more I experience and survive, the more I find truth in the commonalities we all share. The more pain softens me, the deeper my joy and the greater the lessons of those things that live in great stillness.”
Daffodils in bloom in Edinburgh, Scotland during my sojourn, where I left a small portion of my mother’s ashes. Daffodils, a favorite of both my mother and I, to me represent the power of allowing time under ground for restoration and inner growth before returning to bloom in spring. photo by anne richardson
“To gestate-verb: develop over a long period.”
Grief Leads to Transformation
Gestate: verb: develop over a long period. This time last year I was pre-planning for my spiritual sojourn. It hadn’t even taken the form of a “sojourn.” I knew I would be going to Scotland, England, and Wales. Would take a portion of my mother’s ashes back to her homeland to honor and grieve her death.
Autumn fell into the dark of winter and under the surface of my soil, what became “Sojourning with Grief” was being nurtured until it was ready to break through the surface like a daffodil when spring returned.
Last April I left for nine weeks on that sojourn. My life was transformed. I have been transformed. It has taken time to adjust. To shed old ways of being that no longer serve. To honor and thank that former self. She served me well. And, yes, to grieve the loss of the comfort of knowing who I was. To welcome new discoveries. To learn to breathe and flow with this new understanding of my embodied self. So you may understand why I have some resistance to the nudging. And I have learned that I can only ignore the nudge for so long before it becomes a prod and then a push. Pretty soon I am downright uncomfortable as I am looking over a precipice.
Shedding “Shoulds”
Finding time to sit and listen. To read and assimilate. To write and process. To dream “what if?” To consult with my wisdom circle. To discern what is coming from the Holy. To allow expansive emptiness on the calendar. To offer myself permission to trim the “to do” list to meeting only the bare commitments and letting go of my expectations. Those expectations loaded with the word “should,” heavy as mud-thick soil. To sit instead in fecund, loamy soil-rich in nutrients. Yes, dark and earthy and damp…and nurturing. Creative. Preparing me for what is next. To not grow impatient with the “long period” gestation requires.
What might your day look like if you took deeper breaths and allowed yourself to fall into wonder? To allow even small ideas to gestate? photo taken at the Portland Art Museum by anne richardson.
An Invitation, A Call
Last time I listened this deeply I went on a literal as well as spiritually transforming journey. I embraced that journey even in the embryonic stage. I was ready for change. This feels deeper. More demanding. My embrace is hesitant though I feel my arms drawing the invitation closer each day.
Winter solstice is nearing. In the weeks ahead, if you seek me out, look in caves, under rocks, in the nook of trees, beneath the cold of swelling rivers. I’ll be there, weaving the threads of stories, dreams, books, learnings, you, me, Earth into my call.
And your call? What is nudging you as winter approaches?
Wallowa River, near Joseph, Oregon. photo by anne richardson
Gratitude, Of Course
This post originally was going to focus on gratitude…and in a way it has, for I am grateful for all of the above. I close my letters and emails with “in gratitude.” It is one of my core values—to practice gratitude on a daily basis. I have not perfected this, but for the most part, I can find gratitude for most happenings and people in my life.
Grateful for the Wise Ones
Besides being grateful for my family and friends, I want to mention my wisdom circle, whose ongoing support through the last year has offered essential nourishment on my spiritual journey. Each member of my circle has a different way of holding space, listening, speaking truth (without trying to fix or judge,) and simply being with me. They have known me anywhere from close to two decades to a year (yes, you can make heart-soul connections that quickly.) They witness my story as it is being written. Validate my experiences as real, even the mystical ones, and offer perspective. They can look at the tapestry of my life, and say, “ah anne, beautiful,” when I am still picking at threads, wanting to discard the “ugly.” They are my oasis when I am wandering in the desert. Are the Holy embodied.
I am truly blessed. I know they will continue to encircle me moving forward. I deeply honor and respect them. Thank you dear ones, for being part of my journey.
Reflection Questions
As our attention turns toward the prescribed day of gratitude in the United States, who are you grateful for and why?
I invite you to read the John Fox poem, When Someone Deeply Listens to You on my Spiritual Direction page. Have you been listened to deeply in your life and if so who has offered you that gift? What was the experience like? Have you offered it to others?
Who encircles you and how does that look/feel? Who do you encircle/support?
If you would like to offer gratitude as a daily practice, how do you imagine that happening in your life?
Describe your life as being in a season. (It may not correspond to the literal four seasons.) How does it feel to be in this season?
What helps you nurture your spiritual growth in any season?
Please share your thoughts in the comments or send me an email under “connect.” I value your wisdom.
