First overnight return to the Northern Oregon Coast since the first week of March and my sojourn to the UK & Ireland. A time of deep connecting. The first morning greeted by the setting moon as the sun rose behind me…the crow setting off along the shore. The whole time away was a gift. My first steps on the sand and I audibly exhaled “home.” Where are the places you feel you are “home?” Cannon Beach, Oregon. November 2022. photo by anne richardson
Welcoming the Long Nights…Or Not
Autumn arrived later than usual in the Pacific NW. It was late October, well after the equinox, before the rains arrived and the temperatures dropped. Mid-October and I was at a pumpkin patch event in short sleeves and it was over 85º. It felt disconcerting. Even the jack-o-lanterns looked puzzled. The fire danger lingered and the multiple fires that were already raging turned our air quality numbers dismal. Sure the days were shortening, offering a respite from the heat at night, but my memories of times past where not aligning with the present.
Once the needed rain arrived and temperatures abruptly cooled, gold, red, and brown leaves carpeted land and roadways. Squirrels, plumping up for winter began stashing nuts in my pots. All but the most hardy herbs and annuals have died back due to a couple of below-freezing nights. A few days at the Northern Oregon Coast in early November to reacquaint myself with Ocean’s “winter voice” helped my body recalibrate. The nights are lengthening and this, my favorite season, finally feels familiar.
“I prefer winter and Fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape–the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show. ”
For many the long, dark nights of autumn and winter are difficult. More about enduring than relishing. The use of special lighting may help, but our bodies are naturally geared to be in sync with earth, sun, and moon cycles. A long “to do” list may not gel with a yearning to be cozy in front of a fire (or space heater) and head to bed early. Our modern western culture is not flexible in catering to these innate rhythms.
Do I have an answer? No. But perhaps way down it is another place of loss…the ability to truly listen to our body’s rhythms. To allow the body to move and sway and rest with the movement of the earth, sun, moon and stars instead of artificial light and manufactured schedules. It is just something to ponder. To consider what losses reside in the depths of our bodies and ancestries. Maybe they are craving spaces to speak…and rest in this dark time of year.
What are your thoughts? Are there areas of your life you would like to step away from that dictate your daily rhythm? How feasible would it be (realizing there are bills to pay) to make even micro changes? Do you have a sense of underlying rhythms that are waiting to be heard? How might you honor them, even in a small way with small rituals in your daily life? If you do find it difficult in the darker seasons, how do you cope? I would be honored if you shared with me.
Where is your heart as the holidays approach? Are there losses that are felt more acutely this time of year? Cannon Beach Oregon, November 2022. photo by anne richardson.
Holidays and Grief
There are many resources in the online grief-sphere for those navigating grief and loss during the holidays. A google search on “grief” “holidays” “blue Christmas” (okay, you’ll get Elvis’s song first on that one) will offer a plethora of suggestions. What’s Your Grief has a few articles. And the Mayo Clinic had a brief article with a few tips. This can get you started if you are feeling overwhelmed by the upcoming crush of holiday expectations.
Several years ago I offered an “Honoring Grief During the Holidays” workshop. For that I created this “Prescription For Honoring My Grief.” I’ve updated it since the original workshop and I hand it out to folks (not just at the holidays) and it seems to resonate. Here is my prescription to share freely:
The Joy of Being Open to “Composting”…Or Asking Questions Without Expecting Answers
One of the reasons I love burrowing into my nest this time of year is the expansive cave it allows for reading and engaging in online events I might not otherwise make time for. Igniting my inner fire of curiosity. Exploring beliefs. I am amazed at how the tendrils of my explorations are starting to weave together as they “compost” in the dark spaces of my pondering. And at times I am quite overwhelmed with how to be with everything. Grateful for my own spiritual director/companion who listens so attentively. Grateful for writing and meditation and connections beyond my own world to guide me on this journey. Grateful for patient friends who listen to me babble.
I am getting fodder for future blog posts, like unpacking what I mean by “composting.” Shifting thoughts on Grief and Trauma. Here is a glance at what I’ve been exploring. I won’t go into an explanation or detail of what each of these books and other events are in this newsletter, but will offer links if you want to check any of these out.
Books
The Flowering Wand; Rewilding the Sacred Masculine by Sophie Strand
Hagitude; Reimagining the Second Half of Life by Sharon Blackie
The Myth of Normal; Trauma, Illness & Healing in a Toxic Culture by Gabor Maté, MD with Daniel Mate
Thirty-Two Words for Field; Lost words of the Irish landscape by Manchán Magan
Devotions, Prayers & Living Wisdom; Hildegard of Bingen edited by Mirabai Starr
Language Has No Words by Marialicia González (a personal friend, these are beautiful Haiku born out of Mari’s grief journey.)
Year Long Program: Oct-Sept
Hagitude membership program. Over 500 participants of women in the “second half of life” exploring the “fools journey” and so much more. Yes, tied back to the book. And if you are interested, you can still join!
Online Events
The Wandering, Winding Way of the Wound with Bayo Akomolafe and others. Hosted by Science and Nonduality. (October-but recordings are available.)
Rewilding Mythology, curated by Sophie Strand. (Current.)
Writing
And finally taking an amazing poetry workshop, Poems of our Climate, through one of my favorite writing places, Corporeal Writing. It is allowing me to unpack on an intuitive level some of what I’m exploring. Very much first draft poems, but liking where they are wandering.
How about you? Where is your curiosity taking you these days? What are you reading? Exploring? Even reading for leisure. Yes, I’ve been doing some of that too. Send over your recommendations!
Final Thoughts
So here we are tiptoeing or stomping or slumping or simply walking into this final month of 2022. I have so much to be grateful for:
Several poems published and recognized this year.
Presented on Anticipatory Grief and Ambiguous Loss in Dementia Care twice.
Have the honor of walking alongside folks on their spiritual journeys (referrals always welcome!)
Have been asked to facilitate the labyrinth portion of an in-person Longest Night gathering on December 21st (will post details on my Facebook page when available.)
Though I haven’t found a home yet, have a clear sense that I’ll be moving and working more with the labyrinth in the new year. VERY grateful to my daughter/real estate agent for her patience as we journey through this together.
And, of course I am grateful for you for hanging in there while I’ve been a wee bit neglectful of Nurture Your Journey. Feeling a call to get back on board here too.
Wherever your heart is as this autumn season ebbs into winter, please be even kinder and gentler than usual to yourself and those who you encounter on the path. And please, let me know how you are being.
Oh, and you may notice I am trying something new. Instead of sending the newsletter out through a separate format, I am “blogging” it. Giving it a try.
with deep gratitude,
anne
PS: This poem was offered in one of the webinars and I found it profound. Sometimes a Wild God by Tom Hirons. It is well worth listening too.
