Rains returned for my morning walks right on cue for fall. The dahlias have been a palate of vibrant colors this season and even as they wane, continue to enchant. September 25, 2023. photo by anne richardson
A Harvest of Rest
In recent years, my local climate has not followed the usual patterns of weaving cool weather into night, to leaves surrendering their green into startling reds and yellows, and flowers dropping to mulch into soil as autumn approaches. Oh, it arrives in some form, but a bit chagrined and with a folder full of explanations. So I was happy, yes happy, to don my rain gear as the calendar officially announced the equinox in my beloved Pacific NW and the Nature that surrounds me magically turned on cue. As one who has lived all but the first four years of her life in this region on Earth, the shift in seasons is one way I navigate the spiral of my being. The harvest of rest this season offers, with its lengthening nights and bundling of my body for warmth, reminds me of all the moments I’ve forgotten in the chaos of summer about SLOW TIME. Slow time, something I lean into with more grace as I age. Stepping away from the demands of external clocks (though they still seems to dictate more of my life than I desire.)
Body Time vs Clock Time
Time never was meant to be clock rigid. And yes, when we travel, having planes and trains “run on time” is appreciated. In cities and towns, the syncing of traffic lights is helpful for driving, so there’s that. But in a few weeks in my part of the world, we will “magically” fall back an hour to, what, fool Sun? Birds? Our own body rhythms? We will be on “standard” time. I’m not sure who set the standard (okay, I could Google it, but I’m not going to…it’s a rhetorical ponder.) These days, I’m into pushing back against what I’ve been told are “standards.” A feisty crone over here.
Not every culture is so “clock|time” dependent. Neither is Grief. Or Joy. Or aging. Or the shimmer of communities when they gather spontaneously. Or the simmering of the vegetable or chicken stocks I make these days…sitting on the stove for hours, earthy aroma filling my nest. Time out of time just meandering at a non-determined pace.
Seeking Stillness
I wonder how long it would take for my body to sync with the Land I live on if I removed the external ticking of clocks? If, living in a city, I even could…or would I need to move out out out away from constant light intrusion and ancillary noise? Confession here: I like way too many of my comforts to totally rough it. And I am not glorifying times past when a small infected wound could kill you (oh wait, it still can…it’s called sepsis.) But still, where can we find STILLNESS? As a society, a culture, we seem to collectively be uncomfortable around stillness. As if it might reveal something we don’t want seen.
First full day of rain in months hovering over the city of Portland. September 25, 2023. photo by anne richardson
Fallen leaves from “The Sisters.” I will miss these Beloveds after I move. photo by anne richardson.
Eva Cassidy sings my favorite version of the song Autumn Leaves. Oh do go and listen.
Savoring The Nest As I Prepare to Move
I’d like to say I’ll be in a very quiet, still place the next month, but after 13 months of looking for a new home (those of you that have followed me for a while may recall it has been quite a journey,) I have finally found a place to settle, at least for now. So I will be busy sorting, packing, donating, and finally resettling the next few weeks. I am thanking the space I now dwell for all it has offered. It has been kind and gentle and I will offer it a blessing of gratitude and release before I step out the door one final time.
On this home seeking sojourn, I was blessed with support from my wise circle of elders, which included embodied beings of all kinds and those beyond embodiment. I am beyond grateful as I prepare for this shift. And I am grateful for you following along on this journey.
May you harvest the rest you need in this autumn season (or if spring is unfolding where you reside, may you find restful moments amid the burgeoning energy of new growth) in ways that are meaning-filled to you.
Heart Book Recommendation
Amazing writer and my friend, Anne Gudger’s beautiful book, The Fifth Chamber, is finally available for purchase from your local bookseller (or the behemoth.) I found it so mesmerizing that I read it in three days. (It took that long because I wanted to savor it!) Each word is a jewel. And though there are tears, it is after all about the aftermath of the loss of Anne’s first husband in a car accident when she was six months pregnant with their son, it is also about joy and new love, and the weaving of grief, love, anger, laughter, sorrow, and all the experiences life can send ones way with grace…and M&M’s.
Anne and her daughter, Maria facilitate the monthly Coffee Talks I always rave about and host the podcast, Grief and Gratitude. To stay in the loop about Coffee Talk, or if you would like to be a reader, reach out to Anne or Maria via the Facebook group, Coffee and Grief Community or contact me and I will connect you.
Anne Gudger’s Book, The Fifth Chamber, sitting atop my car, Luna. A perfect match. A gem of a book.
Selection of Offerings & What’s On the “Schedule”
Here is a snapshot of what I offer to individuals and communities. To see a complete list, head over to my home page.
Spiritual Direction/Companionship. Just a little reminder that Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of having someone come alongside and provide deep listening, allowing one to hear their own wisdom. Their own stories. To connect with their Source as they define and have experienced Mystery in their lives. To hold space to reflect on beliefs with curiosity without judgment. To be in the midst of their Grief & Loss and have someone simply be with them, taking time, all the time needed/desired to allow the journey to unfold. To celebrate joys. And more.
To find out more about my philosophy, background, training and “tools” that we can use in a session, check out my website. I follow the ethics of Spiritual Directors International., where I am a member.
I have space available. I meet with folks in-person or via Zoom. Please reach out if you have questions about how a session might unfold. Oh, and I always appreciate referrals!
Labyrinth Facilitation. This summer I offered the labyrinth in two different settings. One was in support of parents coming alongside their teens in recovery through Collective Roots APG. The other was as part of an annual “Time of Remembering” offered by Mt Hood Hospice. I shared more about these experiences in my August 20th blog post.
Professional Presentations: My most recent presentations have been focused on Anticipatory Grief, Ambiguous Loss, and Disenfranchised Grief, which were highlighted in my Summer Newsletter (June 29). I have a wide range of experiences and expertise though, which you can check out on my “For Professionals” page.
With my upcoming move, my schedule is open. No big projects, presentations, or workshops. Moving takes a lot of energy, so I am grateful for the space. If you have ideas or requests though, send them my way. By mid-November I should be more settled and look forward to seeing what emerges, even as the literal season moves toward the winter season of deepening rest. It is a great time to gestate ideas in collaboration!
following dandelion seeds. my new substack….an outlet for my ponderings & writing. photo by anne richardson
A New Outlet For My Ponderings: Substack
I have been following other writers on Substack for a while now and finally decided to expand my writing in that format. My Substack is called “following dandelion seeds” and will range further afield than the Grief and Loss support I offer here, though that will always be the undercurrent because, well me.
As I follow the work of philosophers, other ponderers, poets, writers, and so much more…I was finding I needed an outlet beyond my Nurture Your Journey blog that was less time intensive (these typically take 10-14 hours to complete.) It will also be more experimental. Push boundaries. I hope you will subscribe.
Also, there are some interesting offerings over there. If you are not familiar with Substack, many writers offer a free subscription level (my content is free.) I invite you to look around and see what interests you.
Reflection Questions
As we settle into this darkening season in the north, how is “time” shifting for you? Do you enjoy the busyness of “the holidays” or can you imagine more stillness in the midst of the busy?”
How might you “harvest” rest?
What does it look like to allow space|time to be with Stars? Birds? Friends? Yourself? Mystery?
How do you imagine stillness being part of your hour|day|week|month?
If you feel Grief stirring in your bones, your heart, who can sit beside you and be with you? How can you be with one who is grieving?
Final Thoughts: Scattering
Honoring a Loved One’s Cremains
When someone is cremated or, alternatively, water cremated (alkaline hydrolysis), honoring the person’s remains is as individual as the beloveds who hold onto them. When my mother died five and a half years ago we had her cremated per her request (water cremation was not an option at that time.) Her ashes sat by an altar I set up as I waited for insight as to what to do.
When my father died thirty plus years before her, his ashes had been scattered over Wy’East (Mt Hood) for us by the funeral home. Back in the 80’s my relationship with Grief and the idea of ritual-ceremony was still a hidden gem waiting to be discovered. There wasn’t a lot of discussion once we decided on cremation except that he would be “scattered” and the choice was “ocean” or “mountain.” So mountain it was. As time passed it was comforting to know he was “on the mountain” I viewed frequently and I would say “hello Dad” whenever I drove through the forested passes. After my mother’s death, I knew part of her ashes would need to join the long ago scatter ones.
My mother’s ashes (mixed with special composting soil) under Tree by Salmon Creek.
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At the one year anniversary of her death, I mixed her ashes with special composting soil called Let Your Love Grow, A Living Memorial. This creates a compost that engages with Nature in a friendlier manner. I created a special ritual to “do the mixing.” Some of these now enhanced ashes accompanied me on my Sojourn to her homeland in 2019, which I chronicled in blog posts that spring and summer.
The rest have been waiting to be spread over Wy’East to “join Dad.” Last weekend it was “time.” The weather was sun sparkle clear, evaporating the damp ground as mist rising from rocks on the path my son and I hiked along the Salmon River. The air felt calm as it entered our lungs and a way opened up for us to reach River. We shared a few stories and spread her ashes beneath a Tree, adding a small bundle of Rosemary, Thyme, Fuchsias and Impatiens tied with cotton twine, a rock I had brought home from England during that 2019 journey and a small wooden heart that said “love.” Made a brief call to include my daughter, who was not able to join us. A simple ceremony. Gentle and tender, like my mother. Grief by now shifting to something more akin to the sweetness of Peace Roses, one of her favorites.
No Rush. No Limit on Remembrances
There does not have to be a rush to honor your beloveds. And it can be done over several small rituals and ceremonies. Trust that you will know the how. The what. The when. Of course with burials, there are practical timelines. But even after that, there are still ways of hold remembrances depending on what is meaningful to you.
Grief, too, does not need to be rushed. Dance with it. Let it scatter you over a mountain. Or wash you out to sea. Sing to you. Sit with you in the dark. Let Grief rejoice when unexpected laughter erupts from your belly. Let Grief, and Joy, be your companions in the stillness. Bring your community with you in the stillness. We are not meant to be on this journey alone.
with deep gratitude,
anne
