The Call to Deeper Rest

Next week we will cross from Autumn into earliest Winter. The darkening nights enfold me and I am grateful for the cool kiss of air that greets me when I wake. The call to deeper rest is not only during the earlier arrival of evenings, but in the low hanging sun in day-sky.

In many northern traditions, especially the Celtic ways I am most familiar with, this time of year is considered liminal. A time when the veil between worlds is particularly thin. (If you are curious, here is a short YouTube video from the National Museum of Ireland about Samhain, as it is called.) Yes, as in many things in our Western culture, it has been turned into an “holiday” to spend money on. Costumes. Decorations. Candy. Parties. And that can be a lot of fun. The neighborhood on my “Mazama Street Rambles” has homes that go all out. Oodles of creativity. And this year we will ramble on Halloween, so will see the kiddos out and about. Delightful.

Invitation to Notice

AND, over the next few weeks, I would invite you to stop. To drop into Slow Time. See what you notice as the veil thins. I believe the ancestors are always close, but they are even closer when Trees shed their leaves, Land readies for deep winter sleep, and our dream time extends into the crevices of decay.

Grief Threads Through Change

I am excited the anticipated move is finally upon me (the first weekend of November.) So this will be short as I try to fit this in between sorting, packing, panicking…and likely more than a few typos.

My Mentor Grief taps me on the shoulder on a regular basis. “Pay attention to what is stirring.” Many of the belongings I touch have meaning attached to them. And with that, there can be an associated reminder of loss. Grief…as well as Joy. So amid the excitement, threads of Grief are woven in. Some days I am so so tired. Does this resonate with moves you have made in your life? Does it found familiar?

There are two things I have in mass amounts: photos and books. I find the suggestion of “if it doesn’t bring you joy, let it go,” is just not working for me. Ha!

About the photos: When my kiddos were young, my former spouse and I took A LOT of pics. Back in the day when you had them developed. And then we would make duplicates for our families. Well, my mother’s copies have all come back to me. And other relatives, too. And I SWEAR some photos spontaneously duplicated in boxes. The idea of sorting and tossing became overwhelming. I informed my daughter (only half-joking) that they would be hers to deal with after I died. And before you suggest scanning (I have done that with a few) and tossing, there is something about holding a photo and reflecting on the experience it stirs. Objects have energy.

Being Kind to My Younger Self

Besides my grandparents and mothers pics, I have my own photos from high school and college. Square-format, yellowed, falling out of the dime-store albums. I looked at my younger self and admire her. She didn’t know about grieving, though there were certainly things to grieve in her family. So she coped by being an “achiever” and a “good girl.” She had dreams (I was going to be a lawyer!) Back in the day, we had a class in fall of our senior year where we wrote a letter to ourselves to be mailed out five years after graduation. I found it again plowing through boxes. Re-reading it was so interesting, I had to share it with my daughter.

So, yes, photos and memorabilia are stirring up sediment from the bottom of The Well of Grief. Especially photos of my father. Older photos of him as a young man. Or with my brother and me as kids. The smile that was on my mother’s face when she was beside him. The year before he died when, if I look closer, I swear I see his heart working, boom-boom, boom-boom to keep pumping. So many years ago. So many memories we didn’t share as time has passed…and yet in a way he is still here with me. Both/and. Dwelling in the thin place.

Slow Time Allows for Noticing

And then there are the books. Books on Grief. Spiritual Care. Trauma. Compassion. Memoirs. Writing. Environment/Nature. Poetry….so many books of poetry. And of course my friends’ beautiful books. And more. Sure, some I’ve donated. And as I unpack, I’ll likely whittle down a few more instead of placing them back on the shelf. But books feel like friends and I cherish both.

Amid the chaos and clutter, I have to remind myself to slip into Slow Time. The move will come and I will need to be out of one space and in another on prescribed dates, but Slow Time allows for me to honor where I am now. To notice the fuchsias that are trying to bloom one more time on my deck before the freeze arrives this weekend. A deck that has welcomed Dark-eyed juncos, Goldfinches, Black-capped Chick-a-dees, and the occasional Stellar’s jay over the years. To warn Squirrel to not hide their winter stash in the pots, for they will soon be gone.

Slow Time says, “Take your walks. Say goodbye to The Sisters and Crows and all the other Beings that have come alongside you while you have lived a full life on this wee parcel of Land.”

The Gift of Being Witnessed

This nest has held me for eight years. Through a divorce. The death of my beloved pug. Been with me through my mother’s final journey. A change in how I approach my “work” in the world. It has witnessed my deepening connection to Land and spirituality, pondering, and ability to sit with what is uncomfortable. Witnessed birth-death-rebirth. Love. It waited patiently while I made two sojourns. On my final day, I will walk through each room and offer gratitude, a blessing, and clear out any energy that doesn’t belong. Leave it fresh for the next nesters.

With every ending there is loss. Even ones that are anticipated with joy and relief. I look forward to my new space welcoming me and seeing what unfolds. I look forward to you accompanying on the journey. And if you have any blessings to send my way, they would be appreciated. Or any of your own moving stories to share…the grief, joy, mishaps, etc, I would be honored to receive them.

with deepest gratitude,

anne

ps: i’ve been writing an almost weekly Substack, following dandelion seeds, since mid-September. it expands beyond Grief. for example, i’ve been reflecting on “shelter” through a wider lens as i’ve been preparing to move. i would be ever so grateful if you would subscribe, but no pressure. those pieces are shorter and don’t have announcements of upcoming events or my other usual add-ons.

For Your Reflection

• for those in the northern hemisphere, as the nights grow longer, what invitations are you sensing? does the idea of dropping into “Slow Time” appeal to you? (i sometimes start a session with a directee with the invitation to drop into slow time. to step out of clock time. to slip into a between space.) does it feel almost impossible if your life is full of “to do” lists? places “to be?” if it appeals to you, how might you create micro moments of “Slow Time?”

• have you ever considered connecting with your ancestors? what might that looks like? if your personal family history has a lot of trauma, i’ve heard it suggested you go back to ancestors you don’t know family stories about. feel free to play with this and offer yourself a broad definition of “ancestor.” on Substack i’ve been writing how the Land wants to be in relationship with us, so perhaps that is a place to explore.

• as the “holidays” approach, Grief can often rise to the surface (so many expectations!) how might you use the idea of Slow Time to build in breaks and create a sense of ease and rest through what tends to be a busy time of year?

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Podcast Recommendation

I’ve shared the You’re Going to Die podcast as a recommendation in previous blogs. And I have Megan Devine’s website, Refuge in Grief, listed under Resources. I was enthralled when the two came together as YGTD host Ned Buskirk’s interview Holding Humans w/Megan Devine was released Oct. 12th. This is such an honest conversation. And Megan’s approach reminds me of the experiences that are shared by folks during their interviews on my most favorite Grief podcast, Coffee, Grief, and Gratitude. I hope you will listen, especially if someone has told you your Grief has been “taking too long” and pathologizing your journey. Megan has some strong feelings about the new diagnosis of “Prolonged Grief Disorder.” Same feelings I had when it first came out.

Poetry

A wee poem from my archives. I was going to look through my poetry books for something about moving|leaving|grief|darkness|slow time, but my books are all packed away!

autumn skies

promise ruin

or

clarity

or

both

or

break

promises you

didn’t even

know

were

made

©anne richardson

Book Recommendation

If you enjoy the beauty, whimsy, enchantment, and the offerings of Wild Flowers, I recommend Tiny Seed Literary Journal’s Poetry of the Wild Flowers anthology. And yes, I have a poem, Forget-Me-Nots, included. One of my dearest friends, Lanette, has a poem in the anthology, too.

If you need further enticing, here is the blurb on blurb (where you order the book):

“With gratitude, we present "Poetry of the Wild Flowers," a Tiny Seed Poetry Anthology dedicated to the poets who generously contributed their voices in tribute to the countless wild blooms that adorn our world. It's truly astonishing, for instance, how the dandelion has sparked numerous verses. Rather than conforming to tradition, which would assign one poem to each blossom, we've opted to diverge from the norm and embrace the myriad ways your eloquent words honor these same wildflowers. In each and every poem within this anthology's pages, we unearth not just inspiration but also a deep sense of gratitude.”