North Oregon Coast during a “bomb cyclone” weather cycle. November 2024. photo by anne richardson
Hello Dear Ones,
The Winter Solstice is newly passed in these northern climes and dawn arrives earlier in minute increments. Those who relish even one, two, three minutes of expanding light in these wakening days in the midst of Winter are exhaling a sigh of relief and scrawl the word “hope” on moist interior windows. As a relisher of the long, dark nights of Winter, I continue to sigh into the dark and appreciate the howl of the wind and rain as it beats against my windows while I sleep. That wind and rain drifting into my dreams…Salmon swimming in puddles going to…where? My dream did not say. Salmon, a powerful totem to the indigenous people of the Land where I live and to people of my Celtic ancestry. Water…a place for both inner solace and movement for my own transformations. A snippet of a dream that lingers days after waking. And I am comfortable with not needing to “know” what it means. Simply paying attention.
An Invitation: Noticing What We Carry
For the Longest Night, December 21st, I was once again included in the planning of an event that welcomed those who were sitting with Grief & Loss or simply wanting to step away from the bustle of the season. My co-collaborators are amazing. We came together and mulled themes, listened to each other and tuned into what was unfolding in the community around us. It took awhile for our theme to emerge: “What we carry; what carries us.” So many ways to receive that invitation.
At the event we had stones available for folks to carry, if they chose, throughout the evening. Stones as a representation for what they may have been carrying or carrying for others and take to any of several options of activities as well to include in community time at the start and finish. This idea of carrying reminds me of these lines from the Mary Oliver poem “Heavy:” "It's not the weight you carry//But in how you carry it--/Books, bricks, grief--/It's all in the way/You embrace it, balance it, carry it//When you cannot and would not,/Put it down." So many questions in those lines…the first being to ask yourself, “what am I carrying?” (or for our expanded invitation, “what might be carrying you?”)
Labyrinth Ritual
An invitation for the labyrinth walk (what I facilitated) was to carry a stone in and, if the participant chose, they could leave it in the basket in the center. At the end of the evening there were many stones in the basket. Folks needing to release what they have been carrying…at least for a while.
Labyrinth at the Longest Night Gathering, Dec. 2024.
I took these precious stones home, set them outside the next day and allowed the rain to wash over them. Allowed the rain to release the weight of what was placed in them…grief, loss, tears, fear, anxiety, hopelessness, even joy, a long list I am sure…for what do I know of what people carry that needs to be set down? I offered gratitude to what those stones held, trusting in the gift of the ritual.
An Invitation to Carry & Reflect
This is a selection of the reflection questions I had available for the walkers, adjusted for this newsletter. Perhaps place a stone in your hand, take a walk (if you are unable to physically take a walk, hold a stone in your hand and use your imagination) and reflect on these questions:
can i name what i have been carrying? how does it feel to name it?
how weighty is this? where do i notice it in my body?
am i carrying this for someone else?
how have i been carried this year? has it been in community? by an individual? how does it feel to be carried?
do i want leave the stone some place (perhaps some place special or just intuit a spot) or do i need to continue to carry it as a reminder moving forward…but perhaps the weight has shifted?
““Oceans don’t separate us; they actually connect us.””
Ocean Connects & Carries
I set aside time in November to retreat to the North Oregon Coast shortly after the full Moon and King Tides (the tides were still monstrously high,) an atmospheric river pummeling the coastline. Much needed time to allow the rain to wash over me. To watch Ocean’s power from a safe vantage point and adjust my perspective as a single human on the planet.
The threshold place, liminal space where Ocean meets Land is where I ground myself, odd as that may sound. Where the watery parts of my soul find wild companionship. It is deep nourishment.
Great Blue Heron, one of first beings I saw as I headed out for a walk upon arriving at the coast. photo by anne richardson
A Year of Shifts
Carry…the theme didn’t resonate with me at first (part of collaboration, right?), but it keeps gnawing at me. Whether as metaphor or in the emotional|physical|spiritual aspects. This year has, in hindsight, been one of unanticipated internal shifts. Some monumental. I’ve stumbled, which means I’ve dropped some things I’ve carried. Things that got broken (and you can read “things” expansively.). My inner landscape|seascape has been reconstituted and how I am carried by Land feels different. My friendships have deepened in a way that is nourishing and that has expanded my desire to carry my friends though their difficult seasons…and allow myself to be carried.
Wild Introvert
And, if you have followed me for any length of time you might remember how this is the time of year that feeds me. So I continue to find nourishment in how the dark carries me. Yes, I welcome the light, but as someone who spends a lot of time reading, exploring, pondering, the quiet of the dark holds space for my meandering mind. (Here’s a wee aside for my fellow introverts. I discovered the term “wild introvert” a couple of months ago and had a huge aha moment. “Yes! This is me.” Please read “Are Your A Wild Introvert?” if you are interested.)
Looking For What Connects, Not Separates
The wise quote about Oceans connecting us was another “light bulb” moment. Of course they don’t separate us. As continents formed, Oceans’ flows continued to connect one place to another, beings from one place hitching a ride on debris or other water beings. Water is the great “carrier.”
I swim laps four/five mornings a week, it is often where I sort things out, as water can hold (carry) my internal meanderings and feelings. I even compose whole posts in the pool, which unfortunately remain there as I have yet to figure out how to type and swim at the same time! And when I walk in the rain, it is water that is connecting me to place in the moment. Rain drops that originated from Clouds sourced from farther afield than my backyard. Clouds, like Ocean, are carriers. And now I’m starting to meander.
Meandering into Winter’s watery weather. As 2025 begins, being open to putting down what I no longer need to carry and allowing water to carry it away is an invitation. Being open to what Grief may ask me to carry is an invitation…this many years on the journey, I know to expect the unexpected. And, as always, remaining curious and kind.
For Your Reflection
how do you connect with your inner self? with the world around you? i connect with water, but perhaps a different element resonates with you.
how does the returning light shape your being in Winter? (or, if you live in the Southern Hemisphere, how does the lessening of light shape your being in Summer?)
any thoughts on the carrying theme.
one of my usual questions: where is Grief in your body, heart, life today? what conversation are you having with Grief?
another 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?
Recommendations
Holly Pruett, Deathcare practitioner, guide, celebrant, and so much more (including a friend,) will have three different ways to explore Befriending Mortality in 2025. One is a six-week course in March hosted by the Rowe Center. The second is a new six-month pilot program: Befriending Mortality Support Groups. And the third is through individual sessions.
Holly has two decades of experience in the deathcare, guide and celebrant field. She is kind and wise and I highly recommend her. Please check Befriending Mortality and her other offerings.
In a culture where talking about our mortality is shied away from and even knowing how to start these conversations can be anxiety producing, it is easy to keep putting it off. Here is your opportunity to get a wee bit more comfortable.
Over the last 18 months I’ve shared how the work of Báyò Akómoláfé and The Emergent Network has expanded my curiosity and thinking about how I am engaging in the world around me. In conjunction with For the Wild, The Emergent Network is releasing a Slow Study of “Báyò Akómoláfé's We Will Dance with Mountains: Vunja!” December 30th. If you are curious about Bayo’s work, this would be one entry point to explore further. I participated in “We Will Dance with Mountains: Vunja!” and I’m signing up because I am a slow study!
I am in the midst of reading Something in the Woods Loves You by Jarod K Anderson. Per the start of the blurb: “An inspiring blend of nature writing and memoir that explores nature’s crucial role in our emotional and mental health.” The author’s mental health is mired in debilitating depression. His conversations with his depression, how he engages with nature and his journey out of his dark place (he starts in Winter and I just finished Spring…and dang it, the library is demanding I return it, so will have to wait to finish…he frames the book through the seasons) is written with honesty and beautifully lyrical language.
If you know someone who is depressed or are yourself, I believe you would find this a helpful book. It has offered me a new perspective for those living with debilitating depression. Just a note, it has frequent references to suicidal ideation. And if you can, please purchase from your local indie, or check out from the library (though you may need to wait awhile.)
Offerings: Reminder
Spiritual Direction/Companionship:
Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of coming alongside and providing deep listening. This allows 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.
I meet with folks from diverse beliefs and spiritual backgrounds and practices. Different ages and genders. All are welcome. Yes, my writing reflects my unfolding curiosities and path. So yes, I am on my own journey, but I have a director that I sort through my “stuff” with, so I won’t be trying to nudge you over to my ways of thinking.
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.
I always appreciate referrals!
Grief and Labyrinth Facilitation Events/Workshops by Request
I have offered workshops and retreats in a variety of settings over the years. Collaborating in community to journey with Grief and Loss is one of my passions. My canvas labyrinth is often part of these gatherings. In my experience when folks engage with the labyrinth, a conversation about Grief opens up. I offered a tender event in November for an organization that was a “repeat” as it had been meaningful to the prior participants. I look forward to discussing possibilities with you. Please reach out if you are interested in a gathering.
Substack
I am doing the bulk of my writing on Substack as “following dandelion seeds.” I usually publish a post every two to three weeks. I find the format easier to engage with and enjoy following other writers. That is to say, if you find my writing and or pondering engaging, please follow me (or better yet “subscribe,” it’s free) over there. You do not need to download the app.
Here are links to my most recent posts: tender wildness: what if being Monstrous is radical kindness?
what is your language for Grief: portals for Wound care.
slow down. listen. the veil is thin: a new cartography for the threshold?
Final Thoughts
Toward the end of each year I listen to see what words might bubble up as guides moving forward. A poem maybe. This year my words appeared over the last few weeks: Wild | Allow(ing) | Tender(ness). At the end of October, start of November (in the liminal time when the veil is thin) I participated in a gathering called Becoming Monster. I found it deeply impactful and insightful about how I want to engage with the world around me. Wild expanded out of that. And tender has been part of my practice for a while, but wants to deepen. Allow asked to be the bridge. And the poem? I’ve been slow reading Ada Limón’s sharks in the rivers. One poem from the collection, “Ways to Ease Your Animal Mind” sent shivers through my body. (see poem below.) Her images had me sighing.
Speaking of rivers, the Pacific NW is the recipient of one atmospheric river after another. My November beach retreat was gloriously rain soaked (a bomb-cyclone no less) with splashes of sun-clearing. I will return again in January for my Winter retreat. This time of year nourishes my soul.
As we head into the turn of the calendar to 2025, I hope you are finding ways to nourish your body and spirit. If you can, perhaps extend that out to your community (I am finding my volunteer shifts at the local farmer’s market a delightful counterbalance to my rather deep diving interior…much needed air.)
Please take a moment to let me know how you are being in general and how you are being tender with yourself these days.
as always, grateful for your accompanying me on this journey,
anne
“Ways to Ease Your Animal Mind
A cloud of cormorants comes
flooding out of rushed wind,
out of sunned sea-bound waves.
The air is unwound with bird
and you are not lost in the least,
but a deliberate deserter.
Let go the oxcart.
Let go the claw and climb.
This fevered mess of world
is well-done. Lean in and nuzzle
its exceptional need to be yours.”
