“Volunteer” Daffodils on the school grounds close to home. photo by anne richardson.
Spring—it has arrived early in the Pacific NW, at least where I live. Or maybe it is because I walk Joey the Pug twice a day I have time to “micro notice” the subtle changes of the season. And my noticing changes depending on weather, Sun and Moon’s position in the Sky, time of day, what I’ve been reading/watching/listening to, my body’s strength (or aches,) Joey and my pace, etc. Slowing down though, has been essential.
Daffodils began blooming in early February. In my likely faulty recollection is it is usually March before they truly bedazzle gardens and roadsides. Winter birds songs have shifted from rehearsal to full-on symphony mode. The House Finches are back flitting from the barely budding Dogwood to the birdbath on my deck and I am guessing nest building is well underway in anticipation of mating season.
On our morning walk the other day the Merlin’s Bird ID app recorded eight different birds: Lesser Goldfinch, Black-Capped Chickadee, Canada Goose, Bushtit, American Robin, Song Sparrow, American Crow, Spotted Towhee. It was a raucous serenade on an otherwise quiet Sunday. It was lovely, but it feels so…early.
COVID’s 6th Anniversary
Six years ago I had the unexpected “opportunity” to daily notice the shift in seasons due to the pandemic. Yup, six years ago this month. Those walks were balms. Connecting with Trees, Birds, Land where I lived at the time. Watching as Beings not effected by COVID thrived even as we were sorting through global shifts. Those were difficult times. Perhaps take a moment now to check in with yourself and see if anything is stirring. Who and or what did you lose during the pandemic? Take some deep breaths and pause. Slow down. When you are ready, continue.
Remember fabric masks? Before we knew better. This was a birthday hike in September 2020 when I was still wearing a mask hiking in case I saw anyone on coming the other way and I could pull it up. We were all sorting it out together. View is from Falcon Cove Hike, North Oregon Coast.
Winter Merging Into Spring
When I last wrote it was mid-November. Winter solstice was four weeks away. Now Spring equinox is two. The dark of Winter is fading and my flashlight and reflective vest come out less and less on my walks. As much as I love Winter—being held in the closeness of the dark, less activity, the coziness—I have to admit that now I walk Joey twice a day, plus additional potty and “play ball” outings, the extended light of Spring, the warming days (less layers) has garnered a revived enthusiasm for the season. Sure, we aren’t done with rain and cold. At least I hope we aren’t! Our early Spring has been preceded by spurts of long dry periods followed by torrents of Rain…but little Snow on the Mountains. Snow pack inadequate to quench our requirements for Water to grow crops, satisfy Fish runs, or quell a Wildfire season should it be a dry dry Summer. March and early April can bring an abundance of Snow to the Mountains. I am not alone in advocating for a wet, cool Spring if the Mountains are lavished with layers of Snow.
Western Gulls. North Oregon Coast. I’m always returning to Water. December 2025. photo by anne richardson
Water—Another Mentor
In early December I took my annual retreat to the North Oregon Coast. Already I am longing to return. I wrote about that time on my Substack post, retreating into the storm, so won’t reiterate my pondering here, except to say as I age my connection to Water deepens. As I slow down my life, I look to Water to teach me (another mentor.) Water’s flow, forms, non-linearity, connections, usurping boundaries (despite our human efforts), and essentialness to this Planet asks me to continually pause. To pay attention. One book that has influenced my engagement with Water is Theory of Water, Nishnaabe Maps to the Times Ahead, by Leanne Betasamosake Simpson.
There are so many passages in her book I could cite, that I found myself immersed in, but let me offer this from her chapter, Being a River:
Nibi [Water] decanters itself: it leaks, moves, flows, reconnects, not a real estate or enclosure or property, but as a living network, linking endless forms of life working with each other to bring about more life, more diversity of life, more abundance of life. Water is a matrix of bonds and attachments amongst living things of all kinds, a cascade of living beings across time and space, on a cosmic scale, extending into ancient times and into the future. Water is a set of practices that socially, intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, and physically reproduce the planet. Practices that are deeply relational and reciprocal. Practices that embody ethics privileging kindness and gentleness, creating architectures of care across time, space and species. (pgs 155-6)
Learning From Others to Expand my World View
I grieve the lack of humility of those in power. I grieve the lack of empathy and kindness and care for other Beings, as well as humans, of those who, by virtue of vast financial resources (which face it in our western culture are “power coupons,”) seem more focused on obtaining “more.” General statements, I know. There are exceptions. But my hope is not in those exceptions. It is in my neighbors…both human and non-human Beings that navigate these days with kindness, curiosity, and perhaps, intuitively, the way of Water. That I can become more “deeply relational and reciprocal.” I look to my mentors: Water, Grief, and Slowness to teach me.
I am also slow reading Undrowned, Black Feminist Lessons from Marine Mammals, by Alexis Pauline Gumbs. Reflections on breathing/another way to breathe are written as meditations focusing on Marine Mammals (and some Sharks.) What I am taking away from her and other Black thinkers is how Oceans (especially the Atlantic concerning the middle passage) and their inhabitants, have much to teach us on surviving in extractive cultures. Gumbs connects larger experiences with the stories of Dolphins, Whales, etc as they support each other in pods, care for their young, survival in captivity. It is expanding my understanding and breaking down my assumptions. Leaving me thirsty to grow and read more from other view points.
Grief: Can We Imagine New Ways?
What else am I grieving these days? Sometimes it circles around the difficulty to have these conversations…even within my own self! I am full of inner conflicts. How do we listen deeply to each other…not to get to the point of agreement (we will never agree on everything) or even to move toward some “middle ground” where we can feel some begrudging comfort. Instead I say collapse that arrowed line with a “middle.” Allow something newly imagined to emerge. AND, it takes so much energy. It is exhausting. I am exhausted. Are you?
My walks with Joey…they feel grounding even on the squishiest, muddiest days. So “ordinary” (which I touched on in my last Substack post.) Perhaps that is part of my self care. Remaining in touch with Trees and Birds and this season of revitalized greens that is now erupting with the spinning, springing Earth in the Northern Hemisphere. That reminder that even as humans are expanding/collapsing (or maybe not depending on your thoughts/beliefs), other Beings on this Planet have their own wisdom, their own patterns, their own rhythm. When I notice that, I find solace.
For Your Reflection
as the six year anniversary of the start of the pandemic arrives, what is stirring in you? how would you like to honor that? consider how you were personally impacted—maybe the death of a loved one, long-COVID illness, loss of employment, other impacts. how has your Grief shifted over the years? other thoughts on the pandemic and how it changed your life?
there is so much unfolding (perhaps too mild of a word) in the world these days? how do you care for yourself as you care for others? for your community?
what is stirring curiosity in you these days? how does that encourage you to step out of your “comfort zone?”
who or what do you consider your mentors? what do you look for in mentors?
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
Movies
I saw Hamnet and yes I cried. and yes, I loved it. The heart of it. The Grief of it. The director, Chloé Zhao, was asked in interviews if a mother (and father) would have grieved the death of her son as it was depicted in the movie given that so many children died during the plague. She talked about Grief being age old and universal. After my experience in Scotland last year and visiting a museum with ancient homo sapien burial remains that reflected “ritual” and what appears to be an honoring of death in community, I’m with Chloé. She is also training to be a death doula. A fascinating person. I recommend finding one of the many interviews she has offered.
Podcasts
First a note about my love (uh maybe obsession) with Grief podcasts. I am drawn to these because I find they open me to many Grief experiences. So many stories. The myriad ways of coping. Sure, I have my own experiences (personal and professional) and as i come alongside folks in my practice I want to always be curious about each person’s experience. Let go of any judgments that might creep in. I don’t have answers. I do hope I always have a heart ready to listen, not to solve, but as witness.
One of my favorite Grief podcasts is Anderson Cooper’s All There Is. (Okay, I mentioned this last time, but it is worth repeating.) Every two weeks he releases a new episode and is currently in season three. What I appreciate about his podcast is his “I’m someone who didn’t grieve the death of my father and brother until a few years ago and now I am.” He is honest about how “not grieving” shaped his life, is still learning how to be with his Grief, and is curious about how his guests navigate Grief. He never claims to be an expert.
I mentioned the death of poet Andrea Gibson in my previous newsletter and how their partner, Megan Falley, has been writing so tenderly about her journey into widowhood on the Things That Don’t Suck Substack, Anderson’s interview with her, “Dying is the Opposite of Leaving: Remembering Andrea Gibson,” is full of tender remembrances and sharing Megan’s thoughts on grieving.
The another podcast I often mention is You’re Going to Die: The Podcast. The episode I recommend this time around is with the poet and expansive hearted human Rosemary Wahtola Trommer. The One Life We Can Save, delves into the suicide of her son Finn and death of her father not long after. She weaves her poems into the discussion. Whether or not you’ve experienced the death of someone by suicide in your life, I recommend listening. Navigating those Waters as a friend can leave one feeling mystified as how to come alongside. Rosemary’s deep insights may offer some guidance.
And finally, I have to give another shout out to the Coffee, Grief and Gratitude podcast. This podcast arose from the monthly Zoom Coffee Talks that were spawned in the wake of COVID shutdowns. Writer Anne Gudger and her daughter Maria Gibson saw a need for folks to share their Grief stories. The Zoom talks are once a month where five readers share a written piece…a wide assortment of experiences of Loss and Grief. I always say it is my monthly dose of heart balm.
Originally the Zoom meetings were not shared via a podcast, but Anne and Maria saw the gift of the stories plus an opportunity to interview writers and folks with experiences to share with others around their work with Grief and Loss to a wider audience. Coffee, Grief, and Gratitude was launched. Now the monthly Zoom meetings are shared as well as an array of interesting interviews. If you are looking for a place to start, I recommend February’s Coffee Talk,: A Special Reading with the Queer Love Project. And yes, way back in the beginning I was interviewed.
PS: Anne’s book, The Fifth Chamber, is a tender memoir of loss I recommend. And not because she is my friend, but because it is a narrative woven with lyrical language by someone who loves words and is, like Anne, a treasure.
Offering: My Passion and Heart
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!
Final Thoughts
Grieving: Loss Anniversaries
Winter is heavy with death and loss anniversaries in my world. In January it was the 40th anniversary of my father's death. Forty years. That number buzzed around me all year and I found myself missing him, looking for him more than I have in a long time. Sorting through photos. Peering for him to appear in the “thin places.” Having a deep longing to connect.
In February is was the 8th anniversary of my mother’s death. December was nine years for my beloved first pug, Hugo. It has also been a decade since my divorce—another kind of loss. Losses that ask me to slow down and notice. Appreciate.
A Beginning: Has It Really Been 10 Years?
A decade ago I started writing blogs (May 2016!) on this website with 2015 being the official “birth” of Nurture Your Journey. I looked at those first couple of blogs. Short and sweet. No headers. One photo. My blogging has evolved, grown, as I believe I have. I have expanded in my understanding of Grief and Loss—personally and professionally. I hope I have also honed my writing style. Become braver in sharing my heart.
As I mentioned in my last post, I can feel a shifting and you may even have sensed it too over the last year. More philosophical alongside Grief education alongside personal reflection. I am sixty-six and a half (ha, remember when you were a kid and the “half” was important!) What I designed and desired to offer a decade ago; what lit a fire in me has shifted. What I called my “yeses” and “noes” in the last post. (And yes, I still need to update my website.) The plan is to pare down my offerings to spiritual direction/companionship; blessings, rituals & ceremonies; and offering my labyrinth for rental and maybe some labyrinth facilitation.
Ah, Poetry’s Invitation
My writing, especially poetry, had been languishing. This year I signed up for The Stafford Challenge and have been writing a poem a day (as inspired by the writing practice of William Stafford.) The invitation is to do this from Jan 17, 2026-Jan 16, 2027. Yup, 365 poems (fortunately no one says they have to be “good” poems.) I joined a small group too, for support. So far I am enjoying getting back in the groove and writing more.
And though I don’t write on my Substack , following dandelion seeds, as much as I had intended, well, that seems to be the place I integrate much of what I’m reading/watching/pondering these days. You can subscribe for free, if you are curious.
Letting Go
So this year is about letting go of the more expansive parts of Nurture Your Journey. Slowness, my mentor, is showing me how. For now, I plan to still write these often belated quarterly newsletters and share Grief related information and education.
As Winter leans into Spring, I will relish the Daffodils as they bloom on their schedule. Will don my rain gear on showery days, walk Joey, and appreciate each lilt of Spring’s Bird symphony. For if there is anything the pandemic taught and this current topsy-turvy world teaches me, taking time to notice my place in the world and how I am woven in is a daily invitation. Allowing myself to be in sync with the rhythm of Water and Beings that entangle me in my responsibility.
in gratitude for you, whether this is your first time or you have been here through the years,
anne
PS: One Poem To Share From My “Challenge.”
I subscribe to The Pause, Krista Tippett’s (On Being) Substack. The title touched me (as well as the whole post) and it became a portal for this poem.
nourishment for sore hearts: a blessing
“My heart is sore. Your heart is sore.” Krista Tippett, 1/31/26 The Pause Substack
may our heart-bruises be tended as if discovering an abandoned kitten.
may we bask in sun breaks on rain-soaked days, allowing warmth to lighten our despair.
in our sleep, may we be held in snug protection by an embroidered blanket of stars. may our deep slumber dreams be entanglements of curiosity leading us toward wonder, not fear.
on days we feel alone, isolated, so mired in the muck of it all, may we, in the yawn of first morning, listen for robin’s third, fourth, fifth note. let those notes be our first news of the day.
when we encounter the lonely, the hurt, the angry, may we sing those notes back filling the air, soothing unspoken pain.
may we wrap aloe vera leaves around the sore hearts of our neighbors…and our own. a balm to keep our hearts soft and open to forgiveness.
may we not be afraid to grasp the thorny rose. let drops of our blood nourish the soil with stories brewed over the fire of myth for future generations. may those future generations understand myths shapeshift.
when we are famished for kindness, may a platter of care appear in a meal, smile, hand to hold, ear to listen, shelter, bills paid, knit hats, candle lit in remembrance, a song.
may our hearts beat not to bruise another, but to dance with quantum possibilities..
anne richardson 2/11/26
Joey the Pug and his ball…his obsession. How could I not share?
