One of the first lessons I learned on my spiritual journey was the wheel of the year, a way to keep track of time by the natural world - the equinoxes, solstices, and the cross-quarter days (Imbolc, Beltaine, Lammas, Samhain).
It would be easy to flatten this following into a rote, two dimensional cliché - fall, winter, spring, summer - with their ascribed meaning and symbols always the same year in and year out. But after 30 years of following this rhythm I’m in awe of the nuance, subtleties, and differences that each season brings year after year. This is my 48th Halloween and no two have been the same. There maybe whispers of the years past, imprints of what the season represents and holds. But it’s impossible to meet each Halloween exactly the same, because I am not the same year after year. Yes the basic blueprint of me is constant, but constant does not mean static. We are not static beings no matter how much we so want to be. So while we can say fall is a time of pumpkins, candy, and leaves falling, there is so much more variation from year to year. Lately noticing the subtleties is what gets me through the day. Often as we move through our spiritual lives the signs and guideposts become more and more wisps and whispers. If we continually expected the very loud moments again and again we would soon find ourselves disappointed or on a quest to find bigger, better, more and more or what could be called spiritual greed. But if we move out of cliché and into the realities of life - paradox, complexities, nuance, and contradictions, these qualities lead us into the quieter and deeper layers of our being. And there we might find more contentment and less of the grabbing quality that comes with bigger and better. This is what the Samhain season invites us into. When the veil between the spiritual and the material thins, things may not get more showy and obvious but quieter and steeped in the unknown. It’s the invitation into a whisper and a stillness. An invitation that doesn’t rest on only the logical, linear, and tangible. What a reprieve this season offers us from our modern expectations. We are midway between fall equinox and winter solstice during this first week of November. We are moving to the more quiet and barren (vulnerable) time of year. This time is an invitation to begin the travels to the deep within. So light the fires and let them whisper to you. Feel the warmth of your tea (or pumpkin spice latte) mug and let it gently soothe you again and again. Invite these simple rituals to help you navigate your own internal landscape. What is inside you that needs tending to at this moment? What is whispering that has yet to be heard? How are your feelings showing up and asking to be witnessed? Invite spirit to come and sit with you in silence and notice how the release from the expectation of answers offers freedom for both you and spirit to just be. Let this season burrow inside you, so as the winter approaches you are more and more comfortable with your tenderness and in turn the world’s tenderness. Blessings, Valerie
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Imbolc is the time of year between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. This is possibly my favorite time of year, at this time in my life. The balance of day and night, cold with the promise of new growth, and yet still social acceptable to hibernate. Each one of us has a season we favor. Have your favorites changed over time? Mine have and to me this reflection of how and why mine have changed has brought some welcome insights.
When I was young, I would say summer was my favorite - hello, no school and abundant pool time (I love water). As I reached my adulthood, fall was my favorite, the return of school (learning in connection), the crisper air, the vibrant colors, and some of my favorite food flavors in abundance. At some point fall gave way to spring, a season filled with hope and newness. And now this year, I notice my love for this midwinter point, Imbolc. The trees are still bare, modeling strength in vulnerability, the air is still cold, the night is still abundant, and even with winter still heavy in the air, signs of new growth are visible in the garden. The very tops of the peonies are a few millimeters out of the ground, and daffodil leaves have pierced through the winter beds. This moment, with just the smallest signs of a new season, the tiniest spark, is digestible to my being. This time is marked by turning towards nature in a variety of traditions: Imbolc, St. Brigid’s Day, Groundhog Day, Lunar New Year, Tu Bishvat (the Jewish holiday celebrating trees). Marking this time is as old as we are. May we find comfort in the subtle signs that something new is on the horizon. My invitation for you during this touchpoint - what are the arcs that you have witnessed in your own being? How many Imbolcs have you witnessed? Where were you 5, 10, 20, 50 years ago during this season? What new majestic caverns have been carved within throughout those eras? Drop by drop is the everlasting way. Each Imbolc lands differently year after year. When we start to measure our lives by nature's time, we see our evolution in a more spacious and grace filled way. Instead of beating ourselves up for not moving fast enough, or hustling to accomplish, we witness the smaller, deeper changes of the caverns within. And those changes that move at a slower pace, that consider time in long arcs instead of bite size 24 hours, 30 days, 1 year, anchor us again and again into our way, not other people's way. My hope is this season offers you a gentle reflection of how you have shifted throughout the weather of your life. That you allow yourself to be in whatever season your find yourself in, knowing others have been there before you. And that this Imbolc is the reminder that the smallest signs of life find us when we are deep in wintering. May the fires burn bright for you during this season of hope and renewal. Blessings, Valerie Tending to others, whether it's professionally or personally, takes energy and capacity. When we tend to others, we also require tending ourselves, it's a non-negotiable. We can only tend to others with the capacity that we have for others to tend to us. Each one of us is an interdependent being - we require giving and receiving to get the most out of life. So who are the beings that tend to you while you tend to others?
This is even more important if you are a liminal space holder - leaders, teachers, creatives, coaches, healers, and spiritual seekers. You are visible but also in a position of seclusion and aloneness - the only teacher in the room, the CEO of a company, a solo-entrepreneur, the healer in the room, the artist in the studio, and the coach who lifts up and inspires others. Who tends to you? We often don't speak of the loneliness and isolation that liminal space holders feel. We've lumped it into, "we are doing something wrong - it must be fixed" instead of acknowledging that it is part of the job description. Visibility isolation is real and can be soothed by deeply connecting in a sacred way behind closed doors, confidentially and privately you allow yourself to be seen. We can share the power we have - flatten our institutions, inspire others to tap into the power within, be client centered, and lift others up and still there is space between us. There must be to embrace the in-betweenness that require us to do our job. We hold the long visions and the paradoxical embodiement that reflects for others their own determination & beauty. My invitation is to embrace the whole vocation of liminal space - reach out for support and embody the in-between. Find that trusted being who can tend to the wholeness of you, while you tend to others. |
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