Messages From Carrie
Winter Solstice
November 30th, 2006
Dear Friends,
As the days grow shorter and we move closer to the winter solstice, I think a lot about cyclical nature of all things. At this time of year the earth is quiet and the leaves have all let go. We move and then pass through the quiet and deeper darkness to find ourselves on the growing edge of change and renewal. It is important, especially when the world around is encouraging us to move ever faster to allow our lives and spirits to follow the natural call to reflect and gather the strength, energy and will for a new year. Under the ground the seeds wait, but they are not lifeless, only gathering themselves for the new birthing in spring.
I am grateful and humbled that in all the intensity of a busy life, I am met faithfully by unexpected moments of clarity. Currently, I am taking a knitting class being taught out of a yarn shop downtown. Last week I was running late, so I'd parked the car and prepared to run-walk to the building where the class was located. As I stepped out of the car, I was met by the smell of wet autumn air and a heavy mist so thick is was almost, but not quite rain. The mist on my face felt cool, beautiful and somehow righteous. I'd been living in a fever for the past several days, lost in my own inner landscape and feeling overwhelmed by the prospect of too much to do, in too little time. I stopped unable to move forward on the sidewalk. It seemed as if something resistant let go and fell like a leaf to the ground. A clear, centered calm washed over me, and the part of me that had been stalled out, circling in a shadowy holding pattern opened up. I stood surprised, wondering at the unplanned grace of the moment, and that the smell of rain and the feel of the night air could inspire in me such gratitude and simple happiness. And so I stood for a long time looking up into the mist, smiling. I closed my eyes and prayed one of my better-day prayers, which goes, "I'm here and I'm paying attention." People hurried by without glancing at the woman standing on the sidewalk, grinning almost foolishly into the night sky and heavy mist. I waited until my face and mind felt as cool and calm as the water, then a little reluctantly stepped under the awing and into the building.
I am grateful for the moments when I am truly here and paying attention. Grateful for the voice of sanity and wholeness that whispers into the fevering dark, the faithful spirit who calls like the small bird in the woods, stops and calls again.
Greetings of the Season
Carrie