It's a cold December morning, dark, stars mixed with clouds, the long butterfly bush slightly rapping against the window. Another blessed morning. Last night I fell asleep reading In Sweet Company by Margarete Wolff. She interviewed Native American elder, Grandmother Twylah’s Hurd Nitsh, who's words swirl and wrap themselves around me like this cozy blanket lying on my lap. The candles are lit, the water from the heater is singing its soft song.
As harsh as the weather is, I feel protected and maybe that is why I love cold, dark, winter mornings. I don’t need to answer to anything. I get to sit in the quiet and listen. That settled feeling. I get to simply “be," soaking in those precious moments in time before the sky opens and the day begins. I am in that place in life where I can feel the transition into something new. I ask for guidance in the quiet places in my heart that connect me to something Greater and I can feel the gentle pull. The deep listening is what gives way to a birthing. I can feel the old walls crumbling again. In Grandmother Twyla's tradition regarding accomplishment she says in the book "Our elders know we're ready to move forward by the questions we ask." If I were to ask an elder the questions I have now in my life they would be different questions than I would have asked in the past. I can tell it is time.
I somehow grew beyond, outstretched the old limits of self, something I imagine I will do for a lifetime since we certainly don't stop growing. Unless at some point you settle deep in your bones, in your knowing, in your sacredness and you just sit connected to it all in each moment. The lyrics to the song Hey Neyana - “I walk in beauty, I speak in beauty, I sing of beauty” come to me everyday as a wayshower and soothe me like being cradled in an old rocking chair. A reminder of the qualities I want to imbibe.
Oneness, a beautiful reminder as I can tend to separate. When I get pulled by the outside world too strongly, I can feel myself getting pulled further from myself. I guess by the outside world, I mean capitalism, materialism, opinions, and judgments, shoulds. The desire to have, to want, the unfillables. Even as I write these things in the dark, the tinkling heater sounds pull me back to what is real - simplicity, grace, love and gratitude.
Sometimes I want to live with no electricity, with no heat, using wood and wool to keep warm. I think it is the ancient internal rememberings of where I came from - the ground, the skies, the wind, the water. To remember that we don’t need to take anymore from this beautiful earth. To burn a beeswax candle with a cup of tea is a great privilege, especially to do so over deep conversation.
I allow myself to hibernate in winter. When I look back at what I did to myself to feel productive, and sometimes I was and sometimes I needed to feel like I was, my body just takes a deep breath. That layer of life has been shed. These unfolding moments feel like coming home. And I know I am and I always will be.
