Over the past 11 months, I built up quite a bit of anticipation about how I would spend this holy day, in reverence to the wellkeeping invitation in general and this solstice time in particular. I have often had profound experiences this time of year, and believe deeply in the power of stillness and creative darkness.

I have imagined myself spending the day in a cabin on top of a mountain where I would tend a woodstove and drink tea and sit in quiet contemplation from dawn until dusk, perhaps stepping outside to walk on quiet snowy trails and commune with snowflakes and rabbit tracks and streams lined with ice. And then I would share my incredible insights (like so many have done on this platfrom) the following morning, after a graceful, intentional, somehow ceremonious passing of the torch.

Instead, I began the day somewhat clumsily and painfully (in my awkward and temporary-feeling current apartment, not a beautiful cabin in the woods), after a third night of almost no sleep, and spent the morning very much in my head, beating myself up for not feeling or being more profound, more present, or more able to hold anything other than the repetitive, familiar, tedious murmurings of my-mind-on-PMS.

Eventually, I bundled up and headed outside for a walk in the "feels like 8 degrees (F) with the wind chill" weather, and wandered my way toward my favorite tree on a tall hill that overlooks the ocean.

Snow started to fall, and, the way it inspired me to breathe, it suddenly brought me presence.

I looked up at the gray sky and said hello to god, and to my dear grandmother, and, in hearing her say "hello, janie dear" right back (in her particular flavor of authentic Maine lilt) my eyes filled with tears and I started to laugh.

I laughed at how prescriptive I can be about what it means to create or have or hold a "profound" or "meaningful" experience, and I was reminded that simplicity holds profundity.

In fact, it is in being reminded that the whole exists in every little part -- every snowflake, every breath, every PMSy thought-rut, every frustration, every laugh, every effort, every surrender -- that I get to know god today, I get to know gratitude today. It is when I recognize the incredible preciousness of the mundane that I can know my own divinity and humanity.

I will remain in silence for the rest of this night (the longest of the year, here in the northern hemisphere), and honor the passing of this torch to Pam for tomorrow.

Happy solstice, each and every one. Thank you for all you are.

With true love,

💛 Jane