Midwinter arrives with stealth
Soft and heavy, messages descend from the sky and
I’m reminded to visit and listen.

Midwinter

My back’s breaking, sleep deprived and
I’m reminded to sink deeper and uncover the secrets –
Calling upon angels for soft support.

Calling Angels

We arrive at the turning of light
And I laugh and cry and am reminded of the imperfectness of it all
Blowing away the past, stripping back to the core.

Solstice greeting

Open to all nature we stand firm, arms wide
Letting go in the ferocious wind, and
I am reminded that to be alive is a miracle.

—oooOOOooo—

Climbing the hill to reach the pet cemetery, we have just missed the transition from the longest solstice night to a day which is just a little longer than yesterday’s. It isn’t going to plan, this ‘ceremony’. We’ve no fire or hot chocolate. The teenager is still asleep. We’ve forgotten the crystal we were going to bury in the ground and have no prayers to tie to the trees.

But it doesn’t matter. It is exactly as it should be. It’s bleak here and the air is so full of rain we can’t see the Pentland Hills for all the mist – the weekend’s snow has melted back into the deep. We can’t even see the farmhouse ahead with its wind turbine. The wind is whipping up a storm at this height and I’m not sure if I’m laughing or crying.

But I’m listening, and it’s a surprise. What I feel most strongly is a sense of presence and vitality. A connection to here and now, to the place and to self. We’ve stayed in this place for a full year now, no grand adventures in between.

We’ve witnessed last winter’s long struggle into a warm spring. Picking nettles for soup, the caterpillar nests plentiful and writhing with life. The cold spell which curtailed that brief spark of warmth, killing caterpillars and bringing yet more rain. Green fields and deer reminded us of the bountiful seasons and late summer saw the gathering of the early plums and greengages. Spiky blackthorn offered up sloe berries for gin making and today I’m bottling it up for winter’s presents.

Another cycle, passing so quickly but so full of life. In this ordinary, everyday place. Struggle and tears. Fears and triumphs. Lots of love. Discovering, awakening and releasing. Understanding.

Will you allow yourself to sink into your own midwinter? To reflect on and let go of what’s been before, before you rush into making way for the new? Perhaps a doodle, or a journal or just five minutes of day-dreaming? Something to slow down and mark out this time. Sending you a blanket wrapped in love to help along the way xxx

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