Hibernation season, Solstice time.
This is the time when the light we get to see and bask in is thin, and there ain’t much of it. Yet the wonders that shine in this thin and meager light are many.
Everything contains the seed of its apparent opposite.
The light in the darkness. Life in what looks like death.
Maybe it’s the stark contrast. Seed pods so beautiful against bare branches. Dreary cold days and these amazing armored containers filled with the imperative to survive, live, and thrive.
Watching life force in action is healthy and humbling
This kind of noticing can be helpful for you as well, if you struggle with a giant-sized habitual negativity bias — especially at this time of year.
(And really, negativity biases are never very pretty. Big, ugly, nasty — mine looks a lot like Jabba the Hutt.)
When you step into awe — even just a tiny bit — magic happens. Just acknowledging that the light exists brings you back into the light. And helps you remember that the light is always there, behind, above, and around all those dark clouds. How nice when you can let go of your death grip on believing that you know that things are bad, so bad, and can never ever ever get better. Or change. Or grow. Or resolve.
Because things do change. Get better. And worse. And better. And resolve. When you can remember, you can see. And when you can see, you can enjoy more of what is instead of bemoaning what is and what isn’t.
[A note about this photo: Last year I observed bare branches in the rain, then buds bursting, and leaves unfurling, and now I’ve begun documenting the drive to live displayed by the beautiful trees and plants in my part of the world. As I go, I’ll be posting my studies here and on Instagram. #lifeasitis #learningtosee — I’d love to know what you think.]
Life keeps going. The seed pod doesn’t have to know its purpose. Nor does the seed.
It’s goal-setting and resolution season.
It’s fun, most of the time, to look back at the year ending and forward at the one to come.
I’ve made and sold year-end review and planning guides for years. I’ve led people through experiences that are designed to reveal and clarify goals and intentions. And then helped them create accountability structures for those goals and intentions.
Not this year. This year my focus has shifted and I’m taking a different view. Here’s why:
Review and planning processes can turn into a bitch-and-moan–fest about failures and worries. It’s hard to feel lit up and energized when you’re wallowing and pissing all over the gift of the present.
Review the year ending and plan for the year to come with gentleness instead of harsh disappointment and worry and enjoy just how different that feels.
When you commit to do your best, and to listen for and follow your inner spark, you’re present (and that’s the gift!). Embrace this moment, this day, and trust that:
- plans will get planned when the time is right
- actions will be taken at the right time
- my commitment to being a tool for transformation will carry me through decisions when needed
Could it be that easy?
Let’s ask a different question. Why does it have to be difficult?
99% of my conversation partners report that most everything looks better after we’ve talked.
Why only 99%? Oh, yeah, sometimes one of my sisters asks me for input and then we talk and talk and she rejects every single thing I say.
But wait, we’re not done yet!
Holiday music for your listening pleasure.
It’s that week, and if you haven’t danced around your kitchen, or bopped in your car, to the three best holiday songs ever created — especially if your holidays and your family and loved ones have just a bit of dysfunctional madness attached like mine — you’re in for a treat. The Robert Earl Keene song is here to remind you that even if you’re different, even if you’re not surrounded by loved ones and showered with gifting, joy is present and available. What a blessing.
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