The birds are singing, the tulips are opening their cups of color, dandelions are gracing the green green grass with their brilliant golden yellow. Life begins once again in the Northeast Kingdom. After a winter that hangs on in slow motion, this aliveness moves at warp speed. Daffodils bloom and expire in a blink, the tulips awoke to quickly drop their petals before I fully appreciated them. Now the poppies are getting ready to explode their red and orange papery beauty. You have to drink deep each day, ignoring the black fly bites, ouch and the left over potholes and washboards that the frost created on the roads. The village garage has been busy, removing winter tires and replacing them with summer ones. Replacing struts and shocks and bearings. Rust spots are noted and a plan takes shape to get them seen to. Wood deliveries are dropped up and down the village street as everyone cleans up what remains of the last winter’s piles and begins the new stacks for the winter to come. Folks check in as to how many cords they went through this past winter, adjusting their orders for the coming year. Often the plan is two years out so that the wood has time to season. After the delivery, if you don’t cut your own wood, there is still the ring of axes as pieces need further splitting to be stove ready. You need physical strength to run a household here.

Mowers can be heard around the village and that sweet smell of cut grass fills the air. Another chore is getting the snowblowers and shovels put away, sharpening the mower blades for the coming season. We live in a moist area where the rain acts as speed for the grass, so mowing is a weekly event. Ladders come out as storm windows come down and screens go up. Paint scraping and applying new paint are a summer chore that never ends on the clapboard siding. Compared to our lives in California, the seasonal chores are heavy. The intensity of the weather means that structures wear quickly in the elements and Mother Nature reclaims buildings if your back is turned.

Why do we live here? A question I ask myself but here we are. It started with my youngest son’s wife growing up in this area. Her dad was diagnosed with dementia which prompted a move from Colorado back to Vermont. His health was precarious for years which kept them from leaving for the West coast. By then, children were born and family life takes over. My eldest son met a woman here at his brother’s wedding so he moved to be with her. My daughter moved from her former husband’s home in Montreal when she divorced but the pandemic brought her back to this area so her son would have a relationship with his dad. My former husband and I came also as she could not make the move on her own. So….here we are.

It means that on Mother’s Day, I had all three of my adult kids and the four grandchildren around me. As long as we are all close, we continue to dream of sharing a more temperate climate and a community land holding. We are dreaming it into being. Our joy and love fuels it.

Today I am off to a tai chi class, and perhaps the first swim of the season. Tomorrow there is a free all day printmaking class that I am excited about. The community here is rich with events…last night we went to the weekly free dinner at Sterling College, the environmental college here in town. The students raise the meat and veggies that are offered. There is another community dinner offered by one of the churches, tonight. So much to participate in and enjoy. I am off to bask in this day’s sunshine!

Slowly the earth is warming here in Northern Vermont. My bedroom floor is littered with clothes as I attempt to dress for the changeable weather. Wool undershirts are still a stand by but perhaps a cotton top…dare I let go of my wool long sleeve tops? No, not yet. My granddaughter was prancing around the yard in her underwear, inviting me to feel the warmth. The breeze still feels cool but if you find the right spot out of the wind, you can feel the warmth which can quickly become hot. It can feel so intense!

Yesterday, a grey day, overcast with some rain. As I looked out the window, later in the day, I saw tiny flecks of white in amongst the raindrops. These grew until it was a flurry of big fluffy white snowflakes. Soon, it looked like a blizzard swirling outside. The daffodils who had been adventurous enough to open their golden blossoms to the sun, were bowing down to the ground under the weight of the snow. I grabbed my winter coat, which was still in the pile to be put away for the season, and headed out for a snow globe walk. It wasn’t too cold yet bundling up felt good. The moisture had not turned to ice so it was a lovely walk without the risk of falling.

Later the power went out. I had made dinner but the sink was full of dishes. The water tank was empty as the pump needs electricity to draw the water from the well. I have jugs of water on hand for these times. I was grateful that it was not frigid outside as my propane heater relies on electricity to turn on. Poor designs …..why should everything need electricity to work? Fortunately, I have a gas stove which I can light with a match so I made myself a cup of tea. I then dressed in woolens and hopped into bed to read by candlelight. It was a different sensation, softer light, a circle around me like a cocoon. I nestled in. Later I heard the heater kick on and got up to turn off a light that had been left on. Power back, wonderful.

Today, it is sunny and bright and the temperature is a warm 69 degrees! I stripped down to my undershirt (my light wool one) as I worked planting wildflower seeds in the garden. It is hard to believe that we are leaving winter behind. I am daring to plant seeds, trusting that yesterday was the last day of below freezing temperatures.

I wanted flowers for my eldest son’s wedding which will take place on the summer solstice. A short window to grow flowers but some will surely bloom in time. Some were 25 days, some 30, many 50 or more days. I just checked their wedding site that counts down the days…..53 days. I have asked the elementals to assist so that we are assured plenty of blooms to decorate the barn and add to the magic of the day.

The garden is at my former husband’s and his partner’s place as they have a large veggie garden with soil that he has tended each year. He gave me room for this cutting garden so that it won’t matter if I harvest most of the blooms. As I was driving out to his place, I realized that I had forgotten my gardening gloves and trowel. My next thought was, “That’s fine, I can depend on ________.(my former husband). I laughed and repeated those words again. I could depend on __________. Tears sprang to my eyes as I felt the truth of those words. After all of these years of knowing one another, after heartache and hard times, it was true. He has become a dear friend that I can depend upon. What a gift!

I drove down the road singing to myself, songs of gratitude for power, for sunshine, for the sun’s warmth, for the opportunity to dig in the dirt, for a friend who is there for me, for my body that feels alive in a new way, for the first buds appearing…..a bouquet of gifts. I drank them all in. Spring! An elixir divine.

Some are calling this the eclipse corridor. Whatever name we choose, we are in a period of transformation. We had a full lunar eclipse on March 13th, a week later the Vernal Equinox on the 20th and now we are headed to the partial solar eclipse on the 29th. As a society, we do not pay much attention to these things as on the whole, we live disconnected from our mother earth and her rhythms. In ancient times, this might have been seen as a time of rest, fasting, prayer and inner reflection. A time to dive deep and allow our spirits to travel the inward passages.

This period of my life allows me the freedom to travel this corridor with intent. I can feel the doorway that is ready to open on the 29th. I can sense the excitement on the other side yet know no particulars as to what it will hold. The nausea and swirling that my body feels, attests to the unsettled nature of the energies that are in play. There is a dreaminess to my days that makes simple tasks require greater focus. Trying to plan ahead creates white noise in my mind. Affixing a date to the calendar is like attempting to pin a note on a moving board. My feet feel as though I am standing on a balance board, that wobbles under me. Energy flows in and I have learned to move with it. Once it leaves, I can only rest. I dressed to go to a community event the other afternoon, hat and coat on, keys in hand. All of a sudden, I deflated like a balloon. All the air went out of me. I took off my outer garments and reclined once again on the couch. There is no pushing through. I used to pride myself on my will as I could plow through whatever was the need of the moment. That has not been the case for quite some time.

Now, there is the deep surrender to divine will. Knowing that my higher self has me in hand and will steer me in the best direction in each moment. I tune in and listen. What does this upcoming doorway hold for me?

Doorways have always held a fascination for me. I have collected images of them over the years. They hold a sense of mystery, of hope. I recalled a dreamscape from decades ago. At the time, my former husband and I were living in Montana as part of a spiritual community. Many called it a cult and it turns out it had the earmarks of one. We lived there for a year, short in the number of days but long and rich in the number of lifetimes experienced. We learned many lessons for which I am grateful.

In my dream, I was with Guru Ma or Mother as the leader of the organization was called. She led me down a corridor lined with a series of doors. She told me that we were going to learn about perfect love. As I stood in each doorway, she introduced me to the individual inside. She told me that she would come back for me when I had become one with that person. Each doorway held a being that I found myself retreating from. One was a person who was severely overweight, a few hundred pounds at least. Another was a person horribly disfigured, his face not really a face any longer. Another was a person who appeared hooded and felt so dark and scary . And so it went all down the corridor. I was to spend time in each room, alone with the other person. I felt great fear as she closed the door each time. The amazing thing was, that by the time she returned and opened the door for me to come out, I no longer wished to. I had become one with the other person, our love so encompassing that I did not wish to depart. The same thing happened in each room, all my prejudices come alive in the form of a person only to dissolve in the field of love. It was an outstanding lesson.

At the end of the corridor, was a doorway that had the words, Perfect Love, inscribed over it. The dream ended there. The next day, I went to a gathering where Guru Ma was to speak. She stood at the podium and said, tonight, we will speak of Perfect Love. I almost fell off my chair as the dream was still alive in my mind.

This present doorway that we are approaching at the end of this month, holds that energy of Perfect Love. I sense a love revolution sweeping the earth, one heart at a time. May we have the courage and determination to walk through this doorway, with our hearts on fire with love. May we choose to live this love out loud. May our hearts shine as we recognize the truth that we are one people. May we unite to create a world that honors all, that cares for all, including this beautiful planet of ours.

This is my new way of checking in with myself and others. I learned this from asoulcalledjoel on facebook. A beautiful man who uses a few sentences to check in with others each day. It has become a wonderful practice for me.

I was at a lunch time gathering of folks where politics came up though the invitation had stated that it was to gather to talk about community, not politics. Someone said that they ran into an old friend who was a Trump supporter so she did not know what to say to him. I said, ” Ask him, How is your heart?” Everyone is going through something in these challenging energies. It is not about our belief systems, it is about our hearts. It is a question that puts the conversation on a new level.

It is time to remember our oneness, not beat the drum of our separateness. Time to focus on the blessings that we have, not what is going wrong. I pointed out the abundance of food on the table, that everyone had contributed to, the warmth from the heating system keeping the cold air at bay, the freedom that we all had to gather on a workday to talk, our cars that brought us from near and far, the view of trees and fresh snowfall outside. In this moment, all was well with us.

The dismantling of our society under the new president is a favorite topic of conversation here in this liberal state of Vermont. The talk ranged from the despair of programs being cut and systems failing to the more empowering of teaching classes on fermentation, root cellars, growing food, baking bread, spinning and weaving. Folks shared some of the things that they were doing in a positive vein though the weight of what the government was not doing, cast a shroud over the talk. There is some comfort in sharing a common enemy. Of churning out the stories over and over of how bad things are. It reinforces the belief that someone else is responsible for our lives.

To me, all of this change is encouraging. This is evolution. It is forcing folks to look within, rather than waiting for the government to save them. Forcing people into their own sovereignty, into reaching out and creating stronger communities rather than remaining in victim mode. We are creator beings, we came for that experience. We are witnessing our planet and society shifting in new ways. It is an intense and challenging time. It is also opening us up to new abilities and gifts. It is allowing new ways of living to emerge.

We are forced back to the human scale of our immediate circle. What can we do to create community, to care for ourselves and one another? The world will spin with both horrors and beauties unfolding. Science has proven that what we focus on will grow. It is startling how easily we are duped into focusing on what is wrong rather that what is going well. There is beauty everywhere in everything if we have eyes to see.

We have come to bring it all back to love. There is only love. We have created this separation, this experiment to see how far we could go into the darkness. We have gone in deep and now we wish to return to our truth. We are all tired of the game. Now we turn from that tunnel and move back towards the light. Towards peace, unity, harmony, abundance for all. Our hearts are our flashlights. We can turn them on high beam, we can find our way back to the truth of love. To the light of being love. We can breathe in the darkness and transmute it into love. We can spin gold from the dross.

It takes our intention and attention. Attend to what we desire, intend to be the love that we wish to feel in this world. We were made for these times.

Fill your heart with your own lovelight. Recognize your own beauty. Accept all aspects of yourself. Fall in love with you! We have been conditioned to feel that we are not enough, that we can never measure up, that we are parasites upon the planet. We can talk back to this and come to face all of ourselves, even what we consider shameful. We can reaffirm our own beauty, our hearts that want only good for all in this world. This is the path that leads to falling in love with everyone and everything. We are all such tender beings.

So, I ask you, How is your heart?

Hearing that James Taylor song “Fire and Rain” playing in my head this morning: “Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone…” Tears falling for all the sweet sensitive souls who find this world too harsh to bear. Decades ago, I lost a sister to suicide when memories of my father’s sexual abuse began to surface. She could not hold the pain in her body, so she choose to leave it.

Yesterday, my sons came home from a day of shoveling snow from roofs of ones who were in need. One was a friend, a young woman had been struggling to hold her life together with her three sons as her husband had spiraled down some distant pathway. He had been arrested and then placed in a psychiatric facility. She could not get information about his condition. A blank wall. The mental health industry is broken. Families are shut out from knowing much when they are the support system for the person involved.

She did her best to carry on in a world of unknowing. Yesterday, she let my sons know that her husband had committed suicide in a blaze of fire. He had set his car, with himself in it, on fire. Oh, how the mind recoils from such knowledge! It takes your breath away to imagine it. My sons were glad that her dad was with her and was accompanying her and the children back to his home. They gave hugs, their hearts full of love, to her. They brought the news and hugs to me as we let the tears of sorrow fall. My heart ached for the three young boys who will grow up carrying the weight of that tragedy as a part of their inner landscape.

The young man, who I knew only in passing, seemed a gentle soul. He was kind, a bit scattered, often late for pick ups of his son from playdates with my grandson or to get the boys from forest school. He had long fine blond hair, a mustache and goatee, round glasses, wore hemp and linen clothing on his lean frame. He appeared like a hippie fresh from the sixties. You sensed his gentle nature as you watched him play with his sons. A soul meant for a more idealized world, one where love ruled, where the edges were soft rather than sharp, where life flowed rather than started and stuttered.

Looking through his facebook page, I found his last post from a month ago. How I wished that I had seen it before now. These are his words, that speak of it all. I hesitate to share them, though they were shared on a public platform. I have decided to share as they have a message for us all. May they call us to be the love that unifies, cradles and cherishes one another. In these times of chaos and intensity, may we offer kindness and love to all who cross our paths.

“A Meditation: This time I will do what is right. I won’t let the illusions of my minds distractions be befuddled by an attachment to the past or the future, In this present moment Right now I can speak up and say I observe all that is. That with each breath I can see how I have to uphold the sanity of each moment, not by wishing for something different. I can look at the present for all of it’s beauty and ugliness. I will withstand the storm and become a stronger, more attentive, more loving, and genuine person. I truly believe this is the work we are all doing here. To take the suffering, whether it be from accident or intent we can look at the moment we inhale, and take an exhale wishing care and joy unto others. Let there be inspiration to do better to ourselves and for others in the world. Insanity is really just a distracted and ungrounded mindset that can carreen us off course. I am here to breathe deeply and stand strong for peace. We all make mistakes, let us first make an effort to forgive ourselves.”

Oh, the things that I do to keep my heart alight. My youngest son gifted me a jar of homemade peach jam at Christmas. It is such a bright, glistening jam. It makes me think of sunshine and warmth….peach juice running down my chin and arm as I eat the delectable globe. On mornings when there is no sun….which happen more often than not in this wintry clime…I have peach jam on my toast. It is my sunshine vehicle, transferring golden light to all my cells. Perking me up to face the blowing snow that has obscured the world this morning. The sun is a faint white orb in the sky, struggling to break through the snow clouds.

Any bit of color stands out in stark contrast to the white and black world. I sent a friend in Australia a couple of photos of the outdoors here in Northern Vermont. He commented that it was a good choice to edit them to black and white. That made me laugh. There was no edit. My world is white and black with tiny splashes of colors from someone’s front door or porch roof. The dark green of the fir trees looks black against the white. Most cars are black, grey or white these days. Fortunately, tractors are still mainly green which adds a bit to the color landscape. Occasionally a pair of cardinals flash their scarlet feathers across my view as I look out at the cluster of birch trees outside my window.

Flowers are hard to come by which is what I miss most through the winter. It is hard to get them home safely without damage in the freezing temperatures and there is nowhere close to buy them. Soon some of the local greenhouses will produce the first tulips for sale. I look forward to these hot house spring flowers, coming in weeks before our daffodils and tulips peek from the ground. The front garden which is normally six feet below my front stoop, has snow packed up to its surface and beyond. The snowbanks grow higher as the paths and driveways narrow. I shoveled a path to the kids’ swing set yesterday so that the little ones could walk to it to play. Within a half an hour, you could not see a path. It was obliterated by the constant snowfall. We laid on our backs on the circle swing and let the snowflakes wash our faces. It made us all giggle. You had to keep blinking as the snow landed fast and thick.

There are no plans to travel this winter, though all of my family are taking trips South to soak up some sun. Last year at this time, I was swimming in the ocean in Western Australia. But my inner guidance says no to any movement this winter. I am here for the duration. I find myself embracing this season with open arms……well bundled! I have lots of wool clothing, good food thanks to the farmers’ greenhouses that produce bright emerald greens for us as well as heaps of root veggies that have been stored for these months. My grandchildren offer laughter and delight and playmates in the snow. I get to be a kid with them. I am so grateful for my body which allows me to carry the one year old through the drifts and dig myself out of drifts when I fall to my waist! Perhaps today will be a sledding day. Off to see what the snow offers……will it hold together for snowman building? Pack down enough for sledding? Or hold up for digging into to create forts? Time to find out.

Yesterday, I took a short walk with a friend. We were called outside as the sun made its appearance, beckoning us. We have had days of snow where the world is white, white, white. We began our usual walk but soon decided to shorten it as the wind picked up. We were admiring the swirls and patterns that the wind created with the snow. It looked like sculpted marble, so smooth and shiny. The wind then began to batter us and our walk was further curtailed. We zipped our coats up to our chins and pulled our hoods close about our faces to escape its bite. We ended up walking backwards for part of the journey as we headed to the car.The world became a white canvas of snow that swirled about, obliterating any sense of direction. It was wild!

Once back in the safety and calm of the car, we laughed in relief. My cheeks were covered in ice….a new sensation! As the heater began to blast warmth, our faces dripped as the excitement of braving elements surged through us. In a matter of minutes, the world calmed, the sun returned and it seemed that window of wildness had closed. Was that real?? We looked at one another and laughed some more. We decided to drive our usual walking route to see what this wintry blast was doing to the snow. We were both mesmerized by the sculptural quality created by the wind partnering with the snow. It was a light and fluffy snow that could be blown about with ease.

We remarked on an old fence that stood out in its brown decay against the pure white of the drifts. We mused how there is a beauty in the decay, how we are drawn to the patina of age on things left out in the elements. Paint colors fade to lighter hues, rust creeps across metal adding a new color, straight lines sag into arcs that dip low. My friend commented how we could adopt this appreciation to ourselves. When we are in the midst of meltdowns, when we fall apart….could we not see the beauty in ourselves? We tend to hide away when we go through these times. Our masks dissolve as we do not have the energy to uphold them. We are conditioned to present only the shiny version of ourselves to the world. This adds to the feeling of inadequacy that we are taught to carry throughout our lives. We look about and it seems that everyone else is doing fine. When in truth, we follow nature’s rhythms with its cycles of integration and disintegration.

Yet, we are taught to emulate and appreciate only the full flowering of ourselves. In truth, it cannot be sustained. The rose will begin to wilt, the petals will fall, the rose will form a hip which holds the seeds of the next flowering.The wood of the rose bush becomes weathered and lean. It thickens, it bares scars, it grows crooked with age. There comes a time of dormancy as the elements swirl about it. We, too, need our times of dormancy. Allowing our petals to become shredded., allowing our body its changing needs. Life is a force that can batter and wear on our beings.

What if we allowed things to simply be? To no longer use our bodies as containers to hold old energy…….good and/or bad. There is a continuous flow of energy that enlivens our bodies. Can I allow this flow and know myself complete in each moment? Am I able to let go of descriptors that label things as wanted or unwanted? Can I truly trust myself, as the rose does, allowing the bud to open, allowing her fragrance to waft on the air, allowing her petals to fall, her hips to form? Am I able to let aspects of myself fall away, trusting that they are no longer needed? Our capacities to hold the old are being lost. We are being called to greater presence in all ways. We are being called to embrace all that comes to us, in love. Love showing up in many forms as we broaden our ideas of what love is. We are love. We can choose to honor our beings, to embrace this world that is weathered and battered. We can let go of our judgments as we open our hearts to allow the lovelight to stream in and through. No holding, no resisting any of it. Being present with our hearts’ flames of the love that we are.

Recently, I had a day of letting go. I had journeyed to see my daughter, nine year old grandson and the new baby girl. I shared a peaceful day with my daughter as she and the baby nursed and napped. I cleaned the kitchen, brought in more wood, kept the fire stoked, folded laundry…….tending the household. In the afternoon, we went to meet my grandson as he got off the school bus. He and a friend wanted a playdate then but his mom said no, as it had not been arranged beforehand. He walked home with us in a bit of a sulk. He did not want to stay outside and play, he did not want to play a game with me…..he wanted to read his book. I felt shut out from our usual engaged times. I understood that he was tired on a Friday night, school takes a lot of energy. I knew that desire to simply retreat. I sat on the couch next to him, a book in hand. After a time, he began to read out some of the funny parts in his book, so we shared in laughter. His stepdad came home early from work and I made ready to leave and start the drive home. He then asked me if I wanted to spend the night, which I usually do. It was his olive branch to me….letting me know that he appreciated my presence.

The drive back seemed long as the light went and the headlights pierced me with their too, too brightness. I was beyond tired when I made it home. My younger son had turned on my outside light and turned up my heater so I walked into light and warmth. What a difference that makes! I sat and cried, weariness of body and spirit entwining to collapse in the relief of home.

Tea kettle on, search through the fridge for something easy to heat. Nothing there. I called my son, thanking him for the warm welcome. His caring voice brought fresh tears as I told him of the growing distance with my grandson, in whose life I have played such a large role. My feeling that my daughter is in a new world with her new partner, the baby and my grandson. How long I wished this for her and how wonderful to see her flowering in her new life. Yet, this crushing sadness enveloping me……grieving the end of a nine year chapter. I told him that I needed food though in reality it was comfort that I craved. Moments later a knock on my door, he arrived with beef stew, got out a pan, started it heating, hugged me tight and departed to his own little family. He understood that there was nothing wrong. He honored my need to feel the feels. A prince of a man.

The sadness wove in and out of my dreamspace, present throughout the following day. Tears welled and spilled off and on. The sun was shining but I could only take a very short walk as my body had no reserves against the cold. I was physically vulnerable. I baked chocolate chip cookies, searched for and watched a sad movie, took a long nap. Plans involving anyone else evaporated as I wrapped my sadness about me like a cocoon.

I needed to feel this shift. I knew that it portended a new chapter in my life. My nana skills are still wanted by the one and four year old grandchildren, my daughter still wants help with her household as well as my presence. My grandson and I have more experiences ahead to share.

Life does not look so different on the surface. Yet, I felt the seismic shift. My grandson is growing up. Friends become of greater importance as family becomes the base from which they go out into the world. My heart rejoices at his strength and ability to adapt to his new life in a new place with a new stepdad, stepsister and baby sister. As well, my heart grieving for the little boy that was.

Holding my heart with love and honoring. Allowing the feelings to flow. It settles once again, on a new plane. I feel the seeds of the new, enlivening. There is more to come, always more.

Things are beginning to cha change. A new year, a new frequency. All happening as the sun blasts us open with its flares. Days melt into one another as time begins to wobble and morph. The Solstice seems an age ago. Christmas came and my pregnant daughter’s water broke at midnight. She labored throughout the day and delivered a beautiful baby girl. I was staying overnight so was up with her while she let her partner sleep and witnessed the early contractions before the decision was made to go to the birthing center. The next morning I drove my grandson to the Canadian border to meet his Papa. He was to spend the rest of his winter vacation with his Quebec family. As we drove, we marveled at the winter wonderland surrounding us. It was like a magical mythical forest as all was covered in crystalline white. Something that I have since come to know as hoar frost. Amazing! My grandson took photos as we felt the magic surround us. I felt it was part of the wonder of the day, knowing a new soul was making her way to the earth and her presence was being celebrated by the trees and the earth herself. It was a tearful, jubilant feeling. We did not know whether she had arrived or not (turns out it was hours later) but we felt her in our hearts.

It turned out to be a long journey involving IV’s and a hospital stay for both my daughter and the baby. Unexpected,harrowing and exhausting for all. Shocks reverberated as my athlete of a daughter was on medicine for the first time. Baby in the NICU with tubes until her lungs cleared. The separation of mama and baby when all mammalian instincts are to be bonded as one. It felt like we were all caught in some loop that we could not get free of. Finally, it ended and everyone returned home to recover. My grandson returned home to his new sibling and life began to find a new rhythm after the artificial world of the hospital. Mama and baby are thriving in the peace of a fire burning in the hearth, good food simmering on the stove, the Christmas tree and its lights shining their starry essence as a hum of hope.

Headaches, not part of my history, plagued me throughout these days. My back got crunchier, my body revved and on high alert. Later I read that we had been blasted with large solar flares. My back is a barometer as to when energies are high….as a friend reminded me. That is when the discomfort flares for me, as my body does its best to integrate and anchor the lovelight flowing in. Reminders help! It loosens that layer that wonders what is wrong. Nothing wrong, simply part of the process that eases as the light stabilizes in my system.

Today I awoke to clear skies and freezing -1 degree temperatures. Crunchy snow…..such a distinctive sound when the temperatures drop and your footsteps break through the crystalline structures of the snow. Crumping…a word describing that crunching sound. I am crumping along in the sunshine! I am sitting indoors at the cross country outdoor center. Skiers are flying past, the biathlon range is in the distance. Athletes abound. I tried cross country skiing when I first arrived here in Vermont as this town is known throughout New England for its extensive series of groomed trails. I have found that snowshoeing is more my style. Slower with my feet firmly planted on the earth. Not so much to concentrate on and no scary steep hills to navigate. I don’t have to figure out which type of skis to use, which wax, which trails. I am free to float in my surroundings. Yes, that is it. I need to take in or rather be a part of the environment, allowing my spirit and energetic body to move with my physical body. It is too hard for me to concentrate on the physical when most of my being is interacting with the natural world. The trees, the ice and snow, the sun are all communicating. My inner ear is tuned to their messages though I do not often try to translate them into words. I allow myself to be imbued with them. The Japanese have a word for this concept of forest bathing, shinrin-yoku. Yes, that is what I am doing.

In my dreamscapes, I can ski along with grace and ease. My energetic body is full of grace, she is a dancer. Of late, I feel different in my body. I sense that dancer stretching, pulling my posture more upright, my core inwards, my head balanced in a new way. My back discomfort has eased, allowing me to move freely once again. I sense the flowering of radiant health for myself and us all. There is to be a renaissance in all aspects of life. Artists who have struggled to have their work seen or read, will suddenly find an audience. Financial struggles will be a thing of the past as we claim our right to live freely upon this earth. There is so much lightness and beauty ahead. May we hold on in this transition time. May we live our visions out loud and anchor them into this earth. The new earth is arising. With each new angel that lands, the frequencies lift. Let us keep our hearts’ fires dancing as we feed them with love. It is the energy that burns clean and true and will transform all of our lives.

The cold comes crisply, sharply and at times with a biting wind. My body closes, hunches down, trying to enfold upon itself, to safe guard its warmth. Each morning, I go down the stairs to open my door and stand on my small stoop to feel the air and greet the day. I take down the woolens that I have hung from the lamp next to my door. I love that the frozen air is my washing machine for my wool sweaters and leggings. I bring the freshness inside to scent the stale indoor air. I look to see the dawn’s light, is the sun about to rise? Often it appears as barely a hint of lightness behind the clouds. Not quite piercing through, suggesting the day’s beginning rather than proclaiming it. On such days, it feels an invitation to set the kettle to boil and grind my coffee beans. I approach such days, slowly. I take out the toaster and my sourdough loaf. Butter and peanut butter at the ready. Once my cup of coffee is wafting its fragrance around me, my toast coated to perfection, I sit in my favorite chair by the window, a small table at my side to rest my plate of toast and my coffee cup. Ah….now I can watch the comings and goings at the village store across the street. Trucks, plows, cars and tractors…spilling their occupants. I like watching how folks move. Some are elderly and bent forward, some are young and walk with a spring in their step. Yet, all are contracted against the cold. The store, a haven of warmth and food. Workers come out bearing their coffees, breakfast sandwiches and donuts. Fuel to start their workdays. Many will be out in the cold as they work on farms or ply their construction trade. The trick of setting the coffee cup on top of the car or balanced on their food packages while struggling to open their doors. There are conversations at the gas pump, handshakes and head nods but the cold promotes brevity of words. Return the gas nozzle and close the gas cap. Jump in their vehicles and they are off.

In the summer, many of the old men gather on the side porch to share their mornings with one another. Winter does not invite this ease. It is all business and a scurrying to return to the warmth of their vehicles.

If the sun is shining, I get dressed immediately and go out to walk in its path. The frost can turn grasses into shimmering ice sculptures that sway in the wind. I watch groups of tiny birds swirl in like a wide brushstroke, which disperses as each lands on a single blade of grass. They dip and bob as their weight is felt. They nibble at the seed heads as their balance is found. Then whoosh….as if a response to a bell ringing, they all take flight. A streak across the sky.

The ice can create patterns of beauty as well as treacherous tracks to walk upon. I love to walk but winter presents its challenges. To get down my short path to the driveway is not for the faint of heart. I have to have ice grippers on my boots. Even then, at times I slide. After breaking my wrist two winters ago, I am respectful of what the ice demands.

Yet, walking in the chilly air, with my eyes streaming into frozen tracks on my cheeks, I feel alive. I breathe in the clean air that seems to scour my lungs. My breath comes out in short gasps until I will my body to relax. My movement will bring warmth, I have a warm abode to return to, this air can enliven me for the day ahead. This is true whether the sky is overcast or it is sleeting rain or softly falling snow. I have to engage with the weather in order to make my way through the winter darkness.

Winter reminds me to take tender care of myself. Hot baths for my dried out, white white skin. My feet look foreign to me, enclosed in socks all day, they turn into funny looking things. My skin drinks the tallow cream my daughter makes, soaking it up like a sponge. Static fly away hair, chapped lips, the body feels heavier and seeks comfort. Cups of hot cocoa, cookies, warm soups., ..the hearth becomes the god of the house. I always longed to have one of the aga stoves that are spoken of in English novels, where the fire burns all day, sending out its warmth. I love the bone warming heat of a wood stove. I love to sit and watch its flames while my hands move with some crafting.

At present, I do not have a wood stove so have bought myself an electric one whose flames are not real but still satisfy some element in me. Candles help with their wavering lights casting shadows for me.

The dark days ask more of me than I often have. I want to slumber like a bear to awake when the light returns with longer days and shorter nights. It takes some digging in my soul to stir from my chair and brave the elements. Yet it is not the outer elements that take the most courage. I feel the darkness invite me in, with new spaces to explore on the inner planes. With the outer so quiet, the inner raises its head and calls to me. The shadowy depths have gifts, I know. How deep will I allow myself to go?

December is flying by, full of activities for Christmas and a baby to come. Baking, sewing, crafting, wrapping gifts, sending cards and parcels to keep the connection to those far away. January awaits, knowing that the noise will die down, the icicles will hold and the world will still in its frozen form. My inner being smiles……she knows that I will come. I will explore the darkness with my light. I will gather my strength to see how brightly I can shine. I will open the gifts that the dark of winter holds and find the glad tidings of my soul.

A poster created by a local The Bread and Puppet Theater that has been active since the 1960s, in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont.The name Bread & Puppet is derived from the theater’s practice of sharing its own fresh bread with the audience at each performance to create community. Its central principle is that art should be as basic as bread to life. Their print shop creates these beautiful posters.

This poster expresses what happens as we set our intention and attention on someone or something. This dandelion is literally singing its bright yellow joy into the world. All of nature, and that includes our human natures, responds to attention. Whether positive or negative attention, a response is elicited. We blossom in the glow of positive attention, as this dandelion does. Our hearts expand and we drink in words or actions that are directed our way. We know that children flourish under a diet of positive attention and wither under the weight of negative attention.

With attention being such a powerful thing, it behooves us to feel into our intentions behind our giving of attention. When we get up in the morning, what is our intention for our day? When we share something with someone, what is our intention? With this on my mind, I discovered that I had shared something recently without thinking of my intention in doing so. It was information about a mutual acquaintance and it was received in the vein of gossip. As I reviewed my day, it stood out in a glaring light. My intention was not clear. Had I stopped to feel what my intention was, before sharing, I would not have shared. Clarity about intention forces you to feel if and when to share some information.

My intention each morning, is to be uplifting to all whom I meet, to be a force of love in this world. Gossip does not uplift, does not ennoble. Neither does judgment of self or others. If I desire to uplift and be love, I need to have the intention to treat myself, as well as others, with love and care.

With this new focus heightened, I was amazed at the number of times that I acted or spoke without being clear as to my intention behind the words or action. This woke me up in a new way. My intention is to be conscious and clear all the time. It is difficult to do! I find myself slipping into unconsciousness much more frequently than I thought. With my attention now turned to my intentions, I get a quick jolt of a reminder when I am veering off my intended path of love.

For the most part, my intention is to be love and my attention follows as I focus on the beauty that abounds around me. This realization came home to me almost two decades ago when I took a trip to India after signing my divorce papers. The man who taught me a yoga meditation course, gave me a huge blessing. After our last meditation experience together where we traveled out into the cosmos, he looked at me and said, “You are a force of love in this world.”

Those words changed my life as they rang true in every cell of my body. All the shame and guilt that I had wrapped around me like a heavy cloak, woven of my decision to end my twenty-five year marriage, slipped off my shoulders in that moment. I had been loving. I had been loving!

I had tried a hundred different ways to assist my then husband out of his addictions until the most loving thing I could do, was to leave. Years later, he thanked me for having the courage to leave him. To force him choose a new path. To allow new growth.

There is so much of life waiting for our attention. Let us shower the trees, the birds, the children, our mother earth, one another and ourselves most of all, with an intention to be loving. As we give love our attention, it grows and fills more and more of our world. We are love. Love is the most powerful and expansive force on the planet. With it, we can light up this world and create heaven on earth.