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.