Thoughts on Solstice Eve

“Get into the Holiday Spirit” say the TV ads, the radio stations, Internet, and most every flier through the mail. This phrase would like us to think we can put on this state of mind like a jump suit.

Always, the admonition to feel better and brighter is equaled with generosity. The action of being generous, of course, has the underlying message of “Buy this". We are to believe our “holiday spirit jump suit” can be purchased from them in some form or another. I don’t ‘buy’ it anymore, and I haven’t since an experience I had many years ago.

It was in 1984, I believe, as I struggled with trying to do all, be all, have all, etc. Money was extremely tight. My husband, myself, and two pre-teens, were living in our 8X40, un-insulated, 24 year old trailer. The toilet was five doors away. Our shower was tucked into a different out-building with its own ancient pot belly stove.

Dashing back and forth between this home and town meant driving a curvy, five mile distance on a dirt road that took twenty minutes to navigate, and that was on a good day. When it was rainy, icy, or snow-covered, its navigation required more attention. I always felt as if I was clinging to the steep mountain rise on one side so as to prevent me toppling down the ravine into the creek on the other.

Consequently I tried to make only one round trip a day. One pre-Christmas day, I believe I was on my third trip. I was alone, gripping the steering wheel, wishing I could drive faster, but also aware of the multiple projects, school event planning, my three jobs, etc. dashing through the ethers of my brain. My stomach was in knots, my head hurt, and my chest could barely rise for all the pressure sitting there. I was stressed beyond my limits.

Snow had been gently falling all afternoon. One over-large snow flake caught my eye as it danced and swirled to the canyon floor. I pulled our VW van onto a shoulder of the road, turned off the radio and the motor, and sat in a space of silence that was profound. One deep breath didn’t penetrate past my wind pipe, nor did a second one. The third and fourth managed to be deeper. On my fifth, I felt my shoulders loosen.

A black blur crossed my vision from left to right. I leaned forward over the dashboard and spied a raven swooping up and down and around until it landed on an evergreen branch where a blob of collected snow toppled to the ground.

Pulling my keys from the ignition so my scooting out the door would be soundless, I stood ankle-deep in the snow. I wrinkled my nose at the cold wind and fumbled for my knitted cap in a pocket. Another sigh brought my whole body to rest.

Two more ravens joined the first. They sat heads tilted to the sky until one grunted. That started a series of ‘tsks’ and mutterings between them while they continued a kind of balancing act on their individual branches. They didn’t have special food, grandly wrapped presents, cheery music, or even a warm fire. They had each other, and they were sharing a moment in their lives. “How gorgeously simple,” I thought.

The Earth herself was there too, swathed in white, her presence nurturing the lives of all standing on her. The peacefulness in that moment was as comforting as it was intense. Now I was overwhelmed with a new reality, one of 'beingness'!

Stopping my life for a few minutes on a wintry day was the best action I’ve ever taken. I can still access that memory, even though I’ve kept the accelerator pressed to the floor board for a few days or years. The flight of a raven or drop of snow or even a splatter of rain can jolt the essence of that moment throughout my body. I slow down, and breathe, and consider my surroundings.

Recently during an illness that dropped me toward depression, I stood at a window observing a grey day, full of huge rain drops splattering on the cement walk to my front porch.

Chirping drew my attention to the top of my naked plum tree where a dozen chickadees flittered from one twig to another.  I watched as a few at a time plopped themselves onto the roof of my garage. They were queuing up, to bathe in the brimming rain gutter. They seemed to cheer each other on with cheeps, splashing themselves and anyone next to them. Each would jump out, fluff its wings, and then jump back into the flowing water. What was dismal to me was delightful to them. Another lesson in simplicity.

May the peace and simplicity present on our Earth lighten the burdens we all feel we need to carry on our shoulders.

May we slow down enough to share moments of connection with our loved ones, our friends.

May we all embrace, with gratitude, the blessings in our lives and fill ourselves with the Spirit of grace and harmony all year long.

(Christmas, 2014)