I prepare for winter by tipping sweet balsam to make my wreath. Always an intentional undertaking, I honor all evergreens during this month and next as I weave myself into the Circle of Life with fragrant boughs…
I gather my balsam candles and put lights on my little Norfolk Island Pine in preparation for the Festival of Fire, scattering crimson cranberries around her base. Adding acorns, hemlock cones, moss and lichen attach me to ‘All There Is’.
Inside and outside are One…
“I am a lady in waiting”… I have learned that Nature decides when it’s time to engage in any ceremony that helps spin the wheel – I listen for the call.
At this turning I light the Solstice Fire more than once, acknowledging the element’s ambivalent Powers, the long winter nights.
I had just completed some painful shadow work. This year it involved holding loved ones accountable for a lifetime of betrayals. I owned my confusion. Applauded my accountability. I had been blind; I could not see or believe what my body knew, perhaps because I had been cut away from my roots. My 50 percent. There are always two sides…
Hardest to bear is the feeling that Love lives on and is not dependent on behavior no matter how cruel the actions might be. Owning this last truth created the most excruciating griefof all. I spent the remainder of that day gripped by heartbreak.
On the heels of diving deep I felt my inner fire igniting. I awakened feeling lighter …
An early winter storm was brewing as I made my way to the brook and down to the field, perhaps for the last time. I am flowing with what happens as climate change has her way. For the last few years, a frozen slippery crust has replaced soft snow making snowshoeing impossible, so I take advantage of these last wet wheat leafed days to spend time walking on my paths, soaking in the emerald green tree moss that makes her way up tree trunks, conversing with field and brook spirits. These intentional jaunts inspire gratitude allowing me to celebrate the joy of living in such a place…being able to walk at all is this year’s greatest gift.
That same afternoon while snowflakes drifted earthward, I went outdoors once again, this time to be in the presence of whirling winter’s early embrace.
Thoughts of somber winter goddesses floated through my mind, and I could almost see one hovering, her dark gray mantle flowing through the trees.
These dark winter goddesses speak the truth so many don’t want to hear – this season is not a kind one, and death is in the air although one day these forces will usher in rebirth like the bear does once the dark winter tunnel has been traversed.
By midafternoon a pearl white shroud covered the twigs, needles, and branches of each tree, and sodden snow lay at my feet. The first ‘call’ when it came surprised me because it was only December 3rd. More than a vague nudge, a sharp sense of knowing flowed through my body lodging itself in my mind. Time to light the Solstice Fire for the first time, to ask for protection from dark spirits, to accept the coming season’s white glare, biting winds and storms, to celebrate the warmth of being held by the Gift of Life Herself.
I had yet to construct my mask…
Had the shadow work I’d done brought this early intentional lighting on? I had no way of knowing. Returning to the cabin I kindled a fire that lit up the entire room – a warm glow seemed to penetrate every crevice even as it seeped into my heart. The first fire to be lit this year… I suspected there would be another… Ceremony makes her own rules.
I gathered a ball of frozen snow melting it for our blessing and lit the candle inside the wreath. We sat, the dogs and I caught by the magic of scrying flames and the fragrant scent of balsam. Andrea Bocelli’s Aver Maria floated through the room as the dogs sighed and slept. Our bird was already asleep in his bower.
It was in this manner that we first surrendered to the season and the uncertainty of winter white.
We had entered a mystical realm for a few brief hours.
Afterwards, a simple repast and one more venture outside into the dark, this time under heavy falling snow.
Anxiety struck around 2 AM catapulting me into the future as I fretted… Would there be too much snow to move by daybreak? This morning at 5 after shoveling our way out the door in the dark feeling oh, too old and vulnerable, I remembered those precious hours…
Later I had two visitors. The first female cardinal I’ve seen in months was hungrily cracking and eating the seeds I left on the windowsill. She thoughtfully left me a rose tipped feather. The next morning another beloved, grandmother grouse appeared. Messengers from the Beyond – the goddess returns benign.
Postscript In most cultures except ours birds that appear at significant times are seen as ‘messengers from the beyond’.
I don’t know if having life -long relationships with birds makes a discernable difference, but birds DO bring messages to me that are amazingly consistent. For example, two days after completing the shadow work the owl hooted just outside my window bringing on a chill, because owls are always associated with my mother who remains a dark figure in my life.