A Winter Reflection
I’m writing this on what would have been my dad’s 73rd birthday. The last one we got to celebrate was his 65th. I don’t remember much about it. I know we weren’t together. He likely went out for breakfast, a near-daily ritual and I’m sure we talked on the phone, at least twice, another regular habit. I’m certain I would have mailed a card and gift, but I don’t remember any of those details. There’s a lot I don’t remember since his death in 2018. Sometimes this bothers me, other times, I shrug it off. Although my grief has changed over time, I can say not a single day goes by, that I don’t think of him. Sometimes it’s a memory or a favorite song, sometimes it’s thinking about what he would say about a situation, a favorite being, “Things went sideways.” This past April, Gary and I bought our first new car. That night I found myself overcome with emotion, crying for no apparent reason. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I wanted so badly to call my dad and share the news. He was always so encouraging and supportive. I miss hearing that he’s proud of us. I didn’t have any special plans for today. Occasionally on his birthday or his death-a-versary, I will plan something specific to honor or remember him. Nothing came to mind this year, so I’ve been going about my day, walking in the morning with a friend, making banana bread, watering the garden. Then I remembered something I wrote years ago about spreading his ashes and found myself reading it again and having a good cry. And that’s exactly what I needed today…no plan, no agenda, just a fleeting memory and the time and space to say YES and watch it all unfold. This is the beauty of winter to me. Darkness, slowing down, silence……..an invitation to turn inward, for introspection and renewal. As we approach the Winter Solstice, the darkest night of the year, will you give yourself this gift? Pause. Resist the urge to move. Quiet your outer and inner world for a moment, or two. And just observe. See what rises to the surface. And if nothing else, light a candle and consider the Divine light that burns within each of us and all of creation. WINTER SOLSTICE ASHES
A Season for Telling the Truth
This time of year comes wrapped in a familiar script: be merry, be grateful, be present. Shine brighter, gather closer, smile wider. But it rarely asks us to be honest. And honestly? Maybe that’s the one invitation we most need. (Because if I’m being real, I’d be perfectly content on the couch in my comfy jammies with a bowl of ice cream, skipping the small talk entirely.) Beneath the glitter, gatherings, and pressure to “make it magical,” there’s often a quieter reality—one filled with shifting identities, old sorrows, new priorities, and truths we’ve been gently avoiding: the traditions that no longer feel meaningful, the rituals that have lost their spark, the people we so desperately miss, the energy we no longer have, the conversations that feel too tender to bring to the table. So what if this season wasn’t about performance at all? What if it was about truth-telling? What would happen if we said: This tradition doesn’t feel like mine anymore.I need more rest than celebration this year.I’m grieving someone who isn’t here.I’m craving conversations that matter—about life, death, change, meaning. These are the kinds of truths that surface naturally at the end of life—what we want, what we fear, how we hope to be remembered. But we don’t have to wait until the final chapters to speak honestly. In fact, we shouldn’t. Each new day is a chance to inch closer to the life you crave. When we name our needs, our griefs, our limits, and our values, we create room for deeper connection. We gift the people who love us an opportunity to know us deeply and fully. And we give ourselves permission to live in alignment with who we really are—not who the season says we should be. So as the world speeds up, I hope you slow down long enough to check in with yourself: What needs to be said?Which traditions and rituals still feel meaningful—and which are ready to be retired?Where could rest replace obligation? Where are you shrinking or stretching to make others comfortable?What honest conversation would bring you closer to answering the question, “What must I do to be at peace with myself, so that I can live well and die wise?” If you’re tired of pretending that everything is all holly-jolly and wish to acknowledge the hurts, the longings, the loneliness and regrets, know that you are not alone, you are not crazy, you are not selfish. Wherever you find yourself this holiday season, I’m wishing you peace, joy and some good old-fashioned truth-telling. This season, may honesty be the gift you give yourself. You are worth it!