it’s 3:45 in the afternoon and i am sitting on top of my bed with my laptop. one cat is curled up in my lap, purring loudly, the other is sitting next to my leg as though waiting for the position to open. outside my window is white, everything decorated in snow, and grey, overcast skies and sun due to set at 4:13.

for a few days, right after thanksgiving, i couldn’t quite tell what my energy was. there was this uncomfortable feeling, like a squeeze. i wasn’t crabby exactly, it was more like detached, and resistant to sinking into the tools and practices i know to support me. even though i felt “off,” i didn’t drop into allowing myself the time and space to feel. what i did do, watch four romcom’s in 2 days. what i didn’t do, go for a long walk, get to bed early, make bone broth or herbal teas.

by monday it was time for me to shift my attention, tune in, and stop distracting. as soon as i slowed down, and allowed myself to turn with some courage towards my inner landscape, i felt the answer. oh, i this is the season, the long dark nights, the inward spiraling pull.

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this time of year, many traditions speak to spiraling inward…as the light in the outside world (in this hemisphere) grows dim, we are called to sink deep within, to find our internal spark of light. this is the light of our wish, our union with divinity, the hearth of our soul, the place of inner knowing, of solace, of wisdom - what guides us when all around is dark. this is time of year to spiral around and around our internal landscape, navigating through whatever darkness we discover, and coming finally to rest with our own light.

what does that mean though? for me it means slowing down, staying home, being quieter. it means reaching for my notebook, making time to sit quietly, getting in bed earlier. it means allowing myself to feel the darkness, to hold that it is harder, to breathe and soften and trust. it means allowing myself to reflect more than i create, to let my knowingness arise through the waves of shadow, to assess where i am aligned, and where i am less aligned. to know that it is ok to drop down and in, that the darkness is indeed growing, and the light is indeed shortening, and then - it will shift again. we will move through the vast, deep, tunnel of the darkest day of the year and back into a space of growing light.

how about you? how is your own spiral towards solstice going?

i recorded a little medicine for the collective reading today, if you want to listen in, join in, or send me your notes.

holding you all in my heart, even as we grow quieter and quieter…

all love,

robin