Winter Solstice

Winter Solstice has been celebrated by humans since time immemorial. The significance of moving from darkness to light and it’s predictable occurrence gave our ancestors hope and a sense of stability in an otherwise unpredictable and threatening world. An occurrence that was so revered it was imbued with deep religious significance. And so on this day, when the shortest collides with the longest and our solar system once again moves with consistent regularity, we find ourselves in the breach of time and marvel at the magnificent clockwork of the Universe that underlies our daily lives.

Pictured: Winter Solstice at Maeshowe in Orkney, Scotland thought to have been constructed around 2,700 BCE, making it older than Stonehenge and the Egyptian pyramids.

Pause

​Perhaps the happiest people are the ones who have figured out how to slow down time. To recognize the important moments and give them room to exist. To pause. To appreciate simple things like laying in bed on a summers night as a cool breeze washes over you from an open window. To freeze that in your mind and retrieve it years later when life is racing by unimpeded. To feel the power of that singular moment in your precious life.

We cram life with activity because we know how brief it is, but that comes with a cost. The only way to slow down time is to give it room to breathe and flex. To be what it is in its purest form. An unforced act of being.

The value of time is not in the filling, but in the living. To experience those moments of connection when we can. To be in our shoes. Creating such awareness isn’t based on power of will, but the ability to recognize those timeless moments and pause in our rush to the next thing.

And when do we’ll find them. Here, lying awake at 3 am. Here, listening to the rain on the porch. Here, watching a bird flit with ease in the trees. Here, sitting at the traffic light. Here, standing in line listening to conversions at the checkout. Here, with the first sip of fresh coffee. All pauses. All unforced times inbetween. All places where we can catch our breaths.

The Idealistic Realist

I’m an idealist and a realist at the same time. It’s a dance that sometimes resembles a battle, but always finds a way to merge as a unique way of looking at things.

I look for ways to lift my thoughts higher than my understanding, but in the end I need to know the details. I need to be elevated and grounded at the same time.

I love stories that pull at the heart. Stories that tell of hope and meaning and purpose and love. Something that’s true beyond what we normally see. Something that could be real all the time and not just in a story. Something that would compel us to be better people if we felt it deeply and internalized it.

It’s easy to assume we’re all separate. Living life in our own little spheres. That what we do has no affect on anyone else. I look around and see how things are and wonder if it’s possible to live otherwise. Can we show the same compassion for each other as we wish for ourselves? Is there enough selflessness in our hearts to care without the thought of cost or reward? To love each other without expectation or motive? To give freely of ourselves?

When someone crosses my path and we exchange a few words of kindness I think perhaps there is hope after all. Perhaps there’s just enough humanity left in each of us to actually make the world a better place. And maybe that’s how it’s suppose to work. You and me, and then you and someone else, and then me and another person until we all treat each other with genuine respect and kindness and, yes, maybe even a little compassion as well.

Trees

“Let’s take our hearts for a walk in the woods and listen to the magic whispers of old trees.” ~Unknown

All of us have places. Places to be, places that take us back to ourselves, places that are home and comfort. This is my place. Walking among “the standing people”.

Occasionally I come upon a huge trunked beauty. I pause and tap it three times with my hiking stick not because I think magic is released or because I wish for luck, but to create a moment of connection. A tangible moment when I’m actually in my shoes. And isn’t that what we all want?

Some trees are bent under the weight of harsh weather, some stand waiting in the shadows, and some break through the canopy and into the sunlight spreading their crowns to the sky.

Me? I walk under their branches for shade in the Summer and protection from the storms that most certainly will come. I peer through their bare limbs in the Winter and watch for early buds as a promise of Spring. They provide me a sense of place and time as recognizable markers in an otherwise hurried life. All this, and a peaceful walk in the woods.