{ 2 comments }
Yule
Dear friends,
A Blessed Winter Solstice to you!
Early this morning I sat in my studio and gazed eastward out the window, steaming coffee mug in hand, with my cat Cleo curled up in my lap. My studio was lit only by candles and twinkle lights as I watched the dawn slowly emerge. It was a grey and windy daybreak, full of storm clouds and icy rain. I had to imagine the sun peeking above the horizon, through the trees, and sending out rosy-golden rays.
But inside, all was warm and aglow.
I’ve been meditating on the Star card this week, that proverbial Star of Wonder that leads wise women and men to the newborn Sun on Solstice morning. The Star is a guiding light and a symbol of hope. And so I asked myself: What gives me hope? Where do I find it in these difficult times?
The answer that came to me is resiliency. I find hope in the ability of ordinary people like you and me to find our way through fear, trauma and grief, and to allow ourselves to be transformed by it so that we have an even deeper capacity for love and compassion.
There’s a reason the Star card follows the Tower/Lightning card in the tarot major arcana. In the wake of every trauma — when all is broken down — we are better able to access grace.
In a recent blog post, Brené Brown quoted a passage from her brilliant book Daring Greatly. When she asks people who survived tragedy how we can cultivate and show more compassion for those who are suffering, “the answer is always the same: Don’t shrink away from the joy of your child because I’ve lost mine. Don’t take what you have for granted — celebrate it. Don’t apologize for your healthy parents or your great relationship. Be grateful and share your gratitude with others. One quote that I heard over and over was simply: ‘When you honor what you have, you’re honoring what I’ve lost.’ ”
Let us lean into joy and gratitude this Solstice Day. Tell your loved ones how much they mean to you. Give your favorite young ones an extra hug. Go hug a favorite tree, too.
Some say that the Mayans predicted the end of an era today. If that is true, even on a metaphorical level, may we all focus on what we can each do to create a new culture of kindness, of gratitude, and of grace.
Blessed be.
Hugs and Heartfelt Blessings,
Joanna
{ 1 comment }
(This is a repeat of a post from last year. Playing this game has become a Winter Solstice tradition for us.)
My friend James Wells created this lovely game to play with family and friends for Winter Solstice. It’s a lovely way to honor the turning of the Wheel at Solstice, and to deepen bonds with each other. You can read James’ instructions here, on his blog.
James adds that ”if people want to do so, they can begin and end the game by reading seasonally appropriate poems or singing appropriate songs (e.g. Jaiya’s Yule is Come or Craig’s Solstice Night).” Oh my yes! It’s also nice to have a libation of some kind on hand (Bailey’s, or amaretto, or something equally luscious).
The video is part of my current e-course, Gaian Soul Practices for Midwinter. Thank you James for letting me share it!
{ 1 comment }
On the Sunday evening after our Lucia Party, my co-hostesses and their families lingered around our sparkling Yule tree into the darkening evening. We had spent the weekend together, and they weren’t quite ready to return to their individual homes. We knitted, napped, snacked on leftovers, and read stories to each other from my collection of children’s Yuletide books. (One of my favorites is Susan Jeffers’ illustrated version of Robert Frost’s Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
As we shared, passing each book around the circle so everyone could take a turn reading, I remembered Christina Baldwin’s challenge to “be a storycatcher!” at the retreat I went to last month.
Christina is quite eloquent on the topic, as you know if you’ve read her book Storycatcher: Making Sense of Our Lives through the Power and Practice of Story
Story is a map.
The map that gets one person through gets the next person through.
We depend on story to learn from each other,
to inspire values-based action,
to imagine the new ways forward.
Storytelling is part of the solution to the world’s ills. It’s a way that we connect to each other, learn to care about each other, and support each other.
So I decided to try it. I asked each person to share a favorite Yuletide memory from childhood, and in the second round, a favorite Yuletide food (either from childhood or now). I loved the stories that emerged. It turned out that several of us had wonderful memories of the powdered-sugar-covered cookies I knew as Snowballs, and others knew as Russian Tea Cakes. (Now I’m thinking about making a gluten-free version!)
I remembered that my mother and I made Snowballs specifically as a gift for my Uncle Bud, because they were his favorites. And later on we made peanut brittle for my dad — that was his favorite. I also remembered the decorated Jordan Almonds my mother would always buy at Bullock’s Department Store on Wilshire Boulevard’s Miracle Mile. Those would always be in my stocking on Christmas morning, all decorated up to look like gnomes and tin soldiers, in a fancy box with silver foil. I loved those.
My dad would make fresh-squeezed orange juice every Christmas morning, and we would drink it before opening any presents. There would always be an orange at the very bottom of my stocking, too. Even though oranges grew on trees right in our backyard there in Los Angeles, my parents kept the tradition alive. When they were children growing up in Oklahoma and West Virginia, oranges were a rare delicacy at Christmastime. They each got oranges in their stockings, and so did I, along with a bit of family lore about what it was like to be part of a huge family during the Depression, when presents for all the kids were hard to come by.
I was talking to my son and granddaughter the other day over Skype, and Steve was asking 4-year-old Gracie what she thought would be in her own Christmas stocking this year. She said: “An orange!!!!!” So we talked about the family tradition and where it came from — because he, of course, remembers getting an orange in his own childhood Christmas stockings.
Now I know that oranges, those “golden apples of the sun,” are sun-symbols and tokens of prosperity at Yuletide. (I learned this from my friend Waverly Fitzgerald, of course!)
I loved telling and listening to those stories on that quiet Sunday evening. We went around the circle more than once, as memory led on to memory.
Now, I would add another round to the first two, and ask another question:
What is a favorite memory of stillness and solitude at Yuletide (from childhood or more recently)?
I asked this question of the folks now taking my Gaian Soul Practices for Yuletide/Midwinter e-course, as the first week’s theme was all about seeking out times of stillness and solitude during this busy, social season. One of the women in the course shared this memory with us:
I was raised in a remote corner of northeastern Washington (20 miles from the British Columbia border). There was very deep snow in the winter! From the time I was a young girl, I loved walking in the gloaming each evening. Really drawn to that liminal space (and still am!!). I have distinct memories of walking down the freshly plowed road after days of heavy snow at dusk. The mill whistle blew its lonely and haunting whistle into the brisk, fresh air… and there was no other sound except for more snowflakes beginning to fall — and they were so icy cold that they “pinged” against the sleeves of my blue coat. This memory is embedded in my marrow bone… Thanks for helping to stir this memory that fills me with longing and sweet memory!
Ah, I just love hearing that!
I invite you to share this practice with your friends and family this Yuletide, and to share a story or two here, too. I’d love to hear some of your stories in the comments below.
- What is one of your favorite Yuletide memories from childhood?
- What is one of your favorite Yuletide foods (now, or from childhood)?
- What is one of your favorite memories of stillness and solitude at Yuletide (from childhood or more recently)?
{ 7 comments }
Last weekend we celebrated our 15th annual Lucia Party, dedicated to She who Heralds the Imminent Return of the Sun. Her feast day is today, December 13th, which just happens to be a New Moon too. An auspicious day indeed!
Someone on Facebook asked if I am Catholic or Swedish, and the answer is no. We celebrate St. Lucia because she is a powerful female Giftbringer, a descendant of the Roman goddess Juno Lucina, and a numinous being who is an alternative to Santa.
This year, we also received a visit from St. Nick and Krampus . . .
. . . who didn’t seem to scare the little ones at all!
Here’s a few of the party guests . . .
One of the Lucy Bride’s attendants:
A very relaxed hostess (that’s me!):
And the drumming went on late into the night . . .
Blessed be another year, another party, another Turning of the Wheel.
Thanks to Chele Eva Armstrong of Full Earth Photography for the lovely photos!
If you are interested in throwing a Lucia Party of your own, you may be interested in the ebook I wrote and published in 2010: “A Crown of Candles: How to Throw a Fabulous Lucia Party!”
{ 4 comments }
