Hello 2023

January 1, 2023

Ice to water, water to ice. Sun peeks through and clouds drift over. Geese take off, geese land all the while with their noisy chatter. Everything changes.

The winter solstice - and turning the calendar into a new year - is a natural time for reflection on what has been and dreaming of what might be. Last year at this time the word calling to me was “soft”, highlighted by what I will call in my future memoir “the miracle of the feathers”:

Soft as a Feather

“Soft” has mostly appeared in the form of a verb - softening to receive what is moving in and through my body, my being, and my life just like that stream of feathers. It was easy to receive the feathers - they were beautiful, gentle and asked nothing of me. The challenge is finding ways to open to the things life brings that aren’t so gentle or that I have come to fear.

I want to be a heron but I’m often more of a skittish hooded merganser.

Owls were the birds that opened the path of nature to me. They showed up regularly on the first path I walked and I was so fascinated by their presence I kept going back despite my fears of being out there alone. Owls could pierce me with their stare, so deep I was sure they knew everything about me. Owls could sit so still people would walk right past them and not even notice. Owls showed up for me many times over the years when I needed to know everything would be ok.

Dark-eyed junco with all his feathers flooded against the cold. Feathers are powerful.

On November 4th, 2019 a dead owl floated by me in the lake and sent a deep shudder through my body. It felt like something catastrophic was about to happen. It was only in retrospect that I recognized the timing - the beginning of the pandemic. Then on New Year’s Eve in 2020, just before my mother died, I had a very close encounter with an owl. That owl looked right through me and flew so close I heard her wings.

For a while, after my mother died, the owls mostly disappeared. If I did see one it was at a distance and would take off immediately. I found myself feeling afraid when I would see an owl rather than excited or comforted. Last summer an owl regularly appeared in my dad’s backyard. That owl gave me comfort, a feeling my dad was watched over and loved, yet I also felt nervous. I had always trusted the owls but what if I was wrong?

Seeing faces in the ice, maybe they are looking for their owl friends too.

Lately, the owls have started to appear again, flying low over my car more than once and today sitting and staring at me from a tree. I still feel a deep connection and fascination with the owls - and I still feel the apprehension of wondering what this owl might mean. Yet, it doesn’t have to mean anything more (or less) than I am watched over and loved.

Today I allowed myself to soften as I contemplated the owl. I allowed myself to breathe. I allowed it not to have to mean anything. I allowed myself to feel that I am watched over and loved and that this message can come anytime.

Sunset 12/28/22

My struggle with the owls seems like a reflection of my struggle with Life itself. There was a time I trusted Life to guide me and keep me safe. I trusted everything would work out. Now I often feel apprehension as I think about what Life might bring. Getting older, having faced more losses and seeing that things don’t always work out and we can’t always be safe, it’s harder to trust in Life. I want to explore and live fully - and I am afraid a lot of the time.

“Feathers” in the ice

“Soft” was a message, a calling to open to the flow of life again and trust that what would come would include beauty and feathers. Softening has been a practice and it seems I am just beginning to learn what it has to offer.

There are other words I want to cultivate in 2023 - fluid, playful, resilient, and peaceful. Perhaps softening is the first step that opens the door to these other words. In good time, perhaps, another word will become dominate. For now, I’ll hold them all in a nest of soft feathers and see what comes.

I want to express my deep gratitude to all of you who have found your way here! There were 154 of us one year ago and now there are 843! I’m grateful for this community and having a place outside the noise of social media to share the beauty - and the challenges - of this Life.

The cold is hard to receive but it brings beauty too.