Resistance is Beautiful

December 22, 2024

Sunrise, December 17, 2024

I am avoiding writing this post. I intended to write about the gifts we find hidden in the darkness and how we might bring those gifts with us back into the light. I see so much talk about what we need to let go of this time of year, but I feel a stronger pull towards what I need to reconnect. My resistance to writing about it is both powerful and curious.

There was a giant feather pen in the sky telling me to WRITE. Just before sunrise, December 20, 2024.

The winter solstice offers me the opportunity to examine my darkest corners and discover what is hidden there. Parts of myself that are disconnected, forgotten, or deemed “not good enough” or “too much” sit in these corners like hidden treasures.

Treasures hide in the darkness like titmice hide in the branches.

Wrapped inside the too-muchness and not-good-enoughness are creativity, vulnerability, intuition, connection, generosity, deep love, empathy, softness, and magic. These gifts are wrapped in emotions and discomfort I might rather not touch, but inside, they are hidden jewels. They are feathers that my wings need to fly.

It’s amazing how beautiful feathers look in the darkness - and on ice. (Taken last winter, it’s not cold enough yet this year.)

Many years ago, I dreamed of the disconnected parts of myself as teenagers hiding in the dark parts of my house. This week I dreamed of them as middle-aged women, grandmothers, living in a communal home or maybe it was a “memory care” facility. How quickly the time has gone.

My flicker friend knows how to find treasures in the dark places.

In my dream, each little room had soft beds with comforters and throw blankets. The passageways were all round, like a hobbit house built from the earth with no sharp corners. There were rooms downstairs, upstairs, and around the corner with short, curling staircases. The whole home was inviting and I felt surrounded by a community of sisters. Each of the women felt kind, inviting, creative, colorful, and interesting in unique ways and yet I felt as if I didn’t know them. I also felt as if I had been here before, as if I woke up here every day and each day I had to try and remember again.

Eventually, I will remember them the way I remember the birds who return year after year, like this ruby-crowned kinglet.

Perhaps I am not ready to write about bringing the treasures in this darkness back into the light because I am just barely getting to know them. I need time to connect with them and bring them back into my wholeness. I need time for my nervous system to see that they are gifts rather than threats. Perhaps this process happens one bit at a time.

Some trees are still holding onto their leaves too. Some of us just take longer than others.

The solstice is not a single point of darkness; it is the middle of the darkest period. The sunrise keeps getting later for the next ten days and doesn’t begin to be noticeably earlier for at least a month. The sunset will start to creep later into the evening and I suppose most people notice the sunset time more than the sunrise. I am not most people. Sunrise is my time of day.

Occasionally I do see a sunset, usually at this time of year when it’s early! Sunset, December 20, 2024.

I am committed to getting to know these disconnected parts of myself and reconnecting with them by allowing them to be seen. I am committed to reframing and reimagining what it means when these feelings arise. I am committed to changing my interpretation and my response.

Sometimes you have to pivot, like the kinglets do.

I thought I was learning self-compassion and a wide variety of somatic practices so I could regulate myself and make discomfort go away. I finally understand that the practices are to allow myself to be present with the discomfort and learn that I am ok even with discomfort present. I get now that this is ultimately what builds resilience because discomfort is going to come. I don’t like it, but I can’t avoid knowing it any longer.

Anyone still need a tree topper? I need to know it the way crows announce things - loudly and with no ambiguity.

I am practicing with visualization in the calm moments so I have a better chance of staying present when things aren’t so calm. I have phrases written all over my house - and on Zox bracelets - that remind me that things are not always as they seem and to bring curiosity. Phrases like:

• “This too will help me reconnect with myself.”

• “What is the gift here?”

• “Where is the universe asking me to grow right now?”

• “I can trust myself. My whole self is welcome.”

The gifts often sit among the big thorns, like this bluebird on a honey locust.

Today, I noticed new suggestions in my browser for real-time rewrites of my paragraphs. The rewrites are likely more grammatically correct - but they are not always my voice. The app marks the paragraphs it wants to rewrite with a red line surrounded by a thick black line that looks like an exclamation point. My brain interprets the line as a stop sign - a sign that indicates my way is “not good enough.”

Have to learn to ignore the signs like my bluebird friends do. There is always more than one way.

It’s possible to reframe this interpretation, and this is what my tools are for. Using my new tools, I say out loud, “Oh, look, I am speaking in my beautiful, authentic voice!” I can look at the rewrite as an assist and accept the change if I feel it is still authentic, but I can also ignore it and choose my own way.

Rebuilding trust = learning to fly. (blue jay)

This is the work of rebuilding trust, and I’m so excited about it because I finally see that I CAN rebuild trust. It is not dependent on everything outside of myself going perfectly anymore. It will take some work. It may take work for the rest of my life, but I can do it.

Connecting is always beautiful. (Common goldeneyes)

I was resistant to writing this post. I allowed the resistance to be there and brought curiosity to it instead of avoiding it. This is the way to find the jewels in the darkness. This is my new way. I can’t wait to see where it leads.

The world is full of possibilities.

What jewels might you find hidden in your darkest corners?