Tenderly lit corners

This winter I've been spending a lot of time alone. I've been searching out quiet spaces, tenderly lit corners, tending to myself by going to bed way before the rest of my family and getting up hours before the earliest riser stirs. 

These moments I'm taking for myself are non negotiable, and when I don't get them, I feel a disconnect down to my deepest core. 

Not all seasons are like this, needing such a drastic return, or introduction, to self care. 

And I don't mean self care in the bubble bath, chocolate sweets, binge watching shows and movies sort of way. I mean self care in the most sincere sense, care of self which comes by way of turning inwards and collecting the parts of self that haven't been heard recently together in a gathering... where the only goal is to hear oneself. All of the parts of self, even the disgruntled and hidden ones. 

It's beyond easy to disassociate from ourselves, the core of our being. We're living in a time where everything is fast, instant, and noise is constant. Not just by way of sound, but the incessant information being thrown at us. The clattering of voices - read, seen, heard - that forever sells us things that we don't need. Ideas. Thoughts. Judgments. Comparisons. 

Currently I'm healing a leaky gut, but I'm also tending to a weary heart. Tired from years of disconnect, tired of trying to fit into a mold, tired of trying to be good and nice and not rock boats or make waves. In doing all those things, for years, I've lost touch with my inner voice, and worse, my intuition. So consumed with doing things the 'right way', there's a steep learning curve in learning what is my way. The right way for me may not be the right way for anyone else. And that is a tough pill to swallow. 

It means not caring so much about what others think, not worrying about judgement, it means trusting in something that women for lifetimes have been told not to trust: themselves. Ourselves. Me.

And so I've been stealing away here and there, on weekend afternoons and weekday mornings. For moments, and sometimes hours at a time. With my books, tarot cards, notebooks and pens, and sometimes just myself, whatever tools I need to go further, to dig deeper, to listen better. The benefit in the process of excavating myself is that when I come out from my cave of sorts, I'm able to be more present with my family, and more loving towards myself and others. The closer we become to our honest, true selves, the brighter our lights shine. 

I'm listening, and I can't un-hear. Can't un-see. Can't un-know. 

I'm listening, and finding a connection to my self that can't be forced or rushed. One that has needed an undoing in order to become. 

Are you walking this path as well? Have you come to find yourself at this stage of life in different ways than you were able to previously? Have you read Women Who Run With The Wolves? It's a conduit for depth and seeking, and an invitation to reclaim intuition. Are there other books along the same vein that you would recommend? 

In defense of February

Here in the Northern Hemisphere we are firmly planted in winter. And I've got a confession to make: I love February. 

Hear me out!

I know it's an unpopular position, but I adore February, and I wholeheartedly love winter. I get it, SAD and the cold and heating bills and ice and germs... I've heard it a million times, and I understand. I do. There are specific hardships that occur in the winter months, no doubt. 

But I still think February is a gorgeous month that doesn't get nearly enough credit. And so, without further adieu, here is my list of ten reasons why I love February:

• The way the light plays on either end of the day. Wisps of pink and orange dance across the sky, and spread more and more every morning and evening.

• There is no escape, no between seasons, no temperatures faking us out and tempting us to put away one set of clothes for another. We are neither at the beginning nor the tale end. We are in it. And there's a beauty to that, I think. Whether it's being planted in the middle of a season, or in the middle of deep soul work, or in the depths of a project where you can't really see how it's possible to give up, but there's also just a hint at the end. Deep work. That's what February is.

• Frost pictures on the windows. Delicate designs appear in the morning as if out of nowhere, each design as different and unique as snowflakes.

• Valentine's Day. And not for the reasons you may think, as my husband and I rarely celebrate each other on this day, but for the children. How excited they get, and how they don't know that it's a Hallmark holiday. There's an innocence to the holiday that's been long forgotten. The care that goes into hand drawn hearts and homemade cookies is priceless.

• The beach in winter. Walks along the beach in February are heaven. It's quiet and still, and if you're lucky there's a snowbank to crawl over and frozen seaweed to navigate and a plethora of beach treasures to find. The beach during winter is a reminder that our planet is bigger than us, and it ebbs and flows with not only the tide, but the seasons. We'd be lucky to remember that on a regular basis. 

• Snow. As of right now, we're lacking in the snow department (I know many of you are knee and hip deep in it though!), and I've got two children who are desperate to use their snowshoes and sleds... honestly? I'm right there with them. There's an absolute and utter joy that comes from sledding, and a peace unlike any other transcends when you walk through quiet, snowy woods. 

• Hot tea, hot cocoa, endless baked goods, and hearty winter meals. 

• Cancelled plans. This time of year they happen for many reasons, and the only thing I've found to manage disappointment is simply embracing cancellations. And as an introvert who would be happy in a Hobbit hole with a stack of books... cancelled plans sometimes feel like a gift. 

• No creepy crawlers. No ticks. No ants (though I did spot two the other day... hardy suckers...). No mosquitoes. 

• My children's laughter as they sled down hills, helpful hands for shoveling, rosy cheeks just in from the cold, chilled noses, cold hands searching for warmth, and snuggles. In February there is an endless supply of winter snuggles. 

I remember years where winter seemed to slog on, it was endless. What's changed? My perspective. Also... finally outfitting myself in some solid winter gear (eBay has made that much more affordable... and buying second hand is not only good for our wallets, but the environment!) so that being outdoors is comfortable, no matter the temperature. But really, it's acceptance. We can't rush mother nature, we can't change the weather, and just as there's beauty in each of the other seasons, there's much beauty to be found in the depths of winter. You just need to know where to look.