Dear soul,
I know there's a heaviness that weighs upon your heart.
It comes this time of year as you watch the southward pointed arrow of geese cut across the cold sky.
They move on without you,
Their downy hearts taking with them the fading drumbeat of summer.
The ache comes when the light no longer lingers high on the horizon,
But dips deep behind the forest,
Taking with it the very warmth out of earth's skin.
I know this time of year comes with a grievance of all the things that never came to fruition,
Never saw their harvest day,
And under the early evening moon,
You are exposed.
In a way,
Someone never dared ask of you.
Listen now,
Not with ear but with heart,
For it feels the truth.
You stand at a point in life's cycle where the veil between inner and outer world thins,
Making it possible for the well within you to be filled from a depth no other time allows.
Let go of your endeavors to grow outward,
And let be what has fallen away,
Knowing that it nourishes what will become new again.
You're being invited to return,
To weave yourself back into the greater web,
The one that weaves us all together upon the thread of stillness.
Look inward now for the light,
Take note of the quieting birdsong,
Those late bloomers,
The colors that ignite trees into flames of marigold and saffron.
Fill your lungs with heat from the grounding spices of roots and earth.
There is a stockpile of firewood within you,
Ready to comfort you through these overarching nights.
Tend to this fire of self-care as if it were the hut to your own home.
Go now and prepare the mind pantry with the comforts of kindness and slow,
Brood joy.
Nurture the evergreen within you that grows gratitude,
Even when the branches have been stripped bare.
Now time is sacred time.
Now movements are intentional ones.
Now peace beckons from a deeper place.
Now preparation is only for the essential parts of you that will be offered into the ebony arms of midnight's solstice.
