Change is natural.
Change is very hard.
Today, Alice Claire, Queen Alice, a great teacher and a great friend crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
I know I will be able to Breathe again some day, but for now, I will weep and look for her bright star in the long night sky.
As Lydia says, "Run free, Darling Girl."

Being deeply touched by things...makes for a succulent life, to be sure.
Whether it be Colleen's music and the synergy of her band members,
or long walks and talks in the dark with my dog and my boy,
or reading faith reflection essays that are written with honesty and singular introspection for this age and stage, or watching a compelling drama of the life work of Mother Teresa and then sharing thoughts and tears over it with members of my Circle,
or reading historical fiction and knowing that there is much better to be read out there,
or looking forward to Rowan's ballet and time to be spent with Loolie,
or teaching with Sara each week at the studio,
or the consistency and focus of the MLT dance classes, the joy in all of this...
or this strong, healthy body, this mind that responds to redirection and gentle nudges,
good self care when headaches and other aches come,
or remembering to Breathe, get Barefoot in the backyard, and smile at the sun...
I have been reading much lately and thinking on Choices and Change. I have written on my fridge board that "Change is natural."--from a Pema Chodron book. (This Buddhist path has many things to consider.)I have always fought change. Any change. With grief and woe and dread and soul energy---this is the first winter that I have invited the opposite in, to have that cup of tea, to make itself comfortable. I am not comfortable with this. To know it better is to live it--whether better or not is not the point. I will not judge it. I intend to acknowledge and be with this. It is a powerful truth. Seems so simple. It is. I am not. I could be. Staying connected to that deep quiet and trusting place inside is one way to be with Change. Pema and many others keep talking about the practice of meditation. We shall see about that one.

Full moon tonight.

You know it's winter in Seattle when one night it's clear and cold and sparkly and beautiful. The next is cloudy, windy, spotty. Then it's back to dumping rain. And the next it's snowing, full and light, quiet and swirly. Then we're back to rain again.

You know it's winter in Seattle when the mice move in and the basement is too wet in which to do laundry. You know it's winter in Seattle when all the cups in the cupboard are dirty after two days because of all the cups of tea, cocoa, coffee, hot lemon water, and soup and you keep forgetting your new habit of rinsing out the same cup after each use so you don't have so many dishes to do.

You know it's winter in Seattle when you don't want to wash your hair as often because the house is cold in the rooms that don't have a woodstove and you want to spend your hard-earned pennies on good coffee and not on heating the walls. You know it's winter when your husband is trying to help you have a better day and he points out a great blue heron IN THE DARK as you cross the Willow Causeway to his place on the lake. He knows I love blue herons.

You know it's winter when your heart jumps at the chance to plan your next runaway to the beach with Mary J. for winter storm fun. You know it's winter when you never seem to wake up and it's a pleasant surprise when sometimes you do and you find you are out walking with your dog and it seems you have been for the better part of an hour.

You know it's winter when you want to keep playing all your Christmas music and your new ipod won't cooperate. You know it's winter when you think you keep seeing your spirit-dogs out of the corner of your eye and you could swear you have heard, smelt, and felt them over the course of these long, but not long enough dark nights.

You know it's winter time when you are more interested in prayer than in the latest who wore what at what celebrity event. It's the quiet sacredness of this season. I cherish it. And it's bedtime. I know it's winter time because sleeping is about all I want to do.

"No truth is ours until we make it our own. All the truths in the world don't matter unless and until we discover them to be true for ourselves. That's what this journey is about."--Melody Beattie

Winter time is always a challenging time. It is also now one of my favorites. I am getting to the place when each time, each season, each part of the day-each becomes my favorite for different reasons. I guess that might be what is meant by being awake in the moment. It sure does help me Breathe better even when emotions are running rampant through my body and mind. Winter makes it easier to reach for Light and harder to wake up--literally. It feels like Mud to get up and move and move some more. But I love it when I do. And invitations to read more. Write more. Soup more. Music more. Tea more. Discuss more. Work and Plan more. Ignore cleaning more. Laundry, too.

Simple things, thoughts, kindnesses, skyscapes--imprint and guide these dark, wet, cold, muddy days and nights. Punctuated by snow and dancing in it and delighting in the quiet energy of it, the magic. Winter time. Healing time. Resting time. Creating time. Loving time. Grateful for Everything Time.

Just heard that it is supposed to snow tonight.

Found on Facebook:

Blessed are the cracked for they let light through.
(Bienheureux sont les fêlés, car ils laissent passer la lumière).

I like how it lets the Light out, too.
Bless my cracks...all of 'em. And bless yours, too.

Started the year off with some workin', some walkin', some talkin', some good tea, some time with family, some good thoughts, some puzzling thoughts, some singin', and a good dose of Hope. The cracks let that in, too, and they let it out.

If someone asks me how I am today, I am going to say "Cracked, thank you."...with a big smile.