Life is so very still right now as I sit, cross-legged, in my beautiful new Dragonfly Studio, built to give me space and place to write and create.
My personal New Year begins today, on my birthday.
In my meditation this morning, I am aware of an immense sense of emptiness. I float in it, feeling my way through what seems like an ocean of . . . sadness.
I breathe, in and out, in and out. My breath disappears, without echo, into the vast vacuum of this moment.
I hear the gentle hymn of the universe – that hum that can only be heard when all is absolutely still, inside and out. There is a beauty – and a melancholy – to its precious reverberation, singing to my being. A melancholy for so much loss. A beauty for the realization that nothing is ever lost, it is only transformed into something else. Everything around us is in a constant state of energy exchange from one form to another. That should be a consolation.
And yet…. We get so attached to the things and times and people in our lives.
I get so attached.
I have not yet learned how to love so very deeply and, also, be able to let go of that which I love without melting into profound grief.
Of course, I know I can call in Joy. I know Hope is always available. I know expressing Gratitude will soothe the emotion. I know the practices to calm my soul. I will call them forth when it is time.
But for now, I just sit with this pathos. It has its place.
There is a venom to this year of the snake – personally and globally it has been a painful year. There is a healing, yes, in shedding what is old and no longer serves us. But there is also this time of vulnerability and uncertainty – what do we do when we have shed everything? What do we do when it feels like everything we hold dear is disintegrating? How and where do we float to shore again? And is there even any shore to cling to?
The year of the Snake ends February 16. We then enter into the year of the Fire Horse – a combination that only comes every 60 years. There is power and promise in the coming year. I will be ready for it.
But for now, I sit in silence, drifting through this liminal space that feels like such a big ending. I let the shedding happen. And I weep for what is lost, and what feels like it is disappearing. I weep for all of us.
If you are experiencing endings in your own life and world, please join me as we make our way through the coming days and the coming year. This space is a place for souls to shine. I welcome you to sit with me by the fire.
With love, Cate