soft open

Early morning, in the fog and before the sun, I took Woody out front. As I knelt there in the yard, holding him up, a rabbit hopped right in front of us and sat perfectly still. She stayed there, like a messenger or a guardian of peace, a harbinger of something gentle and good.

It was December 30. The eve of New Year’s Eve.

The next day, Tracy and I had errands to run. I ended up sitting in a parking lot crying, over nothing and everything.

That night, Tracy made dinner and we watched The Thin Man. After that, I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and went to bed. I woke up at 11:50 to the sounds of fireworks and gunshots near park.

I texted Tracy Happy New Year, wishing I could have stayed awake to watch Anderson Cooper with him, but lately, I’ve been sleeping when my body demands it. Even on New Year’s Eve.

I like to clean the house so that it’s sparkling and fresh for New Year’s Day. This year, that didn’t happen. I woke to rain and a messy kitchen. It rained all day, and even though I was so glad to see the Rose Parade again, it didn’t really feel like New Year’s Day. I can’t help but wonder if anything will ever feel the way it used to feel. Maybe what’s required of this moment is to simply accept that everything has changed and stop longing for what no longer exists.

It’s been a difficult, turbulent year and strange holiday season, and we’re headed into a new year that promises to be every bit as turbulent.

Every day I check
The news with wonder
Life still exists - No Matter How This Goes, Just Make Sure You’re Kind, Smoke Fairies

I heard an astrologer say something a few days ago that stayed with me. Even as the world falls apart, you can still have a wonderful year.

On the surface, such a statement might seem cruel or self-centered, but I think I understand what she meant.

We must not stop caring about one another. We must not turn our back on the world. But as we care for the whole, for the collective, we must also not turn our backs on ourselves.

As Matthew Fox said in his newsletter this week, My Deep prayer for the New Year is that we humans continue to do our INNER WORK that can lead to far healthier OUTER WORK.

I am going gently and slowly into this new year.

I’m working in my planners and setting goals an intentions but carefully, steadily, moment-by-moment.

Yesterday’s new moon in Capricorn fell in my 12th House - and I am still in a hibernation mode of sorts. This moon activated that which has been hidden in my subconscious mind, so I am listening. I am tending to old wounds and gently releasing them, like paper boats in a stream.

And I am feeling the need for more meditation, yoga, and long walks.

Somewhere on my internet travels, I found this affirmation: There is beauty in alone time, contemplation, and solitude. I’m healing myself from the inside out.

I love that.

I have four open commissions right now, and I’m so grateful to be starting out the studio year that way, even though supply chain issues are impacting my ability to acquire canvas. It’s just another expression of the slow, contemplative energy, and I am at peace with that. I am learning to trust it.

I am not quite ready to reveal my word of the year, because I have not yet settled on it.

I am still finding my place on the current map of things.

This week, I will be releasing my Patron perks, including a section of my spiritual memoir that’s all about my take on Reiki and energy healing. If you’re interested in energy and intuition, I’d love for you to join us. You can do that right here.

I’m painting and preparing to paint.

I’m cleaning and clearing my house.

I’m opening my heart to this new year. Softly.

What about you?

How are you feeling?

Where are you headed in 2022?

One thing I know for sure is this - you deserve to love and be loved in this new year.

And that’s what I hope you will find here.

All of this, all of it, is about the love.