Rising above the clouds

Happy New Year! As many of you know, I am a part-time ski instructor, and have been for 25 years. In the snow sports world, warmth and rain are dreaded--they reduce our snow cover

(and our visibility), and create challenging days out on the slopes. I happened to teach on just such a rainy day this past weekend. The mountain was shrouded in clouds, and my 5-year-old students had a great time seeing if they could taste the fog (they determined that it did not have a taste).

I took this picture from the top of the mountain. I have many pictures from this spot, often on clear days when we can see the top Mount Washington (just under 100 miles away). But this view from above the clouds took my breath away, with the tops of smaller mountains just peaking out from the cloud cover,

As I look at it now, it reminds me that there is light above the clouds. It also reminds me of journeying--how we see something new, and beautiful, and often unexpected. It's amazing to me how much more clearly we can see the patterns of light when light has the clouds to play with. It shows how the interplay of different forces in nature brings out the beauty in each other. The interrelatedness of light and shadow, clouds and clear sky, all of them bringing out different emotions in those of us who perceive their dance.

This is a time of year when many people feel overwhelmed by the darkness. This overwhelm is also a side effect for many of us who read the news, becoming more and more consumed by what concerns us (and our concern is certainly warranted--it is an expression of our compassion, and without compassion we have no chance of being effective in shamanic work).

But don't forget to look up--is there light among the clouds? Remember that darkness and light are a dance. Without one, we cannot understand the other.

The gift of snowfall

We were blessed with a Thanksgiving snowfall in Vermont, just under a foot by the time it finished. We are still in a significant drought--still, nature continues to give us gifts, even as we experience the harshness of the world.

In our modern comforts, it is easy to forget that we are dependent on nature. I think nature is trying to remind us of our interconnectedness. Science shows us the impact we have on the natural world, but Shamanism teaches us that we are in relationship. Relationships involve dialogue, and so we must listen, and pay attention to what nature is trying to show us. There is not a one way direction impact--either us impacting nature, or nature impacting us. We are connected, and related, and we affect each other.

What does this have to do with snowfall? I see the first snow of ever year as a blessing. It is not promised. Yet, every year, it comes. We make mistakes in our relationships, and our relationship with nature is no different. But mistakes come with apologies, and with repair. There is very little we can do individually to impact our environment on a massive scale. But our own relationship with nature, and our relationships with the beings around us, do have an impact. No, the snow is not there for me personally, and thinking so would be hubris. And at the same time, the snow can be a gift for me, in my own relationship with nature, weather, and the world.

As we move into the darkest part of the year, see if you can notice what gifts the world is giving you. Listen closely.

A rose in fall

I can really feel fall now--can you? The air is cooler, the mornings seem a bit dimmer, and I am turning on the lights in my office in the late evening. I have spoken before about how I feel myself beginning to turn inward, but now that sense of taking stock is very present. I think our animal siblings making sure that they have enough food for the winter. I think this is an impulse we still have, even if we get our food at the grocery store, not from our own storehouses.

At our circle last month, we asked for a teaching for this time of year, to guide us in this process of turning inward. My spirits spoke to me about balance in different areas of life. I am still sitting with this teaching, looking at what feels like too much, and what feels like not enough. Balance isn't something we achieve, it's something we continue to find, and lose, and find again.

I took the picture below last week, as I was becoming more and more aware of the cooler air and shortening days. This rose stands at the side of my driveway, all by herself. She is almost 6 feet tall, well over my head. She reminds me that this is a season of transition, of balance, sitting between summer and winter. Here I am, she says to me. The flowers are still here. Don't hibernate yet!

I am grateful for the still-warm days, and for the cooler nights. I am grateful to put on a sweater and then take it off. Much gratitude to the changing seasons, which take us on a path of discovery.