I’ve used the image above as a Winter Solstice reminder for many years.
It’s a woodcut by artist Mary Azarian (brilliant, amazing, buy everything she makes).
The image is of a woman sitting in her warm house, snug under a quilt, leafing through a seed catalog while it pours snow outside.
She’s not gardening.
She’s not even placing an order.
She’s thinking of glorious possibilities–rows of blues and yellows, or wait maybe reds and yellows. Pots of fragrant and delicious things on the window sill ready to be snipped, or maybe this year she’ll line them up on her front porch railing. Some things could be perfect for hanging to dry for give as holiday gifts–maybe wreaths or crowns or sachets or….
You get the drift.
So what about you? What are you dreaming about?
Maybe you have wildest dreams.
Maybe you have sweet dreams.
Just like the lady in the photo with a whole catalog of possibilities for her garden, you’re leafing through possibilities for your year. What would be cool? Fun? Challenging? Healing? A stretch? A gift? Different? A legacy?
Because even though our calendar says “week #2 of 2020”, and our news feed is full of “time-for-goals-and-plans”, Nature says “sshhhhh…not yet”.
If our season, Winter Solstice, was one long Dark Moon, we’d still have time before that first crescent of light began to glow.
If this season were one night, it would be 2:30 am right now.
So roll over, drift back into dreamland.
That sliver of light will come soon enough (3 weeks, in fact).
You still have time to rest, to dream, to drift.
So let’s pretend you woke up in the middle of the night, sat straight up in bed, and started telling me in full volume about how the year is gonna go, how much money you’re gonna make, how much weight you’re gonna lose, how much you’re gonna kick ass and be better and fantastic.
Meanwhile, I’m brushing the hair away from your eyes, humming softly, and nodding sweetly as you slowly lay back down, fall back asleep, and dream all the way until morning.
“Sshhhhhh”, I say. “Sweet dreams. See you in the morning”, tucking the covers in around you. I leave a glass of water on the nightstand, and pull the door closed leaving you in blissful, quiet darkness to dream a little more.
love & dreaming,