Are you a joy robber? – How to stop stealing your own joy.

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It’s bone-chillingly cold as Beaumont the Sheepadoodle and I embark on our early morning walk. An Arctic wind has ushered in a skiff of snow and ice-cold air overnight.

Bundled up against the cold, my face is hidden beneath a scarf, my body enveloped in my puffy winter coat. Reminiscent of my mother’s nightly prayer beads clicking together, the cleats on my boots crunch into the icy road, punctuating the still, dark morning.

Despite my silent pleas for warmer air, Mother Nature seems indifferent. Beaumont, ever joyful, is oblivious to the cold.

Our walk is a quiet journey through pre-dawn light, where street lamps pierce the enveloping darkness, guiding us forward.

Despite the frigid air, the beauty of the morning is undeniable.

My beloved and I are visiting friends in Canmore, a mountain town west of Calgary. They’ve recently settled into their stunning new home nestled on the mountainside, offering breathtaking views from every window.

Before leaving yesterday morning, I devoted a few hours to crafting the first post-session email for the “ReWrite Journey” course I’ve designed and am facilitating. This course, aimed at rewriting life stories, began its first session on Monday evening with a group of seven women. It was an inspiring, invigorating, and heartwarming experience, filled with shared stories, insights, and reflections.

This morning, as I sat in the tranquility of our friends’ home,journalling and watching daylight unveil the snowy landscape, a deep sense of contentment and joy filled my heart.

Reflecting on my journalling, I realized how proud I am of creating and leading this course. And at the same time, a seemingly automatic negative thought (some people call them ANTS) entered my mind with the severity of the Arctic winds that blew in last night. ‘What took you so long to do this?’ my critter mind asked in its querulous voice. Ouch.

Hearing its judgement, I asked myself the question, ‘What does this mean?’ – my habit of celebration of something I’ve achieved followed by an immediate questioning of myself and my accomplishment?

This introspection revealed a crucial insight: too often, self-judgment curtails joy. There is immense joy in creating something meaningful and witnessing its impact on others. Yet, the habitual self-critique, the feeling of not being enough, can so easily overshadow this joy.

Limiting joy in life is a self-defeating game.

It’s time to dismantle this game and replace it with thoughts and actions that celebrate and support my journey, acknowledging that I am exactly where I’m meant to be.

What about you? Do you find yourself diminishing your achievements with self-judgment, thus limiting your joy?

How do you confront and dismantle these self-defeating tendencies?

FREE DOWNLOAD: The PDF below suggests 5 ways you can stop stealing your own joy.

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Claim Your Space: You’re Worth It.

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John Steinbeck once remarked, “And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” This quote might as well be describing my writing space. It’s not flawless, but for me, it’s excellent – actually, it’s fantastic.

I’ve always encountered obstacles in creating the perfect workspace. Full disclosure: I’m what you might call a ‘space consumer’. Much like how I utilize every inch of our 15-foot by 4.5-foot kitchen island while cooking, my studio sees every available flat surface in use during my creative endeavors.

For a while now, the idea of reorganizing my studio to dedicate a specific area for writing has been on my mind. Initially, the thought of restricting myself to a writing corner seemed too limiting. Plus, I worried that it was some kind of decadant to have two areas of our home ‘just for me and my writing’? – at least that’s what I kept convincing myself.

However, a persistent internal voice challenged this notion, suggesting that perhaps these thoughts were self-imposed limitations. Why not stretch my thinking beyond them?

Thus, on Friday morning, propelled by an inner urge to “Get out of bed and create a writing space in your studio,” I took action. No second-guessing.No hesitation. I got doing.

The task wasn’t minor, but it was gratifying. It also came with a reminder to myself: to cease the accumulation of art supplies and the hoarding of miscellaneous paper scraps ‘just in case’.

My ‘Writer’s Corner’

The decluttering and rearrangement yielded a transformed space. Now, I have two surfaces dedicated to my art and a cozy corner desk for writing.

This change has brought a sense of satisfaction, contentment, and inspiration. It was so invigorating that I spent the entire day yesterday writing!

Of course, my art supplies still demand an extensive reorganization, but that’s a task for another day. Currently, I’m reveling in the clarity and peace of having a designated space that, when I sit at my desk, silently encourages, “Now we write.”

My morning writing desk

I still adore my morning writing spot in front of the large window on our main level, offering views of our yard and the river. The sight of the river flowing past, and the distant views of traffic on the bridges invoke a sense of calm and wonder. It’s delightful.

Yet, there’s an undeniable charm in a snug, personal space that beckons my curiosity and kick-starts my creativity. Here, I can spread out my papers and let my thoughts flow freely – a luxury not afforded by the great room’s writing area in our home, where sticking notes on walls or scattering pages on the floor isn’t feasible.

Now, I can do just that.

Claiming your creative space is not just a luxury; it’s a necessity for nurturing your creativity. Whether it’s a small corner, a whole room, or just a dedicated nook, creating your own sanctuary for creativity is a right we all deserve. It’s about making a space that resonates with you, where your ideas can flow freely and where your artistic soul feels at home.

What about you? Do you have a special spot – a corner, alcove, room, or attic – where your creativity thrives? What’s holding you back from creating it?

Women make the best friends.

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Since the early breaths of December frosts, when my birthday candles grew brighter leading the way into my next decade, my youngest daughter and I have planned on visiting the Zoo Lights at the Calgary Zoo. Yet, as sometimes happens, the tapestry of life unraveled our plans, and we found ourselves postponing the adventure.

However, one night, over a dinner where laughter danced between the clinks of cutlery, we extended an invitation to my cherished friend Jane and her daughter CJ – whom I fondly call TaDa (Tall Daughter) as she calls me ShoMo (Short Mother). And so, under a celestial dome of an obsidian ocean, the four of us finally reveled in the enchanting embrace of the Calgary Zoo’s ‘Zoo Lights’ Wednesday night.

It was a night embroidered with wonder, our hearts awash in all the colours of awe we could imagine. High above, the sky was a vast canvas of mystery, while around us, the earth transformed into a fairy-tale land. Tree trunks, bare yet proud, wore garlands of twinkling lights, painting the air with whimsical shapes and vibrant hues. Along the pathways, animal figures crafted from lights stood as silent sentinels, guiding our journey through a maze of sparkling bulbs – reds and greens, whites and blues, yellows and purple – all serenading us with the symphony of distant music and the bubbling laughter of children.

In this magical realm, I was reminded of the extraordinary tapestry of female relationships – a bond that transcends the ordinary, weaving through the realms of friendship and familial love. These connections are a mosaic of acceptance, understanding, tolerance, and, most profoundly, Love.

My journey as a mother has been a river of endless joy, a gift that continually enriches my life, filling voids left by past longings. Though my relationship with my own mother was a challenging voyage, where I strove to bridge a chasm with love and understanding, it was a journey of growth, nonetheless. A journey that enriched and informed my transformation as a mother.

The bonds I share with my daughters today and the beautiful threads we share with Jane and CJ are rooted in a garden of shared experiences, having weathered storms and basked in sunlit clearings together. In this sacred space, judgment and expectations dissolve into the ether; there’s only the warmth of unspoken understanding and unconditional Love.

Wandering through the luminescent wonderland of Zoo Lights, each step was buoyed by gratitude. Gratitude for the incredible women in my life who infuse my days with joy, laughter, and an abundance of Love – and who tease me lovingly as I tease them.

In that moment, under the celestial tapestry and amidst the kaleidoscope of lights, I felt the profound truth of my blessings.

I am one lucky woman.

__________________________________

Thank you CJ for sharing all the photos! 

If you’ve haven’t been to Zoolights yet and are in or around Calgary, do go! It’s magical. – and only on until Sunday evening, January 7.

The Three Sisters

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The 3 Sisters Germany – Circa 1970s

As laughter and warmth filled our dining room on the evening of December 30th, it felt as if Christmas had come again just for us.

Minus the gift exchange and the date, it truly had. My brother-in-law, Jim, had spent the actual holiday visiting one of his daughters in another city, and we had faced our first Christmas since Jackie’s passing without either of them. Deciding on a Re-do with Jim was an important step in our healing, a loving gesture to bridge the gap death had left in our family circle.

The night of our Re-do, 13 people gathered around our dining room table. We cheered, toasted, and shared stories about life, travels, and the people who make it all worthwhile. With Jim present, Jackie’s absence was even more profoundly noticeable than at our dinner on Christmas night.

During the evening, a regular guest at our family and friends dinners revealed that he often rearranged the name tags I’d placed around the table to ensure he would be sitting next to Jackie. This simple yet touching act was a beautiful testament to Jackie’s quiet and caring influence.

Jackie was often the one I placed next to guests who were new to the circle. She had a natural talent for making newcomers feel at home. She could draw anyone into laughter and conversation, making them feel as though they’d been part of our group for years. This was just one of her many gifts.

Naramatta – April 2015

As a sister, Jackie was a rock for both Anne, my middle sister, and me. Dependable, loyal, and an exceptional listener, she could be forthright in her opinions, yet her feedback was always delivered with love.

Jackie’s aversion to making waves probably explained why she got along with everyone – truly, everyone.

I was once likened to a Jack Russell Terrier for my tenacity, but Jackie was the St. Bernard of our family. She was the rescuer, offering just the right mix of comfort and support. At the reception after her memorial, many shared stories of her kindness, like greeting new neighbors or bringing food to those in need. My husband, C.C., was often a beneficiary of her thoughtfulness, especially when I was away.

Anne, our middle sister, is akin to a Cockapoo – friendly, loyal, and a lover of people and animals. Always ready for an adventure but equally content with quiet moments, Anne embodies a fierce loyalty. But once trust is broken, it’s a challenge to rebuild, yet, even when I did something to get us both in trouble when we were younger, Anne would always defend me, often taking the blame for my missteps to protect me from the ire of our parents.

Gabriola Island – 2018

Throughout the years, the loyalty and tenacity of our ‘alter-ego-dogs’ played a role in keeping our bond together. We loved one another fiercely, even in those moments where we were driving one another crazy. It is our sister-triangle that has been a cornerstone of my life throughout the years. And though Jackie was the eldest, once we aged-out of the big sister-little sister dynamics and what I called her bossy-stage, she always treated me as an equal.

Our bond involved the usual sisterly phone calls, sometimes triangulating our relationships as one or the other of us vented about something the other had done.  Yet, we always returned to the one thing that sustained us — a deeply lived commitment within each of us to keeping our sister-connection alive, no matter the miles or age that separated us.

It’s just Anne and me now. A dynamic duo rather than triangle. Still, Jackie’s essence permeates our interactions, providing a touchstone to keep our sisterly bond alive. While new stories of Jackie’s antics won’t be created, her memory continues to weave through our lives, reassuring us that she watches over us, like a guardian St. Bernard.

We held a Christmas dinner Re-do last Thursday. Neither Jackie nor Anne were at the table, but both were unmistakably present in my heart. it’s where they always are. A sisterly-bond that can never broken.

I am grateful.

I am blessed.

What if you could be someone else’s miracle?

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Have you ever pondered the essence of a miracle? Is it alchemy, divine intervention, or something else that manifests the wonder of dreams coming true, prayers being answered, and wishes fulfilled?

What if the real magic lies in simple acts? Following your intuition to do someone a favour, show kindness to a stranger, or support a friend in need could be all it takes.

What if you could be someone else’s miracle?

Several years ago, while working at an adult emergency homeless shelter, Terry, a client in his 50s, was diagnosed with terminal cancer. His humor, willingness to pitch in, and help out where needed made him well-liked and known by all.

During his final Christmas season, a charity came in to conduct their Christmas Wish List. Terry’s wish was to visit New Orleans during Mardi Gras, not for the party (though he loved to party). For Terry, it was the resilience of the city that called to him. “If New Orleans could come back from Katrina the way it did, maybe if I go there, I’ll be able to come back from this cancer,” he told the young woman who interviewed him for the Wish List.

Touched by his story, she organized with a group of co-workers and friends to raise money to send Terry to New Orleans.

Terry never made the trip, but in her efforts to galvanize community around him, local media became interested in Terry’s story. A few days after an article about Terry appeared in the local newspaper, I received a call from a woman informing me she was married to Terry’s brother, Larry. Terry had been put into care when he was 8. Larry had spent his adult life trying to find his baby brother.

And that’s where the real miracle of Christmas began.

I told Terry about the phone call from his brother’s wife, and five days later, after almost 34 years of searching, Larry and Terry were reunited.

But the miracle didn’t stop there.

Terry had a profound fear of dying alone. In his final moments, it was his long-lost brother Larry who held his hand, a testament to the power of connection and kindness.

And though he never made it to New Orleans, we did hold a Mardi Gras-themed party for him at a local Southern-style pub where over 50 people came to celebrate him and bid him farewell.

It was all a miracle. A miracle that was created by the actions of many people listening to their intuition, compelling them to take action to make a difference in a homeless man’s life.

And, in the end, this quiet, funny, affable man whose life story led him to spend his final years in a homeless shelter was celebrated nationwide. Shortly after his death, Maclean’s Magazine dedicated The Last Page, a monthly feature about notable Canadians who had recently passed away, to Terry’s story.

Truly a miracle.

So, I leave you with this thought: Are you ready to be a miracle in someone’s life? Will you choose to be a force of grace in the world today?

In-Between Life, Death and Acceptance

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In the silent aftermath of loss, the world feels surreal, as if you’ve stepped into an alternate reality where everything is both familiar and strangely alien. You’re adrift in a sea of ‘what now?’ and ‘what next?’, where the compass of your previous life no longer points north. This is the disorienting landscape of the ‘new normal’ – a term that feels almost too mild to describe the seismic shift in your existence.

But within this disorientation, within this uncharted territory, there is a profound opportunity for transformation. It’s in these in-between spaces – between life, death, and acceptance – that we find the fertile ground for growth. It’s where the seeds of new habits, perspectives, and understandings can be sown.

It’s scary, yes. The familiar routines and habits that once structured our days dissolve, leaving us feeling unmoored. Yet, it’s in this space where the old no longer serves, and the new hasn’t yet taken root, that we can begin to reimagine our lives. It’s a chance to ask ourselves, ‘Who am I now, in this world without my loved one?’ and ‘What truly matters to me?’

Embracing this in-between time is not about rushing to fill the void with distractions or false cheer. It’s about allowing yourself to be present in the discomfort, to sit with the uncertainty, and to listen to the quiet whisper of your heart as it begins to chart a new course.

It’s a time for self-compassion, for understanding that grief doesn’t follow a neat, linear path. Some days, you might find yourself taking a step forward, while on others, you might retreat two steps back into the cocoon of your old life. And that’s okay. Healing is not a race; it’s a journey.

This journey is also an opportunity to cultivate healthy new habits that honour both your loss and your continuing life. Perhaps it’s starting a gratitude journal, where you acknowledge the small joys and memories that still light up your days. Maybe it’s taking up a new hobby that you’ve always wanted to try. It could be as simple as a daily walk, where you connect with nature and the rhythms of life that persist all around you.

In these habits, we find not only a way to navigate our new normal but also a way to keep our connection to our loved one alive. They become part of the tapestry of our new life, woven with threads of memory, love, and resilience.

The new normal is not a destination; it’s a process. It’s a gradual unfolding, a slow blossoming into a life that’s different but still rich with meaning and possibility. It’s a life where the memories of our loved ones continue to inspire and guide us, even as we forge new paths.

As you navigate your own transition through this in-between space, remember that you’re not alone. Countless others have walked this path and have found their way through the wilderness of grief. And in this shared human experience, there’s a strange comfort. It reminds us that love, loss, and renewal are essential threads in the fabric of life.

In this journey, every small step forward is an act of courage, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. It’s a reminder that even in the shadow of loss, life persists in all its messy, beautiful complexity. And in embracing this new normal, we honour not just the memory of those we’ve lost, but also the enduring strength and grace of our own souls.

What Grief Has Taught Me

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On June 20th, 1995, as my father exhaled his final breath surrounded by family, I felt Love’s profound presence envelop the room. In that sacred moment, my father’s long-held anger, described by a friend as sometimes being like the meow of a pussycat, but more often the roar of a lion, seemed to dissolve into nothingness. Yet, in the wake of his passing, a storm of family drama ensued, igniting a fire of anger and angst amongst us, his four children. This turmoil, further fueled by the loss of our brother a year and a half later, continued to churn and ripple through our lives.

  • Through grief’s lens, I learned that anger is not the echo of the soul but a human reaction, transient and fleeting.
  • Grief also unveiled a deep truth — how easy it is to prioritize anger over surrendering to Love.

In 1997, the passing of my brother was shrouded in familial discord, casting a lengthy shadow of anger over the love I held for him. It took years to see beyond that shadow, to remember him without the filter of resentment.

  • Grief illuminated the possibility of loving someone despite the pain their actions caused you and your loved ones.
  • It also reminded me of the importance of embracing our emotions, no matter how uncomfortable. In the discomfort of our feelings, Love finds space to bridge the divide between solace and discord.

As 2020 dawned and Covid’s shadows loomed, my mother embarked on her final journey. Every day for her final two weeks, my sisters, daughters and kept a vigil by her side, sharing the watch through her final nights. In a moment of solitude, as my sister left the room in the early morning hours to grab a cup of tea, she quietly slipped away. And though she left this world in her chosen way, quietly and without a fuss, we grappled with the idea of her dying alone.

  • Grief taught me that death operates beyond the realm of human desires and needs. It is a passage that can only be taken by those who embark on the journey beyond life.
  • Grief also reaffirmed that while death waits in the wings, life demands for us to live it fully and passionately. It’s our duty to make every moment count, letting death take care of its own inevitability.

Recently, as my sister Jackie teetered on the delicate line between life and death, I found myself yearning to pull her back, to alter her destined path.

  • Grief gently reminded me of my limitations as a mortal, that the power to alter another’s journey is not within my grasp.
  • Grief has also taught me that life is a sacred covenant we enter into at birth, emerging into this world with cries and yearnings, longing for the safety of the womb that nurtured us from conception. We cannot turn back time, any more than we can return to the womb’s sanctuary.

Ultimately, in this journey through valleys shadowed by grief, I’ve discovered profound truths about life, love, and the human spirit. Every loss carved a deeper space in my heart, a space where sadness and love coexist, teaching me the resilience of the human soul.

Grief, with its unyielding tides, has been my relentless teacher, guiding me to a place of deeper understanding and compassion. It has shown me that in the midst of our deepest sorrows, there lies the potential for the greatest growth.

As I continue to navigate this unpredictable path, I carry with me the lessons learned, the love cherished, and the strength found in the heart of grief. For in the end, it is not just about learning to live with loss, but about allowing grief to teach us how to live more fully, love more deeply, and embrace each fleeting moment with the reverence it deserves.

Remember, but do not stay tied up in memory

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May the New Year unfold in a tapestry of joy, woven with threads of
love, laughter, and endless possibilities.

As Christmas dinner unfolded, each shared laugh and exchanged glance around the table felt like a testament to my sister, Jackie’s, enduring spirit. Her philosophy had always been simple yet profound: to nurture the bonds of family and friendship with unwavering kindness and caring. It was Jackie who reminded me always that connections, like the finest tapestry, are crafted with patience and love.

Gathered around the table, as we passed around dishes filled with delicacies which guests had also contributed, I realized how each recipe was more than just a meal; they were stories, memories, pieces of our collective history. The platter full of charcuterie Juan and Angelica provided, the savory aroma of the turkey, the sweet tang of the Bourbon cranberry sauce made by Tamara, the aromatic carrots Laura contributed and the delicate miso infused broccoli from my daughter and her partner, each had a story to tell, a memory to evoke.

Unbeknownst to me, Tim, my daughter’s partner, had decided the meal would not be complete without Jackie’s mashed potatoes and arrived with a casserole dish he’d baked up using her recipe. It was a thoughtful and caring gesture that reflected how Jackie, in her natural way, left her mark on each of us at the table. Her absence was palpable, yet her presence was equally so. Through our shared meal and rituals, her laughter seemed to echo, her smile appeared to light up the room, and her warmth seemed to embrace us all.

And still, amidst the laughter and chatter, the joy and aromas, there was a moment when, as I looked around the table I’d decorated with such loving care and gazed upon the faces of our guests aglow in the twinkling lights, my heart gave a tiny tug on the ribbon of memory that wound its way through Christmases past. Without missing a beat, I felt the ache of loss stirring.. And then, in the next beat, with the gentleness of angel’s wings brushing against my cheek, I heard my sister’s voice whispering in my ear, “Remember me but do not stay tied up in memory.”

Smiling as I passed the gravy, my heart flooded with gratitude. Gratitude for the past that shaped us, for the present that holds us together, and for the future that awaits, filled with the promise of continued connection, love, and shared joy.

May the New Year unfold in a tapestry of joy, woven with threads of love, laughter, and endless possibilities.

May you know the blessing of unquantifiable, every-present Love.

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There are countless things in life we cannot quantify, yet we invariably depend on them. The number of breaths carried by the wind remains a mystery, as does the exact count of feathers that grant a bird its graceful flight. The river flows with an untold number of droplets, just as uncountable snowflakes vanish under the warmth of the sun in this unusually gentle December.

Equally immeasurable are the memories of my sister, Jackie. I can’t quantify the number of times she crossed our home’s threshold, her arms brimming with her world-famous mashed potatoes (described as such by my daughter) and a myriad of treats for everyone – humans and dogs alike. She always brought along her favorite chilled white wine wrapped in a freezer sleeve to ensure it was ready to savor with our dinner.

I cannot recall the last Christmas dinner she wasn’t present at our table, always there to remind me to fetch the potatoes from the oven and to ensure everyone’s glasses were filled. Her mischievous request for “just one more wee drop of Scotch” from my husband, accompanied by a playful twinkle in her eye, remains a cherished memory.

I’ve lost count of the times she rang to remind me of a family member’s birthday (knowing my penchant to forget), or to check if I’d seen a post from The French Connection in our Grand Famille WhatsApp group. And, even though I cannot count the number of times she graced our home at family dinners, or brought over a meal when my husband was ill, or I was away and she was worried he was not eating, or how many times she phoned to say she was thinking of me, or called my daughters to let them know she was thinking of them, or asked about a friend she met but once at our dining room table, I could always count on Jackie to remember people, what they liked to eat, and didn’t, and to ensure whether the dinner was at our home or hers, that there was a special dish to please every palate.

It’s who she was. She cared. Deeply. Her life was an embodiment of selflessness. She was a pillar of strength and support for our mother, stepping into the role of caregiver after our brother’s passing in 1997. For 25 years, she was more than just the eldest daughter; she was our mother’s confidante, champion, a constant source of support and love.

Her caring nature knew no bounds, touching countless lives, though the exact number of people she affected with her kindness is beyond my grasp.

Today, as the earth tilts, welcoming back the sun’s embrace in the northern hemisphere, I can count my own orbits around the sun but not the individual rays that have caressed my skin. Yet, amidst all the incalculable wonders of this world, one thing remains certain: the love my sister and I shared. This love, vast and unmeasurable, is my constant. It’s a bond that transcends time, distance, and even eternity.

For this unquantifiable, ever-present love, I am eternally grateful.

Whatever your celebration, no matter your faith, may you too know the blessing of unquantifiable, ever-present love. May your table be a circle of love never-ending.

Blessed Solstice to All

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In this deep midwinter, with Winter Solstice upon us, my heart carries a complex blend of emotions. As it is for so many, this season is overshadowed by the weight of loss, especially poignant when it intertwines with the traditions and memories of Christmas. This year, as the Solstice brings its promise of returning light, I find myself reflecting on the eternal nature of love and loss, and how they shape our journey through life.

Grieving is a deeply personal journey, one that can feel more intense during significant times like the holidays. For those of us who have lost loved ones, the joy and festivity of Christmas can be a stark reminder of their absence. This festive season, the memories of my dear sister, Jackie, my beloved friend Wendy, and my cherished friend Andrew, and my Aunt Eveline, all of whom left this earthly plane in recent time, are especially vivid. Their departures from this world have left a void that seems as eternal as their memory.

The Winter Solstice, marking the longest night and the return of longer days, offers a powerful symbol during this time of reflection. It’s a natural event that mirrors the gradual easing of grief, reminding us that love, like light, endures beyond the darkest of times.

This Solstice, I am honouring these treasured souls, as well as others, in a special way. At 8:37 a.m., I lit a candle on my desk, and will leave burn throughout the day until 8:27 p.m., when the Earth begins its tilt back towards the sun in the Northern Hemisphere. This act is not just a tribute to their enduring spirits but also a celebration of the returning sun – a symbol of hope and renewal.

This candle, flickering gently on my writing desk, overlooks the ever-flowing river outside my window. Its light is more than a symbol of remembrance; it embodies the enduring presence of love and the resilience of the human spirit. As I lit it, I invited the healing light of love into the now, acknowledging that our capacity for love remains steadfast, even amidst pain. The river outside, tirelessly flowing towards a distant, unseen sea, serves as a poignant metaphor for this. Just as the river’s waters are in constant motion, so too is love – an unceasing force that carries with it our hopes, dreams, and aspirations. In its perpetual flow, the river reminds us that life and love, much like the waters, move ever onward, weaving a path of healing and renewal through the landscapes of our lives.

As time, like the river, moves on and the Winter Solstice passes, bringing longer days, I know that with its passing, the weight of grief will also begin to lighten, leaving only love and memories in its wake. The cycle of the seasons reassures me that after darkness, there is always light. This Solstice, may it be a gentle reminder to all who are grieving that love, like the sun, is ever-present, guiding us towards brighter days filled with love and joy.

Beneath the watchful eyes of the longest night, as the candle flickers and the river flows, may the enduring spirit of love wrap around you like a warm, comforting embrace. On this Winter Solstice, let the returning light be a gentle reminder of the unceasing flow of love – healing, renewing, and guiding you through your journeys. May it carry the memories of those you hold dear, transforming your grief into a tapestry of hope and resilience. As the sun reclaims the sky, may your heart find peace in the knowledge that love, like the river, flows eternally, weaving through your life with grace and strength.

Grief is a reminder of the love we carry for those who are gone. As you navigate the complexities of grief and celebration, hold onto the promise of the Solstice. It tells each of us that life, in all its pain and beauty, is a cycle of endless renewal. In remembering those we have lost, the memory of their love and how much we loved them replenishes our hopes and dreams, and in welcoming the light, we open our hearts to the possibilities of a new day.

Blessed Solstice to All.