Today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest, and my second favourite, day of the year. For months now I have been watching the days get shorter and along with it, the weather get grayer. Three days ago we had a full day of cloudless sunshine, the first since November 8th, if you can believe that. Otherwise it has been showers, rain, partially cloudy or partially sunny. I still scratch my head over the latter two descriptions – not entirely sure what the difference is.

Living here in this more temperate place, and not having months of snow to look forward to (or not) as I did living in Ontario, it is easier to see this day as a turning point, rather than as the first official day of winter, the beginning of a horror show. In a few weeks the lengthening of days will be noticeable.

Still, this attitude could be seen as a stretch. Look what surprise awaited me this morning. First snow. By mid-day it has turned to rain and started to melt.

What to say about this year? This annus horribilis. Truth is this has been the second year of Awful. This has been a time of my good friend’s cancer diagnosis and death, other friends developing and living with serious illnesses and undergoing other losses and hardships, illness and death in the families of some of our other neighbours and huge family turmoil. Add in the virus and other madness and insanity in the world around us, and the biggest question for me becomes “How do I live in the midst of all of this, how do I find my path forward?”

And it is in living the question that the answers appear and the path forward reveals itself as a conscious choice. For it has also been a time of transformation, connection, magic and finding the way to peace. Allowing the heart to break can serve to let the light in.

Earlier this month I was standing on a stool decorating the windows with green boughs and strings of lights, when suddenly I realized (or accepted) that this holiday season would not be happening. Public health orders are prohibiting gatherings in the home with anyone other than residents and no travel between regions. No gatherings of friends and neighbours this year, no Christmas with Steve and Rosie the Dog and the new addition to his family, Sox the kitten. “What am I doing this for?” I asked, out loud as it turned out. “Well Dennis and I are still here” replied Howard, quite rightly. I carried on, although with lowered energy levels; the task took more days to complete than usual, but I’m so glad I did it as the beauty of those colours and lights bring such joy.

Also it helped to let go of my own feelings of loss of the usual kind of holiday season I’ve taken for granted. I’m not the only one, that’s for sure. It also served to broaden my sense of connection and compassion with all those other people, millions of them, whose lives this year have been changed and who are all struggling, each in their own way, with an altered reality and their responses to it. Living through heartbreak, grief and pain also opens my heart to all other beings who are suffering as well – the human condition. May this serve awakening.

I am learning the true power of gratitude, as every day, no matter what is going on, I am thankful for what I have, for where I live and for the life I lead. Connecting with the natural world sustains me and I walk with deliberate intention to notice, to be mindful and aware of what is going on. I watch the birds interacting with each other and the sea lions swimming by the beach, the huge trees in the forest swaying, dancing in the wind, beautiful cloud formations passing by and it is all beautiful beyond words. Earlier this year, for the first time, I found the baby owls, the fledgling toddlers recently out of the nest and learning to fly and do what owls do. I hung out with them for quite awhile one evening watching them and laughed out loud as I saw one of them, trying to keep up with its sibling, fly from one branch to another, miss its landing and sink to the ground. Oops. Still a few bugs in the system. Picked itself up and tried again, as toddlers do. How lucky am I to have been in the right place and the right time, to witness that!

The smallest things bring a moment of joy. Earlier this week I saw the little iris reticulata bulbs starting to sprout along the front driveway – they will be up by the end of January barring any deep freezes that will slow them down, but won’t stop them. A matter of weeks away.

So what do you call this attitude on this, the first day of winter? I think I’ll call it “Hope springs eternal”.

Happy Solstice.

Nerd Notes: This Solstice is also a special day as Saturn and Jupiter will appear to be very close together in the night sky, so close they could appear to the naked eye as one very bright star. What makes this so rare? According to NASA “It’s been nearly 400 years since the planets passed this close to each other in the sky, and nearly 800 years since the alignment of Saturn and Jupiter occurred at night, as it will for 2020, allowing nearly everyone around the world to witness this “great conjunction.”

Can you tell I’m smiling?

So here we go – another birthday. In times of uncertainty there’s a lot we can still count on. The sun still rises every day, the tides still ebb and flow, the seasons still change and as you pass another year you can definitely count on another birthday rolling on in with it.

But here’s the thing. I’m liking getting older. Every day is a new day to start over and every day I find something fascinating to gawk at and enjoy and appreciate. And this, despite life’s upheavals and changes of direction which I have experienced in spades in recent times.

I found my own life changing direction this past year, or more accurately the past 21 months, when my dear friend Annette received a cancer diagnosis one day and a long (and at the same time short) thirteen months later passed away, leaving all who loved her changed forever. My own journey alongside during that time (and beyond) was, and continues to be, transformational. I have changed in many, many ways and the experience has been extraordinary. I look at life completely differently.

I know that there is nothing at all to fear from death but with this aging to 6ty7 body one of my areas of focus has become health. No surprise there. Once upon a time we were young and healthy and thought we’d live forever. Now notice the conversations as we boomers compare our aches and pains and this’s and that’s – the “organ recitals”.

In many ways I am healthier than ever. I continue my Pilates movement practice of a dozen years which keeps me upright and I walk outside in nature daily which keeps me sane, I now have a meditation practice, the benefits of which wouldn’t fit into this paragraph, and over a year ago, after a deep dive into nutrition research, I transitioned to a whole foods plant based diet and found the results to be nothing short of amazing. All the usual health markers – cholesterol, blood pressure and so on improved within only a matter of weeks and continued to do so significantly over the past year. Even more astonishing, for this Type 1 diabetic of 30 years, blood sugar control is the best it has ever been in all those years by far. You can never know all that’s going on under the hood or what is to come, but as I said to my doctor when we were talking about the remarkable results I had achieved with diet change, “Whatever is going to come my way, at least I’ll be facing it knowing that I am in the best possible health that is in my power to achieve”. Which is the best I can do.

So. Any organ recital complaints at all? Well, my dentist is getting rich off of me and my eyesight is slowly but surely getting worse.

There’s also the issue of the mirror. What are all those lines, and crevasses and bumps doing in that mirror?

Well, that’s what bad eyesight is for!

Happy birthday day to me – and to all of you, my family and friends. Bring it on. My birthday wish to all – may you find peace today and all days in these times of uncertainty.

Here’s what Seven More Than Sixty looks like.

Happy. In my happy place.

“ME: I miss my mother sometimes. Really bad.

OLD WOMAN: Maybe try missing her really well.

ME: How do I do that?

OLD WOMAN: See that sunrise? See how beautiful the colours are? How clear and clean the air feels? How good it feels inside of you?

ME: Yes. It’s wonderful.

OLD WOMAN: She lives in that. So maybe just say, “Thanks, Mom” when you see and feel things like that.

…

I miss my mother really well now.”

from Richard Wagamese in Embers: One Ojibway’s Meditation

To all mothers and children of mothers, may this day bring you peace.