Love Note

Today seems a good day to beam a little love your way 💗

Yesterday we had our first wintery day after months of no rain. It's been dry, even for the desert. As a light snow began to fall, followed by rain, I felt myself breathe deeply. A part of me that has been dormant perking back up along with the landscape. 

I never feel a surge of newness when the clock ticks over to midnight and the calendar resets to January. Wintery weather or not, I want to hibernate. I often don't feel the stirrings of a new year until the Lunar (Chinese) New Year or the Celtic celebration of Imbolc arrive in February. When we reached these gateways last week, I still wasn't quite there, but somehow the fullness of the moon and the rain arriving did the trick. My son and I agreed now that we've finally had ONE day of winter, we can make peace with the arrival of an early spring. 

Perhaps you can relate? As I talk with clients, family, and friends lately, we note a heaviness of heart and sense of unease with the intense chaos that seems to amplify daily. It all makes it challenging to feel into potentiality and new beginnings. I've found myself feeling deeply unsettled, dysregulated, and at a loss as to where to direct my attention.

In response, I've rededicated myself to the simple practices that help me reconnect to solid ground—cooking nourishing foods, getting enough sleep, and taking longer walks.

The past year I was surprised at how intensely I felt compelled to nest in a home I've inhabited for almost 9 years. I started reclaiming spaces that had been taken over by our pets and general household goings on. I created a cozy sitting room where I read, stretch, or enjoy a cup of tea...or write to you.

It's a space where I can open the door to the garden when the weather is mild and feel the warm glow of the afternoon sun when it's cool out. I recently learned in Danish culture this space is called a hyggekrog, a cozy space to relax and escape the world. Then yesterday I came across this quote from Anaïs Nin and so much of the past year made more sense.

I think I spent the last year going inward and preparing myself and my physical space so that in these turbulent times I can still breathe deep, recreate and regulate myself when needed, and remember that life is a work of art, even when it's oh so messy. 

I hope that any goals or resolutions you adopt in this new cycle have an aspect of gentleness to them. That you leave plenty of space for grace, compassion, and coziness.

I encourage you to create little nooks of comfort and respite and inhabit them often, if not daily.

I invite you to make your mundane, everyday life a work of art through the meals you prepare to nourish yourself and your loved ones, through your daily rituals and practices no matter how simple.

In contrast to the chaos and harshness of the outside world, may life in your realm be a love story. May it be a story of renewal, empowerment, and rootedness. May it be a story filled with light and all that you love.

May our love stories weave together into a reality where the collective experience of safety, care, and flourishing is our work of art.