Bones

I took another sun bath today.

I sat down to do some work on my computer and I felt completely and totally stagnant. I couldn’t decide where I wanted to begin. I couldn’t get the words in my emails right. I picked up my paint brush and played with it between my fingers until I finally just put it down.

Suddenly, I realized I was so, so cold. I could feel it in my bones.

I looked up from my computer and let my eyes scan the room. I saw my dried flowers and fragrant eucalyptus branches. I wondered if my plants needed watering. I saw the sculpture my toddler made me out of recycled parts hanging playfully on my wall. I saw the colors of my chakra stones so beautifully bound and glimmering slightly with the sunlight. I saw a life in these things that I often miss when I spend too much time looking at screens instead of the creations all around me.

Finally my eyes landed on the bones of the big oak tree that stands in our front window.

When I looked at my computer screen again it felt just as cold as my bones. So, I closed it.

I walked over to where the sunlight was pouring through and placed my cushion there and I sat with my eyes closed for a few minutes. Do you remember what the sunlight feels like on your face? On your eye lids? On the soft lips of your smile? Let me tell you, if you look towards it and linger there, even in winter you can feel its power.

I know that this possibility is not possible for every person in every profession that reads this. I know that the reality is that sometimes we are a product of our culture and our circumstances and stepping away for 5minutes to do so is near impossible. But I do believe that whenever we have the ability we might want to stop pretending we’re not human and that we are not part of nature. We are. We are human nature. So just like the birds and the bees and the bones of the trees, we need to find the light. And, too, we need to respect the darkness. Otherwise, we lose ourselves. And we lose sight of what we’re doing it all for.

What if collectively we all practiced this more?

My bones now warming, I suddenly realized what I wanted. And what I wanted was what I needed because as I sit here now typing twenty minutes later, my whole mood has shifted.

I stood up in that sun lit spot and moved my body a bit. However it wanted, I just let it move. I surrounded myself in candles. Any that I could find. I placed them all around the perimeter of my room and set them on fire. I found some juniper rope incense and watched the smoke spin spirals around my studio. I turned my music loud and let the subtle vibrations sweep across my skin. I rotated the stones on my alter and I watered my plants. Lately, I just love watering the plants.

Believe me, I’m tempted to believe I’m a lunatic. And that this is a waste of time and that, should anyone see me, they would discover that I am a disgrace to the future evolution of mankind for using twenty minute of my time in this manner.

But I know that the truth is the exact opposite.

This dance, this rhythm, this tending to my needs is exactly what is needed.

Later in the day we went to my toddler’s forest preschool for a family winter solstice celebration. I haven’t spent much time honoring the solstice in the past, and I was truly looking forward to doing so this year. The celebration was marked by burning lanterns, a meditative spiral walk in the woods, a beautiful alter in and of nature, and some closing tea and treats.

I couldn’t help but realize how without any conscious thought my own instincts had created this same ceremony for my self earlier in the day in my home studio.

I often find that modern living contradicts what it is that I truly need as human when I allow myself to slow down and breathe and pay attention to what my body and spirit are asking of me. The outside demands are so strong that sometimes I lose total sight of what my true needs are and other times I feel like I’m not allowed to (or supposed to, even) address those needs. It usually takes human loss or crisis for us to stop and actually say, okay, let’s get back to what really matters.

I’m trying to listen more.

In nature, I see the plants and trees and animals following the flow. In winter in the northern hemisphere they are tending to their roots. The energy stays deep, deep within. Movement slows. Restful states lengthen.

My gaze rests again on the bones of the oak tree. I’m reminded of a story an elder once told me when I was living in Costa Rica and spending time with an indigenous community. He said that when someone in their community passes they bury the body and then when the time is right they come back and dig up the bones. There was another special ceremony held later for the bones because they believed the bones held a special connection to the spirit. Today I wish to learn more about this practice.

After taking some time to tend to myself, my own bones feel nestled into their places now, no longer chilly. The oak tree is empty of leaves here in winter, but it still has life. It’s not overworking to bloom or show off or create. It’s just tending to its bones and roots. Resting and taking care of all that is inside that we don’t see.

There’s a place for this.

I’m setting an intention this winter to nourish myself.

To make warm meals and to dress in wool. To light candles and to journal. To spending some time slowly walking these dark woods. As a deep feeler, it’s easy for me to get sucked into the sadness. There is a tangible weight that can be felt during this time of the cycle of seasons. But for now, at least, I’m not afraid of this darkness. I feel a bit liberated knowing I can take more time this season to turn inwards and rest. I’m not pretending I don’t need or deserve that.

And I feel like I have more capacity right now to grab a blanket and brew tea and hold others. Please reach out if needed. Sometimes I need you and sometimes you need me and I think that’s what the bones of a community is all about.