I love this time of year, well, maybe, all times of year, but today I rise at 4 to meditate, light a candle, and pull out my shawls.  The temperature has dropped 25 degrees, and I feel comfy and cozy with my shoulders wrapped in wool.  There’s a grace to it, and my heart gives thanks for the gentle weight saying I’m here.

Years ago I read and found support on the subject of aging in Florida Scott Maxwell’s book, The Measure of My Days.  Yesterday I refreshed on these words from her book.  She wrote in her journal that she was quiet and serene in her 70’s, and in her 80’s became more passionate and intense.  Our new president is an elder.  May this be true for him, and all of us moving up the wisdom ladder.  I hold the sacredness of this journey as a candle in front of me, a light, as I honor the phases of the moon, and the movement of the earth around the sun, grateful for her tilt that gives us seasons, and inspiration for change.

The moon in the sky this morning
A morning dance of clouds and moon playing with the veils

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