Cathy's Blog!

Today I prepare for entry into this new year.  I took the decorations off the tree on Friday and have been sitting with its glory and inspirational shape for two days, but today is the day it must be carried outside.

In that journey, I’m with Toni Morrison’s words from her book Beloved.  

Love your hands! Love them. Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face… Love your mouth… This is flesh… Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms… Love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it and hold it up. And all your inside parts that they’d just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them. The dark, dark liver — love it, love it, and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts… love your heart. For this is the prize.

I breathe into the space of 365 days and nights opening before me like a kaleidoscope turning.  

Today I was on a Sensory Awareness call with Ray Fowler leading.  He said to “note how allowing space is different from waiting”.  

Just that might be enough to massage my days with murmurs whispering each movement no matter how small or indistinct.

Hafiz: The heart is a thousand-stringed instrument that can only be tuned with love.

This world requires technological knowledge which is why I often call my son for Tech Support.  Today is one of those days.  I was getting email messages asking why I wasn’t responding.  It seems that over 105,000 messages have been stored in an account I don’t check because it forwards to another account.  It was full, which I didn’t know, so now those over 105,000 messages are deleted, and all “should” be working as before.  I say “should” as I thought all was working but there was one more snafu to overcome which I discovered when my sent emails were returned. I believe all is currently working, and if you haven’t heard back from me, that’s why.  

I’m grateful I just posted about being water so I could crash on a shore of adjustment and sink into the sand of passing time.  Does that make sense?  Probably not since my brain fries with computer glitches and then I pour water on, and now I’m water-logged.

I’m grateful I have a son who can “take over my screen” and fix problems from afar.

Okay, back to different forms of water as I now work with organizing files and papers to prepare for the new year.

Peace and ease as I move gently and forcefully into 2022.

It’s a day to absorb the excitement of gathering and to begin a slow return to the earth’s turning.  At the solstice, even the movement of the sun appears to come to a halt, to re-adjustment, and so do we.

Yesterday we were discussing the odds of intelligent life outside of what we know, and I found myself looking around amazed at what is here.  I was astonished at our gathering of family, dogs, and one elderly cat, in our small, intimate space for two days, and now, I am with the intelligent life within and on this planet – well, perhaps diversity is what is better celebrated as we all have different backgrounds, responses, and perceptions.

The continuing rain means a fire in the fireplace and candles aglow, and showers and abundance for All.  

This quote comes my way today, guidance for movement into this winter season, and a new year.

“When winter comes to a woman’s soul, she withdraws into her inner self, her deepest spaces. She refuses all connection, refutes all arguments that she should engage in the world. She may say she is resting, but she is more than resting: She is creating a new universe within herself, examining and breaking old patterns, destroying what should not be revived, feeding in secret what needs to thrive… Look into her eyes, this winter woman. In their gray spaciousness you can see the future. Look out of your own winter eyes. You too can see the future.”

–Patricia Monaghan, Seasons of the Witch

On another note, I always thought of the Saint Bernard as a dog who rescues those caught in avalanches.  I now know that it’s a myth that these dogs carry brandy in kegs around their necks. Alcohol brings blood closer to the skin, and isn’t helpful in keeping warm.  When it’s cold, we want our blood tucked safely inside in its circular route.  That doesn’t mean I didn’t imbibe a bit of holiday spirit, but then, I was tucked inside a family womb.

I learned today there is a Saint Bernard.  He was confirmed as the patron saint of the Alps in 1923. His image appears in the flag of some detachments of the Tyrolean Alpine Guard. He is also the patron saint of skiing, snowboarding, hiking, backpacking, and mountaineering.  And here is his wisdom.  

Saint Bernard: 

Love seeks no cause beyond itself and no fruit; it is its own fruit, its own enjoyment. I love because I love. I love in order that I may love.