For the last 10 months I’ve been leading and participating in a group called Your Year to Live. We’re walking through a year together as though it is our last.

I’m starting a new cycle this January, 2017. I do hope you will join us.

Stephen Levine wrote the book A Year to Live nearly 20 years ago. I remember hearing about it, and wondering… why would anyone want to do that?

I wasn’t ready.

As many of you know, I midwifed my mother’s death 4 years ago. I’m grateful that she trusted me to do that. It was a painful, profound, rich experience. And, it brought me into a willingness to contemplate my own, inevitable death.
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A dream that everyone has the ability to experience freedom. Right now, whatever your circumstances. It’s your birthright.

We think certain conditions have to be present to experience freedom. We have to be healthy, we have to have a good job, be free of debt. We certainly aren’t free if we’re in the grip of illness and pain, if we have a serious diagnosis. We aren’t free if we have to change our lifestyle or else stay sick. We aren’t free if someone we love is ill. We can’t be free if we grew up in difficulty, if our family of origin life was less than ideal, or outright abusive in some way.

How can we be free and happy even in the midst of physical and/or emotional pain?

These are dark times. Anyone reading the news can see it in the world at large. As I’ve written about before, it’s also a dark time of year, these weeks leading up to Winter Solstice. We’re waiting for the light to return. It can feel like a loooong wait.

Happiness is a practice. It takes intention. You need a true and deep desire to be free and whole. It takes a commitment to showing up for your life, and a willingness to take a radical stand for YOURSELF and your happiness.

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Ahhh, summer winding down. I just returned from a blissful and much needed 2 weeks of relaxation on Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire, after working quite a bit harder than I could really handle gracefully for a number of weeks.

I wish I could say that my self-care is always perfect, but I’d be lying through my teeth. Sometimes, life demands what it demands, and the best I can do is surrender to what needs to be done. Goddess Gather was a great success, and I have no regrets. But, my health is still too fragile to support the kind of hard work required to put on an event of the scope and complexity of the vision we hold for the Gather.
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I’ve been experiencing waves of grief, missing my mother the last few days. It was a little bewildering. Then, I realized I’m passing through the beginning of the season of anniversaries leading up to her death.

She passed away on August 23rd, 2012. One of those that didn’t make it through that tumultuous year. You probably know a few. Seemed like every few weeks I spoke to someone who’d just lost a loved one.

Her passing didn’t come out of the blue, though. Not really.

She moved to Portland from Northern California the day before her 76th birthday, on April 5th. Three years and a week ago, now. It was not an easy time. Moving never is, granted. But, at 76 years old, uprooting is extremely taxing. She was understandably anxious.

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This is an edited post from January 7^th, 2014. I’ve deepened my understanding of the Twelve Holy Days. May you find value in this exploration of an age-old spiritual tradition.

It’s winter for real, now. The light may be returning after Solstice, but for most of us the air is cold and it’s more comfortable indoors. Or maybe under the covers.

Today is Christmas. I’m not particularly Christian, but I find value in many symbols from many different spiritual traditions. Tomorrow begins the Twelve Holy Days.

Solstice, December 21st, marks the moment in the northern hemisphere when the day is shortest, the longest night. The tightest contraction, if you will. There’s a span of time where things stop. The days aren’t immediately longer. There’s a resting. When early Christians chose the 25th of December as the birthday of the Christ, they did so for a reason. This is when we begin to experience movement again, just the inkling of expansion. The Sun appears again.

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My family attended a Beltane festival yesterday, an ancient Celtic celebration of springtime and fertility. We celebrated the outgoing May Queen (curtsy) and King, and welcomed a new May royalty who will hold and embody in sacred trust the ability of the earth and all its inhabitants to bring forth new life.

That may be literal or metaphoric children. We birth our ideas, we birth our creative endeavors, we birth our changes in our work-in-the-world. We all wrote down what we wanted to bring into life in the coming year on a ribbon and tied it to the Maypole – the sky god’s very own phallus resting in the earth mother’s yoni. We danced and sang and wrapped that phallus with our sincere wishes for prosperity and love and health and world peace. (In true Beltane fashion there were a few wishes expressed for really good sex, too.)
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