Dear friends,

 

I just shipped off my final client formulas for the year – and now I'm taking the next week to sink into the dark season. The call of the winter solstice feels particularly strong this year; I want to wear winter like a cloak. I am ready to be ladled into a cauldron to stew over the hearth for some time. Tonight, I'm gathering with a few friends friends to feast and dip candles. Taking out jars of cardamom, cinnamon and star anise to slowly simmer into wine. Cloves to press into oranges. Pine resin burning on a charcoal. 

 

In Becoming Kin, we are currently traveling with our ancestral folktales. This year's cohort has been deep in story-land, finding pulses and patterns of the old stories that are alive for them. Their homework this week is to tell one of these tales to fire: both candlelight and starlight. Maybe reading a folktale to the stars above might be fun for you, too. This solstice dark is the time to consider: what are the stories that we want to animate at this time?  Who are we inviting in, to be with us in the dark? 

 

Solstice! Come in and illuminate! Here we are, reflecting each other in this little circle of firelight, surrounded by the luminous mystery. Glad to be here with you. 

 

Until January,

xx Liz 

 

p.s. In honor of lighting every candle in the house this evening, here is a playlist for the long night ahead: Our Lady of the Candelabra 

 

 

Sacred star! 

Coldly you spread

luminous spaces 

— cold radiance.

 

Your one great experience

also unfolds

luminous spaces

that guard

the core of light.

 

Don't come near,

never too near!

There shall be 

luminous spaces 

between all things

until the end of time.

 

- Olav H. Hauge