Holiday magic

The holidays manage to spark fireworks of memories. On this winter solstice, I think of the vintage faux fur hat that includes a band around the brim and a feather tucked in, the back partly folded that my Dad used to don with his heavy beige felt coat trimmed with faux fur too -- real slick for the 1970s. 

We especially miss those who are beyond the stars this time of year. Every night as I walk our dog before bedtime, I ritually look up and drink in the sky's twinkled cocktail on the off chance I catch a shooting star (it has happened before!). Nothing else exists in that breath except a moment of stillness . . . my attempt to keep that little place where magic grows . . . alive.

Magic awakes in a long awaited get together with mom friends for holiday tea and treats along with a belated birthday surprise! Deeply touched by their generous gesture of celebration, I'm once again reminded of Life's gems in the circle of friends that we treasure and count among our blessings. Just what my heart needed as I've been missing my Dad.

My wish for you this solstice: May you feel everyday magic and experience joy no matter what's going on around you.

Lying awake

way before the sun stretches
i lie awake 
with deep soft breath
i lie with a prayer said quietly
yet keen in my heart
i lie in gratitude
in awe of the dried pine needles
with their lilt and swagger
in a dance rhythm
with the breeze
as they pillow themselves
i lie awake 
alongside the pace of morning's mute 
ringing in my ears
waiting for the magic of today
as it will all begin
again . . . 
every moment fully possible
i lie awake
and pick up my Light --
again.

Gift of grace

This Indigenous People's Weekend went botched in the midst of an ongoing pandemic. Been planning a reunion with my two college roomies since pre-pandemic. We last saw each other sitting shiva for my dear friend's mom
this past August and promised that we'd commit to a fall weekend soon. 

A flurry of texts flooded my phone yesterday morning of our planned girls' getaway. Covid, hospitalization, and a family death claimed both my friends' families. It's always something! While we terribly missed reconnecting in celebration of fall and turning 50 years young this year, continuing with the weekend has been a much needed lesson in self grace.  

Deeply grateful another gal pal joined me last minute for one night. We uncorked a bottle of wine with a broken waiter's corkscrew, the only one in the cabin. Go me! Sparked an amazing fire in the firepit without a bellow or chimney starter. Those girl scout skills paid off! 

I need this weekend. I'd been looking forward to this weekend since Spring 2020. The only times I have been away from my partner and daughter in the last ten years (other than surgeries) have included a family emergency and a family barkada's wedding. Maybe it's a combination of the ongoing pandemic and midlife transition? Learning how to pivot in a pandemic, virtual learning, homeschooling, return to school in person learning, supportive parenting, lovingly partnering, planning realistic contingencies for sickness and death for immediate family, including elderly parents, trying to figure out possible next steps as to my life's purpose in addition to being of service to my family and communities, all the while trying to stay sane and healthy. It can be overwhelming!

Since January, I have been struggling to work through the following: 

• I am not perfect.
• Yes, I do mess up, and I do not need to feel bad.
• I give myself permission not to do everything.
• I am not selfish for taking "me" time. 

This lesson in self-grace has been a challenging one given my privilege and at the same time, sacrifice to be working/mothering at home as essential labor for social change, constantly asking myself, Am I doing enough? I find myself fighting back tears, breaking through, and allowing myself to let go. 

Huminga (To breathe). 

Deep sigh, deep breath.

Pahinga naman muna (I am allowed to rest first). Ako naman muna (I am allowed to put myself first).

I am doing more than enough.

To my daughter and partner: I love you, and I love me too.

I am proud of myself for uncovering who I used to be, able to take trips alone and feed my soul, courageously enjoying myself surrendered in solitude at a cabin along the river for one day overnight. I gift myself gentle grace.