Many of you aren’t on social media or you’re trying to cut back. I support these efforts. Still, I want my Facebook posts—shorter messages —to be accessible to everyone. Each month, I’ll create a digest. Take your time, there’s no rush. Let yourself rest in these photographs and words:
December 8
Sometimes life is damp and murky; messy and unclear. And at those very times, there’s a window into mystery and unusual beauty. A view of fresh possibility. Windows arrive when we pause. Just a short pause can help us see anew. Is this a muddy puddle or a sunset view of the woods? Life isn’t just one way; it’s many things all at once.
December 11
I walk through a nearby park often, especially at sunset. I found these dried hydrangea leaves scattered in the snow. Pieces of a whole, some intact, some separate, yet still together in community.
Mother Teresa wrote: “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” Belonging, compassion, and acceptance: these help us thrive—or at least survive—in a complicated world. Fear and blame separate us. Belonging, in all its forms, connects us. We belong to ourselves and each other; we belong to the earth; we belong not at us and them but as "we."
In small, ordinary ways we can pause and connect; we can be welcoming and kind. We just need to remember to remember.
December 15
It’s winter in Wisconsin. Cold and sunny with snow on the ground. When nature goes dormant, my photographic eye must widen and grow. I appreciate these curled leaves still hanging on branches. They sing in the sunset light. Ragged, real, and beautiful.
We can find light and hope in surprising places. Often, we just need to slow down and notice; to open our hearts and minds; to be kind inward and outward.
December 21
This is sunset on winter solstice. Light and hope, even on the darkest day of the year. May we all find moments of joy, stillness, love, and beauty. May we be kind inward and outward. May we be vulnerable, brave, and true.
December 27
I found these dried hydrangea leaves in a puddle of melted snow. The light and reflection remind me of our innate goodness. We’re lovable and worthy as-is, no other reason needed. During the holiday season, we can beat ourselves up about unhealthy choices, difficult relationships, [fill in the blank]. In the words of Mary Oliver (first lines of “Wild Geese”):
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert,
repenting.”
You can begin again in any moment: Just a little, let go of guilt and judgment; breathe through your soft belly; and remember your goodness— check in with your heart. When we move from a place of worthiness, our actions and words are more wise, kind, and true. We trust and remember our belonging:
"Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things."
