On Wandering

Wandering is perennial medicine yet wandering in winter is unique. Solitary. Revelatory. The ground is all sepia and decay on the surface. Sorcery and loam beneath. The trees bare boned and contemplative. The sky a spacious, weighted blanket of permission to rest.

There is an animal in you. Untether this creature. Allow it to roam, to stray. Let it gather acorns and walnuts. Let it lead you to the small stream where fox and deer come to drink. Let it remind you to rest when tired. To eat when hungry. To return to your den at dusk.

Listen to this animal. It knows how to winter.

Wander up the hill and process among the slender bodied trees that stretch toward the light. They are as sage as they are still. As expansive as they are rooted. As expressive as they are silent.

There is so much to hear, see, and feel in the still, dark palace of winter.

May this season be filled with holy wandering, within and without, bright stars that show you the way home to your Self.

Love,

Martha