My newest friend, this little phoebe, visits every day while I’m in my lofty office seeing clients, doing EMDR, and also writing.
It’s been a busy month so far, with kids and ponies and donkeys and dogs and cats and one very handsome horse. Let’s not forget the garden beds, and my slow but steady progress in tidying them while leaving all the good parts for the birds and insects and small mammals who also live on November Hill. And let’s not forget the apiary and the honeybees.
We have had cold weather, then a warming, some much-needed rain, and today we are back to cold and sunshine.
During the rain spell, I was out romping with Baloo in the heavy fog when I looked up and captured the sweet gum tree talking to all the other trees who are circled around us. Let’s not forget the trees! I count them among my very best friends.
I’m working in the novel I began last November and am officially at the halfway point. This isn’t my fastest first drafting for sure, but it represents the slow and steady progress of committing to doing what you can, on a very regular basis. I’m proud of this effort and I’m still loving this new story.
I’m also thinking a lot about anchors in daily life. Anchors being, for me, moments of joy that keep me centered and focused on positive things. That I have so much power to place my mood if I actively look for and notice beautiful things. Here is one of those, outside my bedroom window. You may not see what my brain inserts here: Rafer Johnson, Cody, both of whom are up closer to the barn in this photo. But also Keil Bay, and Salina. And my first little horse, Bo-Jinx. They are all there, behind Redford and Little Man. And they will always be there.
Today I am noticing the joy of two children and their faces as they talk to their dad, all of them full of smiles and joy and sharing. It makes my heart sing. It makes my entire mind soar. What love can do, how much it can repair, and how strong it is when it needs to be so. We have the power to reprocess trauma, to push negative things away from us. We often need support to learn how to do these things, sometimes we need professional treatment. Sometimes medication helps. But we have this power. If you are reading here and you do not know how to tap into this, you can ask me and I’ll tell you things to try. Or ask someone closer in your own circle. I do this kind of work every single day and I see people finding joy. If you don’t have it, you can find it too. The only way you won’t is if you refuse to try.
Last week the crescent moon and Venus rose above our neighborhood like beacons of hope and possibility. You might notice the trees, the deeply-rooted guardians who are always there from my front porch, watching over us but also joining with us. I feel so much love from the trees. The crowns, the trunks, their bones in winter skies, their lush foliage either evergreening or at rest until spring. Let’s not forget the root systems, going deep, connecting, intertwining with one another. Communicating. This is where we live. This is our ecosystem. This is our support network. All we have to do is tap in to it.
Happy December from November Hill.
