Priceless Plastic Heart

     And so, the Christmas festivities begin. Just as dusk was falling late yesterday afternoon, our family met up in the forest at Boal Memorial. Decorating the little tree in front of Mike and Kelly's plaques is always a poignant event. The half-moon shining down onto the snow-covered ground added an element of magic to the setting. Gazing upon the faces of my young grandchildren, both mesmerized by the glowing candles and sing-along, my heart was simultaneously filled with a profound love for these two, along with a deep aching for my son. For me, Christmas without him has not become any easier. 
     Our family then made our way back to our younger daughter's home, for a delicious home-cooked meal, where she had laid out a novelty Christmas cracker at each place setting. Crackers were never part of our traditional German festivities, but it certainly was a fun addition to this dinner. After the eight crackers were popped, colourful paper crowns were donned, and tiny gifts discovered, including puzzles, jokes, and decorations. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that my prize was a small, plastic, heart-shaped frame. The only one in our group. An incredibly precious sign of the season.
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One Tiny Feather Lightens the Load

   

   
 






     Sunday morning, my husband and I headed out for a walk in the canyon, decked out in rain gear, from head to toe. The few people we encountered along the trail were all accompanied by a dog or two - in that inclement weather it seemed that, other than ourselves, only those who had to be out, were. We joked about walking our two invisible dogs and the bonus of not having to "scoop the poop".

     We both felt the heavy weight of this emotionally charged day as we would later be meeting our children and grandchildren at Boal Memorial for our annual tradition of decorating of a little Christmas tree, honouring our angels.
     Arriving at the midway mark of our canyon walk, I stopped on the sidewalk atop the dam and gazed down over the railing into the huge volume of water roaring down into the river below. Empty of thought, I became mesmerized. The spell was broken when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tiny, white object drift down beside me. Looking down at my feet, I noticed that a small feather had landed in the very narrow space between myself and the railing.  I instinctively looked up for birds, but there were none. I checked the area around me to see if more had fallen. No, only the one. It had been six months since I last saw this sign from my son, and I was overjoyed to notice this feather, today.

     By late afternoon, the rain had subsided, and by the time we arrived at Boal, the sun even made a brief appearance. After decorating the tree, lighting the candles, and singing some carols, a brilliant sunset became the backdrop for this tranquil forest setting. Later, after enjoying a fabulous family dinner, I reflected on this challenging day and felt overwhelming gratitude for the perfect way it had unfolded. It could not have gone any better.
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Candles Lighting the Way

This morning, I pulled out the mini Christmas tree and ornaments in preparation for tomorrow's family visit to Boal. It wasn't until I was out walking in the canyon, a short time later, that the emotions started swirling. I am thankful for this tradition we originally created to honour my mother at the cemetery, then moved to Boal after Michael and Kelly died. I know there will be some tears, that's a given, but there will also be a few laughs. And of course, there will be candles. Tiny, white ones clipped to the branches. Anyone who knows me well, knows this - I love candles. Surrounding myself with them is one of my favourite aspects of this season. There is something so pure and uplifting about candlelight. Earlier this week, while wandering through a spectacular garden light display, my husband and I paused to light two candles for Michael and Kelly, infuse them with good wishes, and place them side by side on a ledge in the rock grotto.  This Sunday evening, we'll be observing Winter Solstice with candles during the Lantern Festival in our city's classical Chinese Garden.  And over these next few days, when I recognize the need for additional grounding, a simple candle meditation will be in order.  Sitting cross-legged before a candle and with soft gaze, focussing on the flame. Visualizing the light making its way into my third eye and seeing the beam flow directly into my heart. Appreciating all the candles lighting the way, inside and out.

Photo credit: Two Wings

Modifying Traditions

The early snowfall last weekend prompted me to begin decorating for Christmas much earlier than usual. My enthusiasm was also spurred on by my husband and I stumbling upon a mom and pop shop carrying an eclectic mix of items, including a stunning, vintage aluminum tree. It was born in the 50s, as was our home, and the two of us. This shiny tree now adorns our living room, perfectly. If I were a betting person, I would have lost big time - I never, ever imagined I'd have an artificial tree, never mind one made of aluminum!  Growing up, my family would purchase our tree the day before Christmas, then decorate it with real candles during the afternoon, for our German Christmas Eve celebration that night. Later on, with my own children, our tree would be trimmed with white lights a week before Christmas. This year, our new-to-us tree has no lights at all, and was fully decorated on the first of December. Modifying our traditions: details of how we experience this holiday season change over time, but celebrating the overall joy of it remains.

Gift from the Heart

While walking along a local trail, I noticed a huge, heart-shaped scar midway up a tree trunk, near the forest's edge.  This heart likely marking the spot where, years ago, a large branch had broken off.  It made me smile. Hearts can be found in the most unlikely places.  It got me thinking about Valentine's Day, which led me to consider how we might celebrate this upcoming ♥ day together, regardless of whether or not we exchange gifts of flowers, chocolate, jewellery, or cards. Perhaps each one of us could take a few minutes to celebrate our innate ♥ energy.  Close our eyes.  Focus on our heart.  Breathe slowly and deeply into our heart chakra.  Feel the space expand.  Visualize the pink energy emanating in all directions, sending waves upon waves of it towards everyone and everything.  This is a Valentine's Day gift which will uplift us all.   We can begin practising now.

Sign of the Season

While preparing for our annual tree-decorating event at Boal Memorial, I paused by the front window this morning and gazed out over the frost-covered lawn.  Dry days, with unusually cold temperatures, has resulted in thick frost, creating an illusion of snow.  I stood there, the intense duality within me threatening to overwhelm - so much to be grateful for existing alongside deep sadness due to loss.  While breathing slowly and deeply into the scene before me, I became aware of one tiny snowflake drifting down.  Any smaller, and it would have been invisible to the naked eye.  A few moments later, another one appeared, followed by a third some seconds after that.  This delicate show continued for a short time - the tiniest of snowflakes floating down one by one, all well spaced apart.  And then, the display was over.  The first snowflakes of the year.  So subtle.  Easily overlooked, without any accumulation. Their appearance, however, was not lost on me.  On this significant day, it was not feathers that made me smile, but rather, a beautiful sign of the season. 

More Feathers

Late afternoon last Friday, I placed my yoga mat under a maple tree in the far corner of the yard.  I had never set up over there, but on this day, it was the only spot that felt private.  Although it had been warm out earlier, by the time I sat down it had cooled off significantly and I considered moving indoors.  However, with the long range forecast calling for rain and lower temperatures, I realized that it could be quite some time 'til I could practise outdoors again so I grabbed a blanket, and began.  Within moments I noticed a small, white feather drifting down, eventually coming to rest on the grass nearby.  Soon after, a second white feather appeared, undulating - dancing softly in the breeze, like a scene out of Forrest Gump.  After crossing directly in front of me, it continued on at eye level, passing under the branches and eventually travelling beyond my field of vision.  It had been many months, possibly even a year, since I had last seen this special sign, and I smiled at the loving message from spirit.  Earlier in the week, I had asked Michael to please show me a physical sign of his presence, to remind me that his essence was still close, and now, here it was.  As my poses flowed from one to another, I repeatedly heard the message: remember to keep your perspective broad and open, rather than narrow and closed - you will feel lighter and more content.  I interpreted this to be a reference to living with his passing, but of course, it applies to everything in life.  So richly rewarded for my decision to remain outdoors.

Loving Support

Trimming the little tree with my family at Boal Memorial yesterday morning, experiencing the intense highs and lows of love.  Ever grateful for traditions such as this, which serve to anchor me.  Mindfully breathing deeply into my heart to balance what is here, and what is not. Lighting the candles and cuddling the baby.  Six of us singing an enthusiastic rendition of "O Tannenbaum."  Laughing as we stumbled through the lyrics.  In my mind's eye, through all of this, seeing Michael and Kelly working hard in the unseen, offering comfort to the newest little angels who have just arrived.  Embracing them with loving arms, helping them settle into that space where souls meet.  Together, all of us supporting one another with love.

Gathering at the Tree

This coming Sunday.  Our daughters, son-in-laws, my husband and I meeting up.  Decorating a mini Christmas tree together.  Starting this annual tradition at Oma's graveside ten Christmases ago.  Symbolically sharing the holidays with someone we loved.  Lighting candles clipped to the branches.  Singing German carols.  Recounting memories. Moving the occasion to Boal Memorial this year.  Using the same tree Michael helped decorate last December.  Adding some new ornaments for our brother and son.  Kelly and Diesel too.  Knowing my mother will happily meet us there.  All gathering together.