At a bonfire last night, standing close as I could get for the warmth, I took part in a small wonderful celebration of the solstice, the longest and darkest night of the year.
Kelley Harrell, author of Gift of the Dreamtime, led this ceremony. The heart of it was her reminder that: OUT OF THE LONG DARKNESS CAN COME CREATIVITY. (I certainly have felt a burst of creativity after a difficult time, and then the same pattern again: almost like stitches in a fabric, the thread sinking, then reappearing.)
In last's night's cold, we each tossed into the fire some symbol of whatever we wished to be finished with from the past year. Because OUT OF DESTRUCTION, SOMETHING NEW must inevitably come.
I threw in a handful of dead leaves; I'd forgotten to bring a home-made symbol. Those leaves stood in for the dead, dry images of the "starving artist" stereotype, whatever limited ambitions I have had that allowed me to run a business that "gets by." This choice had emerged weeks ago from the Creative Capital seminar I've been writing about these recent days.
Now those no-longer-useful ideas are smoke that has dispersed out of existence. I replace them with practices that will allow me and my work to flourish.
For once, I do not fear that this is a New Year's Resolution that will go away. I know it's here to stay.
After solemnizing this vow, I warmed myself with a new taste sensation: hot chocolate made of white chocolate and laced with Triple Sec. Mon Dieu! it was good. A toast to all the births and re-births of the season!
Thursday, December 22, 2005
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