As I left in the morning, Yuri faced his own challenges and fears as he took up his violin and practiced all the time I was away, just for the day, the shortest day of the year.
The Winter Solstice awakens me. Acknowledging it as another new beginning for my intuition, illuminating the path that will finally put the darkest days behind me. That the longest night is a time of reflection, introspection, and continuing rest for the bone weariness that is finally subsiding.
There are all kinds of rituals to greet the winter. Yuri and I toasted with red wine, good for the heart, and a challenging foreign film depicting one of the darkest hours in world history that moved the emotions in our souls. What lessons have we learned from the Ghosts of Christmas Past, the Present with a contagious pestilence hanging over our heads as well as an uncertain Future?
Mostly, it’s an appreciation for the small things, like miracles; the simple things, like hearing the voice of a friend, seeing kindness in their eyes, receiving a Christmas card, a note, an emoji expressed with love and caring. I appreciate every day for the uncomplicated morning rituals and the daily routine sprinkled with appointments, travel back to areas where aggressive driving keeps me on my guard until I get home.
I take advantage of the time and enjoy moments of friendship, catching up on things that make us who we are, sharing what we learned through life experiences that can help one another navigate through complexities and temporary snags, joys of new births, and their first smiles, sorrow in unexpected departures of souls, one less in our earthly community, one more joining the cosmic souls of the universe.
Thinking of the many that have contributed to our interweave of life experiences, every thread color is noticed, patterns are created. As a weaver in my past life, I notice the thread counts, the warp and weft of the design coming out of the heddles where threads are sent through, tied to the back, and pronounced with every step lifting the sheds before the shuttle of thread color rattles through.
There are times when I’m unsure of how it will turn out, threads break, the color doesn’t quite blend in, I can make the change in some ways but overall once the plan is set up, it can’t be changed much unless it is started from the beginning. It can be hard, but it can be done.
When I came home it was already getting dark as the last of the sunset disappeared in the thickening clouds. Yuri practiced for six hours. It’s the first time using a bow, drawing it across the five-string electric violin, putting in everything he has been learning all over again, starting a new weaving, setting up the loom in his mind. He needed it to be private. I can’t wait to hear him in live performance again. Whenever that will be.
In the meantime, I want to share this piece, Oblivion, by Astor Piazsolla (on piano) where Yuri played violin a couple of months before he got sick. A beautiful, soulful interpretation of notes coming off the instrument and coming from Yuri’s giving, forgiving, compassionate soul with deepest feelings, moving the heartstrings of so many onto a higher level as the spirit of light comes back to overcome the darkness.
And so, we toast to the many who share with us a year of sorrow and joy, heartache and love, forgiveness and compassion, strength and optimism, heart and soul. It’s a Winter Solstice awakening.
