December Days (or, A Love Letter to December)

December Moon II, digital art using painting and photography

December Moon II, digital art using painting and photography

December days, how I love you. There is so much going on yet nothing, all at once.

Work is full and busy, on some days overwhelming. I am learning, it is satisfying, I am grateful.

Home is sanctuary and to-do list, in that order. When the to-dos threaten the sanctuary I take action and move through them as gently as I can to restore the proper order. Until it shifts again.

I sink into books, sappy movies and the magic of Christmas lights.

I obsess with all things winter: winter art, winter writings, winter music, winter activities. I am intrigued by its mystery. There is much to process, there. Stay tuned.

"Gray skies and December lights are my idea of secret joy, and if there were a heaven, I would expect it to have a lowering violet-gray sky (and I would expect them to spell gray g-r-e-y) and white lights on all the trees and the first flakes just falling..."
~ Adam Gopnik, Winter, Five Windows on The Season (CBC Massey Lectures)

I continue my experiment in movement, embarking on Week 16 of regular practice. Imperfect and consistent. I feel strong.

I navigate life with an elderly Golden Retriever who's been diagnosed with lymphoma. I am sad at the thought of her not being here. I rejoice in her tail-wagging greetings and her 13 years. I practice presence. I learn and grow into this experience along with my Love, D., one day at a time.

I practice ease where I can, surrender when I can't. At least that's the goal.

I make soup. I savour clementines. I drink water.

I use my fancy Christmas mugs.

I love.

I live.

Yes, December days, I Iove you.

With gratitude,

Stephanie

Permission

Core © 2017 Stephanie Guimond, digital art

Core © 2017 Stephanie Guimond, digital art

You have permission.

Permission to rest.

Permission to stop striving and planning and counting.

Permission to go with what brings you peace and joy—in this moment.

Permission to accept, if this is not possible.

Permission to be, permission to let go.

Now, here, with Love.