writing our way whole: 36 at home at Thanksgiving

Until the dawn of my twenties I attended a Sunday School and then church that had its foundation in Boston, Massachusetts in the eastern USA. So I became familiar with Thanksgiving Thursday from an early age. As an occasion for reflecting on the positives – rather like the “gratefuls” (appreciation practice) that I’ve been offering towards the end of each session of writing our way whole: at home.

So, a few days early this week, here’s an opportunity for us to reflect on anything from 2020 which – in the long term – you may look back at with appreciation.

That’s not to deny that for many, this year has been hellish. It’s not to diminish the reality of suffering, grief, frustration, anger, fear, despair, confusion or plain, ordinary boredom. (I can identify with most of these, and more.)

Greetings to you all as we enter into the mystery of the time around the winter solstice, and of the four weeks of Advent, and – for some of you – the remembered excitement of the build-up to Christmas

Next week I shall be meeting (online) with my friends at The Way of the Buzzard and using the occasion of November’s Full Moon to resource ourselves insights from nature. As I mentioned in writing our way whole: 32 at home facing the shadow some of us are welcoming in a time of letting go of old habits and patterns that no longer serve, and gestating the seeds of new possibilities, new intentions, towards 2021 and beyond.

I’ll continue to reflect upon a year that ‘s held – for me – much letting go, living more lightly, and reaching outwards. I’ve also had my share of turning gently (and grumpily) towards my shadows, and also setting boundaries around what I hold dear – the better to protect my vulnerabilities and to allow myself to withhold my energy from projects that no longer resonate.

So here are some golden threads for reflection on this turning of The Wheel of the Year.

Today I am grateful for:

~ forgetting to take either my camera or my binoculars to the beach, so that I could use just my eyes to enjoy a raft of eider duck, far out – the first of this winter;

~ the feel of slightly damp soft sand beneath my feet – with just the right amount of “give” – as I ran parallel to the waves;

~ the dashing contrast of a magpie’s plumage, and that of an oyster-catcher – both black and white, and so different;

~ the red stalks (“petioles” of fallen sycamore leaves;

~ laughter, which is good exercise for the lungs and for the soul.

Perhaps you have enjoyed this 2020 Lockdown series of writingpresence posts, and want to make a one-off contribution to Wikipedia, which I often use as a (usually fairly reliable) “handbook” when I am online. I invite you to follow this link to leave a small donation to The Wikipedia Foundation on my behalf. If you prefer, you could support The Guardian newspaper, a bastion of independent investigative journalism in the UK since 1821, and paid for by its readers.

And thank you, anonymous readers and/or donors. See you again soon.