Moments of Mind Winter 2024

Hello all,

Welcome to winter. This is the time in the Pacific Northwest when we pull the blanket of clouds around our heads and move a bit closer to loved ones, or a fuzzy blanket, for warmth. 

If you're in the northern hemisphere on planet earth, today was a little longer, had a little more light in it, than yesterday. It may not be something we expect, this increased moments of dawn and dusk, even though it happens every year. The mind, through protective training, may project thoughts such as "there's not enough daylight" or "it's Winter, and cold and dark" or some other variation that reinforces a "I don't like this and want it to not-be this way, even though that's impossible."  Notice if that's happening and give those thoughts an internal reassuring squeeze for me. They don't mean you can't see the light. In fact, you can start looking for where it shows up unexpectedly: cloud breaks on a rainy day, peeking out under the door from an electronic device, the reflection in the windows, a glint off your glass of water, etc. The picture above, of a roaming fleet of illuminated santas at a small store front on Sandy Blvd, is an example of light in unexpected places. 

The Solstice was on December 21st, that official end of the cycle of the last set of cycles based on orbits, axis tilts, the earth and the sun. A new year of cycles has begun. The winter solstice is when the sun is at its furthest angular tilt away from the Earth's equator. On that day the sun pauses in its trajectory before turning back around.   

The invitation for this newsletter is to take that pause before you start heading in a new direction, even if that direction is familiar and well traveled and very similar to the same one you went on last year.

Some questions to consider in the pause space:

• What changes emerged this year?
• What commitments deepened?
• What hard things did you do?
• What celebrations, small or large, got their jubiliation?

And, turning attention forward to the path ahead,

• What new learning do you feel pulled toward, even if you don't have a reason?
• What investments (time, money, relational bonds, energy) are you wanting to deepen?
• What do you want to build as a support - for yourself, your loved ones, your social network, your community(s)?

I'd love to hear what you notice,

Much love,

Tia

In my reflecting on this year, I noticed how much I learned about community, in new, confronting, and often exciting ways.  New because I have self excluded (and continue to do so) from many larger groups of people. The self exclusion is due to the social anxiety, the incessant mental chatter that judges so many actions I take or don't take, the fact that I cannot always read or understand social cues, or is me still playing small out of fear that I will say/do something harmful and not know how to repair properly. I am working on bringing courage to that small, scared child inside. 

Confronting because staring that narrative down feels nerve wracking each time. There's no solidity in any of those thoughts and of course they feel real. That's the protective mechanism of the mind on overdrive again. My life coach calls it an autoimmune disorder of the mind and it's very much how I relate to it now - like my allergies these thoughts are uncomfortable and won't kill me. 

Exciting because it's truly moving to get to know so many people in a small way, to share a connection with them, and to intentionally protect those connections. Even with the social anxiety backdrop. I really didn't understand how this works before now. The community I learned more about are groups of local open water swimmers. I write another blog, here (this links you to a post about that community specifically), about an open water swim challenge I took on starting in April on my birthday that will continue until next April.

Much of the learning in my life often starts in books and this is no exception. My favorite book on community so far is called How We Show Up - it has the same flavors I just spoke about: new, confronting, and exciting. It gave language to things I felt were important but don't see role modeled often. Things like valuing friendships as equal to romantic or genetic family connections. Or investing deeply in sharing resources among a smaller group of chosen family. Or seeing that mutual aid is one of the primary resilience forces that brings a modicum of insulation to forces of oppression. Perhaps the desire for this is something that comes out of the necessity of a background in economic hardship, or being socially isolated as a child, or just because it's good for the soul, it's hard to know. If you have't read Mia Birdsong's book, I'm going to recommend it again. Local libraries have it. I assigned it as an option for undergraduates to read in my Understanding Communities class and their writing on it reinforced how important I think the book is for all ages. Let your scared inner child see that there's more to the world than finding "the one" or relying on a born-into family unit that...doesn't really support you the way you need. Drop me a line if you want to talk about the book together. 

This fall I wrote a 5 part newsletter series on forest bathing, anchored around advertising two different forest bathing workshops. I didn't send the sixth one in part because I couldn't find the words to express it well. So this is that 6th iteration on why I love the practice and encourage folks to try it on at least once, even if you don't like quiet, or moving slowly, or sitting in the forest, or have a fear of insects/wildlife, or any other reason that occurs to you about why not to try it. 

In the theme of community, forest therapy - as shin-rin-yoku or forest bathing is often called - is also an exploration of community connections. My undergraduate degree is in Biology and I focused on Ecology, which is a study of the relationships organisms have with one another and their environments. In some ways my PhD in Urban Studies continued on that path, only the dual focus on community development and community health was more about the relationships people have to their built environments, and the policies that shape those. Forest bathing goes deeper in a way that continues to teach me. As someone who is deeply empathic, it's inevitable that emotions of grief emerge when I feel into the relationships of these places. It feels like humanity has lost so much, and we have abandoned those connections as a result of thousands of years of cultural destruction. They aren't just biological connections of trees and fungi and insect and avian and mollusc and mammal and rock and water and air. They are communities that reveal layers, and layers, of relating each time I am in their company. It's not something dominant society recognizes. I can see why. When countries are willing to create a norm around devastating human communities through genocide, and companies are willing to harm both human and more-than human beings in the name of resource extraction for profit, forest bathing sounds like extremism. The destruction, in my opinion, is part of what happens when, en masse, humans believe that we are separate from everything else. Forest bathing is a small, deep, subtle reminder that the belief in separation is an illusion. If you're interested in exploring this, email me to set up your own walk, or check out one of the many wonderful teachers at Leach Botanical Gardens when spring arrives. Bea Yeh, who recently led a walk in a BIPOC affinity space through the Oregon Bird Alliance, can also curate something unique for your group.

This next year I plan to run one listening circle a quarter, to link to changing seasons and direct intention into four themes. The price of each is $100 for a series of four hour long calls. Email me if you're interested as I've not set up the website yet.

1. Winter - Support
2. Spring - Growth
3. Summer - Connection
4. Fall - Release

Reply to this email as I'll hold off on selecting dates/times until I know what works best for folks. I can send a poll to those interested.

Stay tuned for the next forest bathing workshops.