Tag: Yule

This is late, and I’ve been quiet lately, but here’s to a serene Yule.

I’m crafting candles in the basement, and an unexpected calm has washed over me. Whatever you believe, if you listen hard enough, I think you can find it too. ❄️

This season’s hush prompts me to reflect, and that is a dangerous business. It gets me hauling the ugly parts and past hurts out of storage—a delicate unraveling of emotions, shaking off the dust to see what to hold onto and what to release.

Pain. There’s been pain this year. A lot of it isn’t mine, but here it is, mixed up in my things. Death. A baby who wasn’t. Injury. Dreams that withered on the vine.

The scent of pine from the candle pot makes these memories a little more tolerable. The universe may be an enigma, but faith, like a trusted companion, remains.

Tears. Frustration. A hint of disappointment. It hasn’t been the best year. Yet a smile comes to me as I hear Jason again in my mind. “I love you. Let’s travel.”

Stir the pot. Release the scent. Take the temperature.

I’ve never really been anywhere. Well, with a mind like mine, I feel as though I’ve traversed vast landscapes, but physically, I’ve been anchored. Something I need to change.

I bundle up when I’m down here.
In the frosty basement, I ponder our human fragility—no fur, just exposed feelings.

Fragile. So easily harmed.

My brother is lucky he walked away from his car accident. And fortunate that he is a stronger person now than he was a few years ago. Committed to doing his best. I like that.

Is there such a thing as powerful peace? That’s what I feel. Like it can eat my worries. One by one. Like I can burn them off like so much steam coming from the pot.

This year ushered in new connections and rekindled old ones. I’m grateful. People to lean on and joke with in times of trouble…it matters. It means so much.

I always need to slow down when I pour candles. Control it. Aim for the center, don’t splash the sides. Check the position of the wick.

The other night, I went out and unexpectedly felt beautiful. I am not always the most confident person, and I wasn’t aiming to feel stunning, but I did. I felt good. I seem to see more of that side of myself as the years go by. As if the small imperfections that once drove me mad mean less-a delicate dance between self-assurance and compassion. I’d like to see even more of that confidence in myself in 2024.

So here’s to Yule, to age and to time. Here’s to these vessels for confidence and conduits for empathy. May the years continue to weave their magic.

I’ve enough candles to weave mine.