Saturday, December 26, 2009

Ah, winter.  Much of life is interior now.  Darkness arrives, and the few people who do live here tuck themselves in.  Weather-wise we've been fortunate on the coast--only one week of stormy weather so far, and that in November.  Otherwise there are lamentations.  And not just the usual complaints about business being slow and there being fewer visitors (heads in beds at hotels, ) but about this being the worst economic winter in decades and the stories of no reservations/check-ins for days and restaurants serving only one table an evening.  A winter of discontent.  

I've opened Wild Vines, and the going has been slower than I could have imagined--not that I didn't realize November is a bad time to start off.  But here I am, in the most dismal winter on record with a new endeavor along with a series of other results and decisions facing me, that this difficult year has precipitated.  I go within. 

Two-thousand nine is now yet another Lesson in listening to my inner voice instead of others' voices--as well-meaning as many may be.  I have gotten away from myself and had the sensation a few weeks ago of being carried down a rushing river current toward a waterfall, not being able to grab onto a branch, even for a few seconds.  Time is passing, and I am well past the point of catching up when spinning about like a pinball creates a detour or setback on My Path.   Pluto is now in Capricorn bringing transformation of some degree to everyone.  Retrogrades here, eclipses coming---time for slowing down, reflection, solitude, thorough consideration.  I need to process pain, find the inner compass, get a feel for the next direction of this journey.  In fact, my dream last night---not disturbing or a nightmare for a change---was about looking at who I am, remembering who I am inside and "following my signs." 

Last week I had to go to Portland, and of course it was the day after it snowed.  Friend Nadine and I started half an hour later to allow the temps to rise in the hills.  The sun was cutting through the very mist it was creating.  When I got out of the car, the air was quiet, smelling of cold evergreens.  I wanted to trudge into the woods, into the blanket of a silent forest and disappear in solitude.