How’s your hustle hanging?

These are strained days, to be sure. Grace could be the single greatest offering we can give others, not to mention ourselves, right now. Self-importance impels us to believe that we are deliberately mistreated because unconscious indifference feels unbearable. Dare to assume it’s not about you. Was it ever about you? Let others off the hook. You, more than anyone. Grace, my dears.

The gloaming of December 21st will bring the longest night of 2023. The dawn of the 22nd marks the inevitable shift towards the light. What will you be doing on the longest night?

This coming year, I think I will carry around a figurative jar in my pockets and the next time you apologize for something beyond your control, I’ll ask for a contribution of some sort. As it cuts both ways, you can ask the same of me. I’m good for it. Unabashed and audacious, grace holds space for the truest self. The vulnerability of the unmitigated truth that I am a work in progress. Craggy, scraped edges, and splinters, not entirely smoothed by wisdom and weathered patina.

I’ve longed for hugs to return in full force. Holding my tribe close, breathing them in, feeling their hearts beat next to mine. Gathering them is a boon. My knuckles bleed during this season. I am exceedingly tough on my hands, yet they are my most precious tools. Still, I use them to forge, create, collaborate, and tell our stories. Only through sharing these stories do we grasp that we are not alone in the dark.

Solstice is the dreaming time—the time to breathe and level up for the coming of the dawn. In the dark, we are sending out our roots. Connecting to the earth, this moment is grounding us so that we can send the tendrils up to the sun and beget our verdant creative power.

This Solstice I gather the dark, create space, and endeavor to offer grace. I ask for grace in return. I repeat the exercise on loop. I’ll be here for a while & I’ll let you know how it’s going.