Mindfulness
Tending the Fire that Sparks You
Photo by Alex Shuper on Unsplash
“May you awaken to the Mystery of being here
and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.
May you have joy and peace in the temple of your senses.”
~~ John O’Donohue
Greetings to all my precious people!!
Last week, we remembered: you are made of stardust. You carry ancient wisdom. You’ve always had the magic.
This week, we turn our attention to what the Daoists call Shen—the spirit that lives in your heart. The light of consciousness. The fire that makes you uniquely, unmistakably YOU.
We are in the deep darkness of December now. The Winter Solstice approaches on December 21—the longest night of the year, when the sun seems to disappear entirely, and we are asked to trust that the light will return.
This is not accidental timing. The darkest night of the year is also the turning point. From this moment forward, the light begins its slow return. The days lengthen. The fire comes back.
But only if we tend it.
The Fire You’ve Been Banking
In Chinese Medicine, Shen resides in the Heart. It is the aspect of yourself that is aware, awake, present. It is the quality that makes your eyes shine, your laugh genuine, your presence magnetic. When Shen is strong and coherent, you feel:
- Alive (not just going through the motions)
- Clear (not foggy or scattered)
- Purposeful (connected to something larger than yourself)
- Joyful (capable of delight, even in difficulty)
- Present (here now, not lost in worry about future or regret about past)
But when Shen is weak or scattered—and this is what happens to so many women by midlife—you feel:
- Numb (disconnected from your own aliveness)
- Confused (unable to access your inner knowing)
- Empty (performing your life from outside yourself)
- Exhausted (even when you’ve slept enough)
- Invisible (even when you’re surrounded by people)
This is what happens when we bank our fire for too long.
We tend everyone else’s flames—partners, children, aging parents, careers, communities. We keep their lights burning while our own reduces to embers. And we tell ourselves this is love. This is nobility. This is what good women do.
But the soul doesn’t care about nobility. The soul cares about aliveness.
And when you’ve banked your fire for too long? The soul starts to roar.
That’s the 3am anxiety. The rage that feels “irrational.” The depression that whispers “what’s the point?” The body that breaks down in mysterious ways.
This is not breakdown. This is breakthrough trying to happen.
Your Shen – your soul fire – is refusing to be banked anymore.
It wants the FLAME back.
The Wisdom That Was Never Lost
Photo by Robert Lukeman on Unsplash
“There is a faith in loving fiercely
the one who is rightfully yours,
especially if you have
waited years and especially
if part of you never believed
you could deserve this
loved and beckoning hand
held out to you this way.”
~~ David Whyte
Greetings to all my precious people!!
We have crossed the threshold into December. The darkest month of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. We are in deep Water season now—the element of winter in Chinese Medicine, the time of maximum yin, when all of nature turns inward to rest in the fertile darkness.
This is the season of incubation. Of seeds held in the dark soil. Of potential waiting beneath the frozen ground. Of wisdom so deep and ancient that it needs the quiet of winter to be heard.
November asked us to clear the way—to release what had completed, to make space for what wants to emerge. We practiced homecoming: returning to ourselves by letting go of physical clutter, emotional weight, mental noise, and the stories that no longer fit who we are becoming.
Now, in December, we remember.
Not in the nostalgic sense—not looking backward with longing or regret. But re-membering in the deepest sense: putting ourselves back together. Reclaiming the parts of ourselves we forgot. Recognizing the wisdom that was never actually lost—only buried beneath years of conditioning, trauma, and the relentless noise of a culture that profits from our forgetting.
The Quiet Beneath the Noise
Photo by Sami Matias Breilin on Unsplash
“I have arrived, I am home.”
~~ Thich Nhat Hanh
Greetings to all my precious people!!
We have cleared physical space. We have released ancestral patterns.
Now we arrive at the most persistent layer of homecoming: the mental clutter.
The planning. The strategizing. The constant need to figure it out, know what’s next, have all the answers. The 3am thought loops. The voice that says you’re not doing enough, being enough, achieving enough.
The noise.
We live in a culture designed to keep you mentally occupied. Distracted. Scrolling. Consuming information. Comparing. Planning. Optimizing.
But your soul is trying to speak. And it can’t be heard over the noise.
This week, as we approach Thanksgiving in the US – a time traditionally about gratitude and gathering – I want to invite you into something countercultural:
The practice of sacred not-knowing. Of creating mental space. Of coming home to the quiet.
What You Inherited – And What You Are Ready to Release
Photo by Alex Shute on Unsplash
“Until you make the unconscious conscious,
it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”
~~ Carl Jung
Greetings to all my precious people!!
Last week, we began the work of homecoming by clearing physical space – honoring the body as the sacred vessel we arrived on the earth with.
Many of you wrote to share what you cleared and what you noticed. The common thread? When external space cleared, emotions started moving.
Grief. Anger. Relief.
Sadness for what was lost. Gratitude for what remains.
This is not an accident.
The Body Remembers the Way Home
Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash
“Your body is precious. It is your vehicle for awakening.
Treat it with care.”
~~ Buddha
Greetings to all my precious people!!
November has arrived. The trees are bare. The leaves have fallen. Nature shows us clearly: this is the season of letting go.
We are in Metal season now – autumn in Chinese Medicine, the element that governs release, refinement, and the grief that clears the way for new growth. Metal asks us to examine what we’re holding onto and why. To distinguish between what’s essential and what has simply accumulated.
But this is not about productivity. This is not about organizing your life into neat boxes.
This is about something far more sacred: returning to your original vessel.
The body you arrived with. The one that knew how to breathe, how to feel, how to trust its own rhythms before you were taught to ignore it, override it, perform through it.
Homecoming begins here – in the body. In the physical space you inhabit.
