This Solstice season, get in bed in the middle of the day.  But only if you usually don’t.  If day bedding is a usual thing for you, go outside and look up.  The mother is telling us now…this is the time to curl.  Curling inward is a necessary transaction with kindness.  If we want to be our best, most compassionate selves in the world, then we need to do some self scrutiny.  Solstice is the time of the hearth, when a contained fire keeps us warm in our homes, if we manage to have homes with hearths. If you don’t, burn candles!  Sit by the flames, and trace their pathway of sustained resilience. This is the time of exhale, releasing our year as our heads melt softly into pillows of feathers. Where then, in soft sleeps we can process the river of our experience.  Life rushed through the container that is our body.  I ask myself a poignant question…from where did my headwaters emerge?  What place, what person, what source?  Or am I the headwaters for the river that just happened?  Musing.  Feeling.  Softening our faces.  Untying our hair.  Petting our cats.  Sprinkling nutmeg.  Smelling cardamom.  Looking outside, from inside, where we are positively curled.

It is an amazing thing to have done so with The Motherline.  Maki became the dancer she was born to be, Ela made home, Kara came back, Cindy set herself free, Alisa stood in her power.  Etnie rediscovered herself.  Miya began to feel more deeply, live more fully.  Jayden found joy.  Silas learned how to rock barrel turns.  Anabel discovered dancing might even be better than theater.  Mido knitted us together. Charlene felt with us.  Ida spun magic, Christina became a star, Cooper kept showing up on time, June smiled a lot more, Sarah flew in and out like a firefly, Iris explored, Suriah started to discover how talented she is, Araya made us all of us laugh, Evan, fought to be his best, Annabella turned smiles into light, Carrie kept embroidering us, Dannon kept rooting for us, and Ariadne became an expert leaf hauler. Our local Clean Sweep volunteers became a charged community. Our online community grew. Our mentorwebs fumbled toward works of art.  Our events righted things.  Our garden literally grew.

One thing we find from the innermost curl, is deep and genuine gratitude.  To every single one who has somehow in someway helped make the magic that is a motherline, kiting through the sky, like a firefly, lighting our way to well seeded hope.  The righteous kind that makes fertilizer for the movements that shift the architecture of time.