For the moment I have decided to abandon my blogger page so that I might combine my school experience with life experience.  Perhaps someday I will have a need to separate the two, but for now, it is obvious that my "business" has not taken off the way I had hoped, so there is no need to pay for expensive hosting to maintain it.  For now, I will maintain this blog so that I might learn something from my writings.

Last night I attended my first winter solstice celebration at my new church - Kitsap Unitarian Universalist Fellowship.  I've been attending this fellowship since mid October at the recommendation of my counselor to seek out a spiritual fellowship where I felt a belonging and where I could truly grow.  I have found this place in KUUF, and I've loved the sermons and the people I've met.  So, I chose to go to this winter solstice celebration not knowing what to expect.  First let me describe the set up I saw when I arrived: The seating was set up as a horseshoe around a spiral made out of pineboughs divided evenly by little tiny stumps.  In the middle of the spiral was a candle.  There were also stools at each "corner" of the spiral with a candle situated on top of them.  When the meeting began, the minister welcomed everyone and explained that originally the winter solstice was a ceremony where people dealt with their fear of night, hoping that in their celebration, they would welcome back the day. They believed it was because of their celebrating that day came back on the 22nd.  She further explained that though we now understand that no amount of celebrations would stop or cause daylight, we still deal with various fears in our lives - rational and irrational.  Tonight, if we chose, we could deal with one or more of these fears or simply appreciate the experience.  She then dimmed the lights and began a chant about welcoming light into our lives.  Next, the director of education was welcomed to the front to introduce the four corners of the spiral - air, fire, water, and earth.  She explained how air related to our knowledge and learning.  Fire related to our will and power to make decisions.  Water related to our emotions, and earth related to our physical being.  After each introduction, she invited the children to make the noise of the element before lighting the candle for each. The next step involved another chant saying that we would be gentle with ourselves, love ourselves, and see ourselves as children of the universe being born each moment.  Then children walked through the spiral and place lighted candles stuck in apples on each of the stumps.  They were so adorable!  One of the first children walked in, set down her unlit candle turned around and looked at her mom, turned around again and picked up her candle and then lit it and set it down on the nearest stump before running back to her mom! 

I guess we're now at the sixth step, if you were counting up to here.  And I mention the number because this was perhaps the most meaningful for me.  The minister related a story, and it wasn't till the end that I realized the lesson.  Have you ever been told something one hundred times and it is only when you hear it the 101st time that it finally has its intended affect on you?  Perhaps it's a timing thing, or maybe you just needed to be told in a way that makes sense.  Well, last night was my epiphany moment. I'm sure the story is online somewhere, but let me give you a summary: an old woman has lived in a cave for hundreds of years.  It's a cave you can only get to by walking.  There are no roads, etc to it. So this woman has been making a quilt for all these hundreds of years.  Now the only part that's left is the hem that she is making with porcupine quills.  She stands to check on her meal, and when she does, a large dog enters the cave, sees the beautiful quilt and proceeds to destroy it.  When the woman returns she finds the quilt in pieces.  All of her hard work is gone.  She's understandably angry and distressed and decides to gather up what is left of her quilt and throw it into the sea.  But as she picks up each piece, she inspired to start over and make a quilt that is even more beautiful than the last.  The lesson to be learned is that every loss is an opportunity to make something beautiful.  Simple, right? I was in tears, thinking about my lost job, my lost babies.  It's so easy to stay focused on the loss on what you can't, on what didn't happen, about what won't happen -- all the negatives and none of the potential positives. It kinda shocked me into reality. 

So what is out there?  What can I do?  Or what can I do instead?  That's where I want to focus my energies now.  And, that would include finishing my education AND working on this blog.