Most of my close relatives, including two of my three children and myself, were born in November or December. The holidays used to come at us like a tsunami, starting with my father-in-law on November 7 and ending with New Year’s Eve, right after my son Ian’s birthday on December 28. It was a marathon, a test of endurance, one festive feast (8 all together) after another, a muscular demonstration of our love for one another. Whew!

The more aware and observant we become; the more we sense our feelings in our bodies, rather than our minds; the more curious we become about what’s actually happening, as opposed to reacting automatically according to our default patterns and fears — the more at ease we become. The more room we create. The more time we have to listen before we respond. We can look to see, what’s good here? What’s a way in which I can be helpful?

My friend Maria quoted from this poem in meditation class some months ago. Every so often I listen to a recording and to the sweet, wry, hopeful words of the poet, and I remind myself that it’s fine to just… let go.

Today when I went for my afternoon walk, it was later than usual. I could have heeded the little voice in my head saying, It’s late… you could just skip it… But I didn’t, and went out into the warm early evening, along the sidewalk dotted with brilliant sugar maple leaves, my heart full of joy…  at being alive!

As we know, life’s challenges can quickly overwhelm. A diagnosis. A disaster, natural or manmade. A death. A divorce. (Now I’m just getting tickled by how many “D’s” for disasters there are.) You get the picture.

A reminder for those of you who know about it, and an epiphany for those who don’t: It’s the time of year for Magic Mineral Broth!