As we move deeper into December, my days have become governed by a simple yet relentless tool: a daily, 3x3 post-it note, crammed with every task I aim to accomplish. Lately, these little notes have started to feel like a metaphor for my life—a crush of responsibilities scribbled into every available inch, leaving no space to breathe, let alone add another word.
Last Friday, I had the opportunity to sit with George just before we recorded a podcast together. He asked how I was doing, and I admitted that my plate was feeling more like a platter these days. I shared how out of alignment I’ve been feeling with the teachings I’ve received from our Mentors about this time of year, with Winter Solstice just around the corner on December 21.
In First Nations culture, the cycles of nature guide the rhythms of life. Winter Solstice is a time for slowing down, turning inward, and reflecting—a stark contrast to the frenetic pace I’ve been keeping. George listened, and when he cleared his throat, I knew a teaching was coming.
“Kim,” he began, “our people were and are people of the water. We would get in our canoes and go on great journeys—traveling far and wide to harvest, trade, and connect with family.
You’ve seen the coastlines of the Salish Sea. It’s not open water—there are islands everywhere. Our people knew when it was time to travel, and when it was time to rest. When necessary, they’d pull onto a beach, take reprieve, refuel, and prepare for the next exertion. It’s okay to paddle hard when you need to, but you must take the time to restore yourself so you can paddle hard another day."
George's words landed deeply. They reminded me that even amidst the chaos, there is a rhythm—a need for balance, just as the tides rise and fall. The teaching wasn’t about abandoning effort; it was about honoring the natural ebb and flow of energy.
So, as Solstice approaches, I’m striving to find moments of stillness within the whirlwind. I’m working to honor the rhythm of the seasons, to reflect, and to restore myself. For those of us who may feel like we’re paddling endlessly through the islands of our lives, perhaps it’s time to pause, even briefly, and trust that the rest will allow us to journey even farther.
Let the Solstice remind us to listen to the rhythms of the water and the seasons, and to find peace in the pauses.
Comments