Darkening Days – Anticipation of New Light

The times are dark. Our days will grow still darker. Even now, the dark is greater than the light. Yes, new light will be born, grow strong and come into fullness – then begin to wane slowly, subtle almost beyond our perception, until we feel the growing darkness become undeniable again. Hope may waiver, despair may settle in, but then, new light will be born and grow strong.

This ever repeating cycle will always be part of our experience. We can dance with it, honoring its rhythm, or become lost in its various stages. The ancient Celts call this the Wheel of the Year and many of us still today celebrate the beauty of each of its seasons.

We now sit in growing darkness. On Winter Solstice it will be the darkest day and the longest night. The dark and the cold of this season force us indoors. Our bodies naturally want to slow down, snuggle in – rest, reflect, discern. This time of darkness offers us an opportunity to find the treasures deep within, to share story, to dream the future.

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Photo by Christine Makhlouf on Unsplash

Our Western traditions put us at odds with this natural cycle. We tend to go a bit crazy at this time of year. And it’s no wonder we experience emotional angst; we’re moving contrary to our natural rhythms.

This is an invitation to slow down, to pace yourself this season and to take advantage of this time of story, discernment and dreaming. Yes, you know you want to escape the hamster wheel of the winter holidays! Let’s give each other permission to do just that!

This is an invitation to the feminine. In 2018 the feminine will be called forth to help us heal and transform. She has many faces. We’ve diminished her expression over the last few centuries, so we’re not so familiar with her ways.

Join me, starting December 1st, for 21 Days to Solstice. I’ll offer videos (YouTube and Facebook) and blog posts here. We’ll explore different aspects of the feminine and invite each other to dance with her many faces.

Please take some time for yourself, time to find your inner treasures in this dark time of the year. There is magic and joy in the dark, when you give yourself time to adjust to new ways of seeing.

Bright Blessings to you and yours, Coleen Rhalena ReneeHead shot

Mark your calendars for 21 Days to Solstice starting on the first.

Root, Down, Deep, Essence

I feel alive in ways I can’t remember ever feeling. There’s an awakening – one I’ve been preparing for, for almost a decade. It’s been a long decade of waiting, of honing my skills and craft, of patiently listening for that something that I felt, but couldn’t name.

Finally, I feel the pulsing of that something growing strong. It’s a global awakening to the feminine. No, it’s beyond that. The awakenings have been happening for years. What’s different? We’ve rooted, deepened and touched our essence. We’ve gone down to where we’ve been hidden and now, at last, we are remembering who we are and we’re returning home – to ourselves.

How do I know? The Women’s March on Washington; the “Me Too” phenomenon that’s spreading like fire igniting women to speak their truth and waking us all to our part in allowing the diminishing of the feminine; the number of first time elected women to state and national offices; the movie “Moana”; astrological movements; and, most importantly, my own knowing that it’s time and the world is ready for me.

We’re beyond awakening now. Our eyes are open, we’ve stretched and welcomed the day. Now, we’re about action. REdwoods1

On this Thanksgiving week, I’d like to take a moment to thanks all the mothers and grandmothers who’ve cleared a path for us: the Suffragettes, Rosa Parks, Hillary Clinton, Kris Steinnes, Susan B. Anthony, Eleanor Roosevelt, Gloria Steinem, Rosie the Riveter, Coretta Scott King, Maya Angelou, Malala Yousafzai, Oprah Winfrey, the 13 Grandmothers, … – and the ancient ones who kept the knowledge alive through stories and traditions. We are your daughters and we are remembering to return, to claim our power and knowing. We have access to so much because of your sacrifices, your fierce commitment and determination, your love.

Now, like trees in a forest, our roots reach down, deep, to our essence – touching the roots of others, who like us are growing tall and strong. It’s time to tell the stories, to celebrate our shared mysteries and to return the heart to the feminine – to honor her, to court her, to celebrate her treasures.

I am a storyteller – full of stories and wisdom teachings – hungry to ignite the feminine spirit in a fierce, loving, compassionate and juicy journey to ourselves. Join me Tuesdays at 2 PM (PST) on Facebook Live starting November 28th. I’ll also be doing some Youtube videos and will let you know. or you can subscribe to my email list for releases.Rachael Fairbanks

Till then, I offer you a song that a beautiful young friend has written. Rachael Fairbanks, leads us to this journey of the heart with some beautiful songs on her latest album. One of my favorites is “Tree Song”. Close your eyes and listen to the call of your heart as her song plays.

 

Head shot (2)I have been going by a shortened version of my middle name. It celebration of the fullness of returning to our whole selves, I reclaim my full name – Coleen Rhalena Renee. Blessings to each of you. I offer my open-hearted gratitude for all you do in the world.

 

 

When a Parent Dies

My father passed a year ago. I thought I was ready because he had been ill for several years. Perhaps I was prepared for him leaving this planet, but I was not prepared for my own internal shifts. Dad was no longer there to comfort or to criticize me. I became aware of how often I did – or didn’t – do something because of his expected reaction. Suddenly, I felt both free and incredibly vulnerable – I can do anything and there is no net beneath me.

Of course that’s not true. I can do anything I’m meant to do, anything I truly desire. And yes, that first primal net is gone. Yet, a year later, I see that my clipped wings have grown back to fullness and not only do I have other nets, I also have wings that significantly negate the need for them. It’s stunning, actually – the kind of stunning that stops you in your tracks until you can truly process what’s before you, both the beauty and the grief.

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Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash

Now the butterfly is emerging, her vulnerable wings will soon dry. Where will she fly?

Despite the fact that we’re in the dark and cold time of the year, I feel my sap wanting to rise as I sense the possibility of new life within me. I may be out of sync with the sun, but I’m right in line with the moon. My grief has waned and I’m resting. As the dark moon approaches, I go within – evaluating and discerning what dreams wish to take flight.

In the last year, I have unearthed stories that have kept me from powerfully taking my place in the world. Even writing “powerfully taking my place” scares me as much as it excites me. I’ve broken through the cocoon of safety and its illusions – just in time.

I admired my dad’s passing. He did it incredibly well. He brought the family together for my mom’s 80th birthday a few months before he died. We hadn’t seen each other in almost 30 years. At my mom’s three day birthday event, my siblings and I reconnected, and Dad spoke his love and gratitude for all of us. Because of that time together, we were able to be there in his last days to support and comfort each other while we made the decisions that needed to be made. He waited to go until my mother was ready – and then he left us. For me, personally, his passing was beautifully timed with this last year’s growth. I am emerging full winged just as the world shifts enough for me to step into my place.

I’ve been waiting for almost ten years, now. I’ve been sharpening my skills in preparation for something that I couldn’t quite define. In some ways, I’ve felt all dressed up but nowhere to go. My life didn’t stand still, exactly. I just had this sense that I had to prepare. The unearthing of stories that kept me small and seeing the illusions of safety were my last tasks. Thanks Dad for leaving me so I could do them.

A part of me wants to step on a platform and shout to the world all that I now know. But the wiser part tells me not to push the river – rest with the moon, let my wings dry and my new dreams land. No need to stumble onto that platform. I’ll wait and then gracefully step up. It’s within reach now and I feel certain it will not vanish.

I’m just remembering when I was little that my dad told me if you didn’t step off the escalator at just the right time, you’d be taken under. I imagined the dusty, dark horror of going under and having to wait to breathe again. For years, I experienced anxiety getting off escalators. I’d stand poised to jump way too early and only breathe again when I safely landed on the next floor. Decades later, I can get off an escalator with relative ease. But the little girl, who wants to be safe, doesn’t breathe easily until both feet are on the floor. This time, I’ll hold her hand and tell her about all the wonders of what’s on that floor. She doesn’t need to even think about what’s under that escalator. She might even figure out she doesn’t need it; she’s got wings

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Photo by Rob Potter on Unsplash