There’s a pink palace in St. Petersburg, Russia, that shimmers adventures into my daydreams.
There’s a happiness museum now open in Copenhagen, Denmark, that delights my heart.
And there’s a petite pine tree holding noble court in my room. She tells me her name is Penelope.
Penelope the petite pine tree adorns herself in a trendy string of cacti-shaped lights that flicker green.
And lush forest green paints my dreams.
In pine-scented visions, I see myself dressed in an elegant long gown, graciously and intently spiraling downward upon an ancient staircase that beckons to carry me closer to the secreted wonders of the earth, to the divine mother abundant in nourishment.
Here, my soul radiates aliveness from my skin, and I whole-body listen to a stillness that speaks. A mystical and very real landscape blanketed in gentle shadows cradles me as I learn, unlearn, lean
This is the image I attempt to explain when people ask me how I am, and my friends flow with my abstraction, my esoteric response.
Deepening.
And the lengthening nights accompany me in the deepening.
I find great comfort in the wintering, the call to curl in, to come home, to create space within the inner sanctuary. Here I restore in truth and the truth teaches me objectivity, compassionate accountability, the power of playfulness and humored spontaneity, the energizing force of creativity and permission to weave beauty into daily life.
So there is the petite pine tree Penelope.
And there are purposeful meanderings on Pinterest that bring me to the rosy halls of Russian palaces, and articles blending science with the heart-intuited traditions of Scandinavians, who move about their lives with three hours of sunlight in the winter, and are exceptionally, truly happy.
My Nordic ancestry ignites, and perhaps sheds light on why I’m drawn to the peacefulness of dark. There’s an old knowing that even in the longest night, there’s starlight, the aura of the moon, of the inner flame that constantly burns as our truth.
And the truth that breathes life is one about my humanity, my shared humanity, and compassion is my compass. We all are in this solstice night, and at different and pivotal intervals, enter and pass through dark nights of the soul. And if this past year has taught me anything, it’s a fierce reminder to stay in the life-giving heat that glows when I am fortified in my energy, in my humanity, and to soften to see this flicker in the eyes of people who I have journeyed with in my past, and right before me.
And right before me is an afternoon fading into winter wisps of grey, a chai tea, and my dear friend Penelope.