Spiral Musings

I almost deleted this photo of Avella from last night's spiral at first glance. But there is something ethereal about it, that captures a bit of the ethereal nature of the Winter Spiral itself. She is catching me watching her, but is captured before there is time to pose, or to change. And so I can see the softness of her silent self. And in the lines of cheek and chin, and the faraway look in her eye, I see my own child self.


As I'm sure happens with many parents, watching my daughter grow has allowed me the opportunity to heal through each parallel phase of my own childhood. She is just now entering the phase of life that, in my own path, began to grow dark and difficult. I thought, watching the children walking through the spiral, how difficult it is to make one's way in the darkness. The path is only made clear once the center has been found, and the light therein slowly, slowly brought forth -- not even for oneself, but for others, that their way might not be so difficult. I couldn't have known, at eight years old, that I had embarked on a tremulous, spiraling journey into the unknown. But as the years grew harder, and the darkness more viscous and menacing, I felt the journey keenly. I just didn't realize that it was toward my own light that I was moving. I simply followed the next step in front of me, as the children did to find their way to the center. 


As I re-live my eighth year through my daughter, I can re-visit, and re-form, my memories. I can walk with her through the sacred spiral, coiled like a cocoon of earth's gifts to us, and "remember" that I was so guided, too. Though I felt I was alone -- as we all must ultimately be on our own soul's journey -- I can "remember" that a sacred space was held for me by silent, loving witnesses to my searching, and my growth. Though I could barely see the next step before me, though I stumbled often, and was singed time and again through frustrated carelessness, loving eyes walked with me, as I so walked with my daughter. 


Perhaps this winter dance with the darkness and the light will stay with her in the fabric of her soul, so that when life grows heavy, and the days long and bleak, she will remember where she can turn for solace and reassurance. She will remember the courageous walk inward, and ever inward, where the source of light is found. And she can gather the faith she needs from the well within her heart.