November. Does anyone else get bogged down in inner muckiness in November?

In Vermont, the evenings turn dark early. The mornings remain dark late. The air becomes cold. Sweaters, vests, coats, hats, scarves and gloves come out of storage… and boots. Winter boots are readied for the inevitable snow fall. Layering becomes a necessary style of dress. Even my car got new snow shoes. And then there’s winterizing. At our house, we move the bicycles into storage, carry the furniture from the upstairs deck to the back of the house, bring the slider screen in and store it behind my desk in my bedroom, click the storm windows tightly into place, and clear anything that’s accumulated on or around the heating and return vents.

November sucks. It sucks the happy out of many of us. It pulls latent depression out. It pulls grief up.

Stephen Levine wrote about how, with each loss that we place into the grieving well in our heart, we dip in and stir up all previous losses. The loss of light, of warmth, of the garden and leaves… stirs all loss.

And so, November can be challenging.

And yet, November also houses Thanksgiving - a time to gather, to find gratitude - the beginning of the holiday season of love.

I find that, somehow, grief and gratitude open toward each other. When I let myself dive deep into grief, I rise from it with compassion. And from compassion springs gratitude.

A gratitude exercise I love is to begin “I am thankful for…” and let it run on and on, until I’m weeping. Tears are sacred water, carrying pain and joy, self and others, Nature and Source - from a personal experience toward the Universal flow.

And so, my friends, feel your feelings, and a tender and loving Thanksgiving to you.