Winter Solstice
Hello loves,
I haven’t posted here since March. I’ve been away from this space primarily because, for most of the pandemic, I wasn’t writing at all. I was, like most of us, figuring things out, taking care of myself and my family, trying to find new ways to connect with friends, trying to make sense of, well, all of it. I attended protests and zoom meetings and sent angry letters. I voted. I slept poorly. I have a few friends who’ve been able to be creative and productive during this difficult time, but for me, writing slipped away as I focused on other means of survival.
I haven’t posted here since March. I’ve been away from this space primarily because, for most of the pandemic, I wasn’t writing at all. I was, like most of us, figuring things out, taking care of myself and my family, trying to find new ways to connect with friends, trying to make sense of, well, all of it. I attended protests and zoom meetings and sent angry letters. I voted. I slept poorly. I have a few friends who’ve been able to be creative and productive during this difficult time, but for me, writing slipped away as I focused on other means of survival.
I’ll be honest and say that this lack of writing took its toll. There were other, much deeper and personal losses too, but I think it was mid-November when I realized that I needed to start writing again because I’d lost touch with a sacred part of myself.
I want to acknowledge many loving people in my life who helped me recognize this. Sirens, a conference on gender and speculative fiction (this year on Zoom) helped tremendously, so did my two writing groups (one primarily on Marco Polo this year, the other a long-standing bimonthly Google chat date). My husband, my children, and a few of my dearest friends who know how to ask, gently, if I’ve felt much like writing and how it’s going. My therapist too, who, if I haven’t said it here before, is certainly a crucial part of my well-being. I’m very, very lucky.
This is all to say, today is 2020’s Winter Solstice. A time for renewal and reflection. A time to focus on light and hope and the returning sun, just as we also acknowledge the deep darkness, cold, and loss of our time and season.
I’ve been writing again for about six weeks, and I can’t express how deeply grateful I am for this renewed energy and inspiration. I feel like I have my feet under me again, even though I also feel tender-hearted and quick to cry and nervous about what lies ahead.
This year has been tremendously difficult for so so many. I’m still holding you all in my thoughts and I’m sending you warmth and blessings of love, healing, and peace. I hope you’ve found your feet too, or patched your sails, or that you will soon. And if you don't, that's okay too. It's going to take time to process all of this for sure. May our future travels bring us together again.
I want to acknowledge many loving people in my life who helped me recognize this. Sirens, a conference on gender and speculative fiction (this year on Zoom) helped tremendously, so did my two writing groups (one primarily on Marco Polo this year, the other a long-standing bimonthly Google chat date). My husband, my children, and a few of my dearest friends who know how to ask, gently, if I’ve felt much like writing and how it’s going. My therapist too, who, if I haven’t said it here before, is certainly a crucial part of my well-being. I’m very, very lucky.
This is all to say, today is 2020’s Winter Solstice. A time for renewal and reflection. A time to focus on light and hope and the returning sun, just as we also acknowledge the deep darkness, cold, and loss of our time and season.
I’ve been writing again for about six weeks, and I can’t express how deeply grateful I am for this renewed energy and inspiration. I feel like I have my feet under me again, even though I also feel tender-hearted and quick to cry and nervous about what lies ahead.
This year has been tremendously difficult for so so many. I’m still holding you all in my thoughts and I’m sending you warmth and blessings of love, healing, and peace. I hope you’ve found your feet too, or patched your sails, or that you will soon. And if you don't, that's okay too. It's going to take time to process all of this for sure. May our future travels bring us together again.
Happy Solstice. Love, Edie
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