Look to the vast black sea above,
Stars glitter glacier-blue, 
four thousand years our elder,
heralds of our longest night.
Contemplate… 
fairy lights and candle glow,
talismans in the dark,
reminders of luminosity’s return. 

Winter solstice occurs this year on December 21 at 2:21AM Mountain Time. Also known as the hibernal solstice - “hibernal,” meaning of, characteristic of, or occurring in winter - it is when the sun has reached its farthest southern point over the earth. It marks the first day of winter for us, though we’ve been shoveling for weeks now, and the first day of summer in the southern hemisphere. 

Winter solstice is celebrated in different ways around the globe. There’s the Feast of Juul, where a large log (a Yule log) is burned in honor of  the Scandinavian god Thor, who will bring the light back to the people. In the Persian solstice festival of Yalda, the celebrants believe solstice night is when evil forces are the strongest, and so they stay up all night to welcome the rising of the sun the following day. 

For many of us, Stonehenge is the first place we think of for solstice celebrations. But it isn’t the only location by far. There is Newgrange in Ireland, built about 3200 BCE, predating Stonehenge by approximately 100 years. Newgrange consists of a mound with interior chambers, and was built to celebrate Alban Arthan, Welsh for “Light of Winter.” On winter solstice, the sun is at the exact position to fill the chambers with light. Catholic mission churches built during the Spanish colonial period also made use of the sun’s position on winter solstice to spotlight a particular object within the church.

Right here in the U.S. is Cahokia Mounds World Heritage and State Historic Site. It is the largest pre-Columbian site north of Mexico, had a population of roughly 20,000, and existed around 1050 - 1350 CE. There are about 80 mounds protected within the site, although there were more originally. The mounds were constructed to align with the sun on the solstices - one example of the indigenous understanding of the solar system. 

Sources/ Learn More

• Farmer’s Almanac: Winter Solstice
• PBS: Winter Solstice Significant in Cultures Across the World
• Cahokia Mounds World Heritage and State Historic Site
• Cahokia, Native American UNESCO world heritage site

​Snowflakes fall. Evergreen boughs cradle mounds of snow. Familiar tunes tickle the ear. The nights are long and velvety dark, lights strung up all over town shining bright in the cold air.

Yet, December brings the stress of overstuffed days and nights, the kind of busyness that can sap the spirit out of even the most joyful person. In the midst of the tension of the season, often one of the first things to go is exercise. Yet carving out a small slice of your day to move your body gives you a significant return on investment.

A good workout that gets your heart pumping and makes you sweat also releases endorphins, decreases stress, and increases oxygen to the brain. This is all terrific for keeping your energy going through demanding days. Being outside boosts mood, decreases depression, and quiets the mind. A great way to find calm in the midst of the storm.

Not motivated? 
You just need to take the first step. Go for a walk - beneficial for your feet, your joints, your brain, your lungs, your heart, and your mood. (See my post Walk: A Win for Your Body and Brain.) Walking on a snowy trail is gentle on joints and connective tissues, and the birdsong and quiet are a bonus. When I’m really tired at the end of a work day and the thought of the cold is not enticing, I tell myself, “I’m just going for five minutes, for some fresh air.” Once I get out there I don’t want to stop, I just want to keep walking and drink it all in. This strategy works every time.

Don’t have time?
Decrease your normal workout time by a few minutes, and increase intensity. You’ll get the sweat, increased heart rate and oxygenation, but still have time for other items in your day. One way to do this is with Tabata workouts. Four minutes is all it takes, not counting warm up and cool down, with eight rounds of 20 seconds on (at almost all-out effort) and ten seconds off (rest). You can play around with the timing to suit your needs, but the idea is to get the intensity and also the rest in between. You can use specific exercises or apply this on a stationary bike or a run. These definitely kick your bum in very short order. 

Ice and snow not your thing?
Find a cleared sidewalk (in Steamboat, the Core Trail or even the sidewalks around the hospital), or take a class indoors at the gym. You can even get a great 30 minute workout right in your living room with streaming classes at essentrics.com. 
​
Regardless of what you choose to do, I hope that you will find physical and mental relief and peace by moving your body every day, especially during this busy wintry season. 

Gratitude: a word that is overworked in many an exercise class or social gathering, or used superficially in speeches and ads, especially at this holiday time of year. But if we can step away from the phony and ubiquitous, gratitude is more than worthy of consideration. Let’s look at the actual meaning of the word, and how it can change our brains and lives for the better.

Grat·i·tude, noun: the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness. (Oxford Languages Dictionary)

The second part of that definition grabs my attention. If I am ready to show appreciation for, I’ve got to be paying attention to what’s around me, and if someone does something nice, to be sure to return that kindness. An example: last week my daughter and I met for coffee, and the barista took extra care to feather the oat milk beautifully on our lattes. We both expressed our appreciation, and I said to the barista that it was the best latte around. Result? Huge happy smile!! This exchange was simple, yet I still remember it and it makes me smile, positively affecting my life.

Etymology of gratitude: from Latin gratitudinum, grati, gratis: thankfulness, pleasing. Further back in gratitude’s lineage, we see the word related to the Sanskrit grnati: "sings, praises, announces;" and the Lithuanian giriu, girti: "to praise, celebrate."

From this, the phrase “singing the praises” comes to mind. Again, being very aware of the present moment, and engaging with what is around you, is a prerequisite for authentically singing the praises. I have an example of this as well: last December, in the midst of the holiday crush at the post office, I recognized the worker at the side door retrieving packages. When I got to the front of the line, I sung the praises - gratitude for the hard work, the long hours, and being there to take care of folks like me getting our important packages. You should have seen her face light up! That, too, still gives me little goosebumps. I really care about this person and it was wonderful to see the smile on her lovely face. This too, has benefited my life.

Since neuroplasticity is one of my fave topics, check out this video: Christina Costa: How gratitude rewires your brain | TED Talk. Ms. Costa’s talk is quite poignant - she discusses how gratitude rewires the brain, using her own current experience with a brain tumor to demonstrate the positive changes she creates.

Gratitude can help if you are in the midst of a stressful day, with many worries, or you are feeling down or overwhelmed. Focusing on one thing for which you are thankful can shift that mindset. Some people keep a list on the refrigerator or near their computer of the things to remember to be thankful for. This article: Harvard Health: Giving Thanks Can Make You Happier provides additional information and suggestions for cultivating gratitude in your life.

Gratitude can also help with something called Hedonic Adaptation. Happiness can temporarily go up or down due to circumstances, but we pretty much return to our fixed happiness set-point. Related to this is the concept of Hedonic Adaptation, in which the amount of happiness something brings you fades over time. One way to address this adaptation is to practice gratitude for things in the moment, or even from the past. Savoring, taking the time to be present and appreciate what is happening right now, for example a lovely sunset or time with a loved one, is a great way to bring in that thankfulness. A gratitude journal, in which you note daily a number of items you are grateful for, is another way of focusing your attention on the good things, rather than taking them for granted. You can read this article: Verywell Mind: Hedonic Adaptation: Why You Are Not Happier to learn more.

In the past I’ve been at times stumped by coming up with new things to write in my gratitude journal. But I now look forward to this nightly practice that has become what I focus on before going to sleep, filling my head with the good stuff in my life. I rest more peacefully as a result. In the morning, I borrow from Louise Hay (“my day begins and ends with gratitude and joy”), and thank my bed for keeping me nice and cozy. This might seem strange, but I also remember learning from James Altucher that he is thankful for all of the things and people that he wants to continue to have in his life. Point taken.
​

Originally published November 2022

​​On a gray drizzly walk with a dear friend last weekend, we were lucky enough to spot this bald eagle. We had the pleasure of watching for about ten minutes before the chill drove us away. We were hoping to see the eagle dive for prey in the river, but it didn’t leave its perch. What a regal being that eagle was, with its snowy white head, curved golden beak and formidable talons, and large dark brown body. Its calm, observant bearing, its patience and awareness, seemed to indicate a keen intelligence. The bald eagle is often artistically portrayed as the courageous and resolute symbol of the United States; having the chance to witness this eagle in a tranquil natural setting was a true gift.

Here are a few facts about bald eagles:

• Bald eagles have a dive speed of 100mph!
• Sightings of bald eagles in Colorado in both winter and summer are not unusual. They are often near water, and their favorite foods include fish, waterfowl, muskrat, rabbit, and squirrels. 
• Although they once were found throughout North America, their population declined dramatically due to DDT and other pesticides, human disturbance and loss of trees for nesting. Bald eagles were listed as endangered or threatened from 1978 until 2007, when they had recovered so successfully they were removed from the endangered and threatened species list. 
• Females, at 10-14 pounds, are larger than the males, who weigh in at eight to nine pounds. 
• Wingspans run six to eight and a half feet! 

Sources/Learn More
Colorado Parks and Wildlife: Bald Eagle
U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service: Bald Eagle
Birds and Blooms: 7 Interesting Bald Eagle Facts

Zip! 
Zing! 
Zonk! 
That’s the sound of the squirrels of Thompson Park. They sprint around and up the tree trunks, spring from branch to branch, and pause once in a while to hurl a piece of bark or a hard berry at us as we gaze up at their antics. 

Thompson Park, in Longmont, Colorado, is a favorite of young Charlotte and mine. It consists of five acres of green grass in summer turning to snowy fields in winter, with a large play area and a few bushes perfect for hide and seek. The huge shade trees are perfect for sweltering days, and the squirrel population is busy year-round. We often meet our friend Kate (Charlotte calls her Cake), and her two charges, boys a little older than Charlotte. Secretly I think the squirrels are aiming for the boys. 

One day a game of tag brings us to the little gazebo at the southeast corner of the park. Curious, I look at the posted signs inside and discover a bit of history. It seems that the magnificent trees, including Hedge maple, Littleleaf linden, Greenspire linden, Ohio buckeye, European mountain ash, and Turkish filbert, were planted by the women of Longmont sometime in the 1890’s. They carried buckets of water from the St. Vrain river, about a mile away, to nurture the trees. This astounds me. I imagine the women, their thankless days of rearing children, doing laundry and other household tasks, meal preparation, and dressed in those long-sleeved, stiff-collared dresses and pinchy-toed black boots, toiling uphill from the river to the park with heavy buckets of water for the saplings. This, indeed, was a labor of love.

The definition of the expression “carry the water” is: to perform menial tasks for; to serve; to assist; to be forced by politics or pragmatism to endorse or promote a belief, individual, or organization that in reality one does not fully support. (From yourdictionary.com)

I think it’s time to overhaul the meaning of the phrase. To carry the water is a way of serving that is an honor and a privilege. I carried water to my daughter when she was young and not feeling well. I carried a bowl of water to my dog, her panting tongue halfway to her knees after chasing the ball long and hard. To a client in skilled nursing who couldn’t hold the glass on their own. To a runner heading out for the next difficult leg of an ultramarathon. 

For the women of Longmont, carrying the water might have been tedious and strenuous, but it was in service of something meaningful to them. Perhaps they had a vision of young saplings dressed in the bright new green of spring. Perhaps they knew that years in the future, the broad canopies of mature trees would provide shade for their grandchildren to have picnics. That the trees, in their stately and stalwart presence, would create in Thompson Park a home for critters to scamper and birds to sing, and a welcoming place for the entire community to spend time.

Carrying the water is something we do to nurture what we believe in. Actions we take for the people we care about, whether or not we know them. Efforts we make on behalf of our natural world and non-human inhabitants, whether or not we think it directly affects us. Carrying the water is humble service, an open-hearted, open-minded generosity for what truly counts. Think of all we can do with the water we carry.

​
Sources/Learn More
City of Longmont, Thompson Neighborhood Park:
https://longmontcolorado.gov/facility/thompson-neighborhood-park/

City of Longmont Forestry, Longmont Tree Tour: 
https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/f14b12797d9444e7b2557580b2cd0e25

Colorado Encyclopedia, Longmont Historic Districts:
https://coloradoencyclopedia.org/article/longmont-historic-districts

​Bridge: A structure linking two areas, allowing passage from one side to the other. A connection between two different things: cultures, ways of thinking. 

​I feel the vibration moving up the thick slab of snow beneath my feet, the gurgle and rush of water filling my ears. I’m suspended over Fish Creek on a bridge of January snow, a natural structure that will only last a few days while the nighttime temps drop low enough to solidify the white stuff. The creek pounds under me, and I’m both elated and in awe of the powerful reverberation.

The snow bridge allows me to move from one bank of emerald evergreens to the other, one piece of solid land to another, to continue my journey up the canyon. I pause a while on this snowy transition, appreciating the novelty and freedom its structure affords.

Bridges are on my mind today because of how they span two different things, connecting them. Whether it is a quaint bridge of stones in a small town or a marvel of engineering in San Francisco, crossing a bridge from the known, where we’ve been, is the opportunity to contemplate something different, something new, on the other side. The bridge heals a divide. It forms community, provides support, makes us stronger than when we are alone or isolated. It brings us together. 

Bridges are necessary and vital. When we take the first step onto the bridge and travel it, we already have begun to open our minds and our hearts.


I'll take your part
When darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
-From Bridge Over Troubled Water, by Simon & Garfunkle

​The chill wind touches my skin and I zip up my jacket to my chin. Charcoal clouds hover heavy above. I’m on my favorite trail, possibly for the last time this season. The damp air fills my nostrils, bringing the scent of fir and spruce, of dark brown leaves mashed into thick coffee mud. Foliage that was lush green and bright purple, white, yellow and pink blooms in the summer, then earthy orange and red and gold splendor in the fall, has now given way to naked trunks and branches. The starkness has its own beauty: trees and undergrowth unashamedly and unapologetically unadorned. What you see is what you get. 

I’m well into my time on the trail and suddenly am aware of the silence. There is no birdsong. I wonder if something has happened, if it is the wrong time of day, if the birds have given up and flown away. Then I see a golden beam break through the grey sky. With that show of sunlight, the song starts, birds trilling up and down scale, song that is light, melodic, and uplifting. 

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
-Emily Dickinson

Note: The term “Día de Muertos” is how the holiday is referred to in Mexico; “Día de los Muertos” is a back-translation, from the English “Day of the Dead.” I use Día de Muertos to honor the original designation.

In one of my favorite books, Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal Dreams, the main character returns to her tiny rural hometown of Grace, Arizona. In the course of the story she joins the local Día de Muertos celebration. Kingsolver’s description and the concept of this holiday has stayed with me for decades. In the book, Día de Muertos is a family holiday celebrated with an all-day outing at the local cemetery. The families set up camp on the gravesites of relatives with large amounts of delicious food and drink. The children run through the graves playing games, the adults visit with one another, and stories of those who passed are shared throughout the day and into the evening. This celebration of the dead - the honoring of ancestors alongside the present realities of food, drink, play, and conversational connection - is a refreshing and wholesome perspective on the cycle of life. 

In pre-Hispanic Central America and Mexico, Día de Muertos was a time to honor the dead. It was first celebrated over 3000 years ago by the Olmecs, and then by the Toltecs, Mixtecs, Zapotecs, Maya and Aztecs. The belief was that this life is a preparation for what comes after; the honoring of those who had passed into that realm was important for maintaining good relationships with the dead.

Día de Muertos is celebrated in Mexico from October 28 - November 2. Traditionally, certain days were designated for the specific ways in which people passed. For example, October 29 was for those who died from drowning, November 1 marks the day for the passing of children, and November 2 is for adults who’ve moved on. Interestingly, parades were not a part of the holiday until the James Bond movie Spectre inspired the first parade in Mexico City in 2016. Since then, parades are often a part of the celebrations in major cities.

Just as in Kingsolver’s novel, the traditional celebration is an honoring of the ancestors by their families. Gatherings at cemeteries are a part of the holiday, as well as altars, ofrendas, created in individual homes or even in the graveyards themselves. The altars consist of symbolic items which are intended to please the ancestral spirits and bring them home for this special time:

• Cempasuchil (Marigolds), represented death for the Aztecs. It was thought that the orange and gold petals held the heat of the sun. Flor de Muerto (flower of the dead, Mexican marigolds) with their bright color and distinctive scent, lead the spirits to the altar. 
• Copal or Inciense (copal tree resin or other incense) keeps the bad spirits away.
• Velas (candles), so that the spirits of the ancestors can find their way to the altar. Also represents the element of fire.
• Papel Picado (paper cut-outs), symbolize the connection between death and life. Also represents the element of air.
• Agua (water), in a clay or glass jug, for the spirits might be thirsty. Also represents the element of water.
• Pan de Muerto (Bread of the dead), a sweet bread made with anise and orange peel to nourish the spirits. Also represents the element of earth.
• Calaveras (sugar skulls), decorated colorfully and sometimes with the name of the deceased written on the forehead.
• Favorite foods of the departed, as well as photos, notes, and personal items may also be a part of the altar.

Have you ever been to the Día de Muertos altar set up at Bud Werner Library? The official lighting this year is Friday November 1 from 12:00-1:00pm, and the altar is open Wednesday October 30 through Sunday November 3 from 10am - 5pm. I have visited over the past couple of years, and try to go during a quiet time in the evening. There is a poignancy and a peacefulness in the bright yellow marigolds bordering the aisle to the ofrenda, the photos and drawings and notes written to loved ones, all lit by the tiny white flames of electric tealights.

Sources/Learn More
Mano a Mano: Mexican Culture Without Borders: Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead)
The Mexican Museum: Día de los Muertos
Smithsonian National Museum of the American Latino: Día de los Muertos Resources

​Hallowed: from the Old English halgian "to make holy, sanctify; to honor as holy, consecrate, ordain." (Etymology Online: Hallow)

October is spooky month, when ghosts, witches, skeletons and tombstones are a common front-yard sight. October 31 is Halloween, All Hallows Eve, the night where the separation between living and dead is said to be less defined, more ethereal. In the eerie dark hours, we might imagine the spirits rising from their graves to swirl about, misty figures performing their haunted dance.

And what of those places where we find graves? Graveyards, cemeteries, memorial parks, burial grounds - what distinguishes one from another? 






Burial ground is a more general term referring to an area for the burying of dead bodies, an area set apart from the living and a means to honor the dead. It has been thought that Neanderthals and Homo sapiens, with their larger brain case, were the first to have the cognitive ability to see the dead as in a different state, engaging in what is known as “funerary behavior,” where rites and burials are performed. Earlier hominin were thought to exhibit  “mortuary behavior,” also displayed by elephants and chimps, where the living try to interact with the dead, as if the dead are not separate. Relatively recent finds in the Rising Star cave system in South Africa have led paleoanthropologists to believe that Homo naledi, with their much smaller brain case, did indeed exhibit funerary behavior by dropping the dead through a narrow opening called “The Chute.” The bones found are dated to 335,000 to 241,000 years ago, pre-dating by more than 100,000 years the prior earliest known burial.  National Geographic: Earliest Human Burial

The word graveyard is from the Proto-Germanic words “graban” (to dig) and “gardan” (an enclosed area of land). In the Middle Ages, graveyards, or churchyards, were the areas adjacent to churches for the more common folk to be interred, while the wealthy and influential were often buried in crypts under the church itself. As populations increased, these graveyards became crowded - sometimes layers of burials deep. When many died from disease, graveyards were a centralizing place for the disease, making these places problematic, and actually horrific when floods caused coffins to surface and bodies to spill out. 

Enter the concept of a cemetery, from the Greek word “koimeterion” meaning “resting place.” Cemeteries developed in the U.S. in the 1830’s, and were on neutral ground rather than affiliated with specific churches. They were often located away from city centers, addressing the problem of available space. They tended to have large entrance gates or arches, signifying the separation between the living and the dead. Cemeteries were similar to parks at one point, as public gardens and parks were not yet mainstream. People would visit, picnic and enjoy the day amongst the beautiful grounds and ornate sculpture. Years ago, a couple of my dear clients, a loving husband and wife, told me that their first date was a picnic dinner at a cemetery. It definitely worked for them!

Memorial parks take the concept of distance a step further, often with grave markers flush to the ground for ease of maintenance. Rather than a place to stay awhile, they can be impersonal places with their immaculate lawns devoid of unique headstone decoration.

Personally I’ve always been a fan of graveyards and cemeteries. The more moss on the headstones and the older they were, the better. When I’d visit my grandparents over the summer in Maryland, they indulged my fascination and took me to many a graveyard. The little churchyards, stones marked with just names and dates, told simply and starkly of the deaths of young children or entire families. Some graves were adorned with elaborate sculpture, others with humble headstones, broken and crumbling. There was an occasional (and strange) upheaval of the ground from beneath a marker. 

What drew me to these places most of all was a certain feeling. A stalwart oak, with massive trunk and forest-green canopy looming above, offering shade and solace. The permeating silence despite a soft breeze. Below my feet the body of someone who’d once lived, perhaps walked in this same place, a very long time ago. The rough surface of the stone on my fingertips as I’d trace the markings, wondering about their life. The feeling of a distant past touching the present moment, territory both mysterious and sacred. Hallowed ground. 


Sources

• YouTube Video: The Fascinating History of Cemeteries
• Huff Post: Here’s The Difference Between a Cemetery And A Graveyard
• National Geographic: Earliest Human Burial
• The Atlantic: Our First Public Parks: The Forgotten History of Cemeteries

​Blue sky, orange and golden aspen shimmering in the breeze, trail underfoot carpeted with fallen leaves. It is easy and a delight to be very caught up in the beauty of our current autumn days. Once in a while, though, whether I’m on the mountain, near Fish Creek, or somewhere else, my eyes are magnetically pulled to the gargantuan boulders along the way. Some charcoal grey, some covered in lime lichen, some with patches of coral pink. They are strewn about randomly - how did they get there? 

About 1.8 million years ago, ice formed and began to sculpt the Rocky Mountain landscape.  Glaciers moved from mountain summits to valley floors. Along the way, these rivers of ice exerted immense pressure on the rock walls of the canyons. As water froze and thawed in cracks in the rock, this effectively allowed pressure from the moving glaciers to pull immense chunks away from the canyon wall in a process called plucking. The massive boulders moved with the flow of the ice and when the glaciers receded, the boulders were left behind, scattered through the landscape like a giant’s marble toss. In another process called abrasion, rocks embedded in the glacier ice scraped against canyon walls, leaving striations as evidence of the direction the glacier moved in.

Hiking alongside Fish Creek is one of my favorite things to do. The pioneers called it Fish Creek back in the day because, as you might guess, there were plenty of fish: whitefish and brook trout. Lower Fish Creek Falls, about 283 feet in height, was the result of two glaciers coming together, creating both a hanging valley and the spectacular falls. 

A few miles further on Fish Creek Trail, well beyond the second falls and getting towards Long Lake, the creek meanders through banks thick with brush. Down lower, close to the Sanctuary Trailhead, the honey-moss colored water gurgles its way over and around rocks, even through the frozen days of winter. The sound of the creek is hopeful: new life in the spring, the continued flow through the hot summer and sometimes dry autumn, and its resilient babble under thick snow even in the frozen days of winter. It seems incredible that almost 2 million years ago the powerful forces of alpine glacier, rock, and erosion forged this valley, now thick in conifer and aspen, a place of peace and flowing water.  

Sources

• Ave, Raymond, Backcountry Adventure Guide to the Mount Zirkel Wilderness, pgs 26-27. Mountain Jay Media LLC, 2003.
• White-Crane, Diane, Hiking the ‘Boat II, pgs 41, 46-47. Aspen Tree Press, 2003.