12.08.2025. The Winter Heart
Hello dear Friends,
“I said to my soul, be still, and wait…
In the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.”
— T. S. Eliot.
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Everything outside looks like an over-frosted cake; six more inches of snow fell overnight, muffling sounds, making everything shimmer in quiet and flecks of light, making everything in the world seem alright. The wind whirls clumped-together six-pointed stars—snowflakes transform into dervishes, swirl and howl from the limbs of trees, turning my heart; for a moment, I am free.
Perhaps, winter is one of the more provocative seasons: for poems, for slow, for the blessing-bow of dark, of falling away, and of letting go. Wintering, with its sacred task of tending and resting, opens us to the download of the mysterious, of the holy silence of 'between'—the space between being and becoming, the space between notes in a symphony, the space between the in-breath and out-breath, the space between autumn and spring. The empty space– the silence—the first state before the creative impulse—the utterance of silence that sparks creation.
Much like the heart of Advent, as poet-friend Kathleen Hirsch writes, "This is the season of strange and marvelous things: dreams, cell phones erupting into song, and stars that stay in the sky by day."
In the quiet of winter, we listen, we watch, we pray, we pay attention to the signs: miraculous births, angelic visitations, divine dreams, following stars to unknown lands, and the lighting of the candle in the darkness—the flame of our own emerging self, birthing our soul-beauty into form. Our flickering flame brightens in response to the resonance of warmth and care in the room of others. That is why bearing witness to each other is essential:
“We are each a wanderer in search of a friend to weather the storms, a friend fearless and gentle that would not doubt or leave us when met with the sharp points and dusky parts of us, but would always recall the brighter base of us.”–Maria Popova, An Almanac of Birds
Then there is the mystery below the surface, the unseen. Below the frost layer, deep underground, there is a world rich and alive. What looks bleak and barren, frozen and desolate, is not. Microbes and fungi, insects and earthworms, gophers, turtles, and frogs—all burrowed in for winter—have the innate capacity to survive harsh conditions. This, too, is us: the magic of our own underworld capacity to endure and persevere, hidden deep within us.
This is the press of the winter heart: the mystical connection that underlies and lives in all things, that honors the path of 'fail.' Like the body slowly failing in death, so do the patterns that no longer serve us die off, becoming the organic matter, the rich compost of letting go that springs life—this always stuns me.
Every passage through wintering. Every thought: 'I will not make it this time.' Every time warm air and soft ground arrives. Every time I am humbled on my knees, feeling the arms of the Beloved around me, thankful for the breath in my body, that I am alive — a holy surprise.
“The stars are like letters that inscribe themselves at every moment in the sky. Everything in the world is full of signs. All events are coordinated. All things depend on each other. Everything breathes together.”
— Plotinus
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Come Be In The Pond of Practice & Community
Drop-in Meditation Monday. All are welcome; no prior experience is needed—just bring an open heart.
2:00 PM - 3:00 PM: 20 min Compassion Guided Meditation Practice & 25-minute Metta Meditation Practice
3:00 PM - 4:00 PM: Conversations and Nourishment for the heart, for your practice of Meditation
Dāna: Pay What You Can. (suggested donation $10-$40)
Location: 778 West Frontage Road, Suite 111, Northfield, IL.
Closing with gratitude,
Love, Wini
PS. More goodness below, made with ♥️
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🌸 Two Poems
In the season of dark dreams | Cheryl Hellner
In the season of dark dreams
some fierce angel slips her hand over the many
small scars of my soul.
Out in the wild fields
the silver gray milkweed
empties her seeds
like prayers, like salt, like white stars
they drift
over the world's spine
Signs | Luci Shaw
In time of drought, let us be
thankful for this very gentle rain,
a gift not to be disdained
though it is little and brief,
reaching no great depth, barely
kissing the leaves’ lips. Think of it as
mercy. Other minor blessings may
show up—tweezers for splinters,
change for the parking meter,
a green light at the intersection,
a cool wind that lifts away summer’s
suffocating heat. An apology after
a harsh comment. A word that opens
an unfinished poem like a key in a lock.
🍃Oh, I just learned that on Tuesday, December 2, poet Luci Shaw passed. Her life practice has been to pay attention to—to attend to—beauty.
“Attend” comes from a Latin root, ad tendere, literally 'to stretch toward,' from ad 'to, toward' (see ad-), plus tendere 'stretch.'
Her poems stretch into the heart, reach toward hopefulness, joy, and creativity, speak truth into life:
“We have only a tiny fraction of understanding and knowledge, because we’re so limited and restricted as individuals. But, also, we have this calling, to go beyond the surface of the ordinary and to see significance in those ordinary things. It’s never a dead end. There are always open windows for us to lean out of and to see the larger world.”— Luci Shaw
🌸 Three Quotes | Reverend Holly Whitcomb. Maria Popova. Abraham Joshua Heschel.
“The waiting of Advent teaches us to live in increments, in small pieces rather than large chunks. Waiting also teaches us to measure our progress slowly.” — Reverend Holly Whitcomb, Seven Spiritual Gifts of Waiting
“The longer I live, the more deeply I learn that love — whether we call it friendship or family or romance — is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light. Gentle work. Steadfast work. Life-saving work in those moments when life and shame and sorrow occlude our own light from our view, but there is still a clear-eyed loving person to beam it back. In our best moments, we are that person for another.” — Maria Popova, The Light Between Us
“Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. ....get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.” ― Abraham Joshua Heschel, Rabbi, Theologian, Mystic
Here is a 1972 NBC interview, filmed a few weeks before his death (37:13 min) Speaks to:
Surprise.
The role of prayer.
God is in need of us.
What is the meaning of God.
Holiness.
Vietnam war as a religious issue.
Even God has problems.
Every little deed counts and every word has power.
“What keeps me alive is my ability to be surprised…there is nothing stale under the sun except human beings who become stale. I try not to be stale.” — Abraham Joshua Heschel
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🌸 Something For Hope | These Five Words by Maxine Meixner
We all deserve this. These five words—“I hope you make it” —listen to this exquisite tender poem about hope:
“In a world that is leaning towards individualism and apathy, hope is resistance. Hope for big things, small things, all of it. Hope for me and you and you and you. For loved ones and acquaintances and strangers too.” — Maxine Meixner, poet & storyteller
Wowza beautiful, powerful, for the benefit of all.
I Hope You Make It. Click here.
🌸🎶 Two Closing Songs | Reminding Us That Life Is So Tender
First Song: "Something Right About Us HSP" (Highly Sensitive People).
How could you not fall in love with these two friends, sitting on a log and singing together?
The sweet and tender song was created by two HSP men and friends, Walt Lofstrom and Michael Robinson. It was sent my way by one of my dearest friends, a Sangha Sister of Awakening Into Presence.
It is hard to say if the sun is rising or setting on the lake, but the glow of pink, the insects and campfire smoke gently rising add harmony, adding more ‘right’ to this ‘‘honest and heartfelt song about being highly sensitive with a positive message.’
Listen here (4:17 min) and something gorgeous to know about – a website dedicated to supporting highly sensitive men (HSMs)
Second Song: My husband and I watched, laughed, and wept together on the couch. And this song is another offering that was birthed from the Apple TV documentary, 'Come See Me in the Good Light.' A song to play over and over—let the words wash over your heart again and again!
“Salt Then Sour Then Sweet” written by Andrea Gibson, Sara Bareilles, Brandi Carlile. Listen here
PS A Sweet Interview with Sara Bareilles if you have an extra six minutes to be ‘soaked in love’, how the music came about 'Come See Me in the Good Light': Sara Bareilles and Andrea Gibson’s Collaboration (6:46 min)
🌸🙏 Dedicate Merit | In all Mystical traditions, there is a closing prayer – prayers of blessing, gratitude and protection.
“May all beings know that they are exquisite beyond words, golden light. May you wrap yourself in the holy-goodness of who you are, and when you forget, reach out to those that celebrate and relish your Light. May all beings be free from suffering!”
Have a blessed day,
Love, Wini 💖
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Thank you, I am a one-woman, one-finger at time show.
Send on, add more light into our tender complex world.
✨ may we bloom more Light.
💞 may we grow more Goodness for the healing of all.
🌎 may each of us stitch more heart-tenderness into the fabric of our planet.
….Until next week. 💖 ✨
Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.
- Mary Oliver
Website: https://www.wininimrod.com/
