Time of the Long Night Moon

Downtown Ashland, Oregon in December snowstorm. Photo by Mark Arinsburg

Over a week ago, we had an unusual snowstorm that dropped 4-6 inches on the floor of the Rogue Valley. We are accustomed to snow in the mountains, but that amount of snow on the valley floor is rare. Temperatures fell to 4-6 degrees for several nights. Snowplows were unable to make a dent in the icy snow.

Even attempts to strew cinders on the dangerous surfaces did not succeed, with cinder loads sticking together, making them useless. Road conditions were quite dangerous for 5 or 6 days.

Schools were closed, and if they could people just stayed home.

Not a Christmas tree, but a festive jungle cactus

What in the world is up with her?

It was very beautiful though, as this photo of the downtown area shows. It was a good respite to stay at home for 5 days. Finally, there was a thaw, and everyone started to move around in the world again.

I've lived in the Ashland area since 1977, except for 4 years spent in Portland in the mid 80s. I never consciously intended to stay here that long. It just happened. I love it here. It is familiar. I have many longtime friends and connections. Yet I am feeling that it's time for a change.

I bought a house 2 1/2 years ago, a place I call the flower cottage. For years, I dreamed of having a house like this with a beautiful flower garden, and I have been enjoying living here. My younger daughter did a beautiful job painting the walls when I first moved in. It was such a loving gesture on her part. Still, it is feeling like time for  change.

Here we are at the end of year holidays. It will be full moon in two days, the "long night moon." I'm a Buddhist, and now that my kids are grown, I don't much celebrate Christmas. But it is the darkest time of the year, and that darkness calls out for some ornamentation to offset the long nights. So I found a few festive objects to decorate the jungle cactus in the kitchen, and that is my version of a Christmas tree this year.

I'm going to put my house on the market in January and I am planning to move to Baja. I want to be near the ocean. I want to be in a different culture. In letting go of the flower cottage and moving to Baja, I want to create a lifestyle that is simpler, slower and more affordable.

I have some friends in northern Baja. They are a large Mexican family who have grounded a meditation center in Ensenada for many years. I am hoping that they will help me find my way past the gringo ghettos. I have to learn Spanish. I keep telling myself it will not be that difficult, because I know French. But really, I have to get with it.

I wonder how I will dispose of the many beautiful objects I surround myself with. When this seems too impossible, I remind myself of all the beautiful clothing, chairs, tables, houses, pets, and lovers-- not necessarily in that order--that I have enjoyed and left along the way. Like the orange wing chair I had when I was 19 and lived in NYC, or the blue and white checked gingham pinafore I loved so much when I lived at Cherrymont in the Pennsylvania countryside. Or that thick beaver coat, which was so warm and stylish. I won't get into the lovers at the moment, though the beaver coat reminded me of them somehow.

Accumulating and dispersing. I've already started to take books off the shelves in order to donate them to the library. I will have to be careful not to try to dismantle things too fast. I want to keep the ceramic pomegranate from Italy and the bright blue butterfly. But many things will get passed along to be enjoyed afresh by others. This time of life is a time of letting go. It's good to practice letting go. I am looking around my house and thinking of who among my friends would enjoy certain objects and implements.

 I just read an article about hygge, which is pronounced  HYU-gah.  Hygge describes a way that people cultivate happiness in Denmark, which is considered one of the happiest countries in the world, despite the fact it is so cold and dark in winter. They seem to have a good thing going, so I thought you might like to tune into some of the ways the Danes cultivate their happiness.

Hope your holidays are full of happiness, warmth and love. May this coming year bring beauty, delight and richness of all kinds into your world.

Growing Old: The Inner Work

Fifteen years ago I was 55 and I was drawn to begin some of the inner work of aging. I didn't think of myself as old then. In fact the idea of being old scared me terribly. I knew I was unprepared for it. It occurred to me that I should begin some kind of investigation that might increase my self understanding. So I started an archeological excavation into the beliefs, patterns, conflicts, aspirations and dreams that have formed my memories and my ideas of myself.

I didn't know it then, but I had begun one of the tasks of aging--life review, part of which is seeking the meaning of one's life. The artifacts I've unearthed in my digging have borne quite a bit of scrutiny and reflection over the years. I've traveled through a lot of difficult territories. I'm sure you have your own versions of these places in your heart and soul and you know as well as I do that some rivers can be rather difficult to ford, some shadows hard to face and befriend. I've found that this work has been full of healing; it's led to the softening of long-tied knots, with the help of the waters of empathy, forgiveness and compassion. Life review is a practice that continues to be full of blessings, insight and surrender. I'm a believer.

According to Carl Jung there are 7 tasks of aging:

1. Facing the reality of aging and dying
2. Life review
3. Defining life realistically
4. Letting go of the ego
5. Finding new rooting in the Self
6. Determining the meaning of one’s life
7. Rebirth – dying with life

As you can see, these are serious pieces of earthly business. Letting go of the ego, for instance. Not exactly a Bingo level activity, though I'm sure it could happen playing Bingo, especially if you'd done some prep work.

Defining life realistically--what does this mean to you? I read it as the task of adjusting to the current situation of one's body and mind, which may be different from what it was at 25 or 45. Facing the reality of aging and dying, now that is something much denied in our society where so many people continue to try to pass for young into old age and live in denial that they will ever die.

To me finding new rooting in the Self means going deeper, spending more time in contemplation and reflection. I have to confess that I've never really understood the phrase "dying with life" described in the 7th task. Maybe I am just not old enough yet.

I had a visit with a good friend last summer. She is a keenly intelligent, very spiritual woman who now resides in an assisted living residence because of neurological difficulties. She describes aging as "an exercise in letting go and accepting."


"It's moving into a different state of being," she tells me, "shifting the focus from the outer world, releasing the worldly cuccoon, just unzipping and stepping out. It's very liberating, coming to some level of essence and finding contentment with what is."

My conversations with her remind me that the tasks of later life are quite spiritual in nature. Even if a person continues to be active and engaged in the world, there's a natural turning within as one ages. Unless of course, one remains infatuated with activity as an end in itself which seems to be such an obsession in the modern world. Then one can miss out on the harvest opportunity that the later years provide.

In his book Nature and the Human Soul, Bill Plotkin comments "True adulthood, or psychological maturity, has become an uncommon achievement in Western or Westernized societies, and genuine elderhood nearly nonexistent." Plotkin describes our society as pathologically adolescent, divorced from nature and soul. To Plotkin, real maturity is not based on chronological age; he defines maturity as living in a profound, ecologically aware interconnectedness with nature.

Living a long time is a blessing, and those who live a long life and also enrich the world with their wisdom, patience and balance bring an even deeper blessing. Maturation takes inner work. Inner work requires spending time in reflection, contemplation, healing, meditation and prayer. Quiet time. Slow time. Time in Nature. Which our society, so obsessed with production and materialism, both longs for and disdains.

In her book Slow is Beautiful Cecile Andrews describes how slowing down and living simply encourages community and individual happiness. That sounds and feels just about right to me.

I like to imagine/visualize/feel a society filled with elders who are slow and deep as beautiful old rivers, slow and rooted as beautiful old forests, elders who are deep, loving, firm, wise and fierce when need be. Sending blessings on your head and heart. May your inner and outer works flourish.