I woke up this morning at 3 AM with tightness in my chest, a a cough, and congestion. Given that it's cold and flu season, it doesn't take a lot for me to understand what's happening in my body physiologically, and it's easy to reach for the nearest symptom relieving medication so my body's signals don't bother me as I go throughout my day.

It has been my solution for years; take care of the symptoms so I can power through. In the Western world, this is often how we deal with physical discomfort - a.k.a. symptoms. We ignore the invitation for rest and contemplation they provide and instead go straight for suppression because having symptoms during our busy lives just feels so darn inconvenient.

I came into adulthood in the 1980s when the motto was, "No pain, no gain," and I took that crap seriously. No matter what my body was signaling me, I powered through it either ignoring or suppressing any symptom that arose. Perhaps not surprisingly, the messages from my body grew louder and more intense until my first chronic illness entered my life: Hashimoto's thyroiditis. That was my body sending messages loud and clear to me, and yet I continued for a few more decades to power through until I discovered a kinder approach. Even today, powering through is my first instinct, arising from my ego which loudly proclaims, "Show no weakness! Pain is for wimps!"

In Ayurveda, there is a principle called  samprapti, which describes six stages in the progression of disease. Each stage progresses from the one before it, offering you the opportunity to heed a signal (symptom) before it becomes systemic. Ayurveda focuses on doshas, or forces, comprised of the five elements. These dohas, Vata (air and space or ether), Pitta (fire and water), and Kapha (earth and water) must be in balance for emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual health to be optimal. When imbalance between the elements occurs, it first shows as a symptom. If the imbalance is ignored instead of addressed, then the progression of disease begins.

These six stages include:

1. Accumulation: You accumulate too much of the energy of one element or dosha. This usually results in a minor symptom. 
2. Aggravation: When the imbalance and accumulation becomes too great, it becomes aggravating to the system, which usually manifests as a cluster of symptoms that are more aggressive and uncomfortable.
3. Spread: As the energy continues to accumulate and grow, the aggravation to the symptom spreads throughout other aspects of your health or life. At this stage, you may begin to experience more severe and diverse symptoms.
4. Manifestation: This is when the imbalance manifests as disease. 
5. Diversification: The progress of disease alters the system or the body.

The best place to stop this progression in its tracks is in the first stage as you accumulate too much of one type of energy, which is when the first minor symptoms arise. And that's usually when we reach for the Tylenol or something similar to alleviate the symptoms. So instead of addressing our symptoms and hearing what they have to tell us, we suppress them and send our body the message that its signals are not important to us and that we will power through whatever it throws at us until its signals grow so loud we can't help but pay attention to them.

So it's in our best interests that, instead of powering through, we accept our body's invitation to bring it back into balance when that first symptom, no matter how mild, arises. 

When you have a symptom (physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual), no matter how mild, your body is issuing you an invitation. It's alerting you to an imbalance that is present and inviting you to discover how and why it has occurred. 

During these times, the best thing you can do for yourself is to take a moment to sit quietly with the symptom instead of ignoring it and powering through with your day. Close your eyes for a moment, focus on the symptom, and ask, "What is it you are trying to tell me?" Then, breathe deeply, empty your mind, and listen. Your innate intelligence will tell you what it is you need to do to return to balance because your body, mind, and spirit always seek to return to a harmonious state before imbalances can set in, get stuck in your body, and manifest as illness.

BJ Palmer, the son of the father of chiropractic Daniel David Palmer said, "The power that made the body heals the body." In other words, your body has an innate intelligence to return to balance and wellness if you remove the forces that are causing its dis-ease. And sitting with discomfort of any type (mental, physical, emotional, spiritual) as soon as it arises allows you to listen to the invitation being issued in order to address an imbalance long before it ever has the opportunity to progress into something catastrophic you can't ignore so your body, mind, and spirit can return to a place of optimal wellness through its own innate intelligence.

And so I laid in bed at 3 AM, with my eyes closed and my Reiki hands resting over the area of tightness in my lungs. I listened to my body's invitation for balance, and I listened to what it told me was out of balance. I breathed deeply and allowed my mind to go where it needed to in order to release emotions that had stuck in my chest. I didn't try to suppress the discomfort. Instead, I moved into it and allowed it with all of the attendant thoughts, emotions, and beliefs that came with it. If the symptoms arise again, I'll need to do it again, sitting with my mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical symptoms alerting me to the opportunity to recognize imbalance and release it so my body, mind, and spirit can heal themselves. 

Energy forms the structure of the universe. Everything is energy in  a different form. What we perceive as solid matter is vibrating strands of energy held together by force fields to give the illusion of solid objects.

This means at our core, we are no different than anyone or anything else. We are all pieces of Source energy held together by force fields that create the ego identity of "I".  This allows us to perceive we are different from others. It allows us to believe we have some special "otherness" that makes us stand out from the pack. And certainly we have our own goals, ideals, ambitions, and gifts. We've all taken something different from the creative energy from which we are birthed, and we've all expressed that creative energy uniquely in our individual lives and in our own expression of who we are.  But all of us have the sum total of every expression within us; we all have the same potential for love and compassion or hatred and violence, for example. The entire spectrum of emotion, behavior, and expression exists inside of every human being. What makes us different, however, is how we each choose to be, and which of the ALL we wish to make present in our lives. Ultimately those choices bring us closer to or drive us farther from who we are as the essence of love and oneness. However, eventually, we all return to our source and rejoin with the oneness of the creative energy that makes up the core of who we are.

When you realize this, there's only one conclusion we can make. We are One with All. We are all Source energy in different packages, but underneath we are all expressions of the same creative force. What I do to another expression of vibrational energy, I ultimately do to myself. ​Understanding this makes it easier to choose compassion, love, and kindness as the places in which we dwell while we exist as embodied energy known as human beings. 

Today is the one-year anniversary of my dad's death. My family is understandably feeling sad today because he has been gone from us for an entire year.

During that year, people have generously shared memories of my dad. They tell us what a good man he was. They share stories of his humor, his compassion, his kindness, his caring, his integrity, and his willingness to help. They talk of his curious mind, his intelligence, and his quick wit. They discuss his acts of community service, his athletic feats, and how inspirational they found him. 

My dad was that man. He did all of those things and more. But he was also human.

In his eulogy last year at Dad's memorial service, Rev.Gary Shoemaker started by saying this. "John Riseland was no saint, but with everything I'm going to tell you, by the time I'm done, you may think he was."

When someone dies, we tend to focus on all of the good things about that person. We romanticize them in our memories and in how we talk about them to loved ones who are grieving. We even have a saying in our culture, "Don't speak ill of the dead." I'm sure it's a respect thing, but I think we do a disservice to ourselves, to the person who has died, and to society as a whole when we immediately turn those who have passed from this realm into saints. In doing so, we strip them of their humanity.

My dad was a good man. In fact, it's likely he was a great man. He was a wonderful son, father, husband, grandfather, great grandfather, brother, friend, and human being. He is someone I've always tried to emulate. But he was no saint. He was a human being. He made mistakes, but as soon as he realized he had, he apologized, made amends, and tried to do better. He was a decent athlete, but he was also pretty clumsy. He was involved in his church and believed deeply in the power of the church to bring healing to communities, but he frequently questioned his own faith. He was open-minded but often got a little cranky in political arguments. He was compassionate and slow to anger, but trust me, he could get mad. As a teen, I personally experienced his temper each time I made a new dent to his car. (In his defense, there were a lot.) He was very funny, but sometimes his jokes were really, really awful. 

My dad was no saint. He made mistakes. He was a human being. But he was also a man of tremendous integrity, kindness, compassion, and depth. He was a loving husband, father, grandfather, great grandfather, brother, son, uncle, and friend. He loved profoundly, and his emotions ran deep. And the beauty of all of that is this: every one of those wonderful stories people have shared with my family about my dad in the past year are true. He was all of those beautiful things in spite of the fact he was also a fallible human being. His goodness far overrode any flaws or mistakes.

And so, going into the second year without his presence in my life, I choose to remember all aspects of my dad. Because in spite of having the fallibility of every other human on earth, he chose to make goodness the overall focus of his life, and I think that's far more relatable and easier to aspire to than sainthood. My dad was no saint, but he lived a beautiful life. He was one of the best men I've ever known, and it helps me to remember that during the times when I, too, am no saint. 

Want to bring more prosperity and abundance into your life? Try adding money tree, which is the plant Pachira aquatica, to the southeastern sector of your home or any room. You can also add them to the southeast sector of your office or small business for work abundance.

The money tree pictured is one of mine (I have three because I think they're cool - I love the braided trunks and the structure of the leaves). It sits in the southeastern sector of my home and of my living room in an eastern-facing sunny window. I have another in a south facing sunny window and a third with southwestern exposure but away from the window. You'll notice I've also tied a red cord around the braided trunk. The cord has three feng shui prosperity coins tied with a mystic knot on it to further reinforce the theme of abundance.

Pachira aquatica are relatively easy to find and care for. I've seen them at floral shops, online, and even at Home Depot in the plant department. Look for a specimen with healthy olive green leaves and braided trunks without any obvious wounds to them. The trunks are braided when the plants are young and pliable so it doesn't harm them. 

To care for your money tree, place it in well-drained soil in indirect indoor light. Too-bright direct sunlight can burn the leaves. Water it until water runs from the bottom holes once or twice a week when the soil starts to dry up. I tend to water mine every four to five days. Money trees also love humidity, so spritz it daily with water or place it with other plants grouped around a humidifier set on low. Make sure the plant never sits in standing water, which can cause root rot and kill the plant. Empty water from the water tray when it collects after watering. Transplant into a larger container every few years. This is easy to do because the root system of the tree is very close to the trunk, and it doesn't root deeply into soil. Fertilize three to four times each year, but don't overdo it.

That's it. These plants are wonderful and they can bring plenty of abundance juju to your home. They also help improve interior air quality, and they're lovely to look at. Mine have flourished in my home. Expect to pay about $30 to $50 for a good-sized tree or about $10 to $20 for a smaller plant.

Tibetan Buddhists believe every time a Tibetan singing bowl is sounded, it transmits the dharma, which is all of the teachings of Buddha. The chanting of the word Om represents the sound of the universe. In his books Destiny of Souls and Journey of Souls, Dr. Michael Newton describes the experiences of people under hypnosis who describe their life as souls between incarnations. Many of his subjects tell of hearing the sound of vibrational energy resonating all around them. Sound plays a role in multiple religious and spiritual traditions, from bells ringing, to choirs singing, to sacred drumming and rattling, to chants and prayers. 

Sound is vibrational energy striking against our ear drums, but it's so much more. Its vibration works our way through every part of our energetic being, from the physical all the way up to the ethereal and eternal. It evokes memories, calms and uplifts spirits, and sets moods. It contains energetic information that can help balance our energy patterns and remind us of who we are when we aren't embodied. It is universal across cultures, spiritual traditions, and even species as a form of communication and communion. When you surround yourself with the energy of sound intended to bring about healing, it helps shift your own vibrational rate to a higher level. It can uplift you or ground you. It can pull you to higher spiritual realms, enhance meditations, cleanse negative energy, and so much more. 

I have been drawn to sound, particularly musical sound, all of my life. I've been a musician for more than 40 years. I studied music in college and after college, and I continue to study sacred sound and sound healing. Musical sound has always been an extremely important part of my life, so it's no surprise I was drawn to sacred sound instruments as part of my healing practices. I use my sacred sound for my own meditation and healing, I teach with it in my classes, and I share it with my healing partners. I use it for cleansing, meditation, and grounding, to unstick stuck energy, to amplify weak energy, to dampen overactive energy, to connect to my higher self, to signal intention to the universe, and because I love it. For me, sound resonates more strongly than any other energy or vibration. 

Sound is a vital component of vibrational energy. Finding ways to incorporate it into spiritual, meditation, and healing practices can enhance how we experience the universe.

Want to experience the healing power of sacred sound? I have two live sacred sound healing sound baths coming up, one at Vision Collective in Portland, Oregon on February 23, and one at the Oregon Ghost Conference in Seaside, Oregon at the end of March (specific day and time TBA). During a sound bath, you relax in a comfortable position with your eyes closed as I play sacred sound instruments including antique Himalayan singing bowls, modern Tibetan singing bowls, crystal singing bowls, Tibetan bells, tingshas, and chimes. Let the waves of sound sweep over you, bringing you to a relaxed, meditative, and healing state. 

One of the things I love about the universe we inhabit is there are so many philosophies and teachers we can turn to for inspiration as we walk our paths. There is a rich tapestry of teachings from which we can draw, sorting through the wisdom of the ages, retaining what resonates for us, discarding what doesn't, and weaving it altogether into something new that supports our own spiritual growth and development.

I've always had insatiable curiosity about the nature of the universe. Even as a young child, I would like awake at night staring at the ceiling and pondering the essence of who we are. This has led me throughout my life to seek teaching wherever I can find it. I'm a voracious reader, I consume documentaries, I zealously pursue education, I take classes, and I explore philosophies. I can't remember a time in this lifetime when that wasn't so. If someone wants to share their belief system with me, I'm always happy to listen and see if there are pearls of wisdom in it that ring my bell. 

Throughout it all, my Divine guidance system has helped me to sort through it, synthesize it, and turn it into my own personal belief system. It's a belief system that continues to shift and change as I move through my life. Some teachings have resonated so strongly I've adapted them as my own. Others have served me for a time until they no longer felt like a good fit for me. Others never felt quite right, and so I never adopted them, but I also believe that while they might not suit me on my journey, those beliefs I haven't adopted suit someone else perfectly on their own spiritual quest. I like to try things on for size and see what fits me, but I also recognize that just because something doesn't work for me at the moment doesn't mean it won't suit someone else. Different philosophies and truths work for us at varying times in our life. And over the course of all of our lifetimes, it's likely each of us has adopted and believed powerfully in every single belief system there ever was or ever will be, and for the lifetime or segment of a lifetime we believed that, it served perfectly to facilitate the growth of our spirits.

And so it is that I've studied many philosophies, channeled works, energy healing modalities, and religious belief systems in this lifetime, as well. I believe there is truth in all of them, and none are right or wrong. My influences range from Taoism to Buddhism to Reiki to Christianity to channeled philosophies from entities such as Seth, Emmanuel, Michael, Kryon, and Abraham-Hicks (these are just a few of the many I've studied over the years). Parts of different philosophies have moved more to the fore during differing stages of my life. I'm sure others will move to the fore moving forward. 

And this is what I invite you to do, as well. Consume knowledge. Talk to people. Read. Learn. Listen. And then discover what works for you now, but never get so deeply buried in a belief that you don't allow for the possibility of a belief that serves you better to replace it. 

This is your own spiritual path. All of the various religions and philosophies have been adapted by human beings doing their best to translate principles in uniquely human ways. These philosophies are interpreted through human filters and expectations, which is why different people can find truth in so many varying philosophies. And when we come across a philosophy or belief system that resonates on our spiritual path, we apply our own filters and expectations, as well.

That's why I encourage you to follow your own path. Build it from as many pearls of wisdom from as many philosophies as speak to you. When something resonates with you, adopt it but never get so dogmatic that you continue to cling to it long after it no longer serves your highest and greatest good. 

In the end I have one unchanging belief: All of it is truth, and none of it is truth. Because we are trying to comprehend the ineffable through human limitations, we can only skirt the fringes of how vast we truly are as pieces of the Source. So go on your own spiritual journey and allow others theirs, keeping in mind that truth can be found everywhere if you genuinely seek it.  

Several years ago, I had a life between lives hypnotherapy session. (It is a super cool experience - I would highly recommend doing it with a qualified hypnotherapist). For people who don't know what LBL is, it's a hypnosis protocol developed by Dr. Michael Newton in which a hypnotherapist induces a deep level trance and then guides you through your death in a recent lifetime and into the space between incarnations when you exist as the purest form of yourself. In this space, you are able to learn things about yourself, such as why you may have chosen a certain lifetime, who the people are who have incarnated with you for thousands of lifetimes, and more. It's an intense experience.

Thousands of people who have had these sessions report common experiences, which has allowed Newton and other therapists working with the protocols to develop a model of what our existence might look like when we're not embodied. It's fascinating reading, and I highly recommend Newton's works Destiny of Souls, Journey of Souls, and Memories of the Afterlife. It's life-affirming stuff that can help you gain a broader perspective on what it means to be an embodied soul.

Anyway, in my LBL session, one of the questions my hypnotherapist asked was, "How much of your life force did you bring to this incarnation?" Now normally, as far as I can tell, people bring quite a bit - 50 percent or more (the rest remains with the "soul,"which goes on doing it's soul work). So naturally I was surprised when my answer was 15 percent. However, on reflection it made sense. In this lifetime, one of my major life challenges has always been having enough life force energy, which has manifested physically. I've struggled with anemia since I was a kid. I currently partner with a few autoimmune conditions that continue to leave me severely anemic, lowering my energy. (For example, normal hematocrit numbers for a healthy adult female are about 12 to 16 g/dL. Mine have dipped as low as 7 before, requiring an immediate blood transfusion).

In energy medicine, blood represents life force energy. So after my LBL, suddenly it made sense why I've always struggled with maintaining sufficient levels of blood, but I never understood why I chose to challenge myself physically in such a way in this lifetime. 

This past year, which has been a challenging one for me on many levels, I noticed that the more emotional challenges I faced (and I experienced them in virtually every aspect of my life), the more I also struggled with maintaining even the minimally healthy level of hematocrit. In other words, there is a correlation between my physical ability to maintain my life force energy and the energy I expend emotionally and give away to others. As an empath, my emotional boundaries also tend to be fluid because I am so likely to experience other people's emotions as my own.

So as I've struggled recently with life force energy, I've focused on why I might have chosen that in this lifetime and what growth opportunities it provides me, since I truly believe every challenge our souls offer us during an incarnation exists for our benefit and growth. It's up to us to parlay those challenges into new strengths. 

One of the things I've come to realize is that my low life force energy forces me to lower my physical activity levels, quiet my mind, and tune inward. If I didn't have these periods of low physical energy, I would just go and go until I dropped; it has always been one of my tendencies to pack my life as fully as humanly possible, running until I'm depleted. Low life force energy has tempered this substantially for me, and it is during these down periods I often experience my most significant spiritual growth.

Another thing I've come to understand is that because I have given myself a limited supply of life force energy in this lifetime, it means I need to find ways to conserve it. This is important as I am someone who gives large amounts of energy away to others. However, I've realized that instead of freely giving it away, I need to focus my life force energy on things that truly matter. So I've created a "sniff test." Now, whenever I start to give any of my energy to something or someone, I ask myself, "Is this worth giving my life force energy to?" In some cases, such as in my writing and teaching, the answer is yes, it is worth the energy. However, the answer is often no.

This has made me more mindful of the myriad of unimportant things I've worried about and focused my energy on over the years. It's helping me to redefine my priorities and focus on the things that are truly important to me: my relationships with the people I love, my teaching and work, spiritual practices, music, joy, and, of course, writing. Because of my limited life force energy, I'm learning to cultivate those things that bring me joy and hopefully make the world a better place instead of getting lost in the minutiae of daily life. It's helping me to stop dedicating emotional energy to things that ultimately don't matter, such as what others think of me. It's also helping me to define my boundaries and find kind and compassionate ways to set and enforce them.

While this is my path, there's a takeaway for others if they choose to discover it: dedicate your life force energy to those things that truly matter. Let the rest go. Only you can decide what matters to you, but the universe provides you with endless opportunities to discover and refine these things. Start by noticing where you put your energy. Listen to the thoughts that run through your mind and ask yourself this: Is it worth it to dedicate any time or energy to this? If I do dedicate time and energy to this, will it help me grow, improve my life, meet my goals, or make the world a better place? Is spending time and energy on this a true reflection of who I am?

Everyone experiences challenges in life. Our souls have offered these challenges as gifts, and it's up to us to sift through the rubble to find the diamond hiding within each challenge. It's okay to spend some time hating the challenge. It's okay to spend some time hurt, aching, angry, or whatever other initial emotion the challenge evokes. However, after we've allowed ourselves to have the full experience of whatever emotions arise with each challenge, it's also up to us to decide what we do with that experience. Do we attach emotional energy to it and dwell on it for the rest of our lives with hurt, anger, and bitterness, or do we use it to propel us to new self-awareness, compassion, and understanding?

​In each lifetime, we get to decide how we interpret our experiences, how we react to them over the long-term, and where we place our life force energy. Thus, it never hurts to do a gut check and ask ourselves whether it's worth giving away something as precious as our energy to something that doesn't serve who we choose to be. 

My dad had a lot of Clark Griswold in him. In fact, I'm relatively certain his Clark Griswold-like characteristics were so pronounced they were mentioned at his funeral. Every year during the holidays, he and my mom packed the family into our Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser station wagon (complete with moon roof and "wood" side panels) and drove off in search of the perfect Christmas tree. We hunted Christmas trees in rain, fog, snow, Nor'easters, and below freezing temps. We were dedicated with my dad leading the charge, and we drove triumphantly home with our fresh cut tree strapped to the car's ski racks. During the holidays when I was growing up, we always had a live, fresh cut Christmas tree adorning our living room in the little blue house on Broadway. One year to my sister Jenny's displeasure, it was a tree she had planted and nurtured in our yard over the years, but that's another story for another day. 

Fresh cut Christmas trees were a holiday tradition I sadly didn't carry on with my family. Given how lifelike artificial trees have become in the past few decades, we've always had one of those instead. I didn't have to vacuum up needles or worry about fires like my mom did, but we never went tromping through the woods or a Christmas tree farm with the kids, never strapped a tree to the top of our car, and our house was never scented with the aroma of evergreen. 

As the holidays approached this year, I wasn't certain I was even going to decorate my artificial Christmas tree. I've viewed the holidays with some trepidation this year because it is my first without my dad. Our kids are grown and don't live at home anymore and making the effort of hauling out our tree and schlepping it downstairs, digging out our ornaments, and hanging them seemed pointless and like a lot of work I just didn't feel like doing.

My dad has been gone for 10 months now, and I have coped with my grief in stages. His illness and death were unexpected, sudden, and brutal in their intensity. In many ways, it still doesn't seem real that he is gone. Yet he is. 

My first stage of grieving was numbness. I had other people to worry about, work projects to take care of, classes to teach, books to write, and more. In those early months my grief bubbled up occasionally, but I was always able to tamp it down and refocus on my task at hand instead. During that stage I wrote a tribute to him, accepted and thanked people for their condolences, tried to comfort my family, dedicated a book or two to him, and congratulated myself on being okay. I was so numb I didn't realize I wasn't. 

In the next stage, I started to process. I allowed my grief and took the time to acknowledge it. As I am given to do, I did much of my processing in writing with tears streaming down my face. During this phase, I also spent a lot of time doing things I enjoyed. I traveled multiple places with Jim and with friends. I went on several boats. I wrote a lot and communicated with my readers via this blog and social media. I taught a multiple classes. Unfortunately, my dog Sofie became ill and died during this time, as well. I thought I handled it pretty well. 

In mid-October, I realized I was exhausted. I'd been struggling with an ongoing health issue since May when I accidentally ingested gluten while traveling (I have celiac disease and eating even trace amounts of gluten can send me into a health and inflammatory spiral that lasts for about six months). I felt drained of life force energy. I've always been even-keeled, emotionally and spiritually energetic, optimistic, and generally relaxed and happy no matter what is going on in my life, but I noticed even the smallest things sent me into a flurry of stress. My ability to cope was gone, and I felt spiritually, emotionally, and physically depleted. All I wanted to do was sleep and go somewhere to spend weeks away from all people recharging my batteries. I took some time off from teaching my classes (I will resume in January), stopped writing blogs and working on books or projects, spent almost no time on social media, and spent less time around people. There was a period in late October and early November after we returned from a trip to Nevada, Arizona, and Utah where I didn't leave the house for about ten days because I was so ill and depleted, and I felt I just couldn't "do people." I emerged briefly to attend the Port Gamble Ghost Conference the week before Thanksgiving because I'd committed to do so months ago, but then I returned home and into my self-imposed exile. 

It was during this period I started to dread the holidays because there was a big, dad-shaped hole right in the middle of them. Jim's car broke down and he had to work over Thanksgiving, so I was unable to travel to be with my family. I sat home with the dogs all day on Thanksgiving and pretended it was just any other day. In fact, it's only been in the past week when I've started to peek out of my hole, get out into the world, and feel as if I am coming to life again. It turns out that while the exile felt awful while I was going through it, it was exactly what I needed to recharge my batteries.

I remained unsure what I was going to do about Christmas. I still had no intention of putting up a Christmas tree or decorating. Then, I was chatting with my friend Teresa last night about old family Christmas traditions and we started talking about fresh Christmas trees and how much we loved then. In my tentative journeys back into the world, I noticed a few places had living Christmas trees, and I had been feeling a pull towards them. When I was talking to Teresa, it struck me exactly what I wanted to do for the holidays. I decided to buy a small living Christmas tree in honor of my father. If the ground isn't frozen, I will plant it on the first anniversary of his death (2/1). If it is frozen, I'll plant it as soon as I can. In this way, I feel like my dad is still a part of my holidays. 

Today I went to Home Depot and was gratified to discover they had living Christmas trees. I chose a small spruce and got some tiny lights and ornaments and brought it home to decorate.

The photo to the left is my living Christmas tree tribute to my dad. The star on the top is a stained glass ornament my dad made for me. I had forgotten I had it, but when I found it I was delighted because it was perfect. (Those are my citrus trees in the background. They are wintering indoors in a south facing window where they can stay warm and get lots of sunlight). 

I've written a lot about grief in 2018, and I've shared much of it with my readers. My grief has manifested in many ways throughout the year. At times I've ignored it and soldiered on and at times I've acknowledged and allowed it. I've found the times of allowing have felt more healing to me than the times of ignoring. Go figure.

I know many people are facing a holiday season without a loved one. It's an experience most of us will share at some point because death is the great equalizer. It inhabits all of our lives with the memory of those who were once with us in body but no longer are. Your grief may feel raw and fresh, or it may have mellowed with time, but times of family gatherings and tradition often serve to highlight those who are no longer with you.

However, if you can find a way to honor them in your holiday rituals, it may help. Whether it's getting a live Christmas tree and later planting it in your yard in their honor, buying ornaments that capture their essence and hanging them on your holiday tree, rejuvenating an old family holiday tradition, remembering them in prayer or meditation, donating to their favorite charity in their name, lighting candle in their honor, or something else that reminds you of them, it can help you heal. Create a new tradition for you and your family that honors those who have left you. Do something that captures their spirit and makes you smile. And as you do, open your heart and listen. You just may hear them whispering to you and realize that while they are physically no longer there, they have never left you.