Alone.

December arrived out of nowhere. fuck the holidays are here. I had no invites, no plans and it's the first year in a long time I'd be alone. Panic began to set in. Holiday activity picked up around me - more traffic, social plans and conversations about traditions and gift purchases. I let it all marinate while contemplating what I might want. What would make me feel comfortable this year? I explored options, visualizing myself in each scenario, all with the same goal: feeling loved and supported. I ended up making plans that both involved others but also left space for choice.

As the holiday progressed, I became more and more eager to be alone. Family time came to a close and my heart spoke loudly. Beach. A quick stop home first, then I was on my way. The clouds in the sky on the drive out called me forward in the distance.

I arrived to a glowing band of light emerging from underneath dramatic clouds and was drawn in. Fixated on the contrast, I walked towards the light - a holiday North Star - watching it shift, expand, and pierce through the darkness. Light and clouds moved as one, yin and yang. I decided to sit for a while to listen to the ocean.

I've spent many days here this year, each one grounding me with wisdom and perspective no matter where I was on my journey. This visit was no different.

The force of winter waves reminded me of the way change and transition has felt: Unpredictable. Scary. Bold. Powerful. The ocean is massive, much bigger, more energetic, than anything we know and deal with in life. I've learned that surrendering to this natural force helps me feel insignificant, supported, connected. I took it all in again with each breath.

The light continued to dance with the darker clouds, changing the color of the reflections on the sand and water. A soft, golden marine hue covered and soothed all. The earth gave my soul what it wanted this Christmas: a reminder of trust, faith, acceptance. A connection to my power: inner peace and self-love.