When the pieces for Luminaire began arriving last spring, I had no idea how deeply I would be asked to Lighten.

I’ve always been inspired by Thoreau’s creed~ Simplicity, simplicity….keep your accounts on your thumb nail.  Even so, I collect possessions and commitments.  You know the story~ too much, too busy, too fast….

What does it mean to Lighten?  Up, as in your attitude or emotional tone.  The Load, as in letting go of something.  Conceivably they go together.

Ok. So if I don’t find a place to rent in McCall, launch a brand called Luminaire, sell or give away most of my stuff, accept invitations to live in other people’s homes, close utility accounts, and lose both kitties, I’ll be…lighter?

People keep asking if I feel relieved, good, or excited.  Or is it hard?  Um…not really.  Mostly it already feels normal.  We adapt.  We mostly remain ourselves no matter the circumstances and location.

There is heaviness in the lightening process, the grief in saying goodbye and letting go. For me this is Moon Wisdom, the light being reflected. It’s a beautiful light, sacred.  It’s when we see our light reflected on someone’s face or in their voice.  We may not be aware of our power, beauty, or love, so we are given the reflection.

In other words, I haven’t been feeling The Light.  Just a reflection in this place of grief, confusion, and displacement.  Which is ok, because it’s still The Light.  I know it’s there, and I know I’m in it.  I’ve been joking that I feel like Job in The Bible, who lost everything in his surrender to Divine Will.  And, for all my blah blah about living that life, apparently I have to live that life.

So, there are many ways to experience the Light.  Look for the reflections.  Listen for the appreciation in someone’s voice.  Pay attention at the end of the day when you are safely tucked in. Hug like you mean it.

And that Mary Oliver poem I’ve been using all summer about the trees turning into pillars of light?  Yeah. Here’s the closing~

To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

Mary Oliver, In Backwater Woods