Reflect & Envision: A Writing Retreat for All Paid Subscribers

Plus, Notes from the First Ray of Solstice

Will you join me on December 30 for Reflect & Envision, our year-end retreat?

The details are below.

But first, a Solstice-inspired reflection.

It’s the last “real workday” of the year for me.

Five client sessions, and all the white space in the calendar is filled with writing the emails that need to go out before I turn off the laptop for a few days. Occasionally, I emerge from the office to advise on the holiday baking. (You only want me to participate in baking in an “advisory capacity.” The moment a cookie sees me pick up a spatula it sticks to the cookie sheet immediately.)

This wasn’t the Christmas Eve Eve I had imagined for myself. But it is the December 23rd I scheduled for myself.

More and more, I am recognizing the gaps between my vision and my reality, and how it’s all shaped by my divided intentions and by gaps in my attention.

As you probably know, I am trying out a new practice I call the Twelve Rays of Solstice. Each day between December 21 and January 1, I seek out a message about the corresponding month of the year.

(Don’t worry, it’s not too late! You’ll notice that many magical folk engage in this oracular practice at this time of year. Laura Muprhy, inspired by

Caitlín Matthews

, holds space for a vibrant Omen Days practice which sets the observation time between December 25 and January 6.)

My January illumination was a drainpipe under the road which rushed with water, even though it was well below freezing outside and snow blanketed the ground. Sounds romantic, doesn’t it?

This black pipe is deeply unbeautiful when compared to the sweet little stream on either side, but it’s a necessary bit of infrastructure. And because the road crew had gotten to work and created a solution, it was possible for the water to flow, even when the rest of the world was frozen solid.

Structure supports flow. It’s possible to keep the water moving in impossible temperatures when you build the right channel.

This was the January omen, but I think it’s a message that will shape my year. And the next thirty years of my creative and professional life.

My style of working, creating, mothering, and housekeeping is… improvisational. The essential stuff gets done, but there’s often a lot of chaos and distraction in the midst of it all. (It feels a bit dangerous to admit that, seeing as I’m in the writing coaching business, but a key part of the work is recognizing that we all have our own creative process, and we need to honor it before we try to reshape and focus it.)

That improvisational approach isn’t working any more. My perimenopausal body moves to a different rhythm. My mind and my spirit need a different sort of care and tending. And the priorities and responsibilities that come with midlife need to be held in a different way. (You can be improvisational when your kids are toddlers, but it doesn’t work that way when your tweens and teens have so many commitments of their own.)

So far, what's coming up for me is how much I need to create more robust structures for myself. My attention seems like a more fragile and finite resource than ever before. And yet, I also feel like I am capable of going deeper and reaching further than I can imagine.

After I close the laptop on the “typical work” stuff this afternoon, I will be opening my journal to call in more solstice-born inspiration about my deepest intentions.

I will be asking the guides and looking to the myths to show me the way back to my own most sacred resource: my own powers of devotion and attention.

And then, I’m getting to work to create clear, grounded systems to make the truest, undivided intentions real.

Will you join me on December 30 for Reflect & Envision, our year-end retreat?

Every year, between Christmas and New Year’s Day, I offer a three-hour retreat for my community of writers and myth lovers.

This is when we gather as writers, as creatives, and as myth workers to look at the year that was and open ourselves that might be in 2025.

Over our three hours together there will be time for story, reflection, and planning. You’ll have a chance to share your visions (and your dark-of-the year fears) with members of the Myth Is Medicine readership, as well as the folks who are part of my ongoing Writers’ Knot community.

This year, there will be a special focus on considering the structures that hold our spiraling creative visions.

All you need to do is:

• Mark your calendar for noon - 3 PM ET on Monday, December 30.

• Be sure you’ll have three quiet hours in which you can write, journey, and connect with the group.

• Become a paid subscriber of Myth is Medicine (if you aren’t already!)