2023: A Year In Review

You. Thank you for loving us now, in times when so much of the world needs you to show up for them. I am sitting here trying to imagine (future) you, sitting somewhere reading, listening, or being read this newsletter. Feeling as comfortable and as safe as your environment allows. I wish I could look in your eyes to thank you. I'd ask if you were a hugger and if you were, I can see us hug, a nice big hug, a comfortable little extra squeeze, and an exhale. Your love for A Sacred Passing (ASP) hasn't gone unnoticed. Your desire for humans to be cared for is life-affirming. It's like witnessing a meteor shower of kindness; my heart flows with gratitude. Together, we navigate this intricate dance of life, cherishing the moments our paths intertwine. Whether through education, care, community events, or simple friend-to-friend connections, every intersection is a testament to the beauty of shared experiences. Together; together is a stellar way to do this whole life thing when one can. It's a beautiful thing to watch relationships grow between people in all of these spaces.

The heartbeat of ASP echoes in the ways we are present for care. 27 individuals were embraced in community deathcare in 2023, and seven people chose to die using A Place to Die. Volunteers shared 2,780 hours with us. In the tapestry of our existence, Sally Bailey's gift of Asphodel House stands as a beacon of everlasting gratitude. A space to call our own, a communal haven filled with the hum of life, death, grief groups, art days, garden parties, and celebrations of life. Together we breathe life into the bricks and mortar, creating opportunities to care and be care-full in the ways that we live into our dying.

These times require you to be present, to stay updated and involved in actions, boycotts, bank changes, strikes, interrupting local government, participating in mutual aid offerings, and to be care-full. These times are asking us to move with care. It's a delicate dance to stay aligned with the rhythm of care in a world that sometimes forgets its own heartbeat. Lately, I've stumbled out of sync, forgetting the cadence of patience and grace. Too many moments in this past moon, I have found myself out of alignment with my desire to move with grace and patience in situations where I would usually take a pause, a beat, a breath, a bite, or a sleep.... and I don't. I have to remind myself that I am doing the best I can and I need to shift. Y'all, we are out here doing this for the first time; fumbles are a natural part of the learning process. I fall back on Professor Wangari Maathai's words, "I am doing the best I can," from I Will Be a Hummingbird.

I hope that in this season, as we in the Pacific Northwest approach some of the longest, darkest days of the year, the light inside you regularly warms you from head to toe. May that bit of the source that connects us as living beings be held and loved, nurtured and cared for.

Thank you for your love