At Winter's Threshold

Where frankincense lingers

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.” ~ T.S. Eliot

Before my dreams began speaking so vividly, there were other ways meaning found me. Growing up, late fall and the holiday season were always a magical time of year. Right after Halloween, the days grew shorter, the scent of burning wood drifted from chimneys, and crisp, cold weather gave way to Thanksgiving. When shared with my cousins next door, it was a raucous gathering with lots of food, extended family, and twice the play area.

And as with Thanksgiving, some Christmas celebrations were joint efforts between our two families. My favorite Christmas celebrations were the ones shaped by ritual — especially Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. During those high masses, the celebrants wore richly ornate white liturgical vestments; there was singing, and my favorite, the slow swinging of the thurible, which is a metal vessel suspended by a chain, filling the church with the warm resinous scent of frankincense. I love that scent to this day.

The other benefit of going to Midnight Mass was being allowed to stay up late and then open presents afterward. I remember cold, dark nights, looking up into a clear, endless sky, searching for the North Star, hoping to feel some connection to the deeper significance of the Christmas holiday. In my heart, I hold “A Charlie Brown Christmas” and bright anticipation around the Christmas tree.

Reality, however, never quite lived up to those hopeful expectations. There was almost always some upset: my father’s reliable outbursts on a holiday my mother worked so hard to make special. Still, in a modest home in the quiet, almost rural suburbs of Washington, D.C., my parents worked relentlessly to give us a comfortable, safe life. And they succeeded.

Looking back now, I see that those nights taught me something I wouldn’t have had words for then: how to rest with uncertainty without abandoning wonder, how to let ritual carry meaning even when reality fell short of hope.

Perhaps that’s why certain seasons still feel charged for me, why scent and light and quiet anticipation continue to matter, why I’m drawn to moments that hover just before something takes shape.

Long before I learned to listen to my dreams, I was already being taught how to stand at the threshold — looking up into the dark, searching for a point of light, trusting that something meaningful was present even if I couldn’t yet name it.

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Additional Resources:

• I’m excited to be offering a recurring 10-Week Mindfulness for Stress Management series through The Mindfulness Center. Sessions are recorded so you can join anytime. The Winter session runs from Tuesday, November 18th-January 20, 2026. Learn evidence-based practices to reduce stress, build resilience, and reconnect with a sense of calm and clarity. Perfect for beginners and seasoned practitioners alike. Learn more and register here.

• If you’re craving a softer, steadier start to the new year, I’ll be offering a Reiki-centered workshop at the Winter Bloom Yoga Retreat at SONDER® this January — a quiet space for subtle energy, open-hearted presence, and returning to yourself. Click here to learn more and register.

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