Where Love Has Lived

I have been thinking a lot about home these days. As we bring the dusty boxes down with Christmas ornaments—the light-up train that my husband puts up each year; the handmade beauties my children have made over the years—I remember the moments, and my mama-heart breaks at how fast life is happening. I have gratitude, too, but the nostalgic ache is real.

I started playing the holiday music early this year, the folksy, deep-spirited melodies I love. I know about the power of music and sound current and I use music as medicine for my heart and soul.

Winter in Southern California is ridiculously sunny, but in my home we imagine up the spirit of snowy, glittering Christmases. I reach back into my own childhood for what feels good. Cranberry tarts, peanut butter cookies and sparkly lights provide instant access to holiday vibes for me. I can bring these things into my home no matter how warm and sunny it is outside.

Today I had to ask my children to keep the doors closed because of the smoke. We brought the bunny in from outside and I declared a day off from school due to fires raging around LA. There is a large fire ravaging an area north of us and it smells like it is happening just down the street. The smoke is thick, and many people are fleeing from their HOMES. In an instant, life is brought into focus when mother nature stays her course. She so skillfully (though not always kindly) puts it all in perspective.

Home is everything, and the earth is our home. The earth and our natural resources are HUMAN wealth, not just a corporation's wealth or a few people’s wealth.

hearth_carrie-anne-moss

There is a house that I drive by daily as I do my life. I often see the kids playing in the front yard. I notice this house. For some reason I always take it in. Then, a few days ago, I saw moving vans there, and as we drove home from school yesterday, my son and I pulled over in front of the house: The family was gone and the house was empty. I felt the emptiness of that home. I wondered where the family moved to. Perhaps around the corner or even a different state. I never spoke to any of them, and yet I wonder about them. I couldn't help but feel that house is missing them. Homes are meant to hold families.

I have been thinking a lot about what makes a home.

I remember the house I spent most of my childhood in, and I wonder if the board in my closet still has the lipstick stain from the kiss I planted on it all those years ago—a marking of Yes! I lived here.

I have given birth in two different homes. One was torn down, I’m sure so a “bigger and better” home could take its place. I wept the day I drove by that home and saw nothing.

I hold the memories of every home I have lived in. I wonder if the homes remember me or if my old bedroom misses me.

I am filled with gratitude today as I am each day, and I choose to live my life in this gesture...
bowing bowing bowing
to the earth
to mother nature
to the earth
to the trees
to the women
the men
I bow to my fear and resistance,
and I bow to my beautiful and radiant soul..

As I write this my throat hurts from the air inside my house. I'm over 60 miles away from the fire, but my throat aches. We are all in this together.

May we be kind and generous this year, and fierce and strong.
May we protect those who cannot fight for themselves, and may we always find ways to be of service.
May we create cozy homes so our families can feel they have somewhere to be nourished.
May we create cozy homes so that we can feel nourished.
Simply and with soul we make room for being of service ...

Happy holidays and may we all find ways to be beacons of light.

May your home be blessed this month and all months.

Love,
Carrie-Anne


A Year of Fierce Grace

Tomorrow, Thursday December 7th at 11:00 am PST, I will be hosting a live video broadcast to answer questions about the Fierce Grace Collective. Want to join me? Click here to get your name on the list and find out details. This broadcast will help you learn more about the Collective and decide if it is right for you.