Putting myself in the way of beauty
and asking: how can I take excellent care?
This morning I went out to ask the pine tree in the park if I could have some of its boughs to lay on my windowsills for the holiday season.
It was dark when I stepped outside. Melty snow coursed down the sidewalk, the drip drip drip of icicles calling out from between the houses.
The park was empty when I arrived. By then it was a clean and bright morning, cheery in its lonesomeness.
I stepped carefully across the snowy field to the lone pine along the road. As morning commuters whizzed past, I wriggled my gloves on and got to work. Testing each branch before clipping it, I made sure to only take the boughs the tree seemed ready to give up. I gently pruned around the bottom ring of the tree, collecting enough to make the walk home cumbersome.
Thank you, tree.
***
Recently, I’ve been waking up before dawn.
Most of the year, this would be some sort of feat. These short early winter days, it just means before 7 am. While walking around the park in the late afternoon a few weeks ago, I noticed the slant of the early sunset filtering through the trees. It was only 4 pm, but the sun was already tucking itself in for bed, slipping behind the trees with a patient grace. A murmur of starlings pulsated across the open patch of sky above the park as the wind whipped some of the last leaves from the clutch of branches.
At that moment, one of my favorite lines from Cheryl Strayed’s Wild echoed through my mind:
‘There’s always a sunrise and always a sunset and it’s up to you to choose to be there for it,’ said my mother. 'Put yourself in the way of beauty.’
Since then, I’ve made an effort to take a walk every day at sunrise and sunset. I lap the fountain and the playground. I pass the neighborhood kids taking their daredevil turns down the hillside on their bicycles.
The days are so short, they feel extra worthy of celebrating. Thank you, sun, for making an appearance. Thank you, starlings, for your communal display of beauty. Thank you, wind, for helping the leaves do what they must.
Sometimes it feels like there is so much pressure to optimize this time of year. To wring out every possible moment of productivity. To pull myself across some imaginary finish line on December 31st, no matter if I’m bruised or bleeding.
This year I’m asking: how can I take excellent care?
If you think of the calendar year in terms of a calendar day, by December we are nearing midnight. This month is calling for us to wind down. We can tidy the kitchen so tomorrow morning will be a little easier. We can make some chamomile tea with steamed milk. We can close the door and pull the covers up, just as the sun does every afternoon.
Amidst the onslaught of holiday consumerism and busybody-ness, my wish is to carve out a sliver of peace for myself.
A space from which I can continue to rise in devotion to the winter sun, read my book while soup simmers on the stove, and patiently dream about all that might be waiting for me after I take these necessary moments of rest.
Honey’s Toolbox is your weekly go-to for filling your creative cup and putting your ideas into action—from prompts to spark your imagination to gentle nudges that get you moving. Grab a few tools my friend, it’s time to start tinkering alongside your creative spirit.
1. Create your own sunrise and sunset rituals
We’re nearing the winter solstice—the darkest day of the year in the northern hemisphere. How might you celebrate that?
You could light a candle at both sunrise and sunset, to usher in the change from night to day and day to night. You might sip your coffee while taking in the rays of the sun from the warmth of a window. Or maybe you’d also like to slip some boots on and walk around your neighborhood at these pivotal times of day.
***
2. Watch an inexplicably cozy movie
While I celebrate Christmas, there are very few Christmas movies that really do it for me. They all feel.. too on the nose? Like—we get it! It’s Christmas!
So instead, I opt for movies with a generally cozy vibe. This week’s pick was the 1987 film Maurice starring the hottest Hugh Grant you’ve ever seen. It’s an adaptation of a book about two young men who fall in love at Cambridge in the early 1900’s. I recommend enjoying it with a steaming cup of the aforementioned chamomile.
***
3. Put yourself in the way of beauty
After that Cheryl Strayed quote came to mind, I’ve since been meditating on other ways in which I might put myself in the way of beauty. This is an invitation to journal, think, or chat about the ways you too might put yourself in the way of beauty this week.
A reminder: keep it simple. Beauty doesn’t necessarily require labor. Let it be easy, especially at this time of year.
***
4. Make Rudy Jude’s leftover pie
If you’re still working your way through Thanksgiving leftovers, I highly recommend Rudy Jude’s leftover pie recipe. If not, definitely keep this one in your back pocket for next year, or for other holiday leftovers later this month!
***
5. Listen to background jazz
Maybe I’m extremely late to the party, but all this week I’ve been listening to Spotify’s Jazz in the Background playlist. I’ve always wanted to be the type of person who listens to jazz while I read or work, but I often get distracted by an overzealous saxophone doing much too much. This 40+ hour playlist is super smooth—no wild, brassy solos in sight.
That’s all for now.
Talk soon,
Katie