There is a wall of silence that accompanies falling snow. This morning, The Cailleach descended upon us with a storm stretching across most of New England. It seems we have finally begun our descent into winter with falling temps and now a blanket of white falling from the sky. I reflected on The Cailleach while I was in the shower this morning staring at two very long and very white hairs in my hand. I often have a moment of pause when I encounter one of my “silver threads” that has detached itself from my scalp.

The Cailleach in her association with winter is also affiliated with the Hag, or old woman as some translations indicate. I’ve always connected the final days of autumn and the early days of winter with the archetype of the Crone, another word for Hag. We are in the darkest time of the year before the light is renewed on the Winter Solstice in a few weeks. Like the Crone in her pinnacle of age & wisdom we are in the pinnacle of the year where we have accumulated another year of experiences, some positive, some negative, all opportunities for the accumulation of wisdom.

This is how I see my silver threads, an accumulation of experiences, choices, mistakes, consequences, and lessons. Each one learned as I transverse levels of living. This year in particular has been one of my most difficult. There have been many experiences of death in my life this year; spiritually, relationally, creatively, and physically. I realized the other day that currently I am adrift from many of my creative & spiritual outlets. I feel…lost. I then had a sobering moment of understanding that without some form of creative outlet in my life I experience a hopelessness that spans oceans. In this moment I broke open and sobbed. The weight of continued grief is very much like an undertow reaching up to pull you under over and over again until you succumb.

There is much unknowing still in my life right now. In many ways it feels like a space of suspended animation, of liminal pause, a place that I hate because of how unsafe it feels to my overthinking mind and my overfeeling heart. I do however feel a bit lighter this morning typing this. I’m grateful that words have come after months of stymied silence. I’m grateful for the coming of the Cailleach and the slowing down of today as the snow falls. Today I will pause. Today I will watch the Cailleach weave her veil of snow and just be.