As the bell jingled and I stepped into the empty restaurant last week, I wasn’t entirely certain that it was open for business. Since moving, I’ve been trying new spots around my new North Portland neighborhood for my Thursday Thai Takeout.
Eventually, the owner appeared. He passed the pad thai with chicken, no peanuts, no spice, through the small opening of the plexiglass divider, along with my bill, and then retreated back two giant steps.
As I reached for a clean pen to sign the bill, his question caught me off guard.
I stopped and looked up, straight into his soft eyes above the black mask. Sure enough, my ears had heard his tone correctly: compassion.
“How are you holding up?”
It was like he could see inside me: how my heart was struggling with its own battles, even as my fortune afforded me a safe haven to weather the struggles.
I could sense his own struggles to sustain this business, to provide for his family, to persist.
“I’m doing the best I can.”
He nodded in agreement, hearing my tone correctly: honesty.
These are the raw, real moments born of this raw, real year. Some moments of much needed socializing even leading to relationships in unlikely places.
I started Thursday Thai Takeout in late March to celebrate nearly making it to the end of each intense week. Week after week I found myself calling the same Thai place down the street as I wrapped up the workday on Thursdays: pad thai with chicken, no peanuts, no spice for J-u-l-e-s please. When I was on my “sabbatical” and backpacking this summer I missed a couple of weeks in a row. Walking in the following Thursday, the woman ran from behind the counter as if to hug me, saying how worried she was whether I was okay. Later in the fall, she showed me photos of her first hiking trip inspired by my backpacking stories.
Thursday Thai Takeout is not a commitment forever. It is a tradition for right now. A way to cope.
Each adjustment, every necessary new habit, is growth. Shaping the ability to adapt. To persist.
Just like the natural cycle of the world around us. Today, continuing into a new season—winter for some, summer for others—and possibly into a new era.
Winter Solstice especially invites us to review our growth, our adaptations: count our blessings and let go of everything that no longer serves—dreams, habits, beliefs, qualities—thus, creating space for what is needed on the path ahead.
Instead of fixating on illusions dressed up as hope, fantasies dressed up as faith, choose to move forward in reality, with compassion and honesty.
The invitation is not only for the day but for the next three months. A whole season of shedding while resting, renewing, restoring—preparing for the next cycle of growth and continuous adaptation.
According to John O’Donohue’s blessing For the Interim Time:
“The more faithfully you can endure here,
The more refined your heart will become
For your arrival in the new dawn.”
So, how are you holding up?
What no longer serves you?
What needs a rest, a pause, or even an ending?
What can you give away to the dark nights as we make our way back to the light?
May you leave space for compassion and honesty this week.
Love,
Jules
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