Under Winter's Sky, Turn Toward Each Other

Last year, a question came to me upon waking: What is meant by community? What is meant by the common good? Penguin came to answer. We listened.

Over this last year, we took his advice. We formed circles, large and small. We showed up for neighbors. We steadied one another in the cold winds that blew through our politics, our economy, and our personal lives. We learned—sometimes without realizing it—how to huddle.

Now, as the year closes, we find ourselves in a threshold place. A numerologist would tell you this is a 9 year--the end of a cycle. A moment when the shape of what’s passing is easier to feel than to name. We don’t yet see the full outline of what is ending, but we will. A few years from now, we’ll look back and understand more clearly.

Yet endings aren’t only loss. They’re also clarity. They’re the quiet that asks: What do we leave behind? What do we carry forward?

This year, there is a call for small celebrations—not out of fear, but out of wisdom. To spend less on things and more on time. To choose presence instead of pressure. The economy is fragile, yes. But more importantly, our spirits are asking for something simpler, more meaningful, more rooted in love than in commerce.

Penguin would be fortified by this. He knows that when the storms come, the flock turns toward one another. Not toward distraction. Not toward excess. Toward what matters. Toward what has meaning.

And now he returns with a message for the long night ahead:

“Strengthen the huddle. Move with purpose, with patience and perseverance. Be ready to adapt to the unexpected. Forward motion doesn’t always look heroic. Sometimes it’s awkward and unsteady. Embrace it anyway. Be willing to lean together, step by step, as you move toward the returning light. Keep each other warm as this cycle comes to a close. Hold what is dear, and carry it forward. Remember: the winds may rise but so does the dawn.”

View the Penguin collection, here,