WINTERING*

When the earth turns away from the sun and our daylight hours become shorter, nature calls us to turn inward. We can’t hibernate like bears; we have Christmas and the calendar flipping to the new year to celebrate.

By January, as the snow flies and temperatures drop, we encounter what all of nature faces. The need for dormancy. The need for rest and renewal. We see evidence everywhere, especially in the trees. The skeletal branches create an impression of death. In truth, all its lifeforce has withdrawn into its core and underground.

Yet, in our culture, January is the time to challenge ourselves with bigger goals, higher productivity, and bigger changes.

If we do make the time to turn toward quiet self-reflection, we often discover an inner voice, full of criticism, that challenges us to accomplish the cultural agendas anyway. Yikes – we find ourselves between a rock and a hard spot.

To counteract the mixed messages we receive, I find solace in a poem by Mary Oliver.

WILD GEESE

“You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

          love what it loves.”

I would love to take the ‘soft animal of my body’, dig a hole under the snow and not come out until spring! Thirty years ago, in this exact season, I drew this image. I wanted to curl up under the earth. Back then, under the spell of a debilitating depression, it seemed like a fine option.

Now, I am much more resourced. I have created a couple of ways to remain quiet yet still connected to my world. Every morning, as I view my schedule, I bring to mind each person I will encounter (either by zoom or in person) and think of them with appreciation.

I reach out to distant friends via phone and listen to how they are faring; take time to notice my cats lounging in sun puddles; spend quiet moments with my horse, asking nothing of her; make more soup; deep clean my saddle and bridle.

Most of all, I appreciate this gift of winter’s time. Time to moisten the roots of my creativity.  Time to imagine what dreams I want to birth when the sap begins to rise, and the sun again warms the earth.

How are each of you experiencing your “wintering”?

Have any thoughts been stirred by these words?

*Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult times, by Katherine May

I love Ms. May’s word!