There is something magical about winter.
It is really easy to feel isolated, and just plain weary of the cold, wind, ice, and snow. I have certainly been there before. In fact, last winter was so incredibly bitter, I had convinced myself that every winter thereafter would be just as dreadful and painful. It has occured to me that I felt that way because my dad died in the very last days of fall, and the constant falling of the snow, and the gusts of bitter wind mocked my grief. With the spring, came a new beginning. I was most certainly a changed person. Just as a caterpillar morphs into a butterfly, I also spent last winter undergoing a magnificent transformation. My dad's journey, from this life into his next, took me places I didn't think I could go. I am stronger, less fearful, and more trusting of my own intuition. I also have a very different outlook on the winter months, and what they represent.
There is no denying the stark polarities in life: the light and the darkness, life and death, love and grief, motion and stillness, etc. One would not exist without the other. The long-celebrate yin-yang symbol is a beautiful reference to the seperateness and oneness of all things. Winter is the other side of summer. Summer is full of motion, light, warmth, and outward expressions. Winter reminds us of the stillness in nature and in ourselves. For me, winter is a time to turn inward, and to spend time connecting with your own spirit. The cold, snow, and ice naturally bring us inside, where we spend time together. It is something I have learned to embrace, and even look forward to.
I choose to see Winter as a natural hibernation of sorts. Life on Earth is not dead - it is resting. Just as we sleep to repair and refuel, the Earth rests and wakes in the spring with new radiance. The differences in nature remind me of the differences in us. We are given cues to rest, to plant, to dance, to harvest, to reap, and to rest once more.
I enjoy the warnth and the glow of the sun as much as anyone else. I look forward to its return, and now as the days begin to grow longer, I can feel the anticipation of something new building inside me. Still, I seek to live in the here and now, and to appreciate where we are at this moment. And to that, I say, let it snow.
Ruth
