There is snow outside my window again. The spruce branches are frosted with white. There is a soft white cushion on the stone bench in my garden. Every tree, every bush, every remaining flower stalk seems dressed for a special day. It is a special day.
After weeks of snow and cold a brief January thaw seemed like a welcome respite from a winter that arrived to early and appeared likely to stay to long. But this thaw brought with it a deep fog that tied up highways and killed those who believed they could see through it. It brought tornadoes that destroyed homes and rains that flooded others.
Winter rules in January in Wisconsin. I, for one, am glad to see it return. It is the season for snow and ice sparkling on the trees. For deep cold and deeper reflections. For long nights with time to read and time to contemplate what it is you have just read. For the clarity that comes from walking in a natural world colored in shades of white and gray and evergreen.
Sometimes in the late afternoon when the sun is already beginning to set, I resent the shortness of winter's days. I fight against the darkness and refuse to let my mind and body move with the rhythm of the season.
But right now, in this precious morning hour, I intend to light a candle and absorb the power of this very special time of beginnings.
The seeds that fell to the ground in fall and were planted by nature's (not man's) hand are covered in warm snow, moisture, and darkness. Deep inside each seed the living entity that will emerge in the spring is beginning to germinate, to become what it is meant to be.
So it is with us. Darkness is not our enemy. Rather it is the place where we can go to grow, to find ourselves, and to prepare for emerging into the light.
Namaste
Reflections on Life
