There's snow in the weather report...again. Or should I say, yet again. At higher elevations it snows frequently during the winter. I know this and wish everyone around me would quit complaining about the snow and cold. We need snow and cold temperatures, it's a part of Nature's yearly plan to heal and restore the Earth. Vegetation needs to rest. The animals need to rest. So do humans.
I like the cold, long nights of Winter; I get a lot of reading and writing done while I'm bundled up in a blanket with a hot cup of tea to sip. In Winter I feel less obligated to be out and about, a lot of which is busy work meant to please others. Winter is Me time. Crisp Winter air clears my head, and I'm free to plan out my life with less mental chatter. Winter is the season to dream. Maybe that's why we chose it for the time of year to live out the Nutcracker: bring on the sugarplums and fairies! We hang up the gold and silver decadence that would be garish at other times of the year.
Winter allows us to become someone and something else- if only for a moment- before returning to the harsh realities of daily life and the life-draining impossibilities we heap on ourselves through self-imposed drudgery. We are all in costume on Halloween to hide from our demons and later have a part in the Christmas play. We stand at the door begging for sweet treats, delighted by the candy and fruit cake. The last festive blow-out is Carnival, when we again wear the masks, dress for fantasy and indulge in decadence of body and spirit. ( Is it any wonder that the root origin of this festival's name is carnal? It is a celebration of worldly pleasures).We push the boundaries for the last time before settling back into the reality of how we really live. Our own celebration of Mardi Gras-Fat Tuesday- reflects this last grasp at self-indulgence.
The sparse first days of Spring sweep away any of the glitz and glitter of Winter and we get back to the business of living our reality. We grudgingly chew on the first shoots of life while yearning for the fatness of Winter's feasts, our corporate memory of the Harvest later in the year a communal amnesia.
And so here I find myself, on the brink of these last few days of seasonally blessed restfulness, wishing for one more day to cuddle in the blankets and have another biscuit with my tea. I try not to listen to those who scorn Winter and to enjoy these last days. For what is more radiant than these days when the branches are heavy with diamond drops of icicles and the Earth is softened by a mantle of undefiled snow? All the better, I say, to go deep within and wait in the dark Earth for the day when the Light breaks us free to bloom in our very own colors.