Only a few more days of winter remain, and though the technical arrival of spring doesn’t instantly equate to better weather, I’m allowing myself some hope. The pool is thawing out and Andy is eager to get it open. The last few years we’ve been opening it early to catch that first spell of 80-degree days that have been creeping up earlier and earlier. I don’t know if that will be the case this year, and I’ve made my peace with enjoying it if it happens, and not being disappointed if it doesn’t. There is wisdom, and contentment, in learning to roll with the punches.
On a deeper level, it’s like the proverbial rock at the bottom of a river bed. The trick is to sit still and be ok with whatever washes around you, no matter how wild and crazy and mucky it might get. Especially when Mercury is in retrograde motion.
I’ve been religious about maintaining my daily meditations this winter, and it’s been a consistent and comforting respite. For that little section of the day, I sit in complete silence and reverence. Every day we are alive deserves such an honor, even if it’s just for fifteen minutes. Even if it’s just counting breaths and letting other thoughts fall away.
Winter’s waning light rises from a candle, in a purple-tinted bit of glass that once belonged to my grandmother.
