Hello Dear Ones!

 

I write to you from my kitchen table. The sun is pouring in, low, blinding. The shadows of the trees are long and dark.

 

I’ve taken the week off to be sick. That sounds like I’ve scheduled it. I haven’t. Everyone in my family has been sick with one virus after another, for weeks. I’ve held forth, healthy and bright… until now. So I am taking my own advice, and that of the older wiser women in my life… and am just resting. Well, and writing. 

 

As I rest, I think of wintering, and I want you to have my thoughts. I wrote on wintering last year too (Reflections on Light, December 2021), so this is a review in some ways. And- it is a new winter, new distractions, new needs, new versions of each of us. 

 

This season is for rest. I mean BIG SERIOUS REST. The animals, trees and plants are hibernating (most of them). Our ancestors, prior to electricity, would snuggle into their beds super early, and perhaps rest 12 hours. They used this time well. 

 

I want to be sure that you understand: This is our moment to restore ourselves, and to cultivate the foundation for springtime renewal.

 

With modern-day light, electronics, appliances, etc… we easily forget (possibly ignore) the beauty and purpose of this season. This season is here for all of us. It is here to serve every living being. We must go inward, hibernate in our own way, restore ourselves, re-evaluate our lives, then make some plans for what we hope to bring forth in our lives and to the world in the spring and summer.

 

Here's another piece: The contrast of long dark nights is serving us, in that it sits quietly in juxtaposition to the light. This darkest time of the year is helping us to appreciate, in fact celebrate, the flickers of light as they arise.

 

Last night, having been awoken by my son, I glanced out the window. It was the wee hours of the early morning. Maybe 4:00 AM. The world here is blanketed with a thick cloth of snow. The moon was half illuminated- a waning gibbous moon… and that light flooded the forest floor around our home, making the long shadows of the trees seem even longer, and deeper, darker, more dense, more complex in color. My jaw dropped in wonder. The beauty was astonishing. I looked and looked, drinking it in. In so doing, I felt my tired body relax, and I began to smile. The act of really deeply seeing and delighting in this scene flooded me with happiness. And in fact, from a scientific perspective, this flood of happiness is the sensation of… how do I say this… it’s the sensation of the natural world feeding us. More clearly, when we behold, drink in the sights, the sounds, the taste, the smell of the natural world, it literally feeds us, heals us, restores us, makes us more whole. Our body’s innate wisdom regarding returning to being whole and well turns on, and gets to work.

 

Try it right now. I mean it. Put this down and go to a window, a nearby houseplant, or even better go outside. Do it right now. Find something that looks beautiful. Or even just neutral. A scene, a scent, a sound, a taste, a feeling on your skin. Find something and sit with it. Be with it for at least 30 seconds, longer if you can. This is actually hard for us to do in modern times. Our ancestors were great at this, and it was one of the keys of their wellbeing. They were adept at “Presence”. Some might call it “Being With”. This is one of the major antidotes to modern day living, and it is right here, out our back door. For those in a landscape with little access to plants or soil, look up. Find the sky, the sun, the clouds, the wind, the moon, the stars, the birds as they fly overhead. 

 

Now here’s an example: Watch what happens, and then what happens, and then what happens. If you see a hawk- where does that hawk fly? Oh, it soared, it’s so still yet moving, then fluttered down onto a tree branch. Then was still, then flew again, joined by two more hawks. And look at how the sun glints against them as they soar. Look at the incredible color of their bodies, the agility, the strength….     (Get the idea?)

 

The more we take thirty seconds (or more) to deeply connect with the world around us, the healthier and more alive, more in-tune, more in alignment we are. 

 

Winter is just the time for this. Every season is… but winter is our time to slow ourselves, get still, notice, take stock, sit in wonder, make plans for later. The very slowness and stillness of this time sets us up to practice Presence.

 

What else? I’d like you to ask yourself:

Instead, can we reduce the clutter of all of this, and tune in to what really lights us up? For me, as you likely guessed, it is the wonder of the outside world, the way light and dark play off each other. The sparkle of snow, of matches lighting candles and fires, the long shadows of trees against the snow, the steam rising from our breath contrasting against the cold world. The contrast of the cold winter world and the cozy warmth of home.

 

 

In this quiet time, I have been curled up with books more than ever. Here are a few that might interest you:

 

Glucose Revolution, by Jessie Inchauspe- this book offers an incredible explanation of how to establish increased wellbeing by optimizing glucose levels. If you don’t think this applies to you, have a look. You’ll soon find that it absolutely applies to you. She can also be found on Instagram and facebook (@GlucoseGoddess).

 

Seed to Dust, by Marc Hamer- this is a lovely month-by-month description of the experience of Presence in relationship to the natural world and one’s garden. It is exquisite, and just reading it makes me want to look and be in wonder longer, and then to go write about it.

 

All Creatures Great and Small, by James Herriot. Perhaps you have read the books by this famous veterinarian. They are pure delight, and such a refreshing contrast to how we live our lives. 

 

 _______________________________

 

I’ll be away from the clinic Friday 12.23.22 through Sunday 1.1.23; I’ll return to my email on Tuesday 1.2.23.

 

I might, I just might start a blog. This is one of the things I’m planning (but not launching) during my wintering time. It will be a place to house and hold my writing regarding the intersection of life, the art of living, womanhood, and wellbeing. And if you’ve been reading my newsletters for any amount of time, you’ll see it is basically a place to read more of what I’ve already been writing about. The blog doesn’t have a name or a home yet, or even a time frame. But it is coming, and I’ll let you know when it is launched. 

 

This has been pure delight for me, and so far seems deeply informative and helpful for the women who have enrolled. I’ll be turning this into a six-month course early next year, and re-opening enrollment. I’ll keep you posted.

 

 

 

I am wishing you a restful and meaningful season of dark, quiet wintering… and so much light.

 

Best wishes to each of you!

 

Becca

 

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