Tag: winter

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Wintering

Winter is a time to rest. Look around you … if you live in the northern hemisphere, you will see nature is resting, settling into itself. Winter is not a time for high energy, it is a time for reflecting, gathering resilience, taking notice of ourselves, discovering how we are, what is going on.

I have been resting and relaxing. I have had no choice. My body said stop.

It is a time now, when more than ever, I look within rather than without. I go to the mat and practice, honouring that by a deep listening within, I can discover peace and heal my body and my mind. My intention is I will continue this practice as we transition into spring, summer and autumn, moving with mother nature and taking her cue.

Writing, yoga, mediation and art continue to be my solace and I am grateful I have these things in my life.

During this time, I painted a reindeer in the landscape and wrote this poem about a swan I saw on a recent walk in one of Norfolk’s marshlands:

Coming Back Home 

In a moment of darkness,

some kind of beauty

is flickering in the reeds, 

catching my eye.

Winter is with us 

and grey clouds

hover at the edges

of my mind.

I yearn for warmth 

and muse about

better times, somewhere 

between earth and sky.

A swan glides by

wings puffed and fluttering,

she is some kind of miracle, 

stopping my mind

She calls me home

to my wintering 

where I can smile,

pause and breathe.

A time to slow down, 

for there is no hurry 

to take my woes to the wood.

Here in the marsh, 

I have everything I need, 

in this present moment,

this wonderful moment. 

Seasonal greeting to all. May you discover your own peace within and find your way home.

Thich Nhat Hanh

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In Midwinter

The Winter Solstice is here.

Solstice means ‘sun standing still’. Honouring the Solstice, the Solar New Year, marking the end of the Earth’s cycle, has been a celebration for many human beings across many millennia.

I like to acknowledge and celebrate the shortest day of the year by lighting a candle … signifying the anticipation of a return to the light. Sometimes, the dark months can be overwhelming, but darkness can be one of the greatest catalysts for personal growth and transformation. 

I am consciously allowing myself to feel my emotions and experience my own darkness during these dark days. I am asking my feelings to guide me because my feelings are my truth. I am using this time to rest and reflect. As nature slows down and seeds lie dormant in the silent earth, I am choosing to make this a time of solace, to seek comfort in resting, relaxing and finding peace within. I am relying on the practices of yoga nidra and yin yoga sessions on my mat to help me by-pass the crazy festivities of Christmas and New Year celebrations.

The Winter Solstice is a perfect time to set intentions. Contemplating and manifesting my desires helps illuminate my path … through the darkness of winter, toward a light, bright future. I am focussing on letting my energies rest in the anticipation of discovering new inspirations … building slowly … alongside the return of longer days and the light … being with the nature of things … with the cycles and rhythms of my own personal growth … developing, changing and nurturing myself with love, compassion and an acceptance for all that is.

In my own way, to mark the Winter Solstice I have written this poem and have created the collage painting you can see above.

In Midwinter

Everything happens in Midwinter, 

the Cold Moon shines, breathing the landscape

alive as the sun shelters low in the sky casting 

sentry shadows to show where you belong.

It happens best when you rest,

when that unyielding shell softens, releasing 

its grip on your sternum, revealing the softer 

kernel sitting close to your whispering heart. 

It has been a long time, since the trees 

let go of their leaves … light is fading 

fast as darkness swirls, gathering, cloaking 

the earth in inky blue, leaving old crows on bare 

black branches, bustling, caw, caw, cawing, 

wrestling for warm spaces to roost while bats 

begin their nightly flutterings, floundering,

shuffling, shifting, searching, falling, into torpor.

Everything happens in Midwinter,

the night-time ack ack ack of amorous foxes 

screaming for a mate and then the day-time 

silvery song of a robin inviting you to stay awhile.

It happens best in the dark,

when night rides go on forever and no drop 

of noise disturbs the peace you have discovered 

with the silver-winged owl flying at your shoulder.