We are finally heading into Spring, I muse. And just as I’m about to give a long and grateful sigh, I realize that we are still in lockdown; that even as people get vaccinated, we will – all of us in Canada and other countries – need to continue to isolate until the population has achieved herd immunity – possibly some time in the Fall.

So, even though I’m feeling the pull towards Spring, I’m also sensing a need to support myself with an extended time of quiet that I generally associate with winter.

The quiet time of Winter is when I get ready for Spring opening: in Spring, I clean and freshen everything. In Winter, I plan and decide what it is I want to clean and freshen; which goals I want to put front and centre for the remainder of the year; how I want my days to unfold. In Winter, I dream and plan. In winter I also take the time to rest and to heal from mistakes and wrong turns I took last year. How did it happen? What did I learn? How can I make things better next time?

In Winter, I take the time to grieve what is passing — there is always something passing – so that I can fully embrace what is coming into my life with as little leftover baggage as possible.

We have this extended quiet time now. Perhaps we need it. Perhaps it’s a gift.

An Excerpt from Wintering, by Katherine May – from an interview with Krista Tippett

Quote of the Week 

“O light! This is the cry of all the characters of ancient drama brought face to face with their fate. This last resort was ours, too, and I knew it now. In the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer..”
– Albert Camus, L’été


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