Every year I wrestle with my ‘weary-winter syndrome’. Even though I’ve had nearly 30 years of northern winters, my native Texas bones long for warmth and light. Like a honking Canadian goose, I have the urge to fly south for the winter. I know that more daylight is slowly returning, but it just ain’t returnin’ fast enough up north (if ya know what I mean).
Still, I try to anchor myself in the present moment and look to nature as my wise teacher. I gaze out my office window and see snow, snow, and more snow. I’m aware of dormant life: fallow seeds, frozen earth, interior burrows and dens housing the moles, snakes and insects sleeping into the spring.
Maybe the New England deep freeze is trying to teach me stillness and patience. Hibernation does seem to be the best recourse after the holidays have worn off and the hoopla of the new year has settled. Restlessness gives way to rest.
There is actually something quite comforting about hibernation, a time to draw inward. Sipping tea by the fire, donning a thick wool sweater, hunkering down for a long winter’s night – these are the cozy aspects of colder climes. So I take a deep breath and drop my resistance. And I trust in the seasons, that life is lying in wait, ready to burst forth . . . just under the snow.