A self-inflicted darkness
I’ve been thinking and reading about perspective. How we affect our outlook and mental wellbeing by what we zoom in on. Where we invest our attention. And, in listening to a class from a respected monk, I realised that I have sometimes cast myself into darkness by zooming in on hurts and fears.
When my perspective is zoomed out, big picture thinking, my mind is steady and nourished. I can work with it instead of feeling oppressed by it.
I have much work to do, but I’m up for the challenge. This little poem helped me find clarity and embrace a healthy perspective, and it feels good timing to share it close to an eclipse.
Coins before my eyes
covering the sun
the irony of looking closely at little things
these problems made big
that block the light I need to see.
Image Credit: Jongsun Lee
The Gifts of Winter
A few words about my newfound love of Winter and my appreciation of Katherine May’s Wintering: The power of rest and retreat in difficult times.
Winter used to make me feel anxious and confined. The early dark evenings made me feel like I had hours of dark ahead of me, both outside the windows, and inside my mind.
Now, I’m thankful to say, I feel differently. Winter invites me to slow down, retreat and reflect. The dark December mornings with a lamp are one of my favourite times of year. They feel private and safe. No intrusion, just me, my journal and a pile of books.
“I’ve come to love this part of the night, the almost-morning, which feels exclusively mine. Being the only one awake makes it a luxurious space in which I can drink in the silence. It’s an undemanding moment in the 24-hour cycle, in which nobody can reasonably expect you to be checking texts or emails, and the scrolling feeds of social media have fallen quiet. In a world where it’s hard to feel alone, this, finally, is solitude. ”
Wintering brings periods of slowing down and taking stock. Allowing time for quiet honesty and readjusting our sails, sometimes it calls for taking the sails down altogether and drifting, holding on while being blown you don’t know where.
I’ve found there’s a peace there, in the eye of the storm. Trying to steer, and straining over possible outcomes, makes the experience of adversity all the more terrifying and exhausting. Accepting what is and taking one small step at a time is how I’ve been shown to move through the fog of challenging times. This too shall pass, and in its time, the only control we have is how we choose to pass that time.
“This is wintering. It is the courage to stare down the worst parts of our experience and commit to healing them the best we can.”