I’ve been thankful for the winter season this year. It’s offered me fallow time to be still, notice my internal rhythms, and witness the natural world around me. My father’s death at the end of last year and the subsequent time needed to grieve has required extended rest, both inward and outward. I’ve come to trust this time. Not rushing it or believing I must figure it all out. I take off my daily armor of self-certainties, take some deep breaths and simply notice my broken heart, letting the tears come when they need to.
At first it was not easy to do. We’re up against culture’s messages to focus on the art of happiness, look at the positives, and stay in the perpetual optimism lane. Abbey of the Arts Abbess and Author Christine Valters Paintner encourages time “to stay in the monk’s cell, which means to stay present to our experience.” So, I take time most days to stay in my “cell,” even if just for a few moments, to not be judgmental, and to let go of any expectations or need to resolve things.
Making sure I am outdoors each day makes a big difference. Noticing what is in motion: trees on windy days, birds, clouds or an airplane in the sky, people, the steam from my breath, shadows, chimes. I let the outdoors hold space for me, a sort-of shiva with the trees and plants. If I hear the sound of a bird chirping or feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, I try and listen to what my heart and body are saying in that moment. Then I can consider ways those sensations might help me with my grief and sadness. Sometimes I can even discover or remember parts of myself that I may have forgotten or never encountered before.
As the final days of winter wind down, I’m ready for spring’s energy and invitations to see life emerging from the earth or parts of myself that may need to emerge. I love to get down on my hands and knees and literally put my nose to the ground. To inhale the scent of damp soil or see an ant climbing on a blade of grass again brings me joy. I will still carry my grief but I have more room for joy in my heart.
To greet this new season, I will gently hold the grief and joy and surrender to a gratitude that I can carry both.