The last month of winter
Buds, wigots and cringeworthy moments
Have you been outside lately?
January is hard- it’s meant to be. The light is returning every day yet the cold has made its presence known. The resolutions of New Year’s Eve have been challenged, if only because they came just a wee bit too early…visions take tending. Preparation, the putting of ideals, new habits and structure into place. The buds are emerging on the trees. This is the work of January- how will you birth a new beginning in Spring?
The cold is essential, not just for the trees and the darn ticks…In the last month of winter, we need something to push against. Some external force to help rouse the yang within us. It’s analogous to a cold plunge- the challenge of the icy water brings warmth and dopamine and a nice shot of ‘go get ‘em’.
Because we are about to pivot into a new season (2/4), there is the added complication of the earth transition. It made its presence known via lots of mist and moisture and dramatic temperature swings. Ten degrees one day, sixty by the end of the week. But outside my window, the bird song has changed significantly. Rudolf Steiner maintained that birdsong was vital for soil fertility. I’ll vote for that.
These days, the only safe topic of polite conversation is the weather so we talk about it a lot. Mostly complaining. Conjecture and delight at its best and weather victimhood on the other end of the spectrum. Nature is the only safe social object of bigotry these days. I am surrounded by wigots…weather bigots. It has a nice ring to it.
We really don’t like to be uncomfortable. And the option of fortifying ourselves holds little appeal.
It’s called merino wool, people. Embrace it.
But what if the weather isn’t there solely for the purpose of pissing you off? What if the seasons were your preparation, your teacher, your friend?
Your curriculum…
When I first meet with a patient, I ask about all the things. Sleep and energy levels, diet and exercise and so on. Folks generally fall into two categories- those that exercise and those that are waiting ‘for the weather to get better’. People- we live in West Virginia- we have more rainy days in this state than Seattle. Moreover, we live in the Mid Ohio Valley- I have been told by local history buffs that Native Americans would never overwinter in the valley. Why? Because if you simply move either east or west by a hundred miles, you get a winter with cold and snow, sunlight and clouds. Here in winter, we enjoy a grey brown palette with large dollops of cold damp.
Waiting for good weather here is like waiting for the exercise unicorn to show up at the foot of your bed with your sports bra swinging from its pearlescent horn.
About 25 years ago, when I realized that waiting tables was not the mark I wanted to make in the world, I had a wonderful teacher named Trishuwa. Her teacher had been Sun Bear and she taught us about earth-based ceremony. We learned about the directions and their powers, sweat lodge and the power of prayer via the sacred pipe. I loved everything about my time with her except for one thing. She had this habit of talking to everything as if they were family. It was Grandmother Moon and Grandfather Sun, Sister This and Brother That. I simultaneously desperately wanted what she had and suffered from skin-crawling embarrassment every time she spoke those words. I vacillated between delight at her connection and a lot of internal cringing.
My teenage self was much in evidence.
I came home from studying with her and made a choice. A commitment really. I was gonna say hi and I was going to say it out loud. There was a lot of twitching. But I carried on because I wanted that connection. I wanted to be in relationship with the world around me. Until one day, walking in the woods with a friend, a redtail exploded out of a tree, I shouted my greeting and the person next to me twitched, but I didn’t. And I realized that I had finally arrived in this beautiful world we live in.
In other news, the thunder beings returned this week after their winter break. I stood out on my porch and welcomed them back with some tobacco. From a Taoist perspective, thunderstorms are the rebalancing of the relationship between Heaven and Earth. Something has gone amiss and needs redress. My acupuncture mentor of many years wouldn’t needle during thunderstorms- think about them apples…
I grew up in the Blue Ridge with glorious thunderstorms and the odd trip down to the basement when the light outside went a funny shade of green. Later, I lived near Lake Erie which had magnificent storms with thunderheads like a poofy Burj Khalifa. Here in western WV, the storms have noticeably changed in the past two years- shorter harder microbursts. Storms that, for the first time in my life of storm-loving, have unnerved me. Storms where you come home to porch wreckage. Storms that make me realize that maybe I need to check the weather on my route in the summer as well as the winter…
Nobody likes to be ignored…
So try saying hello. It works for neighbors, coworkers and nature spirits. It works for puppies, babies and bosses. And one day, I swear to you, it will speak back.
I was thinking:
so this is how you swim inward,
so this is how you flow outward,
so this is how you pray.
from 5 a.m. in the Pinewoods by Mary Oliver