It’s a love-hate relationship. I could say the struggle is between me and winter, but that would be a lie because wintertime is just doing what all seasons do, expressing life in their own way.
The tension, and the ease, are within.
Part of me contemns the cold, and the darkness.
Simultaneously, I appreciate the tenderness in nature’s quiescent.
She invites me to join her.
“Slow down, my boy.
Be like the seeds preparing for rebirth.
Nourishment and strength enroot in the repose.”
And when I relent, accept, and embrace… She smiles.
“That’s it, my son.
Feel the mana.”
It sounds so lovely. What’s my struggle?
In cold I often experience loneliness. Darkness reminds me of melancholy. I’ve been down those roads. I don’t want to go there again. Banishing the frigid and blackness is a futile attempt–I’ve tried. So, I find myself in submission. Yet, in prostration there is bowing, and that is where the sinus curve turns upward again. Dawning brings light. …It also retains the poise restored in slumber and meditation.
Thankfulness rises, and flows.
In gratitude, I recognise that a stronger base is forming.
Life reminds me once again, “Be here now.”