In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
-William Blake
With the arrival of 2018, I went ahead and made a resolution. I promised myself that I would make a concerted effort to reduce my screen-time. I have noticed a not so subtle regression in myself during the past few weeks (possibly months – ok, definitely months) away from the joys of the natural world and towards the numbing and eerily addictive realm of digital information and high definition. I say this sitting with my laptop open, next to my iphone – in front of my desktop. Is it any wonder I feel a bleary-eyed mix of wired and exhausted, hungry and full? No. Truly, not.
I, therefore, decided to take a second to close my eyes and really check in with myself. What do I notice? What do I feel? What do I need? And ugh – it’s not pleasant. I feel sad, lonely, disconnected. Ugh. My first urge is to ignore it. “Well – that’s awful – stop focusing on it.” But it won’t go away no matter how many times I refresh my FaceBook feed – believe me I’ve tried. And as I think my way through this dilemma – laughing at my next thought to try and find an app that will help me cut down on my digital dosing (they do actually exist) – I reassure myself. This will pass. And so, like the advice given for practicing meditation, I will notice where I have gone astray, and return.
I recall the observation offered by my brother-in-law-to-be this past weekend as my family and I walked out to our car after a family gathering. “Wow – look at the stars,” he said. Reluctantly, I took a moment to linger in the (literally) freezing night – very much aware of the stinging cold against my face – and looked up. And now as I write this – just with the memory of what I saw and felt, I can feel that tangled bundle of yearning and angst within myself thaw just a bit. Just enough to let in awareness of a feeling of awe, connection, happiness. It was a beautifully clear night, in a place enough removed from the heavy light pollution of the city. The stars were beautiful and full and bright and magnificent – as they always are – and at that moment the conditions were right, and (with a little help) my intention was set at just the right time to experience blissful connection with all of the beauty and life that exists around me. A brilliant access point to the ineffable. Always there. Always available. And always within me – the power to choose to connect.
On one level I know that the cold of winter has had an impact. I have turned in to keep warm and safe and comfortable. And perhaps I overshot it, and disconnected. And then as the ache of isolation became evident, I turned mindlessly to ineffective remedies – seeking consolation rather than nourishment. Distraction rather than restoration. That’s ok. I can change that. I can attend to my discomforts long enough to address them. I can withstand some pain long enough to do what must be done to heal.
I can be open to the gentle guidance of others, pulling me softly to notice and celebrate the beauty around me. I am so grateful for the thoughtful presence of others, and the ways in which that presence and awareness can create a holding space, and within that space a sacred connection to the magic of all existence. Because there are times when I need the nudge. We all do.
Another memory comes to mind; Years ago, at my wedding reception one of my fabulous new sisters in law (in-laws are fabulous, no?) brought me outside for just a moment. “Look,” she said, “This is the moon on your wedding night.” And what a breathtaking moon it was. A waxing crescent moon – still fairly new within the cycle – but fantastically vibrant, as I recall. What a precious gift this brief call to attention was, because if not for her, I would have missed it. What profound wisdom these little moments of redirection provide. And what simple work – to just see. And then effortlessly my soul takes over. Just be. Just enjoy.
Winter blessings to you all.
