If we like to live in rhythm with the seasons we may like winter best this year. Best for the brightness of the winter sun and darkness of the nights. Best for the long evenings and short days where work stops early and children are in their pajamas before dinner is begun. Somehow the pandemic doesn't seem so strange when we'd be hibernating anyway. When the kids would be inside doing homework or helping set the table, the older ones texting or sprawling. Arguments or music or TV in the background. Or if we live alone perhaps silence, pets curled near heat vents. The air outdoors smelling of wood smoke.
I saw a poem by Canadian poet Brittin Oakman that I am changing to fit how I'm feeling today.
Did you lie when you said you were busy?
You were busy but not in the way people mean.
You were busy taking deeper breaths.
You were busy thinking lovely thoughts.
You were busy creating a calm and steady heart.
Busy living in rhythm with the seasons: winter spring summer fall.
Busy encouraging yourself, "All is well. All manner of things will be well."
Sometimes this is your busy.
Your very own wonderful busy. No need to apologize for that.
So yes we can--even nine months into a pandemic, the air turning colder and us occupied with whatever Christmas will be this year, whatever Advent is, and us breathing, thinking, calming, encouraging, believing--live in harmony with the seasons. Thinking of you, Nina Naomi
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