WINTER KEEPING

Winter is a time for silent thoughts and hushed prayers. It is meant for hibernation. Even if you (like I) live where the weather is mild, don't rush. Take quiet care. Relax your mind and body. 

  
Winter is meant for contemplation. Not to do but to undo. Let the pot cook the supper; let the leaves protect the shoots; let the halo moon light the night and the chill air clear the sight.  

As the wilderness tucks in, so should we.

Midwinter doldrums can't survive the Peace on Earth that comes at Christmastide and stays for the year. Winter blues disappear when we embrace the annual rhythm of doing less and being more. 

So welcome the pause, love the long nights, fill your heart not your calendar. Bathe the children, light the candles, climb from a fragrant hot tub into the softest of bedclothes. Settle all under magic duvets where our body temperatures never dip below 98.6ᐤ. This is winter keeping.  

The riot of Spring will come soon enough.   

   
Nina Naomi

 

IN TUNE WITH THIS WONDERFUL TIME OF YEAR

Winter Sunset, NC Beach

I am looking forward to the Winter Solstice, only about a month away, three nights before Christmas Eve.  As soon as the time changed, I began lighting candles against the darkness, eating supper earlier and enjoying an earlier bedtime.  As the days turn, I check Fairbanks, Alaska because we loved our time there.  Then it was the Summer Solstice with the dusk intermingling with the dawn.  No night at all.  This time of year, Fairbanks moves toward deep and long nights, ending with only 4 hours of daylight on the longest night of the year.  I would love to be there for the town fireworks and merriment. 

At the North Carolina Beach people are attuned to the waning day, on a clear winter afternoon heading over to the neighborhood sittum in hats and jackets to watch the sun drop behind the ocean. They stay for the show of colors across the horizon, leaving only when all is gray, the shore birds long gone.  If you live by the ocean, you share that pleasure, perhaps in a different season. 

Inland I am hardly aware of when the sun goes down.  Yesterday I noticed the pink beyond the trees while sweeping leaves from one place to another.  Our leaves aren't snow-covered like the Northeast and Midwest. Here, most afternoons the winter day is just all-of-a-sudden simply gone and the lights come on.  A good resolution for me is more mindfulness of the gifts of nature, more responsiveness to its rhythms.  

Saint Teresa of Calcutta says that God is the friend of silence.  "See how Nature--trees, flowers, grass--grows in silence," she says.  "The stars, the moon and the sun move in silence." That is what's so wonderful about being in our homes this time of year.  If we're lucky we can find a bit of silence.  Or at least only the sounds we want to hear. Right now, Mr. Wiggles is breathing softly and there is music in the background.  No one else is home.  The geese have not yet begun their ruckus as they decide where to roost.  The train won't pass for hours.  

No talk of busyness today.  I would like to stay in tune with what the world has to offer.  Perhaps we can all find some time for that.    

Happy Winter, Nina Naomi 

SNEAK AWAY

It's winter at the beach, a wonderful time to sneak away and be here.  Mr. Wiggles is enjoying his pillows by the door, maybe remembering many years ago when he was a rescue dog in foster care here in Carteret County and I adopted him; a good day for both of us.  It's low tide and the waves are crashing far out, with rain falling and wind making every dog-walk an adventure.  If its too windy Wiggles has been known to tip over when he lifts his leg. The street is empty, not a single other renter or resident this cold February weekday. If you only come to the beach in the summer, try a February visit to the NC Crystal Coast. Or whatever coast is near you.  You may know the joys of winter beach walks already. 

The sun here sets over the Atlantic in winter because Pine Knoll Shores faces south off a jut of land.  Yesterday it was all oranges and yellows splayed across the horizon and upward into the sky.  But today there is no sun.  All is gray:  air, water, sand.  When visibility is low the ocean seems louder, nearer, like a phantasmic surprise rising out of the darkness, which is closing in as I write. 

Is there any time of year that doesn't have its own magic?  It's beautiful when the horizon disappears.  I can barely tell where water becomes sky.

So much of my life is not magical. It must be the same for you.  Work or lack of it, family concerns (shorthand for chronic fears about those we love), the daily news which, in all truth, is one depressing thing after another . . . . We deserve a break.  Not always possible, but if it is we need to grab the chance.  Our New Jersey family goes to visit the Florida family; that's smart.  But for me, I drive just 3 1/2 hours to the winter beach. What is near you?  Woods? Water? The excitement of a city? Now may not be the time, but if it is, what can you do, at home or away, to nourish yourself?  Thinking of all of us, Nina Naomi

WINTER NOSTALGIA

 

One thing many of us have learned is that even though we live our lives forward, we still can't help thinking about the past.  Nostalgia is bittersweet, yet most of the time it's rewarding.  Nostalgia can make us feel that our lives have roots and continuity. It can make us feel good about ourselves. It provides texture to our lives. After all, the past is just the present a few days, months or years later.  Would we ever want to feel that today won't still be valuable tomorrow?  

What I'm feeling nostalgic about now are winters past.  I bet we all have fond winter memories from our childhood. During the months of November and December as each night grows longer, nostalgia is the perfect antidote to loneliness, boredom or anxiety.  I love to share memories with my brother, and with my cousin.  My husband and I have memories that go back to high school.  Daily we recollect together.  Sharing a memory is twice blessed.   Even the sense of wistfulness and loss that accompanies the past can be enriching.  Winter is a time for nostalgia.

My earliest winter memory is sleigh riding with my father.  My mother must have been pregnant since my brother was born in midwinter, so it was my father who took me out after work in the early darkness to sled down a shallow hill.  I was 4 years old.  What's your first snow memory?  Were you trained as I was trained to love snow?

Later, we neighborhood kids rode our belly-busters down steep icy streets lit by porch-lights and the occasional street light.  We'd come in with frozen hair, mitts clotted with snow, and dump our gear on kitchen heat vents to dry before the next round of sledding.  Friends would hang out together in sock-feet stretched out on the floor while someone's mother made hot chocolate.   

On my husband's and my second date we took our sleds to a nearby golf course and by moonlight sailed down hill after hill until we were soaking  wet and out of breath.  I still remember the shadows the trees cast, holding hands in our thick mittens, and what a fun time we had.  We got carry-out hamburgers and ate them in the car with the engine running. I was 15 and he was 16.  The next morning, roads were impassable.  St. Louis has hard winters. Years later, after marriage, we lived in Cleveland and went bobsledding.  Winters there are even harder.

When our daughter was only three I pulled her up and down the Midwest country road in front of our parsonage in what felt like near-blizzard conditions.  We both just needed to get out.  She wore a red snowsuit and sang "The Twelve Days of Christmas" in her baby voice the whole time.  

When they were grade schoolers, the children would pelt their father with snowballs as soon as he got home.   They'd wait and plot for hours and he always responded with great surprise, "Oh no, you got me!"  Our son's cocker spaniel would  ride on the sled with him down the hill in front of our house and stay out 'till her fur was clumped with ice balls. She was a trooper.  

Now my granddaughter and I take our rudderless sleds and saucers over to the neighbor's hill as soon as the flurries start.  Here in the North Carolina Piedmont we're overjoyed with whatever sticks. She narrates videos of our mishaps.  

Such a good time for memories and reflections, for taking what is good and trying to make it better.  We need to be more generous in winter, to neighbors, friends and strangers.  Even the birds need our help. 

Of course a memory can be depressing.  But for the most part nostalgia brings to mind cherished experiences that remind us we are valued and have had meaningful lives.  Let's let the memories flow this winter.  And feed the memory bank with new things every day.  Something to look forward to.                      Nina Naomi

 

 

 

IN WINTER

 

In Winter

Before sunrise when the stars are bright,

Before the night has fled,

A darker shade of winter dawn.

Window open sky clear,

Gothic fears fade as day breaks,

Frosty heart warming.

 

Winter is medieval,

Gargoyles leaning low.

No summer linen in shadow shades.

No red beyond the berries

Rich and hanging.  

They bring their own romance.

I see them now as others wake.

A new day has begun.   

 

WINTER CONTENTMENT

 

Do certain things remind you of your childhood?  Winter reminds me.  Some of the reminders are not particularly happy.  One time I told my parents:  "I will NOT walk to school when the temperature is below than 20 degrees!"  It was probably an eight block walk and my nose was running, my fingers stiff, my bones sore from hunching against the cold by the time I reached the equally chilly high school.  We lived too close for the bus and I had no car.  My best friend and I tried singing, skipping, everything to keep warm.  Nothing worked.  St. Louis has cold winters. 

But most childhood winter memories are good ones.  You too?  On our second date my husband and I, then teenagers, sneaked into a country club and sledded by moonlight.  St. Louis is also hilly.  We shared a sled.  I had no complaints about the cold that night.

Do you agree that a wonderful thing about childhood is that our pleasures were simple?  I lived in a drafty house, had my own room and we had a dog.  The warm air from the coal furnace blew the dog's hair everywhere.  My job was to sweep it up.  A mix of collie and super-shedder, she lost large tufts of hair year-round.  I got an allowance for my chores.  I kept a diary which was mostly about boys I liked who sometimes liked me back. 

My first dog's name is still my password.  I bet something from your childhood is your password too.  I wonder if anyone has researched that. There's a reason security questions often have to do with our childhoods.  I can't articulate it, but someone can.  Some memories don't fade. 

One thing winter brings is time for introspection.  The quiet that accompanies the cold leaves more room to think.  The coronavirus has certainly left time for contemplation. Even with home-schooling and all the rest, winter is a slower season.  Let's be content.  

LIVING IN WINTER RHYTHM

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 

SIMPLE, SWEET AND SLOW: CONTENTMENT

I don't know about you, but I'm a little bit sad that we've moved our clocks forward.  Even though it's still cold out our long nights are over.  Now for awhile it's dark in the morning with more light in the evening.  I've been content with our early nights.  Mid-winter always seems like going back to a simpler life which, as we know, is not a step backwards.  A step inwards perhaps but not backwards.  Winter is the quiet season; more solitude, that thread that unites us with our inner world.  The season of short days is the time to work on our projects.  I took up a long-dormant knitting project and am just hours away from finishing.  I enrolled in a knitting class to get it just right. 

Longer nights have also given us more time to keep company with ourselves and those we live with.  Kids love an early bath, books and jammies.   The meditation class I finished encouraged us to be more compassionate companions, as if we ourselves are someone we are fond of and wish to inspire. Practicing that gentleness has been the best of winter projects.  

The contentment of long nights is such a soft, generous idea.  It's a word that conjures up a mix of joy and peace, the kind we might get from an early night to bed with the one we love most. What's great about contentment is that it is possible every day.  We don't need to wait for one of those special dream-come-true days.  It's right here where we are, sitting and being fully in the grace of what surrounds us and lives inside us now.  Accepting the past, living for today, and hoping for tomorrow. 

Well now, that isn't confined to a season, is it?  By the time we get used to the dark mornings they'll be gone; the sun will be up before the alarm rings.  We'll have longer days to find something wonderful in the ordinary.  To let our curious, accepting, non-judging, kind selves do their thing.  If we could harmonize our mind, body and spirit with the cold beauty of winter, what can't we do in Spring?

Snow-covered Rosemary in Bloom

 

WINTER'S RHYTHM

John Boswell, American Historian (1947-1994)

Winter is brief in North Carolina.  Maybe that's why I love it.  John Boswell, who I'm quoting, was born in Boston where winter does linger . . . and linger . . . . But not here, not in the Piedmont.  I'm not sure we're even going to have snow this year.  The mountains yes.  The family has already gone skiing.  Unless we're in for a surprise, in my neck of the woods (literally) we won't be tobogganing.  Even so I like the quote: 

"Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments, embark upon a sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour."

We can still gather pine cones to scent the house, still nurse the plants through the season, still enjoy the fresh air and warm couch, the hearty meals and early nights.  The sun is still setting early.  Winter can be the most soul-enriching time of year, can't it?  A bit of hibernation, a hot bath, a fire.

When I was a kid and put on my grey wool duffel coat the dog knew it was time for an outdoor romp.  She could stay out as long as I could.  

What parts of winter make you feel most alive and present in the moment? The quiet indoor life?  The exuberant outdoor life?  Some people say, don't simply endure winter . . . embrace it.  I'm for that.  Heading outdoors for a healthy walk.  Taking advantage of a bright day.  Today is one of those days.  Temperature around 34⁰F but sun streaming in all the windows.  This morning Mr. Wiggles picked this spot to warm his bones .  See the little fur blob on the rug? 

I'm discovering that winter can be incredibly soothing.  Being in the crisp air, or the drizzly cold air, keeps us in the now and helps relieve stress, doesn't it?  Keeping warm or dry concentrates our attention.  We can't ruminate or indulge those unhelpful thoughts when our goal is keeping that beanie on. Or on a sunny weekend when I'm clearing brush and avoiding tripping on rock outcroppings--any other worry disappears. Cold can clear our minds. 

The trick seems to be to not huddle, not scrunch up.  That's true on city walks as well.  Moving our arms as we walk down the sidewalk, keeping our head up, letting our shoulders drop. People who aren't hunching seem to be having the best time. 

I want to relish these days of fat socks and bulky sweaters.  Here we have too few.  









 

AFTER ALL, THE SUN SETS AND THE MOON RISES EVERYWHERE

Everything about this week is good.  How many weeks can we say that?  We made it to the beach on Thursday where the air is clear and cold.  Hats, hand-warmers, down jacket.  We let Mr. Wiggles off leash and he behaved, running in circles while a much bigger dog played Frisbee catch. No barking. Very good behavior indeed. 


Then as soon as the sun set orange and yellow and fat, dropping right into the ocean, we saw the moon rise and Venus popped out.  The moon rose and by 11 p.m. when we took Mr. Wiggles out for his last walk before bed, it was very very bright, in its Waxing Crescent Phase.  Low and oversized, sitting right at the end of the street, it was 32.5% illuminated and seemed to grow brighter as we watched.  The air fresh and 35ºF, deserted street, moon low and huge, not a super moon but could have been--that big. Dark sky. Bright stars.  

Then yesterday gray and today grayer still, a peaceful color.  The ocean looking like steel, varying from steel to charcoal with the sky only a shade paler.  Yet a sharp delineation between water and sky.  No sunset or moon rise tonight.  A chill in the air all day.

I bet you have a favorite place near water.  Mine is the ocean but lakes and boathouses are wonderful, so are rivers and ponds. Canals might be the most peaceful of all.

Any water feature really. All seasons.  Pools and other places to jump in when the weather is right.  Or to bundle up and walk beside on days like today.  We have a creek at home in our woods that only rushes when it pours but in the dark you can hear it spreading beyond its rocky bed toward the deck (not the best site for a house probably . . .).  I love that sound too. 

So a good week.  I haven't wanted a single do-over.  Not that they exist anyway!  A bit of free time, a special place . . . it doesn't take much.  Something to savor and enjoy moment by moment.  I think this meditation class is awakening my appreciation of the present.  Here's hoping for a good week for all of us.  After all, the sun sets and the moon rises everywhere.  Nina Naomi

WINTER LIGHT

    January 2020, 8 a.m. Winter Light Cornwallis Road

"When one sees the tree in leaf one thinks the beauty is in its leaves, and then one sees the bare tree."  

 The Bare Tree by Samuel Menashe (1925-2011), American poet

"I prefer winter and fall, 

when you feel the bone structure of the landscape -- the loneliness of it; the dead feeling of winter.  

Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show." 

Andrew Wyeth (1917-2009), American visual artist

"There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you.... 

In spring, summer and fall 

people sort of have an open season on each other; 

only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself."

Ruth Stout (1884-1980), American author and gardener

 




 

CONTENTMENT BY THE WINTER SEA

Today the sea is loud. I took Mr. Wiggles for his walk.  He's a malti-poo who was in foster care here when I found him.  So he's not afraid of the ocean, little guy that he is.  Off-leash, that's his treat.  

The noise comes from every direction.  The crashing right in front of me with the gray waves curling up and over, but then different sounds, deeper and steadier to the left and right, up and down the beach. Synchronized.  The air is damp and cool and close.  I didn't need my scarf or gloves.  I hope you're someplace today that you like, where you can have a short (or long) walk or run. Or something to listen to or watch that takes your attention and holds it. Something in nature.  Winter is good for that.  

Mary Oliver (1935-2019) says,

The sea is the most beautiful face in the universe.

She wrote, 

The sea can do craziness, it can do smooth, it can lie down like silk breathing or toss havoc shoreward; it can give gifts or withhold all; it can rise, ebb, froth like an incoming frenzy of fountains, or it can sweet-talk entirely.  As I can too, and so, no doubt, can you, and you. 

So I'm content again and hope you are too.  Contentment is richer than joy, that comes in spurts, surprising us.  Contentment I think builds and is more likely to last. It's part of our relationship with ourselves. I'm thinking we can even be content, so to speak, if we're not happy.  There are times, events that we don't expect to be happy about but may still be content knowing that we are doing the best we can, or that someone else is. Or that the unhappiness is a natural part of life. 

When I saw those dolphin leaping, tail and all (Post,"Happening All at Once," 12/8/19), I felt an instant response, a reaction to the moment--happiness.  A kind of giddiness almost.  Today is more serene.  Does the distinction matter?  Both are good.  One enfolds, one lifts.  Both are blessings, all are blessings--joy, happiness, satisfaction, contentment.  And at least this weekend all have been here at the sea, overlapping like the waves themselves.  I didn't have to do anything, just walk the dog and look and listen.  I bet looking and listening is the key.  As we learn in mindfulness training, keeping an open heart.  




 

SMALL THINGS, RICH LIFE

Winter comes slowly in North Carolina.  Leaves shrivel early from drought, before the temperatures drop.  September was a dry month, but we finally had late-October rain.  The first quarter of the school year has ended and it's apple cider season.  Last week the high was 55⁰ with a light drizzle.  I bought mums.  This week the rain stopped and we could use the fire-pit when the sun went down.  No more daylight savings.  Change of season is when we take stock, isn't it? Because I know I'll be staying in more soon, I've been thinking about the small things that make our lives richer. 
Here's one:  

"We would be together and have our books

and at night be warm in bed together 

with the windows open and the stars bright."  

Ernest Hemingway wrote this sentence in his inimitable style.  Mostly one-syllable words, simple sentence structure, nothing complicated.  Just "books," "night," "warm," "stars" and a word-picture emerges of two happy people in bed.  Content with each other.  Stars out the open window. Hemingway draws the scene as clearly as a painter would.  

So there are two things here that make our life richer.  One is being with our other half in bed as we reach for sleep wrapped in the warmth of our bodies.  The other is the reading itself, maybe Hemingway again or another of the American classics, or something newer.  At our house we start bedtimes with me propped up by pillows and my husband in the easy chair.  Reading is a perfect indoors winter pastime. I have a small stack of treasures waiting.  

Here's another small thing:  

"I DAYDREAM A LOT - THAT'S HOW I GET MY IDEAS.

IF I'M SITTING IN A 

CAFE, I'M NOT ON MY PHONE BECAUSE I WANT TO HEAR 

MY MIND.  I THINK THAT

THOSE PERIODS OF SMALL

SOLITUDE THAT WE ARE REALLY

LOSING ARE SO IMPORTANT."   

Poet singer-songwriter Patti Smith (b. 1946) said this.  She won the National Book Award for her first memoir, Just Kids (2010).  The small thing is the idea of just sitting so we can hear our mind.  We used to do this more often.  For a 70's punk rock singer, poet and  winner of the prestigious National Book Award to just sit with her own thoughts in a public place is inspirational to me.  If Patti Smith can do it so can I.  I can be myself without self-consciousness, sans phone.  

The third is my "Could-Do" list for November-December.  It's filled with small things.  Maybe some of these are on your list too:

Try one new Holiday recipe
Walk in the woods on the new golden pine straw
Gather fat pine cones for kindling, small ones to decorate
Share real (not edited) pictures
Spend at least one night away from home; make it romantic
Skip Amazon, shop local

Friendly Market, Morehead City, NC

Watch a movie-for-grownups
Go to a performance--the Messiah, the high school band concert, The Nutcracker . . .
Decorate with live greens, holly, pine, cedar, spruce and fir
And candy canes
And homemade paper snowflakes

Nothing hard on my could-do list.  I think as I do one I'll add one.  Just the things that nourish and uplift.  A list of treats. 

 









 

LET YOURSELF GO

Summer just opens the door and lets you out. 

This is a quote by Deb Caletti (b. 1963), young adult author.  I like it.  But actually, it can apply to any season.  Spring certainly, the season of rebirth.  Fall, which is also new beginnings, crisp air, the school year, the end of a hodge-podge summer schedule.  Even Winter with the cleanliness of new fallen snow and the brightness of Christmas decorations.  I figure just about any time is a good time to take off, to soar.  I am thinking partly about the times when we can be who nobody thinks we are.  

When we're alone of course.  We can dance around the house, sing as loud as we want, turn the music up, clean like a dervish or let things go, cry if we need to or practice scream therapy, sleep with the covers over our head or stay up all night. . . .   But also when we're on vacation, whatever time of year.  We won't run into our high school teacher at the super market, or an old friend (or enemy) grabbing coffee.  On vacation, especially if alone, we can wear hats, red lipstick, chat with strangers, do something outrageous, create a persona.  If a friend wants to do this with us, all the better.  

It's fun to be someone different.  I rented my husband and me a place in the mountains, just for a couple of nights.  At home we are straight-laced grandparents.   On a mini-break we added spa treatments, late-night oysters, mountain views, hair-pin curves.  Oh my goodness.  Just 3 hours from home but so good to be someone else. 

You parents and grandparents, family members, care-taking children, teachers, accountants, lawyers, bosses, have you done this?  Gotten away for a night?  Gotten to be whomever you want?  Students can do this when they go away to college.  A chance to change who they were in high school.  We can do it in a new job or new city.  A do-over.  It's downright liberating.  

I don't mean a break from our values.  Or what we believe in or who we trust or who we would lay down our life for.   Just a chance to lighten the load, to let ourselves go.  To be someone else for awhile or forever.  Do you have a weekend alone or away?  Can you plan something? Why not open the door and let yourself out?  I'm looking for a time right now.