Seasons of Stillness
Winter isn’t something I “do” often. Living in Nevada lets me plant flowers in October and watch them bloom in January. I appreciate this about my life. However, there is something magical about white snow covered meadows, icicles hanging off the edges of the roofs, and bare trees – waiting. I’m spending a week at my cabin in the Colorado mountains. It is mid-January. Gorgeous white flakes fell all day yesterday. I stood and let them fall on my face. It was amazing.
Today’s sky is brilliant blue. All the rooftops are iced in white that glimmers in the sunshine and the spruce trees look like heaven has sprinkled them with powdered sugar. It is perfectly still. I stand outside and listen and hear absolute silence. This deep silence calls to me. It reaches out and invites me to take hold of it and treasure it. This is a gift I rarely open. My usual meditation doesn’t offer this level of silence. No clock ticking. No refrigerator humming. No cars passing by outside. This level of silence pulls me into stillness. The earth around me is calm, peaceful, and what else? What is happening that I can’t see?
Transformation is Taking Place
What is happening under the accumulated snow and frozen ground? What is happening in the roots of the trees? What is churning within the slowly moving river that lays hidden, covered over with ice and snow?
Everything appears to be waiting. Hoping. Preparing for what’s next. In this beautiful, mesmerizing stillness, “deep calls unto deep“. I feel my soul doing its own waiting. Hoping. Transforming. Preparing for what’s next. I believe our seasons of stillness are preparing us. Cocooning us, and transforming us in ways we can’t imagine. I want to embrace the stillness and just be. I want to allow life to do her deep work in me. I’m grateful for this gift. Winter is something I will “do” more often. I can get so anxious for Spring that I miss the beautiful gift of Winter. I don’t want to do that: I want to experience ALL the magic