Winter is a time to slow down, hibernate, lay dormant, and rest. Its darkness permeates more of my waking hours, while its crisp air makes magical frost on trees. Sometimes, I resist the gifts of winter and overlook its benefits and blessings.
A friend send me a quote from social media by Katherine May’s Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, “Plants and animals don’t fight the winter; they don’t pretend its not happening and attempt to carry on living the same lives that they lived in the summer…Winter is a time of withdrawing from the world, maximizing scant resources, carrying out acts of brutal efficiency and vanishing from sight, but that’s where the transformation occurs. Winter is not the death of the life cycle, but it’s crucible.”
It’s been a long time since I took a science class, so I looked up the word crucible. It is a ceramic or metal container in which something is melted at high temperatures. The idea that winter is a time of rest and slowing down feels in opposition to the concept of being exposed to high heat to the point of melting. The latter seems intense and uncomfortable, but when I am honest with myself, I find the concepts of winter so.
For all of my life, I have been a go-getter, a high achiever and a performer. It is ingrained in my DNA that the definition of a good life is one that is not idle. The greatest value is reached through achievements. And, only women who work fiercely for her family from sunrise to sunset will be called blessed.
Yet, I am slowly coming to realize that my constant movement, striving, producing and achieving has only created inside of me a fight or flight existence of shallow breaths and muscle tension. The truth is that slowing down feels similar to me to being exposed to high heat. All of the busyness begins to melt away, and I am unsure of the substance that remains.
This led me to consider the second definition of a crucible, “A situation of severe trial, or in which different elements interact, leading to the creation of something new.” That which has laid dormant and in hibernation emerges from the harshness of winter with a new energy for life. I can feel the intensity and discomfort of these slower months, while being open to the creation of something new. In the stillness, I find a deeper connection with myself and my Creator bringing new awareness. And, hope burns hot.