January: From Dreaded and Dreary to Mystical, Magical and Miraculous
January 6th, the 12th Day of Christmas, and
the last. Tonight, on Little
Christmas (a.k.a. Three Kings, the Epiphany), the Magi, following the Star of
Bethlehem, arrived from the East at the manger bearing gifts for the baby
Jesus. Once the night of the most
raucous Christmas reveling, the 12th Night, if remembered at all, now
marks the official end of the holiday season. Time to take down the decorations, store them away until
next December.
What follows “the most wonderful time of the year”? Weeks and weeks of
cold, dark, dull winter. Not long
ago, I was one of the many people who fell into a deep, lengthy post-holiday
funk. The sight of the Christmas tree carcasses, once glowing and
glorious, littering the sidewalks, of colored lights removed from windows, of
storefronts and hallways stripped of their festive pointsettias and
decorations, all made me genuinely sad. Everything so naked,
bare. The excitement of the season stilled, frozen, gone. The
parties over, the celebrations done, the spirit of the season soon forgotten as
life returns to “normal”. Nothing but three months of short, windy days
and long, cold nights ahead. Oh,
joy.
So I thought my friend Kate was mad as a hatter when she told me she
looked forward to the post-holiday lull of January and welcomed the respite of
winter. The pause in activity; the
reprieve from obligation and expectation. Well, now it get it. I’ve since discovered
a much more meaningful, uplifting, and I think truer way to view this time of
year, a more productive way to live and grow despite the frigid temperatures
outside.
How? By going back to basics, using the seasons as metaphors for
the cycles of life.
No wonder so many of us find “the dead of winter” daunting: on so
many levels it does indeed symbolize – and feel like - the season of death.
The frozen world seems to creak to a stand-still, literally halt in
hibernation. The heavy darkness.
Nature dies back: trees have shed their leaves and stand naked,
exposed, shivering in the wind. The rock-hard ground bears no fruit or
foliage or signs of life. Nature seems laid bare, stripped to its most
elemental, austere, simplest self.
Getting back to basics. What’s true, what matters. Letting
go of the inessential; choosing what’s important, what to hold on to; deciding
what’s lacking and needed. More than any other time of the year, winter also
grants us the freedom to do this. The season of harvesting and preparing,
the weeks of reveling and socializing, roll into months of not much going
on. This pause in activity and outside distraction frees us to nest and
rest, to physically and mentally slow down, go inward, focus, regroup.
Shed the superfluous, figure out what we truly need to not merely survive, but
thrive. Figure out who we are, who we want to become when we are emerge,
reborn and renewed, in the spring …
I’m using the winter to die into a new life.
It took me a while to understand and appreciate the gifts January
gives. I used to feel overwhelmed, daunted and depressed by the prospect
of 3 months of short days and cold nights; now I welcome them. I
appreciate the pause in activity. I
don’t even mind catching a cold in winter – the perfect reason to stay home,
out of the chill, and heal. On every level.
Consciously or unconsciously, I think we all understand the opportunity
intrinsic in the “dead of winter.” The previous year ends, the new one
begins. Whether or not we keep them, many of us make New Year’s
resolutions, where set the intention to make positive changes in our behaviors,
our thinking, our lives. We instinctively recognize the season’s symbolic
and real potential; what we ultimately do with it is entirely up to us.
The year has begun with quite a few unanticipated expenses and no
apparent career opportunities. Rather than freak out, I’m resolving to
keep it simple: on my running list of resolutions, I plan to smile more; do at
least one random act of kindness a day; look for, acknowledge and give thanks
for the good stuff; be proactive; expect and welcome miracles; be more open; replace "no, but" with "yes, and",
dream bigger; keep my apt. neater ….
… And seize the opportunity of January and the dead of winter. A
pause, perfect to rest, regroup, and transition into the new – whatever I
choose for that to be.
© 2012 Theresa Quadrozzi A-Muse-In-Manhattan
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