Once the holiday trimmings are put away and the New Year’s resolutions already broken, there’s an abrupt hush. We look out of the window and see the Winter Queen’s signature: Ice to skid on, snow to fall through and push away, and succinctly biting cold. It is a quiet song leading up to Valentine’s Day, Mardi Gras, and eventually Spring.
I verbalize the echoes of the past but also the future. This is a time of slow songs and looking within for the next big adventure. It’s a time of living in the dark, going by what our other senses tell us. It is a time of trusting that what we’re working so hard for will come to pass.
It is a time of hoping, praying, performing rituals, looking for the signs that we are on the right path.
I have been restless as of late. I moved things around, packed and unpacked books and things for hobbies that I’m once again interested in. Unlike the mantra heard this year to declutter, there is stuff that I’m not ready to part with yet, mainly coffee table books of country houses.
I also struggle with obsessions that rob me of sleep. What if’s, escape fantasies, and general uneasiness abound. I focus on my breathing, while part of my brain keeps going, “But what about this? And what if we do this?” I took some anti-anxiety medication and woke up quickly the next morning, surprised and worried to see gray daylight.
The Blue/Full/Eclipsed Moon is still passing. People were supposedly moody, but I didn’t notice anything new. I am releasing, though, and will most likely continue for a while. I still have to reconcile what i like with what I need. It’s not dumping five bags and two boxes at the Goodwill pickup center and being done with it. It’s more a slow, delicate shedding of layers. There are pauses to reflect what is deemed necessary for this journey forward. It’s taking inventory, like all the stores do before tax time. What can I give, and what do I need to keep?
I do know what I need to let go, though. Anger, judgment, and the persistent “requirement” to have attention from those who I think I must please. Once again, gratitude and using what I have are forces I must use.
So, I’ll sit and listen for the tiny whispers that echo rest and thoughtful consideration. I will sit in repose until the sun lingers longer and its heat warms my bones. But now is a time to dream big and plant the seeds that flower in Spring.