The most peaceful moments I've ever experienced have involved trudging through newly fallen snow that came up to my shins. Cold and wet and shivering, I'd get to a wide open space and stop, watching the puffs of my own breath, listening to the muffled sounds of the far-off world.
Winter in Raleigh does not involve that kind of snow. My current life does not involve that kind of silence. My soul craves that kind of peace.
January is my very least favorite month, followed closely by February. Too little light, too much scraping ice off the windshield. (Every time I scrape ice, I feel annoyed that it isn't snow. There is just no upside to ice.) Each January, I slip farther into...I am loathe to call it seasonal depression because that seems too forceful a term...perhaps seasonal apathy. I have no preferences. I have no opinions. Everything seems to take more energy than I care to expend. Maybe it's my version of hibernation because I'd just as well huddle into a blanket and stay there until the world goes green again.
But this past year, October was hard and November was long and the early part of December involved a lot of apathy. It simply could not continue for two more months. And so this year, I'm not waiting for happiness. In fact, I'm not even seeking happiness. I'm seeking peace. Contentment. Calm. I'm putting myself in a bubble that involves less reading of the news, less scrolling through facebook while feeling guilty about wasting time, less television. More music that feeds my soul, more exercise that wakes my body, more time being present in my life instead of racing on to check off the next item on my to-do list. This time, I'm not waiting to stumble upon a snow-covered field and find peace. I'm searching it out, cultivating it, cupping my hand around its flickering flame and protecting it from the January winds.
Winter in Raleigh does not involve that kind of snow. My current life does not involve that kind of silence. My soul craves that kind of peace.
January is my very least favorite month, followed closely by February. Too little light, too much scraping ice off the windshield. (Every time I scrape ice, I feel annoyed that it isn't snow. There is just no upside to ice.) Each January, I slip farther into...I am loathe to call it seasonal depression because that seems too forceful a term...perhaps seasonal apathy. I have no preferences. I have no opinions. Everything seems to take more energy than I care to expend. Maybe it's my version of hibernation because I'd just as well huddle into a blanket and stay there until the world goes green again.
But this past year, October was hard and November was long and the early part of December involved a lot of apathy. It simply could not continue for two more months. And so this year, I'm not waiting for happiness. In fact, I'm not even seeking happiness. I'm seeking peace. Contentment. Calm. I'm putting myself in a bubble that involves less reading of the news, less scrolling through facebook while feeling guilty about wasting time, less television. More music that feeds my soul, more exercise that wakes my body, more time being present in my life instead of racing on to check off the next item on my to-do list. This time, I'm not waiting to stumble upon a snow-covered field and find peace. I'm searching it out, cultivating it, cupping my hand around its flickering flame and protecting it from the January winds.
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