“Even in the dead of winter sometimes we stumble across a winter rose,” writes Rico Provasoli
I am a sun person. Always have been. The dermatologist doesn’t like my forehead broiling, peeling with UV skin damage, but I tell him to just patch me up and I’ll be on my way. That’s not much of an issue at this time of the year. The winter solstice is almost here, our afternoons are short, the evening dark arrives early, and I have learned to be grateful.
Grateful? For cold, dark days that chill to the bone?
At my age, I have learned, with great difficulty, that resistance to what is happening is a recipe for a sour mood. So, I greet the day with agreement, no disapproval, no spin that might generate my reaction or gloom. In Eastern Wisdom Traditions, it is said that The Great Way Is Not Difficult For Those With No Preference.
What? Are you kidding? Of course, I like my coffee just so, and my eggs exactly how I ordered and furthermore….
But that’s not exactly what the Ancient Elders intended as a guiding principle. More like: It’s raining like crazy today and probably for six more days. We can choose to be grumpy and cuss at the weather, or we can be pretty much okay with it, that it’s just the weather outside, so let’s make it a great day by finding a neutral place in our hearts and minds to accept it. Again and again. I don’t have to love it, but a slight shift in my attitude can open up a spaciousness even though the wet, damp days are here.
Sounds like only a monk could do that? Not so. Just ask any happy person you know or meet in the line at the grocery store. What do they say makes them happy? The weather, their bank account, their health? Probably not as much as a gracious joy, the whole-hearted acceptance of the miracle of another day on earth.
Many neuroscientists explain that all perceptions and sensations in life we experience are from electrical activity in our brains. The synapses create impressions and when the body stops breathing, soon enough all that brain activity ceases. More likely than not, we return to that state prior to birth. Maybe it’s a bit like mixing the eggs and milk and flour in a cake pan. No separate ingredient is visible, but it all comes together when we take our baking from the oven. Maybe our bodies return to the mix of earth minerals that created them. What a relief. All matter is recycled. From dust to dust.
What? No heaven? Just reporting what the physicists have published in peer review papers. Maybe this is harsh news, especially to the religious person, but let’s just see what happens to each one of us. And as long as we are breathing, maybe we can deepen our sense of gratitude for the miracle of living without baggage of beliefs. If I focus on the afterlife, if I turn my attention to dreaming about warmer, sunnier weather, it probably means I am missing out on the simple joy of this moment, sipping tea, a hot cup steaming in my hands, a silent prayer of Thank You to existence that I am still here.
On my daily walks, I occasionally find roses in bloom. Yes, at least where I live. And I place that winter rose on the shelf above my kitchen sink. A reminder that nothing is forever, that the nature of life is change, like the constant shift of tides, and that focusing on that ever-present truth, helps me to enjoy even the darkest of long winter nights. The rose comforts me, relaxes me in knowing, deep to the bone, that all is well. I quietly celebrate nature’s renewed miracle; that even in the dead of winter, sometimes we stumble across a winter rose.
This article was also published in goodmenproject.com
Featured image by Mathias Berger via istockphoto.com
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