Lifting the Winter Veil

In spite of mostly mild weather and little snow, it’s been a long winter on the Row. Heart attacks, ditch adventures, crazy scheduling, and more work than I can shake a stick at (though shaking a stick at it might have felt pretty good), have kept me fairly crabby. Add to that a little northern plains SAD-ness (seasonal affective disorder), and it’s a brutal mix.

But I’m coming around. I've spent most of this Spring Break turning inward, doing some long-needed self-healing. I’ve been doing 20 minutes on the treadmill daily to Donovan, Todd Rundgren, Bonnie Raitt, Neko Case and Zappa, for example, and if I call it "movement therapy" instead of that "E" word, it feels okay.

I'm also doing "contemplative therapy," which includes 20 minutes of daily sitting meditation (thanks, iPhone, for the singing bowl timer app), and daily contemplation on a lojong saying. Lojong is a series of 50-some aphorisms that are part of a Tibetan mind training practice called Tonglen. Today’s saying is “Don’t be swayed by external circumstances.” Pema Chodron interprets this lojong to mean that whatever one wants (joy, love, peace, etc.), one should breathe that out for others. Whatever one doesn’t want (sorrow, misunderstanding, anxiety, etc.), one should breathe that in to acknowledge & heal both in self and in those in the same boat. A good reminder about the true nature of compassion.

I've also been getting some "solar therapy." It’s been sunny and in the 40’s here lately, which means more time outside. Fat robins have been wandering in for a couple days, and the snow is melted except for the shadows on the north side of the house, and in the tallest grass out on the pasture trails. For the past few days, huge flocks of noisy geese have been sailing over the house in lopsided V’s.

Today is "music therapy." Two women friends are coming over to play gee-tars and sing. We call ourselves the Nickerettes. We mostly play for our Sisters of Perpetual Disorder (SOPD) dinners, so no pressure--just lots of good fun and sweet harmonies. And for my "culinary therapy," I whipped up some glazed cinnamon scones and good strong coffee. There may even be "wine therapy" later at our Little Town watering hole.

It can sometimes be a slow, hard climb out of the winter doldrums. But I like to think the wait makes me even more aware of and grateful for the re-birth of everything (including myself) in the spring. Healing comes. As the poet Sara Teasdale said, “A hush is over everything, silent as women wait for love; the world is waiting for the spring.”