Deep Self Care: The Winter’s Gift

Soft as soft could be, the clustered snowflakes fell from heavy eiderdown clouds. Steady and constant, sometimes caught into swirls and eddies created by gusts of icy winds, the snow made its way down to the ground below, where it started to gather. Snowflake upon snowflake upon snowflake, they formed a thick, luminous blanket that covered all. Softening corners, blurring edges, reshaping lines.

The roads gradually accumulated a deepening layer of white, which, in turn, began to stem the usual flow of traffic. People got stuck, couldn’t go to work, couldn’t go about their everyday business. Routine was interrupted. Productivity halted.  The world, in all its winter wonderland glory, took an enforced rest.

This has been the situation here for the last couple of days and which is set to continue for the rest of the week. Some are getting quite cross about it. Some are getting frustrated. Some just wish the thaw would begin and we can all get back to doing whatever it is that we deem to be so urgent that we can’t stop doing it even for a moment.

I’m not convinced this is the best way to go about responding to this early winter cold snap.  In fact, I’m not even convinced that this sense of urgency is healthy at any time of the year.  But, if the snow tells us anything, it’s that it’s time to stop.  Time to rest.  Time to regroup, recover, recuperate, restore.

Because this is what winter is all about, isn’t it? It’s that time of year when, in times gone past, we began our inward-turning.  We looked to our hearth as the nights drew in early and the mornings started later.  We looked to our heart as the busy work of hunting and gathering took a season’s rest.

And now, in all our advancement as a society, we believe we have conquered the climate, controlled the seasons… at least, in such a way that we can continue with our lives as though it didn’t matter. As though the change from one season to another were merely an inconvenience that we’ve managed to overcome.

And then the wheel of the year turns and we move from crisp, cool, blue-skied Autumn with its burnished leaves, its bonfire scent, and all its frosty morning loveliness to the long nights and short days of full winter.  It’s around about this time that we begin to remember that which has been forgot – our innate connection to our world, to her cycles and seasons.

We find ourselves snowbound.  Stuck in our homes with no way to go about doing whatever it is we are meant to be doing. Stuck in an enforced captivity…

…or is it a gift?

Is it a gift that we have this unexpected time to spend in our homes?  Is it a gift that our schedules, so full and so hectic, are suddenly clear, our diary pages now as blank as the drift of snow that brushes up against our front doors?

I like to think of this time as a time of deep self-care.  A time which has been gifted by Gaia for me to take good care of myself, to give myself nourishment, to nurture my body, heart, mind and soul. This self-care can take the form of whatever I feel I need. Maybe some candle-flame meditation.  Maybe a rose-scented bubble bath. Maybe some scarf-knitting, some novel-reading, some soup-stirring.

It’s my time for turning inward, and for releasing the pressure that I place on myself and those around me. It’s a softer, kinder time as we react against the harsh cold blizzards that rush at our windows.  It’s a time of snuggly blankets, hot cups of tea, heartshares and more.

It’s a move into soft time and doesn’t that feel just delicious?