The Winter of the Year
I was ready to fall comfortably into despair today. I've been doing a lot of processing on despair, on the spiritual ramifications of winter--that for growth, we, like the seeds, need to fall and break in order to grow anew. I do believe that the freezes and thaws of life allow us to emerge from spiritual hibernation into pain, and growth, and eventual joy.
I am contemplating the death of an old friend...Kris Spooner, a talented writer and wonderful woman. About a year and a half ago, i had Jury duty; I wrote a 7 page Pern story, and a 4 page letter to Kris. And I actually sent it--the letter, not the story. Although she didn't write back, it didn't bounce, so I believe she got it, and knew I was thinking of her. And I'm glad, of all my old friends, that she was the one I wrote to that day.
I'm contemplating the decline of my mother. The bad times are more often, the good times rarer. Emotionally, I decided yesterday that we actually lost her in July, when she went into heart failure. We've had miracles since then, times when we talk to her and she is herself. It is precious, as a conversation with my Dad would be, who died almost 20 years ago. If I take every good moment as a gift, not as a hope or a promise, then I think i will get through this.
I was ready for despair today, for the chill of winter to fill my heart for a bit. Then i looked out my window at the falling snow...and it is beautiful. And there is, defiantly, hope in my heart, and the seeds of a wild and intemperate joy.