Ending winter
What is it about winter that is so intriguing? Having spent more than twenty-five years in Philadelphia's grip of extremes in temperature (i.e. blistering heat and all the humidity in the summers and bone-numbing cold with defeating blizzards in the winters) I am ready for the spring (again.)
Okay, I do like the change of seasons and the Northeast's appeal for many is just that--a variety of climates and a more defined sense of what you're supposed to be doing as determined by the weather. But the seasons do tease and taunt, and everytime you think you have control over your routines (climate-controlled of course) the next quarter of a different season takes over. And your routines are re-adjusted.
The last few winters have been somewhat somber for me. It seems the older I get, the winters tend to bring out the underlying sadness that permeates much of life. The temporal nature of life, the moments that elevate, the fleeting glimpses of beauty, the senses that intoxicate, the futility of surviving... I've seen a lot and have yet to see much more. But realizing that life is suffering has helped me to understand that it can be an opportunity to alleviate that suffering. Understanding and being aware of others can provide a mirror to understanding oneself.
Winter's sobriety does bring a certain balance to the psyche. But its forced seclusion can be maddening at times. Granted, the skeletons of trees with white whispers of snow accentuating their lines, the hush of a snowfall, the crisp and sterile air, all do have their transitory charms. And they do provide yet other definitions of beauty. But there is still an air of confinement. The lofty snowdrifts, the staggering blizzards, the moonlit nights of white, all have to be observed from a warmer place (be it in a heated house or a warm coat.) Despite the beauty, you still have to be sheltered in some way.
So it came and now it lingers, this winter will end in due time. But the waiting has a way of weakening even the strongest resolve. The promise of spring is one that I look forward to realizing. And if the crocuses have their say, that promise will be kept.
Okay, I do like the change of seasons and the Northeast's appeal for many is just that--a variety of climates and a more defined sense of what you're supposed to be doing as determined by the weather. But the seasons do tease and taunt, and everytime you think you have control over your routines (climate-controlled of course) the next quarter of a different season takes over. And your routines are re-adjusted.
The last few winters have been somewhat somber for me. It seems the older I get, the winters tend to bring out the underlying sadness that permeates much of life. The temporal nature of life, the moments that elevate, the fleeting glimpses of beauty, the senses that intoxicate, the futility of surviving... I've seen a lot and have yet to see much more. But realizing that life is suffering has helped me to understand that it can be an opportunity to alleviate that suffering. Understanding and being aware of others can provide a mirror to understanding oneself.
Winter's sobriety does bring a certain balance to the psyche. But its forced seclusion can be maddening at times. Granted, the skeletons of trees with white whispers of snow accentuating their lines, the hush of a snowfall, the crisp and sterile air, all do have their transitory charms. And they do provide yet other definitions of beauty. But there is still an air of confinement. The lofty snowdrifts, the staggering blizzards, the moonlit nights of white, all have to be observed from a warmer place (be it in a heated house or a warm coat.) Despite the beauty, you still have to be sheltered in some way.
So it came and now it lingers, this winter will end in due time. But the waiting has a way of weakening even the strongest resolve. The promise of spring is one that I look forward to realizing. And if the crocuses have their say, that promise will be kept.
posted by subcon at 22:45
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