When I first started to write this blog, we were sitting in between two seasons: winter and spring. We were standing in between days from all that has happened and all that is possible. A moment of time that can seem bleak, yet inspiring at the same time.
That period in our calendar of life is one of my most favorite times of the year, simply because the wintertime chill can be so bitter that I feel it in the marrow of my bones. It is like an awakening is happening. The feeling humbles me in a way I am never able to conceive because each year is different.
In truth, I look forward to considering the person I have become, to reflect on how I was able to overcome obstacles. Then after deep contemplation, reconciling it all so that I may break away from any bad habits. I mull over internal questions—
Did I give of myself too much?
Did I give of myself too little?
Did I use love as an action?
Am I becoming a better version of myself, or did I fail?
This winter was different, though. Aside from calling it abnormal, I don’t know how to begin to describe how it affected me. But let me try — In my region, this past winter was a season of unmet expectations. Normally we get a decent amount of snow and/or ice which freezes the ground and helps ward off the gross insects that burrow in underground havens only to reawaken when the grounds warm. The Farmers Almanac even warned us that this would be a heavy snow season; I was anxiously awaiting it. And it was, everywhere else but here.
Where I live, this winter was drier, warmer, with very little moisture. Instead, it was windy. Just how windy you may ask? Let me tell you — it was very windy! So windy that I feel it was battering and somewhat abusive; the gutters surrounding my house were lifted in pockets, leaves gathered in front of my doors, where snowdrifts once blocked any way in or out. And now the soil is parched. And, so, it feels, is my soul. Tell me, please, the customer service number so I may report this complaint!
…sigh.
Personally, winter has been harsh for several years now - since the start of this weird decade with the onslaught of COVID, to the time my dad fell into the shackles of this life-depleting virus and away from this Earth. It happened less than one month after we wished him a happy birthday and hoped for a better year. We all anticipated a potential gathering in jubilation to celebrate our survival. That was perhaps the start of unmet expectations.
Winter was a harsh reminder of what is missing from this life. As we prepared to give thanks, and planned for a merry cheer that comes with the heart of Christmas, I remembered missed birthdays to celebrate, fun conversations about nothing in particular, and his contagious smile. The chill of winter has become my new hell. And, it is in this place that I found myself evaluating this new reality, evaluating who I am, today; right now.
I am not the same.
And if I am honest with myself, I don’t know if that is a good or a bad thing. More unmet expectations, because, generally, I know who and what I am and where I want to go next so that I may attain my goals.
Today, however, I am standing on new ground, one that is parched, barren, with nothing but the blue sky above, the wind in my hair, and unmarked trails surrounding me. This is inspiring, because as I wonder whether I was better in 2019, I can’t help but ask myself,
Was I really at my best before COVID struck? Before my dad died? Were the priorities I set really that important?”
While I love the winter for the humbling moments, after remnants of all that I am is leeched as the mouth of the season’s ice cold breath sucks out, and breathes in, something I cannot fathom, I know that I am still alive. I am still breathing. I can still see the lights and shadows of this world.
I am
still me.
And this inspires a new way of thinking, of being.
The light that comes with a beaconing spring is filled with a hope of resurgence, to come back, but this time much wiser and more determined to be better. No other season embodies a possibility of becoming a better version of what is left of ourselves. That is true even today. And with that in mind, it is important to confess:
the time of mourning has changed to a time of acceptance.
It’s time to find our way forward, past the heartache, the disappointment. We have to accept the loss. We have to accept who we are in spite of the sadness. And though it may not be easy, we have to find the will to step out of this period and make the next steps towards the rest of our lives. We need to find the strength and courage to keep moving ahead.
You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give. —Eleanor Roosevelt
It’s hard to believe that we are well into the fourth year of this decade already. On the one hand, it feels like ringing in the new decade happened just a few months ago. On the other, it feels like the harsh winds have swept us through half a lifetime. Can you believe it’s already May— of 2023?
It feels like it was just last week that I started to pen this blog. It feels like winter ended yesterday. It feels like my old man passed just a couple of months ago. But, it has been weeks and months. It’s been years. And it’s time to accept that we are meant to continue living. We are to continue loving.
If 2020 was death and loss and surviving. And, if 2021 was coming up for air and assessing.And, if 2022 was about resiliency. Then, I believe 2023 is about courage. Specifically, finding the courage to continue moving forward with multiple heartbeats of love.
We need each other like no time before because no matter where we look, we understand that everyone around the world suffers, in one way or another. We need to be more compassionate, more loving! As a global society our family and friends group has reached beyond borders, across oceans, and within valleys we may never get to see or experience other than from an image on our screen — sometimes it seems as if we are not living if we cannot see it from our handheld device. As if we are unable to share a moment unless that moment is on social media.
And so I wonder, is 2023 also finding the courage to do something different?
This will be my theme for the rest of this year and I will publish a new blog soon about how we can be more courageous as we embark upon our new self.
Never stop loving!
R.