Winter Solitude: In your wintering, peace.
A Blessing for your Wintering.
Dear friend and fellow traveler,
It is cold outside. Minnesota winter has finally arrived with bitterly freezing temperatures. The ice crystals on the window pane are glimmering in the wan winter sun. The garden has frozen into still life. Nature has gone into its long awaited winter sleep.
Trees have emptied themselves and stand tall and bare. Do they not mind? Did they get everything done they needed to last season?
I am never quite sure how to feel about the winter season when it arrives. In our hemisphere, winter accompanies the advent season. A season of waiting for new life to come.
Thus “wintering” is also an invitation. Of letting go of the old season and of getting some rest. Of leaving what is undone, undone and of turning inside.
Wintering is an invitation into solitude. Of retreating and deepening and gathering our energy for the longer days to come.
Don’t we all long for days inside, where a warm place is all we need and treasure? A retreat, where the noise of the world is covered under the frozen leaves of the last season? A sanctuary, where life’s rhythm follows only the swift rising and setting of the shy sun through the frozen window pane?
Last week I wrote about the blessing of wordlessness and quiet contemplation of the present moment, through the eyes of a little child and even through the eyes of Alzheimer’s.
This week I want to offer you two things, may be even three. A song, a poem, and a little St. Nicholas gift at the end.
Sanctuary
The great
wrote this beautiful song in 2016 for all who feel heartbroken. I often have taken refuge in her words and music since then.
Will you be my my refuge
my haven in the storm
will you keep the embers warm
when my fire is all but gone?
Will you remember,
and bring me sprigs of rosmary
be my sanctuary
until I can carry on?
I hope the Cloister, this community of fellow pilgrims, can be such a sanctuary for us. A place where there is always someone who can keep the embers warm when someone’s fire is all but gone. A sanctuary where our words and our stumbling can hold each other until we can carry on. And a journey where we can experience and participate in the peace of the indwelling Divine we so wish for this world.
Here is the second gift for you today, my humble winter solitude blessing:
Winter Solitude
in your wintering
peace
in your waking
peace
in your walking
peace
in your worrying
peace
in your longing
peace
in your waiting
peace
in your stillness
peace
in your enfolding
peace
in your wintering
peace.
AF
May peace abound in you indeed.
Oh, and before you go here is the third thing:
Dec 6 was St Nikolaus day in Germany. It is when we celebrate the good deeds of Bishop Saint Nikolaus by sneaking sweet treats into each other’s shoes overnight. And since I have buried this St. Nicolas gift so deep in the last email, here it is again. A little help for all who have been at the edge to becoming a paid subscriber.
So here, dear friend, is a sweet St Nicholas treat just for you. Here is a 15% off for your first year. And you still have 3 days to redeem it:
For a little less than 6 bucks a month you can become a paid subscriber of these Cloister Notes and thus part of this growing community of seekers on the deeper way.
It will also give you entry to our upcoming 12 Days of Christmas Contemplations, an online journey into the heart of Christmas.
I am looking forward to journeying with you through this sacred season,
Almut
PS: If you can, do leave a comment to show you were here and to tell us what has moved you. Thank you.
Upcoming
When I was a young woman, still in high school, I dreamed of being a forest ranger. When I was a bit older, I dreamed of living in a cabin in the deep woods of Canada. No one I knew at the time understood these feelings; they thought I just wanted to escape the world. But to me, that would be more like returning to the world and immersing myself fully in it. (I guess I just didn't think of "people" as the "world.") Thanks for reminding me of that ... now I just want to sit in front of some fire with a hot drink and a blizzard outside and read a book or crochet another scarf ... the dreams of old age are definitely not the same as the dreams of youth! Happy holidays!
Thank you for this reminder to move with the season. As someone who probably has seasonal affective disorder, I get especially cranky and sad when it is cold and snowy. A few years ago, during a spiritual direction session, it was a revelation to try to move with the winter season instead of against it. I am grateful for your wisdom here and pointing out the beauty of it!