| It’s January 74th. You just woke up and looked outside to find another four inches of frozen sky water covering every possible surface. It’s depressingly dim, and you wonder whether another polar vortex from Siberia is coming in. Gazing longingly at your fitness tracker, all you see outside is bare-branched skeletal trees and a squirrel that looks like the old guy who bags groceries at Sobeys. Same expression.You have three choices. One: wait it out while dreaming of sunflowers and turquoise seas, olive groves and rocky cliffs. Two: make yourself cup of tea and wonder why you live in a place where the air hurts your face. Or three: embrace one of Canada’s most authentic experiences and go shovel the driveway. One of the best things about living through a Calgary winter (depending on the hour of the day), is that we always have an easy conversational opening.Passer-by: “Nice day.” You: (adjusting your features into something approaching amiability) “Yup, for a…” Check one.Polar bearDuckSnowmobilePolar explorerNo, we don’t have the blind luck to live in Santa Barbara where there is perpetual sunlight and temperate weather. Instead, we hardy Calgarians, with certain anguished diligence, can either slather on more anti-aging moisturizer – or get on speed dial to WestJet.  It’s just the way of things. Yep, I love this time of year. There’s nothing quite like watching a beautiful sunset during my lunch break. I don’t know about you but my devotion to Mother Nature fails when it drops below zero. Like yesterday. I popped by next door to see if 81-year-old Vera needed anything from the store. She said she did, so I gave her my list. No point in both of us going out in this weather. Really, to use theological terms, it is just too frigging much. Sometimes we just need something to look forward to – and sometimes that’s a donut. Yes, I’m just one long beard away from being a complete hermit.  No thanks, I have enough.Maybe our real superpower lies in accepting the mundane and thriving in our weird, unfathomable, ordinary everyday lives. Maybe to relish in small joys, like seeing our philodendron grow a new leaf. Or sitting with a glass of something warm. And looking at the sky. That’d be enough, right? A soporific economy of movement.English writer Katherine May writes that winter “is a time for reflection and recuperation, for slow replenishment, for putting your house in order. Doing these deeply unfashionable things — slowing down, letting your spare time expand, getting enough sleep, resting — is a radical act now, but it’s essential.”“Wintering,” she continues, is also an experience, a metaphor for phases in our life when we feel frozen out or unable to make the next step. It can come at any time, in any season, in any weather. We need to must embrace the winters of our own lives because everything eventually passes. There is grace in letting go, stepping back and giving ourselves time to repair in the dark and come out on the other side. It comes for all of us. We may not necessarily choose it, but we can choose how we deal with it. She writes, “Here is another truth about wintering: you’ll find wisdom in your winter, and once it’s over, it’s your responsibility to pass it on. And in return, it’s our responsibility to listen to those who have wintered before us. It’s an exchange of gifts in which nobody loses out.” Stay put. And pass the donuts. |
The weather. My God, it’s everywhere.
January 23, 2023 by
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