Tag Archives: hibernation

HIBERNATION AND HOMECOMING

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We are getting into the heart of December. The nights are longer and darker. I slept in to almost 8 am. My blackout curtains and all the fresh air from cross country skiing are helping, too. The sun is out, pale and cool. It is -11 Celsius outside and -6.1 in the greenhouse. It is almost 10:30. I think I have given up on having homegrown lettuce for now. I might just stick my tray of lettuce seedlings under grow lights. If I’m really keen, I can investigate the hydroponic Kratky Method. I could have lettuce in 5 weeks. Better yet, I should just stop fussing and use this time to rest, read, ski and all that leads to self care and rejuvenation. I should take the lead from the bears and ‘hibernate’ through winter and wake up, hungry for life and adventures. In this case, hibernation is the feeding of my soul.

I am heeding my own advice, not fussing too much. It is almost 7 pm. I am waiting for supper. We eat like the French – late. I took a rest from skiing today. My parents have been on my mind. I took out some Chinese books for them from our public library a few days ago. It’s easier to visit when I have something to give them. It’s easier to have a reason. It’s difficult to just drop by these days. I’m out of the habit, thanks to Covide-19. It’s good news that the government have approved the vaccine and that it is due in Saskatchewan by mid December. I’m not so sure that we will get out of the woods just like that though.

I shall not dwell on that but on things that I can do. I am entering week 2 of Stephanie Vogt’s A Year to Clear. She begins it with an old Sious saying: The longest journey you will make in your life is from your head to your heart. It is so true. Self confessions are the hardest. Posting a photo of myself when I was about 7/8 for Susannah Conway’s December Reflections, I felt the child in me for the first time. It was a very strange, wondrous and homecoming moment. My insides cried for the child that was me, for not having known her then and for not being with her. But I can rejoice now. I have found her. December is a good month to get acquainted. We are in darkness. There are no distractions.

GIVING THANKS

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Thanksgiving Monday. All is well. The snow is falling gently on the spruce trees. The Buddhas sits unperturded, breathing in and out, beneath their branches. The earth is in repose, having worked hard all these days. I hear its rhythmic breathing along with the Buddhas. I do likewise. In 1 2 3 4. Hold 1 2 3 4 5 6 7. Out 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8. It’s so restful. Letting it all go.

For all the talk about letting go, I’ve just come to understand what it means. I suppose it’s the same with so many things. As we grow older, gathering moss and wisdom, our perceptions shift along with our body parts. We are the same and yet not the same. I see that now. There’s no need to berate myself for being stupid, dumb and all the other things. If I had known better back then, I would have done better then. But I didn’t. So here I am now. Resting. Restoring. Relaxing.

I’m giving thanks for the life I have. I’m grateful for this journey of hardships and wonderment. Sometimes it’s difficult for me to grasp that I was born a village girl in China, delivered by a midwife at home. Born but with no piece of paper called a birth certificate. I, myself am testament enough. Look at where I am now. Maybe that’s why I rant so much. I’ve been crying, I’m here! I’m here! all my life. It is to be heard. I like to say I will rant no more, but that’s most unlikely.

But I AM understanding and knowing about letting go. I’m learning from nature. Every year when it is time, the trees let go of their leaves, the flowers give up their blooms to seeds. The plants and animals go into hibernation. Now, when it is time for me to let go of ‘stuff’, I close my eyes and see myself as a tree, dropping its leaves. I hear Nat King Cole singing, Autumn Leaves.