winter...
barren...no shade, flowers, fruit or leaves arrayed in vibrant orange; deadened
cold...snow lingers, branches bending laden with weight; wet, frozen, heavy
stark...white air, ice blue...unyielding, unshielded
birchbarkpeelingaway demanding a closer look.
winter...deeper in...death or a different kind of life
birchbarksheddingold making room for new
stark...forbids lies and hidden malignancies, as layers reveal
cold...preserves, hibernating outwardly, allowing for inner work
only seemingly barren....sap flows within, nourishing, preparing
winter...a redemptive season.
Recently, we have been talking alot about winter as a season of life...looking at the barren tress, their feeling of deadness, barrenness...wondering if life will flourish again, in the trees, in ourselves, as memories of past abuse and pain are entered and faced. Sorrow threatens to either paralyze or to fuel aa flight from reality, as it presses in on our hearts...life feels like the dark, cold months of winter.
This photo is of a birch tree in my front yard. Year after year, this birch tree's very existence challenges me... with its simple obedience to the season of winter...with its peeling layers and willing exposure, i am both drawn to it, and horrified by its vulnerability, wanting to draw closer and to look deeper and wanting to avoid the beckoning to do so.
I am increasingly aware that winter can be a rich season...just a different kind of rich...an inner time of rebuilding, replenishing, repairing for the coming spring. Winter assumes a spring, a time of blooming, of produce, of shade and then in due time, fall and dying leaves, with their vibrant colors rebelling, just before dormancy comes again...winter is not death...it is a time of outer quiet and inner work. Winter is necessary and has a unique beauty, that if entered into can bring rest and a time of re-creating to anyone who tarries there.
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