seasonal

There are some things that I seem to need daily.  I need to stretch my body.  I need to kiss my children. I need to drink lots of water.  I need to spend at least a few minutes listening to beautiful music.  And I need to spend time outside.

 I don't think this last one is something I've been very conscious of until lately.  Up until last week, we had an almost unsettling-ly warm January.  Last week after school I hiked the "L", the mountain in my old hood.  The exposed trail was dry, ice-less, almost crowded with shiny, happy, sun-kissed January Montanans.  I dropped my gloves on the trail and they were promptly picked up by a fellow, friendly dog-walker and we both got a big yuck-yuck out of symbolism of dropped mittens.  Who needs 'em?

And then last weeks massive snowstorm hit.  And this weeks bone chilling temperatures.


The pictures on my phone -- all brown earth and sunshine, all clear nights and January shine -- a wild, winter mirage, a dream from another lifetime.

 Jeff, the kiddos and I came home late today after an extra-long, zombie killing marathon.  The schoolkids weren't allowed outside because it was too cold.  I didn't take myself on a lunch walk for two days because it was hard to breathe out.  Instead I work through lunch at my little hovel of a desk, wrapped in sweaters because my hallway cubicle is freezing.  By the time I came home, I felt like I was jumping out of my skin.

I sucked in as much air as I could manage from the car to the front door.  I took in the pink of the sky, the subtle wood smoke scent, the firm echo of frozen snow beneath my feet.  My exhausted children requested a show, Lucy requested a walk, Jeff obliged.  I put water on for couscous, threw some frozen chicken into a bowl of water to defrost, and rolled out my yoga mat with a vengeance.  I turned my tunes loud, lit a candle for some semblance of ceremony and moved through sun salutations like they were the last thing on earth.  Just twenty minutes to reset.  Just twenty sacred minutes.


So where am I going with this?  I guess I'm going back to gratitude.  Something about my morning practice has really revolutionized the past few months for me.  There is really no way that I can get the exercise/art/asana that I want/crave/need with my work and family schedule.  My early mornings are a refuge.  On a day like today, the afternoon sneak in can provide a similar boost.  So feeling big gulps of thanks for my home sanctuary, for fresh air, for ceremony and refuge, for pink winter sunsets and the subtle return of light.