It’s that time of year again-less sunlight, more fog and damp rainy days. My body knows what’s about to come. It has for years now. Almost like clockwork.
Something inside me slowly shifts. My body starts to tighten. I begin to feel low. My eyes get glassy. My mind gets foggy and my capacity to accomplish dwindles. I start to lose connection to my heart.
I feel SAD. And when I start to feel SAD, I feel embarrassed, flawed, vulnerable and weak that I can’t somehow manage my symptoms well enough to transcend this winter experience into joy and happiness. A part of me believes that despite the tremendous blessings I have in life, I should be immune to winter depression.
The truth is that I am fighting this situation because I would prefer my life to run smoothly, peacefully and happily all the time. Despite ALL the practical measures I take to ease my discomfort, winter depression is still at the forefront many days. I can’t control life AND I don’t like it!
I have my life’s intention posted around several places in my house, “I vow to let life be the vehicle for my awakening.”
What are the hidden gifts of this pain? What will the dark days to come reveal to me? What will I learn in this suffering?
I don’t know the answer today, but there is a deeper trust in life that if I let it in, if I welcome it, if I turn towards it rather than away, it will guide me to peace. . . peace even in the darkness.
I’ve committed this season to slowing down, becoming friends with the sadness, and waiting to see what emerges . . . very much like the tulip bulbs I planted last week.