I took some photos yesterday of chipmunks and a monk and dear friend. Enjoy.
It’s funny how the biting cold drives realizations into you better than anything…except a holy man. And if you combine the two, you’re in for a harsh reality when coming to terms with the work you need to do in your own head.
Winter has come, and with it too comes fogged windows, lonely days, intermittent bouts of shivering, snowy walks, and more waiting…waiting for the sun to come out. Waiting for loved ones to come home. Waiting for things we want, but can’t have yet. It’s a starkly beautiful and challenging time–time for internal growth.
Sometimes the morning, for me, are difficult. And not because of the time, but rather because of the decisions to make. It used to be easy to go out and decide to do something all day…to go walk around for hours in the hills and take pictures or go to yoga and study or run for miles or find some hot springs by myself. More and more, the days go by and I find myself with the feeling people have when they can’t explain something properly or they struggle to get a tightly-closed jar open. I have trouble writing and I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in awhile.
I think this is how the plants feel when the first freeze comes.
This particular morning, I find myself alone with a blank slate in front of me, and a bowl of warm oats and coffee that I’ll peck at, sun barely peeking through the window. I heard some geese above the house; like me, they get hungry for adventure and movement. I’m replete with a lot of feelings this morning, but mostly I just feel tired and lonely. Again, this is exactly how plants feel when the first frost comes.
Which is just fine sometimes.