The Magic Of Midwinter

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I love the light, the silliness and celebration; I love the dark, the deepness and profound thoughts winter inspires in me. At its height, winter is a world of stillness, otherness and dying beauty.

 

The traditions…

Tacky ornaments from the fifties on the tree, a reminder of Grandad. Decorating with my sister. Rereading Sir Gawain and the Green Knight as the sky grows thin. A walk over the hill after the first snowfall. Annual trip to community cinema with friends. As I get older, One joy of seeing more winters is the creation of personal traditions - decorating my window sill with snowberry and rowan, finding a quiet moment to watch The Tailor of Gloucester on Youtube, visiting my dog’s grave to tie another ribbon on the tree. I carry these quiet moments with me when things gets busy, as they inevitably do.

 

 

Rebirth…

December is renewal. A cleansing of light and fire. I look to new year with fresh eyes. Time to start again, to build on the bones of what went before. What promises will I make? How do I want to feel? Sadness as all things must end. Sometimes it’s relief. Snow falls on the old year like a crisp sheet. An unspoilt canvas. Blankness, possibility. We can always start over again.

 

 

The old ways… 

Ghost stories. A candle in the wood. Drinking outside. Collecting holly. The river freezes, occasional power cuts due to winter gales. Snow gates close further up the glen, journeys are to be made on foot or not at all. Winter brings the old ways close. Veils are torn, a skein of geese shrieks wild across the sky. At the time of yielding the life, at the time of pouring the sweat, at the time of shedding the blood…

 

 

Reflection…

December makes me think of all that is past and all that is to come. 2018 has been about bravery and action. Finding and loosing myself. Trying new things, returning to old passions and discovering my purpose. That journey of discovery has no end. But this year I took the first steps towards becoming a new person.

The New Year is a star I don’t yet hold in my hand. The shape of it unknown, distressing and joyful. I don’t want to turn away from the old year. Not yet the planning and the dreaming, not yet. For a moment longer, let’s linger in the light, in the dark, in the still sparkle of ‘I don’t know’.

InspirationOonagh Moon