Dear Winter

Here you are again, waiting for me with your deep, long, cold nights and quiet promises of a warm spot to rest, nourish my roots, repair my wounds, and gather energy for what awaits me.

I hear the soft whispers of a stream that is barely detected, deep below me, while all is quiet at my surface.  It murmurs stories of creation and the great cycles of energy that are the truth of nature.  It sings gently of adaptation and resilience.  I feel this delicious elixir begin to create new paths within me, and I open my heart, letting go of the resistance that is defined by my fears.

I sit quietly to watch the sun and moon exchange places over a pensive prairie landscape – there’s a minimum of movement, only what is necessary for survival.  The dawn arrives slowly, intense with color, marking the eternal daily exchange of night for day.  The sun skitters east to west, the moon following, pulling darkness across a different intense skyscape.  The inhabitants of the prairie move to this rhythm, following the direction written long ago.

I am suspended in this vast moving mystery, not really knowing what is ahead of me, leaving behind what no longer serves me, and trusting that I already have what I need for the journey.



  • Alice A. Reeg

    I think of pioneers of old who waited out the winter in a one-room log cabin and they used many flowers pressed in bibles to keep seeing the beauty of nature. They dreamed of the spring with all of its splender!!!

  • Patty

    These words are very thought provoking and beautiful. Reminds us to rest for new growth to begin.

  • Rose

    Read it once. Read it over and over again. Each time I pick up something different that exposes answers to my questions. Thank you Lisa.

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