Saturday, February 4, 2017

The Fire Within


















It's been an especially cold and long winter where i live.
It feels like several winters in a row. In fact, it's snowing again as i write this.

If you read a poem many times over, you know it can take on a certain added beauty and depth. This winter, - it's been something like that. 
This post is for any or all of you in the midst of outer or inner winters of your own... 

It helps to remember that Winter is an old, old  friend of Earth. 
Winter is the silent partner of apples, and tulips, and many other wonders that can only come to being after a rendezvous with the cold. I love that.

In wintertime, when things appear colorless, look again and look softly- because they're not. And, what looks like destruction at the hands of the season, is likely Natures way of preparing for new growth. Not always pretty, but still necessary.

Like all of Nature,  Winter is a superb, if strict, teacher offering very solid, no nonsense counsel. All we have to do is pay attention. 
When there’s a freezing chill in the air, for example, the dominate lesson is “Just don’t let the fire go out”. I don’t think that’s meant as a suggestion either – more of a do or die kind of thing. Got it. That one feels like the billboard of the day.

There are many signs going up these days. Signs that can distill big complex situations into a few words to help clarify our thinking, and affect our behaviors and then greater outcomes. That's a good thing, - something Nature thought of a long time ago.

So here are a few signs, inspired by our old friend Winter:
Don’t let the fire go out.
Keep a warm heart.
Stoke curiosity about what we don’t understand.
Fuel optimism.
Kindle the flame of hope.

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Radiate your truth.
Change is Natures way.

2 comments:

Andrew Hidas said...

I like this very much, and especially:
>Winter is the silent partner of apples, and tulips, and many other wonders that can only come to being after a rendezvous with the cold. I love that.<
Was just out noting my utterly barren apple tree occupying the corner of my front yard, stark against the rain clouds in the dawn light, and it made me feel especially kindly and grateful for it. It gave me an abundant crop last year that I was able to share with many neighbors, and here it is, silently revving up once again...

amy melious said...

Thanks for this warm comment Andrew. Yes, apples are on their way.