“I want to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.”
― Mary Oliver, Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays
Lately, I have not been "light and frolicsome". On the contrary. These darker, colder mornings make me burrito in my bedding, solid and unmoving as a brick, until I can no longer put off standing up. Everything makes me sigh those heavy sighs these days, a sure sign that all is not well. My heart feels heavy, despite trying to fill my well, take care of myself and cut back on my work hours.
I feel frayed, like the hem of a garment that was cut with a pair of blunt scissors, slowly coming undone. I close my eyes and think of what I'm missing, what I need to add to my life (or subtract) to make life feel light again, and maybe one day, even frolicsome. After a long time, I open my eyes. A feeling comes to me, an urge to create, to write anything--even a grocery list feels like SOMETHING--to paint again, to draw, to squirrel myself away for days and weeks to hibernate in solitude. These are the things that are impressing themselves upon my spirit.
I'll be on winter break in exactly 15 days, and then I must find a place to burrow myself away for a few days, alone. I must resist the urge to busy up. I must resist the urge to tire myself out making everyone around me happy--everyone must take care of themselves for a bit, for I must tend to my soul this season. I am parched for my artist self and for quiet introspection and deep words. I must hibernate. Sigh. Pray for me, cheer me on if you will. <3