There is an icy crust on the trees today. Silence is offering its hushed presence with an invitation to be still and listen. Although we welcomed the return of the sun a few days ago, we are still wrapped up within the cold darkness of the long night’s reign. We will be here for some time. Winter has just begun and we look to what she has to offer us in the months to come.
Once again, we navigated through another year filled with trials and tribulations. We had another year of living through a pandemic and all that it entails. Illness and death haunted the fears of so many that had to face tragic outcomes. Uncertainty and uneasiness can ensnare us with the endless and unknown possibilities that give us pause in what dreams we have waiting in the wings. There were days where patience and strength didn’t seem possible and yet the sun rose the next day, granting a new chance to begin again. With a deep breath, I did the best I could at the birth of a new day. But what does that mean? How can one move forward when we feel like what is outside – a naked and exposed tree, frozen under a layer of snow and ice?
I have been reflecting on the year that is quickly coming to a close. So much has happened that it feels like lifetimes while we seem to flash forward quickly. It has been a strange dance and at times quite difficult. I have been working and reflecting a lot on my inner self this year. While I have been leading a series of classes on shadow work, I am also a student of it in a class myself. Mixing and churning with my thoughts while experiencing everything that has taken place over the last months, I found myself moving through the liminal spaces quite often, especially this fall. Allowing the space for memories to bubble up and emotions to surface, created the need for silence, stillness, and reflection. I know that this is a good thing, even when I feel like I am falling into spaces that are dark and deep. Although it can be difficult, there is a lot to learn by embracing the shadows, my shadows. It is where I can sit and discover pieces of me and kindle the fire within. It is a way for me to debride the wounds and listen to what they have to say. I feel that it is important to look to our experiences and see what the lessons can reveal, allowing space for growth, understanding, and freedom from what holds us back. I have learned that it helps us to build our bridge to our future that is grounded in healing, growth, and evolution.
So, I ask again – What do our experiences mean? How can we move forward when we feel like the trees during the winter weather outside – naked and exposed, frozen under a layer of snow and ice? There are no easy answers. The work is long and difficult. It is also beneficial and life changing. Like the cycles of the seasons, we too experience death and destruction. We also welcome new life and new growth. What we choose to do is up to us. That is also true when we choose not to decide as well. Time and the cycles of life move on whether we make our decisions or not.
We can witness the bare trees each fall and winter, reaching their fingerlike branches up to a cold, winter sky. Sometimes we forget that there are trees that are green all year through. They too are encased in the snow and ice during the storms of winter. Do they feel trapped and frozen? Stuck and still? Do they feel breathless and trapped beneath a frozen water line where emotions encase their being? I do not know. But I do know that the trees are alive. They bend and sway under the weight of the winter standing strong with their energy pulled into their core. The tree’s energy slows down when the cold grasp of winter arrives. They graciously surrender to the seasons and cycles, learning what the lessons of time have to offer. How do you move? Do you surrender?
Sheathed in ice, a sweet surrender comes into play. When our arms are laid down and our armor has come off, we offer ourselves the chance to exhale. We can choose to let go. We can release our expectations and personal commands. We can choose to dream. We can choose to open our hearts and listen to our inner whispers as we coax ourselves out of our own shadow and welcome ourselves back into the safety of our own warm and brilliant light. Like the trees, we are exposed. That is true. We may feel vulnerable, unsure, and maybe even powerless, not in control. Yet, some trees are evergreen, even under the ice. That is hope. That is promise. That is the power to breathe another day into life, even when we feel that we are unable to move forward. We can pause and reflect as we muster the strength to move forward when we can. That is power. That is truth. That is beauty and grace. That is the difference when you embrace your choice to decide what it is that you want to do. For the evergreen is forever hope. It is life everlasting. It is the beauty and nature of your soul. New cycles will begin with the perseverance of hope and we will live on. Hope is the light that warms our soul and reminds us that we too, are the spirit in which hope survives.
Be well,
Renee Bedard ~ The Whispering Crow
The Whispering Crow 