Awakening

I woke this morning to a magical wintry world. The trees hung close to the creek, heavy with a hoary frost, as a dense mist rose from its surface. Unlike many who thrive on outdoor winter activities, I tend to hibernate, hiding from winter's far-reaching effects; but this morning's scene was so inspiring, I couldn't help but respond. I feel days such as this are a gift: a message from the universe that even though all life seems frozen and dead, it is, in fact, vibrant and alive with beauty. This serves as a reminder that there is always promise, always hope for new life, no matter how still and silent the world may seem.
It is, in a way, a metaphor for my own unfolding: after having lost my sister to a sudden illness in September, I was left numb and frozen, unable to perceive of hope, or of new light, or a new way of perceiving myself; if I was no longer her sister (at least on earth) then, who was I? But ironically, this cold, frozen weather has helped to thaw my heart: a lotus, opening, deep in my chest, has whispered of a new dream, so long thought impossible.
So this wintry day, cold and forbidding as it may seem, is only that which we choose to perceive: it can be forbidding, or it can swell with promise and hope; a new tomorrow, one that embraces the day with open arms, regardless of how inhospitable it may seem.
Day by day, I feel my heart aroused once more, slowly, I emerge from this deep cavern of grief, and find it is in simple gifts, such as this morning’s beauty, that slowly awaken the heart.