walk

A little bit of winter.

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Winter time comes briefly in South Carolina and it’s one of my favorite seasons. Any chance I get to see the snow, I jump at like a little girl ready for her first seasonal sledding session.

I spent my youth in the snow belt of the north east - a part known for it’s lake effect snows. It wasn’t uncommon for us to get FEET of snow at a time. We were often buried in white through January and into March. For some reason, it always felt really magical to me. The hush of the world under a gentle snow is something you can’t explain to someone who hasn’t experienced it before. There is a hush…a stillness.

While spring symbolizes fresh starts, there is something about a blanket of fresh snow that makes me feel like big things are coming. Maybe it’s the blank canvas it seems to look like as the world is blanketed with a crisp restart. To me, this is what feels like the beginnings of a fresh start, but with the promise of a little rest, comfort and calm before the party happens.

While we walked through the woods the other day in the snowfall, stepping over brambles of future juicy and tart blackberries, sweet and succulent blueberry bushes slumbering under the snow, and seedlings of little trees full of hope, I was comforted as much as what was coming as I was by what was here…what was right now.

If winter teaches me anything each year, it’s that every phase of life - every chapter we are in - is a lovely and precious experience. The chilly slumber of winter that leads to the blossoming of spring. The crisp spring mornings that lead to the prickly heat of summertimes that smell like sunscreen and salt water. They are all significant. We need each thing to get to the next.

The importance of being present and where I am at the moment means more to me now than ever before. It’s precious time. Sacred moments. Even those bad parts - whatever they may be to you - have their place…

So this winter, you can find me chasing this chill before I start exploring for those summer waterfalls and seashells. Because each season and chapter needs it’s own celebration.

Mindberries

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Recently I was on a shoot with a small family. The little boys were collecting items along the way and putting them in their pockets - treasures only little boys seem to value. We came across a bush full of wild berries and I said “you know not to eat those, right?” They looked at me like I was telling them something they were well aware of and said “uhhhh…of course.”

But it made me think…how do we know things are bad for us? Is it because it’s been drilled into us? In the case of poison berries, this is most likely the case. But what about those invisible things? The toxic thoughts? The self destructive patterns? How do you stop those things from seeping into your brain and poisoning you little by little?

I guess the answer is that you have to know how to identify them first. Sometimes we don’t know something is toxic until we feel it’s adverse effects. And even then, it’s often we need to be told. Those thoughts of unworthiness that creep in become such a part of us that after time, they almost feel comfortable. You don’t know what to do without them.

But when you are gently reminded, “Hey…it’s okay…you can put that thought down here. It’s not doing you any good anymore,” it helps bring awareness to the bad things. It’s nice to have help here, but sometimes you have to do the hard work on your own, too.

Distance helps too. Putting the thoughts that don’t serve you down, walking away from toxic energy and people, and even just ignoring it all can help. It’s hard to do because they look so enticing. But resisting temptations - no matter how bad they are for us - is always where the hard work is, right?

It’s taken me 50 years to identify some of those poison mindberries…the ones that look tempting to eat but are so bad for you. “I should look different…I’m in the way…I’m too much…I’m not enough…” The list goes on. Sometimes I see them on the path, juicy and enticing in their varied colors. Often I am tempted to eat them…like a good snack when I need it most . All it takes is a gentle reminder that they are not serving me in any way…and that reminder can come from me or someone I trust.

It’s only then that I can keep walking along that beautiful path and admire the rest of the things life has in store and leave those berries on the bush that they belong on.