Leaning into Winter

My neighbor from Denmark tells us to “lean into winter” as we discuss the coming snowstorm. He’s already snuggled into his warm, fire-lit kitchen and making homemade donuts for us. He’s the same neighbor who tells us “winter is the warmest season.” He’s probably already been cross-country skiing through the neighborhood.

I think about leaning in.

I’ve been pushing against. I’ve been waiting for springtime.

Leaning in: to the cold, the dark, and the empty. Leaning in: to the icy days, longer nights. What if I didn’t resist it? What if this season was it–the thing I receive with all its wonder and beauty? What if I didn’t wish it away and long for spring? I’ve been training for this for 10 years at Live with Flair. There’s abundant bounty here. And it’s unique to this season.

I lean in: to bundled walks, blankets and books, hot tea with fresh donuts, empty landscapes ripe for creativity, gentle music, candlelight, warm soups, and long prayers.

Lean in to winter. Lean in to whatever is here now.

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