For so many these days are rife with worry.
Anxiety, uncertainty, anger and fear.
And so many of us are obsessing. Reading the news, writing letters, making phone calls, staying informed.
Because that's our work. To stay awake. To stay in the game. To never give up.
But outside the snow was falling. Softly, beautifully, covering up the mud and ice that is everywhere these days.
So we put on our warm clothes and headed outside, out into the beauty.
Lupine and I were determined to scrape enough snow off of the soggy ground to build a snow woman. I delighted when Lupine added a snow baby to the snow mama's arms.
A little sculpture of womanhood and maternal love, right there in our backyard.
This is the view I want out my window. This is the picture I want in my head. Just this messy snow mama with her wild, braided hair and her snow baby gazing up into her eyes.
More of this, please. More carefree play.
More pause button on the overwhelm.
And so – as hard as it is to look away – I am closing my computer. I'm shutting off the wifi and then taking a deep breath. And instead of being constantly plugged in, outraged, and terrified, I am seeking things right here at home that I can say yes to – things that bring me joy.
Because if all we do is raise our voices, soon we'll run out of strength to continue.
So I am saying yes to playing cards with dinner then reading an extra chapter in our book. I'm saying yes to audio stories while the four of us cuddle around the fire each evening – drawing, knitting, playing solitaire, just being. Together.
But mostly I'm saying yes to pulling on my snow pants, hat and mittens and getting outside. To build a snowman, to walk to the creek, to wander along the road. To be – outside – together. Because for me at least, that's where my center is found.
And I seem to have misplaced it.
If you're anything like me then your you're heart, too, is holding its fair share of worry these days. You're spreading yourself thin juggling all the things that are piled upon your plate – life, work, activism, and family.
What would shift if you mindfully paused, even for a moment?
What would change if you gatherer those closest to you even closer, and found a reason to smile, to laugh, to feel grounded again?
Only good can come of it. I promise.
All the rest will wait.
And with that in mind, out we went again. Into the sloppy wet snow, down to the woods, to the creek.
I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard as I did while playing in the snow with these two. So much nonsense, such rowdy shenanigans, that when we came back to the house (which is a long way from the creek!) Pete asked, "What on earth was going on down there?!"
Yes. He could hear us from the house.
Because, my friends, there are things to worry about and work for right now. There are letters to write, phone calls to make, and actions to take.
But there are also puddles to stomp in and snowballs to throw, and – over here anyway – a creek to fall into for a good bracing January soaking.
And the hour or two we spent out there together yesterday? It was the best medicine I could have hoped for.
Seek balance, my friends. Balance between action and rest, anger and joy, fear and trust. Your peace of mind dwells there, and you won't last long without it.