Thursday, 17 January 2013

Because January Hurts

A delicate beauty in a cold and harsh world
January hurts. 

We've made it kicking leaves through the amber tinted days of autumn. I even relished the nipping cold as the trees were undone in November and the sun sank to its lowest on the horizon through December. We bustled and rummaged our way through the Christmas season, glad for the comfort of brightly coloured lights draped on rooftops outdoors and the scattered tinsel that clung to lovingly decorated trees brought indoors to guard carefully wrapped presents.  New Year's was quiet and passive - great to be setting off on another temporal voyage, great to mark the start of the next chapter. 

But now. I'm stuck. Badly. It's not even the end of January. Still only the middle of it and it hurts!!! 

Still dark in the mornings - no more lying in and sleeping until the sun rises to ease the pain, holidays are truly done. Still cold and wet, still cutting breezes come to taunt us from the wild atlantic sea that batters our western shore. Still only a glimpse of sunshine on any given day. But when it does break through - well, the dark grey is transformed into a glorious golden that stirs the fire in an otherwise low activity fireplace - the fireplace that is the internal hearth. 
I was struggling with this the last few weeks. I couldn't quite explain my lack lustre and lack of enthusiasm, it was just a lingering mood. Now that I've recognised it for what it is - well, you see instead of making me feel worse I feel remarkably better! You see, we can try to pretend that everything is ok, that we are totally on top of things. But that just makes it all the more self delusional and unresolvable. But if - if - we recognise the problem, when we see it's face and call it by its name.....ay, there's real honesty and wisdom. Give the nagging feeling a name, give it a face. Then we are ready for the cure. Some may call it a sign of weakness. But I call it a huge leap in self honesty and accepting that we're not always as strong as we might like to think.

So what's the cure for January you might ask? Learn to love it. Re-wire the brain. Detach. Take each moment as it comes and see the wonder in it. 

In the meantime, here is one simple and true symbol of all that is fantastic and wonderful about January. Our drop of snow, our snowdrop, our first sign of spring and testament that beauty can be the face of the strongest and most defiant force though it wear a delicate and seemingly vulnerable coat. 


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