The Wonder of Winter

One afternoon a friend and I embarked upon a visual odyssey across the internet for design inspiration. Somewhere in our search for flamboyant fabrics and the fiercest shade of fuchsia, we came to the realization that tall ceilings are what give a room a feeling of cathedralesque grandeur. At the time I thought nothing of it beyond a noteworthy nugget of decorating wisdom. But in the cloudy stillness of the Buenos Aires winter, I came to more profoundly understand what it is about a vast space with a great emptiness that inspires a sense of sacred awe and revelation.

Spring

Earlier in the year, I was enjoying the creative profusion that burst forth from the buds of spring. It flung me out into the world with a pulsating vigor; to explore and experiment, to reflect, refine, and redefine. The exuberant energy carried me to unforeseen outlooks of joyous serendipity. I delighted in the fertile flow of expression, the connections formed through extroversion, and the pulsing vitality of exercise.

Eventually the flow began to ebb and the outward movement became more taxing and less fruitful. Just as with the changing of the seasons, it was subtle at first, and the repetition of my daily habits delayed my realization that the sun was setting sooner. At some point, however, I could no longer ignore my lack of inspiration and impulse toward isolation. Even then, I still craved the catharsis of creativity and connection and worried what would happen if I forsook them for my quiet cocoon. After a moment of resistance, a gentle voice from within whispered, telling me to wait, watch, and wonder. And somehow I knew it was wisdom.

Winter

Winter wandered in cool and cloudy, enveloping me in an ethereal shroud, separating me from the city of fury and flurried fanfare. It told me to hide away and hibernate. This time I listened.

I forsook running and running wild for slow, solitary strolls on Sundays where I finally beheld the beauty before me. I meandered to museums and menageries blocks from my apartment that the rushing river of routine forbade me from frequenting. I simmered and stewed, sprinkling in the secret ingredient of time that lets the richest flavors sink in.

Nature

Outside and above ground all was dead. The flowers were gone. The trees were bare. The land was a long and lonely colorless expanse. Mother nature bade all her creatures to let go of the earthly purgatory made empty and to delve into the depths of the underworld and fly to the highest ceiling of the heavens. And indeed she was right.

For beneath the earth there was life. The roots were sinking deeper and deeper, stretching their dendrites to furthest reaches of subsoil. The seeds sown seasons ago found the steady, nurturing embrace of winter soil, fertilized by the dead leaves of autumn. To the myopic earthly eye, there was absence and decay. But on another plane, the protective, subterranean darkness held the depth and stillness that birthed new possibilities. Darkness creates the light of life.

Absence begets presence. Gazing upwards the thin branches of the naked trees, small and slim without their leafy drapings, show the spectacular sky. Devoid of the distraction of saturated summer colors, the piercing winter sun shines through, showing the land and all its inhabitants in their truest form. Laid bare with no place to hide, all receive the bright light from above and bask in its warmth.

The cold winter nights shine with superlative clarity, revealing countless constellations that were hidden by the hazy summer evenings. The dazzling stars of winter, now visible in all their splendor, bring the sparkling beauty of the beyond closer to earth, causing us to contemplate celestial questions and “reach for the stars” in every sense.

Divine

There was a time when I wondered what was the purpose of winter, absence, and rest. Why do we need to hibernate and hide away? What is the problem with an endless summer? I have come to realize that nature teaches transcendence through the interplay of form and function in a glorious physical panorama of the divine. In the case of the seasons, she tells the story of impermanence and of presence.

Ideas can only expand so far. Even the greatest river runs its course. The warm months are ripe for frolicking in the field of form, following it to the fullness of its fruition. But then Nature reminds us not to get lost in the pasture, letting the ripe fruit fall to the ground and turn to rot. Just as quickly, she reassures us that nothing is truly lost as the decay turns to compost.

Nature shows us where to direct our attention; outward to exploration, or inward to introspection. The cold and darkness of winter are an organic oasis of yin for finding purpose, knowing our true selves, and connecting to the beyond. The piercing clarity of the night sky shows us the stars, inspiring wonder and inviting us to dream. The stark nakedness of the flora allows us to be seen for who we are, despite our efforts to hide our darkness; bestowing the gift of vulnerability that allows us to receive unconditional love. The womb-like darkness of the soil opens our inner eye to the spiritual realm where our intuition and creating new possibilities. The formlessness of winter is where the form of summer is conceived.