Lovely winter

Sure I wish things were more convenient -- wish people didn't have to go out on icy roads -- and wish we all had warm houses.

But as for the winter, itself -- what a lovely one this has been. I can practically see ski treads across the blue-tinted snow in the between time of twilight. Wolf prints following some distance back, keeping Her in sight.

Skathi, that is, Goddess who loves the mountains and winter. Her message is to stand up for yourself and to be who you are even if that means being alone. Sometimes, in winter, we receive the blessing of the hermitage. I have the good fortune to be sharing my hermitage with my fellow-hermit, better known as Honey. Who also loves winter.

Richard Lovelace wrote "Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars, a cage." I think of that when I see the 4 of air among the Tarot cards. It's state of mind, rather than state of the elements or situations. Being alone is not lonely. Sometimes, lonely comes strongest in a crowd.

And that's the way of winter. It is partly a state of mind. It can be a real hardship, hopefully causing us to get prepared better before the next one comes calling. Winter is a reality check, that's all. It lets us know, possibly more than any other season, that nature is neither benevolent nor malicious. We are responsible for creating and crafting our experience.

I hate that I'm going to start the next sentence with "these days". But...

These days, we are held to life by a tenuous line that is visible. Electric lines. Look out your window. If you live in an inhabited area as I do right now, you will see a half dozen houses or more. How many of those houses are set up for surviving an extended period of electrical outage? Even those who have generators are still depending on electricity.

The days are gone when a spring house kept your perishables safe and the majority of folks grew their own food and preserved the harvest to last through the months when nothing grew.

Now, most homes have only enough to see them through the better part of a week, before they have to renew their stores.

But when I remember my childhood, we seldom had more than that and usually were scraping by one day at a time. We lived on pinto beans and cornbread. Sometimes biscuits, brown gravy, and fried potatoes. These are the foods I like right now -- simply because I was raised on them. They were a blessing. It was when they weren't there that things were bad. We'd sub-exist on fried cornmeal mush.

Winters, then, were huddled around a woodstove. It would heat the air three feet from the stove's surface -- on a good day. On the colder days, you'd huddle almost close enough to touch the hot stove. Then you'd turn and toast the other side.

But I learned that if I went outside and leaned into the cold, I soon became warm. We didn't have substantial clothing. I don't really remember owning socks. Hats were a sometimes thing. I do recall mittens. And I remember coats, simply because mine were always such ugly ones. The only way I could stand to wear them was by telling myself that someone somewhere had actually picked it out and bought it. On purpose. Somewhere in the world, someone had liked that coat. Then outgrew it. And down the line aways, I got it. The only coat I remember liking was a little red jacket. It was my woods jacket.

The woods in winter! Underneath the snow, by this time of year, you could find little rosettes of plants thinking of spring. Beginning to get that curious glow that said they were alive after all.

There was a creek and waterfall below our house. I'd go down to that water and listen. Step across on rocks and go over to a stone formation that looked like some giant had built a block house. I was ever "in story" in those days. Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, Sacajawea ( I wasn't fond of Lewis or Clark).

As Sacajawea (a sort of Native American Skathi), I learned to stand quiet and wait for the woods to forget I was there. Then, if I moved quietly, I could continue walking and nothing startled. I could see the woods as if I weren't there. How it would be if I were back at the house or in school.

I think the Goddess of winter and wild mountains was near even then, even before I knew Her story.

But the thing about God/desses is, once you know them by name and legend, they sort of make eye contact. They sort of give you a nod and a blessing. You get to take up part of the gift they've given the world. Whether that gift is making a house a home, creating warmth with fire and poetry and roving, or knowing how to find the warmth in winter instead of from in the house, looking out.

And in so saying, I'll say good-bye for a bit. Winter calls to me. Maybe I'll see Skathi there, walking the alleyways of my town, heading for high mountains.