You might allow your eyes to close or if you prefer softening the gaze,
Just coming into a pause,
A small rest if you like and begin now by noticing the body,
Just becoming aware of this body sitting here right now.
Not to change it,
But rather just to acknowledge the body.
Ah,
This body sitting here right now.
See if you might feel the weight of the body being held by the earth.
You might do this by noticing contact with chair or couch or bed or floor.
The body literally being held by the earth.
This the same earth that holds the seed and the root through winter is holding your body right now.
You are not separate from this rhythm.
You are part of it.
Noticing body being held.
Bringing your attention now to the breath.
Just letting the breath be itself.
Arriving just as it is.
Slow,
Shallow,
Deep,
Uneven.
Just noticing how the breath is.
Whatever is here is welcome.
Just watching the breath.
Like you might stand at the seashore.
Watching the wave coming in and the wave going out.
Breath coming in and the breath going out.
With each exhale now,
Imagine the body settling.
Like soil after a long day of snowfall.
Settling.
The body letting go even a little to the support that is here from the earth.
The body resting even a little.
Like the land is resting.
And now in your mind's eye,
Imagine yourself standing at the edge of a winter landscape.
The air is crisp.
The land is quiet.
There is a real sense of spaciousness here.
And yet you are not alone.
The land recognizes you.
You feel at home.
You begin to walk slowly in this landscape.
There's no destination.
Your pace is unhurried.
Each step is supported.
You notice the colors around you.
Muted,
Honest,
Spare.
You become aware of how little the land is asking of you.
Just a companion in a way.
In the distance now,
You see a small fire.
Not large,
Not demanding.
Just a small winter fire in the distance.
You walk towards the fire and you sit down beside it.
A fire for gentle warmth,
Not performance.
Like the land,
The fire supports you.
Feel its presence.
Steady.
Contained.
Alive.
As you rest here by this fire on this expanse of winter land.
Ask quietly within.
What is wintering in me right now?
What is wintering in me right now?
There's no need for words.
Maybe a word will come or images or sensations or some simple knowing might arise.
Or maybe nothing at all.
But just let the question land.
What is wintering in me right now?
Whatever comes up is enough.
So just let the question rest.
Staying here now for just a few more breaths.
What is wintering in me right now?
Allow the fire to warm only what needs warming.
The rest may remain still.
Just sitting by the fire.
Noticing the gentle warmth.
Feeling at home in the land and pondering.
What is wintering in me right now?
Before you leave this place,
The land itself offers you a simple gift.
Perhaps it's a word,
A feeling,
A gesture or simply rest itself.
Receive the gift.
And then as you're ready,
Allow the image to soften.
Return gently to the breath,
To the body,
To this moment.
And when it feels right to you,
Let the eyes open.
Or lift the gaze and invite your body to have a little gentle movement.
You may think yourself lazy or flawed.
Yet your body is made of almost exactly the same elements as the stars.
Your bone composition matches perfectly the coral in the seas.
And you,
My friend,
Are ruled by the moon and the sun,
Whether you like it or not.
So no,
You're not lazy.
Nature is simply pulling you to slow like the life,
Flora and fauna around you.
It's not your moment to rise.
It is winter.
You are wintering.
And you are right on time.
Donna Ashworth
