As the colors in the trees fade and my part of the world prepares for a long winter’s sleep, I turn my eye to the sky. See, many here don’t like late fall : They consider it depressing, bare and devoid of life. But I always say, you just have to know where to look.
My children have always been early risers. With Little Man’s special nature, it has been especially true. The only way we get him to sleep a whole night is to check for his sleeping cues and follow them and that usually means in bed by 6 h 30 pm. So you can imagine how upbeat and ready to take on the world he is at 4 h 30 am. My kiddos share a room in our tiny little home, so my daughter is usually up at the same time and our day begins. They do not know the meaning of week-ends either. This is our reality 7 days a week. You learn to adapt and look for the positives. One of them has definitely been being able to watch the sunrise.
I have a spot, 5 minutes walk from our house, that gives me an uninterrupted view of the sky to the East. It overlooks the river that runs by our town and stretches over a vast expanse of evergreens. This is where I choose to meditate on certain week-end mornings, while the kids stay tucked in on the couch with dad.
I love the cold for many reasons, but the clarity of the sky is top on my list. Everything is brighter at this time of year and the light, although shorter in hours, seems more present to me. It makes more of an impact on my soul, I take it less for granted. I’ve always been a “quality over quantity” person. Like the strong, more resilient plants I pick from the wild to make my medicines, winter light seems stronger because of the season that fights against it. Better adapted to its environment, restorative, welcomed.
And when you get to the end of these much shorter days, the sky reminds you again of the power of its light. Our evening walks have become more quiet and contemplative, they have become subtle and a time for turning inwards.
“I think for the next 5 minutes mom, I want us to not talk okay?” Little Miss asked on Sunday night, as we were walking the last trail back to our car. And we obliged. We all looked up as we absorbed the last slivers of light coming over the horizons. You need to stop and watch, the sun setting so quickly now. But catching a glimpse of it is like poetry.
Have you looked up lately? How is the sky where you are?